Tag: films

  • Day 3 of Century of Cinema. Also day 43 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Lonesome
    Director: Paul Fejös
    Writer: Tom Reed, Edward T. Lowe Jr
    Year: 1928
    Country: USA

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 65 minutes
    Seen: 12 March 2026
    Rewatch

    Picking my 1928 film wasn’t quite as tricky as 1927… but it still wasn’t easy. I could easily rule out two Buster Keaton films (Steamboat Bill Jr and The Cameraman), since I started this whole project with Buster. And I eliminated Fritz Lang’s Spione (Spies) because I wasn’t in the mood for such a long film today. That left me with two possibilities. I was tempted by Speedy, a Harold Lloyd vehicle I’ve only seen once before. But in the end I went for Lonesome (1928), a mostly-silent romance directed by Paul Fejös.

    Among the crowds of New York City, Mary (Barbara Kent) and Jim (Glenn Tryon) each live alone. Every morning they rush to work, then come home at night to empty apartments. When the two meet by chance at Coney Island, it’s love at first sight. They spend a whirlwind evening together at the funfair, quickly confessing their love for one another. But when the pair are separated just as suddenly as they met, can they ever find each other again?

    Lonesome is a very sweet little film about two lonely people finding love. Fejös finds some visually creative ways to evoke the stress and drudgery of their busy workdays, as well as the chaos of the crowded funfair at which they meet. Some scenes have hand-tinted colour, adding an extra visual ‘pop’. The two stars make a cute couple onscreen, I found myself rooting for them immediately. But things grind to a halt during the studio-mandated talkie scenes. The roving camera is suddenly locked to one angle, the actors forced into stilted vocal performances that can’t match the charm of their expressive silent faces. Talkies were still very new at this point—and it shows!

    In many ways this is a good companion to Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans. Both films were made during the last gasp of silent cinema, both are very visually creative, and both centre on the fate of a couple. But while Sunrise is about a married couple repairing their broken relationship, Lonesome is a much lighter, sweeter film about the first flushes of love. I’d say Sunrise is a better constructed, more compelling film, but Lonesome certainly has its charm.

    It’s just a shame about those clunky talkie scenes.

  • Day 2 of Century of Cinema. Also day 42 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans
    Director: F.W. Murnau
    Writer: Carl Mayer
    Year: 1927
    Country: USA

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 95 minutes
    Seen: 6 March 2026
    Rewatch

    Picking a film for 1927 was tricky. This was the year that gave us the seminal sci-fi classic Metropolis, and the Oscars’ first Best Picture, Wings. But in the end I settled for the first American film by German Expressionist pioneer F.W. Murnau: Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans.

    A Man (George O’Brien) is seduced by a glamorous Woman From the City (Margaret Livingston), who persuades him to murder his Wife (Janet Gaynor). The Man takes his Wife out in a rowboat, planning to push her overboard. But as she cowers and pleads for mercy, he is stricken with guilt and cannot do the terrible deed. He begs her forgiveness, but can their fractured relationship be healed?

    Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans won three of the first ever Academy Awards. One was for cinematography, one for Janet Gaynor’s performance. Its third Oscar was in a category never since repeated: Unique and Artistic Picture. (I wish they’d bring that one back!) It’s almost a mirror image of another film I watched recently: Varieté. That film started with a man leaving his wife and ends in murder; this one starts with attempted murder and ends in reconciliation. I question whether reconciliation with a would-be murderer is really A Good Thing, but Sunrise is such a visually stunning piece of cinematic storytelling, I find myself swept along by it regardless.

    The film uses a variety of German Expressionist techniques to vividly evoke the characters’ emotional landscapes. There are too many enchanting images to count. I particularly love the shot of the Man surrounded by ghostly images of the Woman From the City, clinging to him seductively as he contemplates the murder of his Wife.

    Its use of sound is equally inventive. Despite being a “silent” film, it came with an early example of a synchronised soundtrack—no “talkie” dialogue, just music and occasional sounds effects. The music, like the imagery, overlaps different styles and tones to create complex sonic textures.

    Sunrise is an incredibly evocative film. Admittedly it has an uneven structure and a troubling central premise, but the sheer artistry of its construction kept me utterly beguiled.

  • Day 1 of Century of Cinema. Also day 41 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: The General
    Director: Buster Keaton, Clyde Bruckman
    Writer: Al Boasberg, Clyde Bruckman, Buster Keaton, Charles Smith
    Year: 1926
    Country: USA

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 75 minutes
    Seen: 4 March 2026
    Rewatch

    In a recent YouTube video I made an offhanded comment about maybe watching a Century of Cinema, inspired by my friend Gavin’s project to read a Century of Sci-fi. Having combed through my film collection and found almost every year accounted for (the only exceptions being 2020, ’22, and ’26), I’ve decided to take the idea more seriously. So here’s my mission statement:

    I aim to watch a Century of Cinema: One film for every year from 1926 to 2026. Some films will be new to me, others old favourites. In most cases they will already be part of my physical media collection. I won’t use this as an excuse to buy more films! There’s no deadline for the project, and I’m not promising to make blog posts or YouTube videos about it. It’s just a fun personal project of mine. I won’t announce the full list ahead of time, so I’ll have some wiggle room with my choices as I go along. And I’ll check in with myself every ten films to decide whether I want to continue with the project. If it stops being fun, I’ll stop.

    With all that out of the way… Today’s film was The General (1926), the classic Buster Keaton comedy. Keaton stars as Johnnie Gray, a Confederate train engineer whose engine, the titular General, is hijacked by Union soldiers. Johnnie sets out to retrieve the train he loves, coincidentally rescuing the woman he loves (Marion Mack) along the way, and helping his side win the battle… if not, thankfully, the war!

    Buster Keaton’s deadpan screen persona makes him feel like the most modern of the legendary silent comedians, and his inventive use of the camera is surely the most cinematic of the bunch. I’m a huge fan, and The General was my introduction to his genius. It’s not my favourite of his films—not least because of the slightly uncomfortable Civil War aspect—but as a piece of cinema it’s incredible.

    Keaton’s daredevil stunts remain thrilling to this day. I feel a frisson every time I watch him use one railway sleeper to knock another off the tracks, all while perching perilously on the front of a moving train. A few years ago I was lucky enough to see the film on the big screen, with live musical accompaniment, and that moment still had the power to make an audience gasp, cheer and applaud. Rewatching it today didn’t quite match that magical big screen experience, but I still had a great time.

    An auspicious start to my Century of Cinema!

  • Day 40 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Varieté
    Director: E.A. Dupont
    Writer: E.A. Dupont, Leo Birinski
    Year: 1925
    Country: Germany

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 95 minutes
    Seen: 2 March 2026
    First viewing

    This afternoon’s film was Varieté (1925), a silent drama directed by E.A. Dupont. It stars Emil Jannings as a prisoner telling his tragic story to a warden. As his story begins, Jannings was a carnival boss and a retired trapeze artist. But when a young vamp (Lya de Putti) joins the carnival, her beauty tempts him away from his wife and daughter, back to highwire acrobatics. With Artinelli (Warwick Ward) they form a successful new trapeze trio—but the story inevitably ends in jealousy and tragedy.

    This is a fairly predictable tale of lust, infidelity and murderous revenge. But thanks to the inventive camerawork of Karl Freund (Metropolis, Dracula) and solid performances from the central cast, it’s surprisingly stirring. Not essential viewing but recommended if you’re in the mood for a lesser-known silent film.

    My copy came with a choice of three musical scores—which is just as well, because the first one I tried was so irritating, I restarted the film with different music after a couple of minutes! That first score was by the Tiger Lillies, featuring lyrics that narrate the plot, complete with spoilers. Thankfully the score by Stephen Horne was more traditional and less distracting.

  • Day 39 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Flying Down to Rio
    Director: Thornton Freeland
    Writer: Cyril Hume, H.W. Hanemann, Erwin Gelsey
    Year: 1933
    Country: USA

    Format: DVD
    Length: 89 minutes
    Seen: 22 February 2026
    Rewatch

    Roger Bond (Gene Raymond) is an orchestra leader with a habit of getting fired from venues for canoodling with the customers. Despite warnings from his bandmate Fred (Fred Astaire), Roger falls for the flirtatious Brazilian heiress Belinha De Rezende (Dolores del Rio) and gets everyone fired yet again. He manages to book a new gig in Rio de Janeiro, planning to track down Belinha and continue their courtship. But the course of true love never did run smooth, and Roger discovers that Belinha is already engaged to his best friend Julio (Paul Roulien).

    Flying Down to Rio secured its place in film history by introducing the immortal pairing of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Honestly it’s not got much else going for it! There’s some fun song and dance numbers (I particularly like Ginger’s song ‘Music Makes Me’) but those are few and far between. Most of the runtime is taken up by the rather dull, chemistry-free romance between Raymond and del Rio. There’s also some vintage casual racism and misogyny—which, while not exactly surprising, is especially hard to overlook when the actual plot is so boring. I’d only recommend this for dedicated Fred and Ginger completists!

  • Day 38 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: The Apartment
    Director: Billy Wilder
    Writer: Billy Wilder, I. A. L. Diamond
    Year: 1960
    Country: USA

    Format: 4K Blu-ray
    Length: 125 minutes
    Seen: 18 February 2026
    Rewatch

    Kubelik: Some people take, some people get took. And they know they’re getting took and there’s nothing they can do about it.

    C. C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon), aka Buddy Boy, is one of those people who gets took. He works in a huge office building as an insurance clerk, his head stuffed with numbers and statistics. Baxter often works late, not out of dedication to his job but because, despite living alone, his apartment is rarely empty. His key gets passed around the office, his apartment serving as a discreet place for married men to take their girlfriends. In return, Baxter’s superiors recommend him for promotions. When he agrees to lend the key to Mr Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), director of personnel, Baxter finds himself quickly ascending the corporate ladder. Meanwhile he harbours a crush on Miss Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), an elevator operator at the office. Little does he know she’s already been to his apartment…

    Baxter: The mirror… it’s broken.
    Kubelik: Yes, I know. I like it that way. Makes me look the way I feel.

    It’s safe to say The Apartment is my favourite film of all time. My band’s debut album, The Way It Crumbles, was named after a quote from the film. I rewatched it today to celebrate my 40th birthday and it made me smile, laugh and blub as much as ever! It’s a beautiful film about loneliness, human connection, and the importance of growing a spine and doing the right thing—or, as Baxter’s neighbour Dr Dreyfuss (Jack Kruschen) puts it, being a mensch.

    Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine are fantastic as Baxter and Kubelik, and the screenplay by Billy Wilder and I. A. L. Diamond is a well-oiled machine of setups and payoffs. Baxter has a habit of quoting all the other characters, picking up their verbal tics and mannerisms. This leads to so many running gags and references throughout the film, each one gaining new significance over time. Nobody quotes Baxter in return, at least not at first. But eventually Miss Kubelik starts to pick up Baxterisms and the two are drawn together, romance-wise. It’s a rather chaste romance, one that ends not with a passionate kiss but a game of cards. It feels to me like a very neurodivergent-coded romcom. I love it deeply.

  • Day 37 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Sinners
    Director: Ryan Coogler
    Writer: Ryan Coogler
    Year: 2025
    Country: USA

    Format: 4K Blu-ray
    Length: 138 minutes
    Seen: 13 February 2026
    First viewing

    This afternoon’s film was Sinners (2025), starring Michael B Jordan and Michael B Jordan. (Yes, sometimes I watch modern films!) Set in 1932, it follows the Smokestack twins, ‘Smoke’ and ‘Stack’, as they return home to Mississippi after seven years in Chicago. Using money stolen from the mob, the twins buy a sawmill to start a juke joint. But opening night takes a bloody turn when the transcendent power of music pierces the veil between worlds, summoning a trio of vampires.

    This is a solid piece of filmmaking. Michael B Jordan gives two excellent performances as identical twins. The scenes where he shares the screen with himself are perfectly realised; after a few minutes I stopped even thinking about what a technical feat it is. It just works! The supporting cast is also great, particularly newcomer Miles Caton as Sammie, the blues musician whose transcendent singing causes all that supernatural trouble.

    But for me the film wasn’t transcendent. Very good, yes, but I didn’t adore it like I hoped. (Also I found the alternating aspect ratios a little distracting. Do the IMAX scenes have more impact on the big screen?) Maybe I’ll get more out of it on rewatching, but my first viewing didn’t quite sink its fangs in.

  • Day 36 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Late Autumn
    Director: Yasujiro Ozu
    Writer: Kogo Noda, Yasujiro Ozu
    Year: 1960
    Country: Japan

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 128 minutes
    Seen: 10 February 2026

    First viewing

    Late Autumn is one of Yasujiro Ozu’s last films. Setsuko Hara stars as Akiko Miwa, a widow living alone with her daughter Ayako (Yoko Tsukasa). Three old friends of the late Mr Miwa take it upon themselves to find Ayako a match, but she is hesitant to marry and leave her mother alone. Maybe the three meddling friends can solve that problem by finding a match for Akiko too…

    This feels almost like a remake of Ozu’s 1949 film Late Spring: In that film Setsuko Hara played the marriageable daughter, but here she’s the widowed parent. (Chishu Ryu, her father in the earlier film, here plays her brother.) The film balances humour, sadness and social commentary, all in Ozu’s typical, quiet and delicate style—and starring many of his favourite actors. If you’re not already an Ozu devotee, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this one as an introduction to his work. But if you’re already sold on Ozu, Late Autumn will certainly scratch that itch.

  • Day 35 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: Only Angels Have Wings
    Director: Howard Hawks
    Writer: Jules Furthman
    Year: 1939
    Country: USA

    Format: Blu-ray
    Length: 121 minutes
    Seen: 8 February 2026
    Rewatch

    This afternoon’s film was Only Angels Have Wings (1939), a romantic drama directed by Howard Hawks. Cary Grant stars as Geoff Carter, chief pilot of a South American airmail company. The mail route is extremely risky; pilots are frequently killed, which gives the survivors a rather jaded, fatalistic attitude. But when visiting pianist Bonnie Lee (Jean Arthur) falls for Geoff, his determination not to be tied down is put to the test.

    “I’m hard to get, Geoff. All you have to do is ask me.”

    This film didn’t make a big impression on me when I first saw it about eight years ago. But this time around I was completely sold! The cast is great, especially the central performances by Arthur and Grant. I got fully wrapped up in the will-they-won’t-they romance between Geoff and Bonnie, as well as the fates of the various pilots. The gripping aviation scenes reminded me heavily of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s 1939 memoir Wind, Sand & Stars. And there’s a prominent supporting role for a young Rita Hayworth as the woman who once broke Geoff’s heart. Yep, this is good stuff!

  • Day 34 of Project Glowing Rectangle, in which I try to divert some of my daily doomscrolling time back towards a more nourishing oblong: Cinema.

    Title: 42nd Street
    Director: Lloyd Bacon
    Writer: Rian James, James Seymour
    (Based on the novel by Bradford Ropes)
    Year: 1933
    Country: USA

    Format: DVD
    Length: 89 minutes
    Seen: 5 February 2026
    Rewatch

    42nd Street (1933) is a backstage musical following the cast and crew of ‘Pretty Lady’, a new show preparing to open on Broadway. The leading lady, Dorothy Brock (Bebe Daniels), is having an affair with the show’s financial backer (Guy Kibbee) whilst continuing to see her old vaudeville partner (George Brent) behind his back. And despite a string of successes, director Julian Marsh (Warner Baxter) is bankrupt thanks to the Great Depression, so he’s staking everything on ‘Pretty Lady’ being a hit. Into this high-pressure environment comes Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler), a wide-eyed ingenue looking for her big break.

    But the real star of the show is the legendary Hollywood choreographer Busby Berkeley. He’s responsible for the spectacular, kaleidoscopic dance routines that make 42nd Street so memorable. The musical numbers in the ‘Pretty Lady’ show-within-a-show don’t seem to make much sense or tell any kind of cohesive story… but they’re exactly the kind of spectacle I came to see.

    Also there’s legs—lots of legs—a surfeit of legs! “After three weeks, a leg ain’t nothing to me but something to stand on.” Add a wisecracking supporting role from a pre-stardom Ginger Rogers and 42nd Street is a damn good time… despite most of the songs being utterly forgettable!