New Year, New You: Sleeping Car to Trieste (1948)

image host

When I was thinking of what theme I should do for January, my wife was the first to come up with the New Year concept. Originally she suggested road trip movies. New Year means trying to make changes in your life, and sometimes that means leaving the place you’ve been stuck in. I liked that idea but wasn’t sure I could do enough road trip movies to make it through the month.

But I do think you can encompass travel into my larger theme of New Year, New You. Now, we are going to stretch it a little further and suggest any movie where the people are traveling somewhere even if they don’t experience much growth along the way.

I love road trip movies. I love movies set on trains even more. I love train travel in general. I have ridden a lot of trains all over Europe and Asia; it is a wonderful way to travel. As much as I love to drive, it is very nice to ride the rails and not have to worry about anything. Trains are so much more enjoyable than planes. You have more legroom. You can get up and walk about. And the scenery is often much more beautiful.

There are lots of different types of movies set on and around trains. I love a good mystery or thriller set aboard a train. Trains are enclosed spaces, so the killer (or thief, or whatever) only has so many places to hide. But there are usually many cars so that you aren’t just stuck in one room. And the train is traveling, which allows for different scenery and different passengers to come and go, and the ever present possibility that someone could jump.

An important diary is stolen from the Paris Embassy by Zurta (Albert Lieven) and Valya (Jean Kent). They hand it to a man called Poole (Alan Wheatley) who is supposed to usher it to a designated rendezvous point. Instead, he runs to the Orient Express with intentions to sell it to the highest bidder. The diary is said to contain information that in the wrong hands would lead to yet another world war.

Zurta and Valya learn of Poole’s deception and board the train. It departs for Trieste. To complicate matters, Zurta is wanted by the authorities in Trieste and must depart before they arrive there.

They don’t exactly know where Poole is on the train; he’s doing a good job of staying low, and they can’t make a show of looking for him because they had every intention of using the diary themselves.

Mixed in with all of this espionage is a big bag of characters having their own side stories. Usually this kind of film has lots of these types of characters, but their screen time is minimized. They exist to give the film color, to give the setting some realism. But here they are given ample opportunity to be on screen. Numerous, what would normally be side characters, are given time to have fully drawn stories. Our leads often feel like supporting parts.

There is a young GI looking for some birds to chat up and winds up in a car with a British ornithologist. A boorish Brit spends all his time with the train’s renowned chef trying to teach him how to cook dull dishes. A businessman takes a woman with him who is decidedly not his wife in hopes of an affair, but fate keeps intervening and keeping them apart. Etc. and so forth.

Poole bribes a porter to get a private room where he hides the diary. But then he’s kicked out because that room was reserved by a very prominent and rich writer. He’s then sat with a French detective, Inspector Jolif (Paul Dupuis). Eventually, the diary will be found, and someone (or someones) will find themselves dead. It is Inspector Jolif who will have to put everything together. But even then the film doesn’t bother itself too much with that angle.

I sound like I’m complaining, but I’m absolutely not. I enjoyed this crazy cast of characters and each of their stories. I would have enjoyed it more if they’d spent just a little more time on the thriller aspects, but mostly this film is a lot of fun.

New Year, New You: Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)

alice doesn't live here anymore poster

Well, once again I seem to have completely biffed on a monthly movie theme. I really should only choose genres and time periods. Everything else seems to be too much work. I can easily choose movies from a genre on any streaming service or my own collection. Ditto for movies by decade. But when I choose something like this – movies that feature characters in transition or moving in some manner – then I have to do a little research, and then I have to figure out how to watch those films. Most days I’m too tired to do even that little bit of effort.

So here we are on January 24, and I’m talking about my second film from this month’s theme.

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was Martin Scorsese’s fourth feature-length film. He was still trying to find his footing as a director. His first film, Who’s That Knocking On My Door, is actually quite interesting and dives right into many of the themes Scorsese would continue to tackle for the rest of his career, but it was really just one step above a student film.

After that he moved to Hollywood, and Roger Corman gave him the money (with stipulations) to make Boxcar Bertha. It isn’t a bad film, but it was definitely a director-for-hire kind of gig. Scorsese’s friends, especially John Cassavetes, hated it and were afraid Scorsese was selling out.

He then made Mean Streets, a semi-autobiographical film about street hoods in New York City. It did quite well both commercially and critically and hailed Scorsese as a director one should keep their eye on.

The question then was, what would he do next? The answer came from Ellen Burstyn. She was looking to make what they used to call a “Woman’s Picture” but with more modern sensibilities. Her friend Francis Ford Coppola told her to watch Mean Streets, and she immediately thought Scorsese was the man to make her film.

The movie immediately announces she was right. The opening credits roll over soft satin; an old romantic song croons on the soundtrack. Then we open on a farm straight out of The Wizard of Oz. Scorsese drenches it in bright reds as if the sun is setting. It looks very much like an old film from the classic days of Hollywood. Everything is beautiful, but artificial.

A young girl, Alice (Mia Bendixsen), sings the song we just heard over the credits. She says something about how she’ll grow up to be a singer, and then something like, “I hope to Christ I will.” It is that “Christ” that catches your attention. Little girls in old movies don’t blaspheme. A moment later she’ll curse again. Then she’ll be called into her house for supper. The film moves in on her through the window.

Then crash cut. “All the Way From Memphis” by Mott the Hoople blasts on the radio. The color returns to normal. We see Ellen, now an adult (and played by Ellen Burstyn), in the kitchen of her new home. Her preteen son Tommy (Alfred Lutter) lies on the floor listening to that song loudly, the speakers set inches away from his ears. Ellen is enjoying it. She sways to the music, but her husband, Billy (Donald Hyatt) isn’t so chill. He shouts at Tommy to turn that racket down.

This is Scorsese announcing that this isn’t your mothers type of movie.

I’d seen this film once before many years ago. In my memory, Billy was a horrible husband, mean and abusive. Alice sets out on her adventure by leaving him. I was pretty sure she left her son with him.

In reality, the husband isn’t so bad. He’s not particularly attentive, but other than some yelling, he isn’t abusive. He seems like a man who has become tired of his life – of his low paying job, of his son, who is rather high-strung and is always making noise, and of his wife, who isn’t quite as exciting as she once was. There is an early scene where he lies on the bed watching TV. Alice comes in and asks what he’s watching and what it’s about. He mostly grunts, giving her half answers. He’s not really paying attention to the show, but wants to be left alone. She begins to quietly sob. But he notices her, sees her pain, and comforts her. There is love in that relationship.

Then he dies. A terrible car accident changes Alice’s and Tommy’s lives forever. Alice moved to New Mexico when they got married, but now she’s thinking of that old farm in Monterey, California. She was happy there. She thinks she could be happy there again.

She sells all her stuff and takes to the road. But there isn’t enough money to get them to Monterey. They stop in Phoenix. She gets a job as a lounge singer. She meets a guy (Harvey Keitel). At first she pushes him away, but she’s lonesome, and she lets him have her. He seems nice, and she thinks about staying. Then his wife shows up, and he loses his temper, and they hit the road once again.

They make it to Tucson, and she’s forced to take a job as a waitress at a crummy diner. She befriends Flo (Diane Ladd), a fiery waitress with a way with words (and yes, this part of the movie is the basis for the long-running television series, Alice). She meets another man, David (Kris Kristofferson), and once again her plans for Monterey get sidetracked.

It does feel like a film that was taking something old and outdated and giving it a modern spin. Alice wasn’t exactly unhappy in her life as a homemaker, but she wasn’t thriving either. Her husband’s death forces her to make changes, but this isn’t a film where everything comes up roses. She struggles. She gets sidetracked.

Tommy is a good kid, but he’s loud, obnoxious, and he talks back constantly. Alice mostly lets him get away with it. She gives him sass right back. Sometimes she yells at him, but she’s also very protective of him. This gets her into trouble with her men. David tells her she spoils the kid, that what he needs is a good swift kick in the rear. But she won’t have any of that. It is a very real picture of single-motherhood with all its struggles. Alice isn’t perfect, but she’s trying.

Other than that opening scene, Scorsese refrains from making it too flashy. He lets the story (and Burstyn’s performance, for which she won an Oscar) take the lead. It isn’t my favorite Scorsese picture by a long shot, and it feels very much apart from pretty much every other film he’s directed, but it is still quite good and I recommend it.

The Friday Night Horror Movie: Cronos (1992)

image host

I find I have mixed feelings about Guillermo del Toro. He’s clearly a great visual stylist, and his apparent love of cinema imbues all of his films with a certain reverent love, but I find his stories to be hit or miss. Because of that, I’ve been putting off watching his first film, Cronos, afraid that I’d be disappointed.

I was not.

With caveats.

Cronos is basically a vampire story, though one that is different from any vampire story I’ve ever seen. It begins with a prologue where we’re informed that in the 1500s some alchemist invented a scarab-looking device that will prolong one’s life forever.

Flash to the present, and Jesús Gri (Federico Luppi) finds the scarab hidden in the bottom of a statue a strange man left in his shop. He fiddles with it, and it opens; the scarab’s legs extend, grabbing his arm, while a stinger pricks his skin. Inside the scarab, we see a living creature sucking the blood.

The next morning, Jesús feels good. And he looks younger. Also, he’s got a hankering for some blood. At a party a man has a nosebleed, and Jesús laps it up like a dog. Then he’s bumped on the head and killed. Or not killed, as he can no longer die.

The killer is Angel de la Guardia (a young Ron Pearlman). He’s the son of Dieter de la Guardia (Claudio Brook), a rich, dying man who’s been trying to find the scarab for many years. He’s got a book that tells you how to use the scarab. He wants to make a deal with Jesús so they can both live together. Or he’ll just kill Jesús and take the scarab. Either way is fine.

There is also a little girl named Aurora (Tamara Shanath) who is Jesús’ granddaughter, and Mercedes (Margarita Isabel), his wife. Del Toro tries to do a lot with them emotionally, but they feel underwritten. Especially Mercedes.

There are some of the tropes of vampire movies – Jesús feels pain at sunlight, Aurora builds him a coffin to sleep in. And some utterly wild additions – Jesús’ skin peels off revealing a blindingly white skin underneath.

It definitely feels like a first movie, but the practical effects are mostly terrific. Del Toro has always been a master of those. It is a lot of fun watching Perlman at this stage of his career, acting a bit more goofy than menacing. The whole thing is well worth your time.

New Year, New You: Lost In America (1985)

lost in america poster

Albert Brooks is one of those guys whom I naturally like, but I don’t actually know all that well. I’ve seen him in films like Taxi Driver and Out of Sight, where he played memorable side characters. I loved him in Finding Nemo and Drive. He was amazing as Homer’s James Bondian boss on The Simpsons. Etc. But he’s been in a million other things, he’s made comedy albums, and most importantly (for this post anyway) he’s written and directed several underseen but beloved movies.

I would often hear film nerds talk about the films he made as a director and think to myself that I ought to watch them, but I never seemed to get around to it. But then when I saw Lost In America show up on the Criterion Channel (as part of their Fresh Starts collection – a theme that fits in perfectly with mine), I decided to give it a go. I’m glad I did because it is delightful.

Brooks stars as David Howard, who has a successful job at an ad agency. His wife, Linda (Julie Hagerty) works in HR at a department store. They make good money, drive nice cars, and live in a nice house. They are successful but unsatisfied. David is up for a promotion at his job, and he’s quite sure he’ll get it. He’ll be an executive with a much larger salary. He’s so sure he’ll get it he’s already put a large down payment on a much bigger house, and he’s regularly talking to a guy about buying an expensive car. This, he thinks, will surely make him happy.

Or will it? Brooks gives David that nervous persona many of his characters have. He’s nerdy and nebbish and constantly worries.

Of course he doesn’t get the promotion. Instead, he’s asked to move from LA to New York, where he’ll run the newly acquired Ford campaign. His boss thinks he’ll be happy with the move. He’s staying in the creative field, where he strives instead of being bored in the executive branch. But David is furious. He wanted that promotion. He deserved that promotion. That promotion would have made him fulfilled. He absolutely loses it, and his boss fires him.

But then, he has an epiphany. Maybe losing his job was the best thing for him. Maybe he was living in a rut and didn’t know it. The rat race is no place for a man like him. He talks his wife into quitting her job. They sell the house; they sell everything. They buy a big RV and make big plans to drop out of life like in Easy Rider. They’ll get back to nature. They will travel the country completely free.

The genius of this film (which was cowritten by Brooks and Monica Johnson) is that they never get anywhere. Their first destination is Las Vegas, and they spend that first night not in their RV but in a chintzy hotel where the beds are shaped like hearts (but aren’t big enough for the two of them to sleep together.) By the morning, disaster has struck, and they have to drastically change their plans.

There is one scene late in the film where David is looking for a job in a small town in Arizona. He goes to an employment agency and tells the man about his previous job, where he made $100,000 a year. When he explains that he’s quit his job so he could change his life, the counselor replies, “You couldn’t change your life on a hundred thousand a year?”

That’s a perfect encapsulation of the movie. These two yuppies have everything and aren’t happy. Someone with much less cannot even begin to fathom what they could be unhappy about or why they find themselves broken down in the middle of nowhere. The line delivery is also absolutely hysterical.

It was about that point in the film that I started to worry it was going to screw up the landing. There was a way they could have ended it that would have felt wrong. I don’t want to spoil how they got there or how it ends, but they did not go in that direction and it ends perfectly.

It is a film that I found more enjoyable than hilarious. I laughed at a few scenes, but mostly I just smiled with amusement. Brooks pitches the film with an ironic smile, and he’s perfectly cast against Julie Hagerty. Most of the film is just them talking, and arguing, and they are perfect together.

I’m very much looking forward to his other directorial efforts.

New Year, New You: January’s Movie Theme

fellowship of the ring

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of a new theme for January. A couple of years ago I did a theme called “Frozen in January” which was all about watching movies that took place in some frosty climate, but that proved difficult. I couldn’t find that many movies set in cold places.

I’m a big fan of alliteration, and you can see that with Awesome ’80s in April, Mysteries in May, Animation in August, and Sci-Fi in July (ok, technically that last one isn’t alliteration, but it is a good rhyme.) But I couldn’t figure anything out that worked with January.

My wife suggested something to do with the new year, and that felt right. A good movie theme needs to be able to encompass a lot of movies. I should be able to find lots of movies within that theme, and there should also be a little wiggle room. I’ll get bored if I’m watching basically the same movie over and over again.

New Year, New You could mean a lot of things. A lot of us make resolutions for the new year; we try to make meaningful changes in our lives. We aren’t always successful, but a new year brings with it hope. Maybe this year we will lose that weight, or write that book, or do whatever thing we really wish we could do to improve ourselves.

There are lots of interesting films where a character sets out to improve themselves. Or often they don’t set out to do anything, but they find themselves on a quest, and that changes them. Or if not a quest, they get involved in something that changes them before the credits roll. There are hero’s journeys and character arcs. I can work with a theme like that.

Journeys can also mean travel. I might write about movies in which the characters take a long trip to somewhere. I actually thought about doing an entire theme on road trip movies, but that seemed a little more limiting than I wanted it to be.

I never know how these themes are going to go when I start them. Sometimes I write about a lot of movies and have a lot of fun. Sometimes I struggle to find anything to watch. Sometimes they keep going year after year, and other times I never return to it.

I hope this one lasts. It sounds fun to me. I hope it sounds fun to you.