Never Seen It #317: Ikiru

Life is brief / Fall in love, blogger / Before the crimson bloom / Fades from your lips / Before the tides of passion / Cool within you / For those of you / Who watch 500 movies they've never seen before...

Ikiru

1952

Akira Kurosawa

A few times a month, I've been asking members of Film Club to choose a movie that they've already seen and to make me watch it and write about it. I also ask for a prompt. Here's what Sean G. wanted to know about Ikiru:

Hypothetically, if everyone on earth watched Ikiru, do you think it would have a lasting effect on the way they live? And what kind of impact do you think the film's message have on you?

He nailed the most important question here, and the question that should ring out from every mouth into every ear after witnessing the beautiful blessing that is Ikiru. What impact can a movie possibly have on you? Is it lasting? Or, like the bureaucrats in the film, does it burn strong and then fade quickly, a fleeting glimpse into a better life never to be achieved?

I'm writing this from my own desk in my own office in my own government building. I'm 6700 miles away from where Watanabe sat pushing paperwork, but staring into his face at the beginning of this movie was akin to staring into a mirror. I don't need a cancer diagnosis to understand that what I do doesn't make any difference in the world. I tell myself I care but I mostly don't. I push things off to different departments whenever I can.

The only difference between 1950s Japan and 2020s America is that "living life to the fullest" is a total fucking cliché now. Maybe it was revelatory then, but it isn't now. You're more likely to see such a phrase on an insurance commercial starring Jon Bon Jovi than you are to actually feel it and believe it. And so the trick to getting a movie to change you in this particular way, I think, would be to somehow convince you that the cliché is true, and that you really should live your life to the fullest, every day, while you still can. Which is easier said than done.

But that's not the question. This has been discussed before, the idea that movies—and really basically anything—are not going to make a measurable impact in your life. You might change over the course of years and the accumulation of thousands or millions of tiny little moments, but one movie? It's not going to movie the needle. Just like Watanabe's death felt like it was going to be the tipping point for these gov't workers, but ultimately, and as expected, it wasn't. There's nothing wrong with that. You feel the pain of the one worker who stands up and looks like he wants to say something but then ultimately sits back down and shuts up and pushes his paperwork—who among us would be any different? Not me. Not me.

I don't think everyone on earth is able to acknowledge the rotten truth at the core of our existence: that it's mostly meaningless, that our impact is negligible at best. Most people would watch Ikiru and not even clock that this is what it's saying is the norm, and that it takes someone extraordinary to actually effect measurable change. We want to be Watanabe, we know that this is the ideal way to live (to help others), and yet we know that it'll mostly just not be like that, like almost never. Life is, instead, just like the runaround that the neighborhood women get at the start of the movie—pointless, frustrating, hopeless.

And yet we know that's not the point of the movie, or else no one would love it. You can't love something that is ultimately pessimistic. Ikiru was, instead, optimistic. Perhaps not about the human race, but about the idea that there are among us people who really are living their best life, and effecting real and positive change in their communities. It made me feel good to watch because it presented an ideal. Not the ideal, because our protagonist dies with almost an hour left to go in the movie, and I'm sure this man was in so much goddamn pain throughout the entire length of the film. But an ideal, that he found a small way to help people.

Maybe that's the message here. That we need to find our way of doing that, and that it might be different for everyone. Watanabe's revelation comes when he's desperately asking his young former co-worker how she lives her life, and she says simply that she makes things. What can we make in life, might be the question. Watanabe makes a playground. What can I make? What will be my legacy? How can I help people? Ikiru makes the question seem like the most important question you will ever ask.

I don't know the answer to that. I do know that, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I probably will not find the answer in my bureaucratic position. I supervise social workers. Those social workers are addressing incidents that have already happened. We are finding pain and desperately attempting to mitigate that pain. I don't think this process will result in too many people wailing at my funeral. People are probably more likely to show up and point at my coffin and laugh, knowing that I didn't do shit. But see, I'm acknowledging this. I know it to be true, and I'm not numb to it. It keeps me up at night, knowing that I'm not making an impact. So the impact that Ikiru can—and did—make for me is that it can remind me, make it even clearer how important the journey is, the quest to find your purpose, and then fulfill that purpose with everything you have.

GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5

STRAY THOUGHTS: Beautiful film. I gave the last 1950s black-and-white Japanese film I watched, Tokyo Story the 5-puke treatment as well, but I think this one was even better. I guess this shouldn't surprise you, that I'm watching the best of what a time/culture combo has to offer, and finding that, yeah, it's the best. That would be like waiting until I was in my 30s to listen to Led Zeppelin, and then being shocked in finding that they have at least six perfect albums. Like, yeah, duh, the problem is you, why did you wait so long to engage?

Worth noting that it was the third time I saw the actor Takashi Shimura, who played Watanabe, in a Never Seen It movie, after Rashomon and Seven Samurai. He starred in all three. I liked those movies less for sure, but I don't think it was because of Shimura. And obviously he does incredible work here. The way he stoops throughout, the way he goes manic at key times, the way he displays courage through the sickness that envelops him.

I had more to say about the moviemaking when it came to Tokyo Story, and less to say here. Another question that Sean G. asked was about my thoughts on the fact that Watanabe died halfway through the film, and I thought that was a fascinating decision. I'm sure there was a temptation to make the whole movie flashback style, but it was cool that they had it both ways. His death packed a bigger punch that way, and added some mystery to it. And allowed the other characters to tell his story, which I think was important—they had to come to their own conclusions about the character, and then become inspired by him, and then let that inspiration fade over time. It wouldn't have worked if we weren't on that journey with the funeral-goers.

Okay, now I'm just rambling. Definitely one of my favorite movies in Film Club so far.

NEXT TIME: Zoom for Pillow Talk is this Tuesday at 9 PM! See you there!

Never Seen It #316: Mad Max

The chain in that blog is high-tensile steel. It'd take you the length of 500 movies you've never seen before to hack through it with this. Now, if you're lucky, you could hack through your ankle in five minutes. Go.

Mad Max

1979

George Miller

Thanks to all those who watched Mad Max and shared their thoughts below! Remember to wear your seatbelts!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allison

"More Like Mid Max"

Mad Max is a mid-octane tour de farts that begs the question: Is it dystopian or is it Australian?

Little baby antisemite Mel Gibson, still more than 20 years away from calling a lady cop "sugar tits," gives a shockingly flat and boring performance as the bad-assedly named Max Rockatansky. Is this the role that catapults him to stardom? Multiple action franchises and TWO Oscars? He wasn't even that mad.   

Was this a good movie? No. Did I have fun watching it? Mostly no. The last thirty minutes are far and away more interesting than the first sixty, but it didn't make up for the fact that I just didn't care. I did find myself wondering what happens next, but only because I don't understand how this movie turned into a franchise. What did I miss? How much movie time elapses between this and the fucking Thunderdome? 2015's Fury Road fucking rules. But I don't see how these are at all related, let alone in the same cinematic universe.

Two parting thoughts: Is the solution for the male loneliness epidemic roving homoerotic biker gangs? These men are not lonely enough! And finally, everyone saw the baby playing with the gun, right? What the shit was that about?!

1.5 stars, but only for the promise of an eventual Tina Turner 

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Sunny

I was on a plane once, and the guy in the row ahead of me was watching this movie on his laptop. Probably for a blog or something. I watched maybe ten minutes of it, fairly enraptured, before I figured I shouldn't ruin the movie for myself since I can't hear and barely see. But the people sitting next to me were also watching (yes, I was middle seat). Something was that compelling about the movie.

It is a compelling movie. Yet I didn't like it quite as much as I thought I would. It's sort of threadbare, maybe due to the age. Near-apocalypse Australia feels not too different from Australia in my mind today. The kiwi accents and names make 20% of the movie indecipherable. The stunts and effects, being real, feel real, and that's really great. You can tell where they pulled back, but the action scenes are still quite visceral—car flips, squibs, real stunts. The movie killed off people I didn't expect faster than I expected. MASSIVE kudos for keeping it a tight 90. Characters' motivations are pretty unclear, but who cares. All this and more was addressed in Fury Road. Between that and Babe, George Miller can do no wrong. I won't comment on Gibson, but at least his accent is muted and he doesn't say a lot.

3.5/5

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Catherine

This film probably falls into my rating territory of "not mad about it, but not for me." I'm glad I finally saw the original just for context / pop cultural literacy, but I think they've significantly improved upon the source material in recent years.

I did find it interesting how far we begin from the post-apocalyptic decay we see in the newer sequels. I was expecting the same level of chaos and anarchy, but 1979 Mad Max's world is only on the precipice

of collapse. They still bother trying to have cops! Cute!

I feel for Max and his poor wife, she just wants companionship and a pair of pants. And I do love a cartoon-world movie where parents can just leave a baby on the ground with a single toy and go about their day. But, maybe it's because I'm coming fresh off of Escape from New York, I felt like it lacked a little pizzazz. I can't help but see Toecutter and miss Isaac Hayes driving around in a Cadillac with a big-ass chandelier hanging off of it. I'm also surprised at myself for this take, but there's a lack of violence that I felt was... kinda required?? I'm getting bloodthirsty in my old age, I guess.

Finally, I desperately needed Australian-to-American English subtitles for about 30% of the movie, but that could just be me.

Overall, fun watch that I probably won't revisit.

3/5 pukes!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean G.

I didn't know what to expect from the first Mad Max movie of the series. I'd only ever seen a few minutes of Beyond Thunderdome in college. My roommate, Pat, loved it and I caught some of it during one of his many watches. I figured this wouldn't be as unhinged as the antics of Master and Blaster. Before today, the only Mad Max movie I'd seen in full was Mad Max: Fury Road. I also guessed Mad Max wouldn't have the nonstop circus of action that is Fury Road.

I did a quick look on Letterboxd and read a few brief things about some people finding the original Max Mad boring or too slow. Compared to Fury Road, obviously Mad Max is slower. 

But I do not agree with those assessments that it's dull or boring. 

I feel something this movie gets so right is its pacing. The editing was something I took note of within the first few minutes of Mad Max. It's tight as hell, especially in the driving sequences. It's creative—the flash cuts to the bulging eyeballs is uncomfortable and exciting. I loved the overall pace of this movie: thoughtful and quiet during the domestic moments with Max and his family, and supercharged in the crashes, chases and showdowns.

The cinematography is also outstanding. Miller's placement and use of cameras really feels unparalleled and innovative. As seen in Fury Road, he's an obvious master in knowing how to combine fantastic camerawork, quick editing, and kick-ass stunts to create an exhilarating payoff.

I love Mad Max as its own movie. A story of a cop who no longer likes how it feels to be a cop but maybe realizes the world is too dangerous for him to quit. It was dramatic, disturbing, and cool as hell. The villains steal gasoline, but other than that seem to have no real motive other than they're evildoers who don't give a shit about anyone else. They rape, they kill, they kidnap. They DGAF. Watching Max take them out and know they would get theirs was thrilling. 

Loved the score. It felt inspired by the swelling strings of a 1940s American epic, Hitchock's greatest suspense sequences, and the melodrama of something from the 1950s.

I know most people like Road Warrior a lot more than Mad Max—and I might too once I watch it. I've read that people think of Mad Max as a blueprint/training wheels for what George Miller would go on to do in the franchise. That's probably true! Regardless though, as its own film, I think Mad Max is a brutal, fun, quiet-when-it-needs to be, thoughtful, perfectly edited, masterfully shot, beautifully scored piece of art about revenge and people trying to survive as the world goes to shit. I had a blast.

Also, duh, Mel Gibson is not a great guy, obviously. But I have to say he was great in this and it makes sense why he became a superstar. 

4.25 pukes out of 5

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Zach

One thing I'm trying to become more aware of is when I feel compelled to say the phrase "it's not for me." "That girl isn't for me because she trends more introvert." "That music isn't for me because it's too heavy metal-y." "That coffee shop isn't for me because it's too fast-paced." Or: "Mad Max isn't for me because it's too hard to follow and has too much violence."

This was the thought I had when watching the beginning of this movie. I really didn't know what was going on, and the intense violence was too much, and it was too fast-paced, and what was the person saying over the radio in the background and was it important? I relied heavily on the plot section of the movie's Wikipedia page to understand at all what was going on. Without it, I don't think I would have gotten exactly what was happening, and that's frustrating to me, but I'm generally slow when it comes to getting movies. Still, the violence was a lot, and I kind of wanted to turn it off. It felt like a chore to have to get to the end, even though it's only 93 minutes long. I also felt ashamed having to look at the Wikipedia page—why do other people understand what's going on, when I don't? There's no way I would have understood why the biker gang exists (because of the breakdown of law and order due to oil wars and ecocide). 

As the movie went on, though, I found myself inhabiting the space and the energy of the film, more and more. The violent and graphic deaths made sense within the world of the movie, so the charred Goose and the hanging dog were less disturbing. The child being killed was pretty terrible, and I didn't love that, but it did make Max's desire for revenge more stark. It feels like a movie that needs a sequel, although I wonder if a sequel was planned from the beginning (I am guessing the answer is no). 

The movie made me feel things. I felt like I had gone through an intense wringer by the time it was over. I also like that it didn't stretch things out too much; ending with a satisfying explosion of a villain, and then the open road. The Australian landscapes here are pretty cool, too. 

The idea of someone trying to "leave it all behind" and then have danger catch up with him is a scary one. Max can never leave the force, even if he wants a quiet life with his family. Not in the world of the movie. It makes me think about our own lives. Can we ever really fully leave something, even if we want to? I think about generational trauma and how it stays with us, even if we try so hard to heal.

So was it a movie "for me"? Who cares? I want to expand my mind, not limit it to things I already know I like. It was a movie I watched and processed in the way I wanted to right now, and that's what matters.

Mel Gibson has said some pretty terrible things before, in his life, and has physically abused women, so that does leave a bad taste in my mouth. He has made an effort at repentance, though, so there's that. I'm all for redemption and repentance. But I am curious how much his attempt at redemption excuses anti-Semitic comments like "Fucking Jews... the Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world... are you a Jew?" and his battery of Oksana Grigorieva in the eyes of Hollywood and in the eyes of anyone who watches his movies.

Rating: 3/5

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Joe

It was to my detriment that I became familiar with this franchise through 2015's Fury Road. It set the bar for insane visuals that its 1979 predecessor could not hope to match. Not with a budget 1/50th the size, anyway. Though who knows if anything would've changed if they had more room to film George Miller's wilder visions back then! It's more my assumption that the series took great creative leaps in the intervening two films, for reasons beyond the budget—as the movies go along, we can assume that they get crazier and crazier, that the creativity keeps one-upping itself.

Because I'll be honest, just based on my experience with the third sequel, I was shocked at how... grounded this seemed? And I understand the use of the word "grounded" is ridiculous when referring to an action movie featuring colorful roving gangs of sadistic murderers in a near-apocalyptic world on the empty highways of Australia, I'm more just painting a comparison between a movie and a sequel to that movie. Mad Max is extremely grounded when compared to Fury Road. It seems within the realm of possibility that the events of Mad Max could indeed unfold "a few years from now." Fury Road is more or less a cartoon come to life.

The contrast, however, is only in terms of scale. As far as "how I watched them" goes, I think they are actually pretty comparable. This is what I mean: there are movies that get by because what you are seeing on screen, and not what you are comprehending from what you see. I watched both of these movies, ten years apart, and both times I didn't really understand exactly what was going on most of the time. But I was never bored, because the visuals were big (again, relative to each movie's respective limitations, or lack thereof), and the scenery and characters and general mise-en-scène were absolutely fascinating. A movie is able to hook you on just that alone, even if the plot is hit or miss.

I think Mad Max was "out there" enough that it avoided the usual pitfalls of apocalyptic movies. Mostly talking about "wow, this is what's happening now, in our world!" which is unfortunately true (trump's gas prices comparable to Mel Gibson's gas prices, and so on), but kinda droll and cliché. I've definitely written that about every film in this Film Club that is even vaguely apocalyptic, and I guess I'm getting tired of it. Tired of what I am doing, to be clear. No criticism of the movie in this regard. I mean, I assume Australia has been this hot and sweaty for a long, long time, so it makes sense that the people down there are going to react extremely when the oil runs low.

If I had to speak to something else that meant something to me during this viewing, I think it would be how fucking bleak it was. I don't think they wanted us to think that the last scene was triumphant, right? Because even though the bad guy probably deserved it, it still felt like an incredibly sad ending. Like maybe Max is finally going all-in, becoming the thing he's been fighting against the whole time. And how about the brutal killing of little Sprog? I wonder how many people watching this are conditioned to think that the cute little toddler is gonna find a way to escape? Count me as one of them. That they went ahead and killed him makes sense for the development (devolving?) of Max, but it doesn't make it any less rough to witness. Were the villains, Toecutter and his crew, too cartoonish? I think sometimes. On the other hand, I think the over-the-top nature of their characters was necessary to undercut the severe pessimism at the heart of the film. Would've been too much otherwise.

If there are any criticisms of Mad Max, they come from expectations not being met. But that's what happens when you watch the third sequel first. I needed more, and I needed less. Apparently the first sequel is also great? Maybe if I manage to cut my ankle off before finishing these 500 movies, I'll check it out.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 3.042 pukes out of 5

Rev your engines down below in the comments, let's see what else there is to say about this thing.

(NEXT TIME: Our next already-seen-it pick with Sean G., as we check out Ikiru.)

Never Seen It #306: The Battle of Algiers

It's hard to start a blog. Even harder to continue it. And hardest of all to win it. But, it's only afterwards, when we have won, that the true difficulties begin. In short, Ali, there's still so many of the 500 movies I've never seen before to watch.

The Battle of Algiers

1966

Gillo Pontecorvo

Thanks to all those who survived the battle and lived to talk about it below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean G.

"The army is here for you. Trust in it." No thanks.

This movie reenforces my anti-war beliefs, and angers me that some humans will always want to control other human beings. 

This was a beautiful bummer. I don't know what else I could say about The Battle of Algiers that hasn't been said. The realism and the documentary feel is incredible, and has obviously been inspiring movies since its release to tell stories in this style. 

The camera work is dazzling. Ennio Morricone's score is so great. The pacing and the editing are patient when they need to be and suspenseful and swift when it calls for that. The sequence of the women dressing down to sneak bombs out and blow up the bar and restaurants was totally compelling. 

The violence feels so real and painful. Heartbreaking shots of women, men, and children crying. The poor guy they "interrogate" (torture) at the beginning who gives up the hiding place who we see again will be haunted by these moments as long as he lives. So much senseless violence. Obviously so relevant today and forever more. Now I get why Leo's character in One Battle After Another watches. Does he have the Blu-ray or VHS? Is he just happen to be catching it on TCM? 

I also knew absolutely nothing about France's occupation of Algeria and this conflict and the war. Deserved the legacy it has. 

5/5 pukes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Catherine

There's a haunting familiarity to this film, even at 60 years old. Watching bodies pulled from rubble as dazed loved ones look on has become so disturbingly common lately, so much of it could easily pass for footage from today. Roger Ebert mentioned in his review that the movie holds a universal frame of reference and I have to agree.

There are so many hard truths to grapple with in this story. In the face of torture and oppression, you yearn for a perfect protagonist to save everyone—but we don't have a wholly "good" hero to root for. The FLN is content to execute their own ne'er-do-wells to clean up the streets, and they can calmly scope out a café with babies and other innocents and still plant a bomb and walk away. Surely the Algerians still deserve their autonomy free from under the boot of the French government, but the film doesn't hold your hand to tell a perfectly packaged good vs. evil story. It peels back a tattered curtain and offers a glimpse at some uncomfortable realities that can be hard to swallow. What's fair in war? How far is too far in the quest for freedom?

Even the respect the French colonel has for the FLN was unexpected and fascinating juxtaposed with the atrocities carried out by his army. It all seems like a dark game to him, and he admires a worthy adversary.

The film highlighted well how war crimes, civilian casualties, bloodshed, and mass destruction are perceived differently depending on who holds power. When the Algerian rebels attack, it is barbarism. When the French military unleash their bloodshed, it's just plain old war. What can you do?

The propaganda employment was also interesting. French soldiers parade Donkeys though the streets to deliver bread to impoverished children in a show for the UN, as they blast speeches throughout the Casbah assuring the residents that they are the ones who truly care for their wellbeing, not the dastardly FLN. 

At certain points, the film almost felt like a Bond movie, with clandestine meetings, secret notes, trap doors, and over-the-top assassination plots, and I was rapt. And since this movie was released only four years after the war for Algerian independence ended, when everyone's feelings on the subject were surely still extremely raw, that makes its existence even more bold and impressive.

"It's hard to start a revolution. Even harder to continue it. And hardest of all to win it. But, it's only afterwards, when we have won, that the true difficulties begin."

This is one of those quotes that I'll probably have to mull over for the rest of my life—just leaving it here for some thought.

Anyway, I think I just saw a masterpiece. 5/5 pukes

~~~~~~~~~~

Frank

I'm currently in an international cinema class, and Film Club lined up perfectly this past month with viewing The Battle of Algiers.

I will be brief in saying that I think this lived up to the hype and there were parts that I think will be seared on my soul. 

Knowing that there were real members of the FLN cast in this is extraordinary to me. I can't get over the fact that this film has been used by both police and terrorist forces as a textbook for how to go about their respective businesses. 

As I enter the final weeks of my film school, I don't think I'm capable of one coherent thought, so here are some strays:

I think that it is fascinating how women are used in this. It struck me that the film spends almost more significant time with the three women bombers as they do with any other "character" in the film. Women are crucial parts of any revolutionary group, and yet I couldn't help but wonder out loud if these women knew the oppressive setbacks that a fanatic theocratic regime would have on their lives after the revolution. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss indeed. 

The French colonel defending himself to the journalists. *how can you call me a fascist? I literally fought with the French Resistance against Nazism* this hit me in two ways:

1) Someone in class said "Fascism is Colonialism when it happens to White People" and I cannot stop thinking of this. 

2) It makes me so angry that someone who fought Nazis couldn't see the hypocrisy. Or maybe even more mad that they can see it and don't care because in war there is just us and them. Freedom bought through blood has its own costs perhaps. 

It struck me that the colonel felt the need to win over a liberal media (albeit a French-bent liberal media, still in accord that France holding onto Algeria as a colony was a divine right). Like he wants the world to agree with him, think he is actually doing something necessary and aligned with French values etc. etc. Just compare that need for (deep ironic quotes) "full transparency" with say a government invading another country that actually has realized they can say or not say whatever they want and no one will really do anything about it. It deeply pained me that somehow our real life villains have somehow gotten more cartoonishly evil. They've figured out public opinion actually doesn't matter as much as we'd like to think. But then again, public opinion actually DID turn in France on Algeria. The government was overturned and Charles DeGalle, ultimate symbol of French Resistance, brought back in charge. So maybe there's still hope. 

The progression of visceral violence builds steadily as the tension boils over into inevitability. In the beginning of the movie, we catch the immediate after of a torture session. When people are shot, it's cartoonishly bloodless. As the movie ramps up, we steadily see more blood. more of the actual torture. more dead children and French Algerian citizens. Until finally we reach the crescendo of the actual Algerian revolution a few years later. 

Something else that someone in my class brought up that I have been digesting: Ali la Pointe was a violent criminal before he was radicalized. Revolutions seem to often be built on the backs of those for which unpleasant means are needed. I wonder if it makes it ultimately a poisoned fruit. But I also have no alternatives against oppression. 

This was such a barrage of sight and sound, I definitely think I will have to revisit it a few more times. 

4.5/5 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joe

A classic in the subgenre of "Wow, this is exactly what's happening in America right now!" This is a subgenre that I have created in my own mind. The subgenre lacks nuance, of course. But what it lacks in nuance, it makes up for in pure spirit. I'm a dummy about the world just like anyone else, but I know that it feels wrong, what's going on around me right now, here in this country, and so it's always pretty fascinating—and perversely comforting, perhaps—to know that we Americans in the 21st century are not unique snowflakes, that this has happened before, that history is cyclical, that there have been other people in the grand story of mankind that have persevered.

Here is the story of the Algerians in the late 1950s and early 1960s that fought the French imperialists for their independence. Some of us have been conditioned, or maybe even feel it within the very depths of our souls, to see the oppressed as the "good guys" and the oppressor as the "bad guys." The Battle of Algiers goes out of its way to make it more complicated than that, and honestly, at the end of the day, it should be. It should be complicated but also not complicated at all. There are subtleties among the binary but ultimately it's a binary. The Algerians were right to want to be free and the French were wrong to do everything they could to prevent that freedom.

It's complicated because the fight for freedom seems to require violence. The one FLN character discusses the idea of terrorism, and how it's necessary at first, but then can't be sustained, and the fight for freedom requires something more than that. It's tough to unilaterally say that the Algerians were completely right if they are killing people with bombs. You can make similar arguments all over the globe in 2026. You can talk about how the U.S. is bombing Iran, and how maybe there are complications in the fact that the Iranian government seems to not treat their own people very kindly either. You can talk about how the Israeli government is slaughtering Palestinians and murdering children and their soldiers are taking gleeful pictures of the Palestinians' suffering, and how maybe there are complications in the fact that the Jewish people who populate Israel have been suffering and oppressed for millennia. There are complications, but those complications do nothing to change the score here of who is the oppressor and who is the oppressed.

It's complicated here in the U.S. right now because not everyone (and in fact, possibly not even a majority of people) supports the government's senseless slaughter of humans overseas and the bombing of children's schools. It's complicated too because a certain subset of the American populace has been somehow conditioned to take the oppressor's side. That seems like a uniquely American thing, but I don't think it actually is. I think that some people are just attracted to power. It's like how people somehow think that Skylar White was the bad guy in Breaking Bad, even though Walter clearly was—Walter has the power, and that's why a certain type of person will exalt him.

Maybe you can watch The Battle of Algiers and think of the French, who hold all the power, as the heroes of this story. Colonel Mathieu's mid-film speech was pretty convincing! The rebels were dangerous, and he was there to protect the people from their own destruction! There's an assumption on his part that the French people are behind him. At one point, he lays it out: there is a conflict because they don't want us to be here, but we want to be here, and so where does it go from here? It takes an extra step, however, for the audience to then ask this question: wait, why do the French forces want to be there so badly? To answer that question, you have to understand what it means to be an oppressor and what it means to be oppressed, which is not a capacity that some human beings have. To not know you are oppressed means that the oppressor is winning.

I was aware of this film's existence prior to the creation of the Film Club movie list in two ways. First was that I'm a big fan of the band Algiers, and it says right there on their Wikipedia page that they named the band after the movie. Their art is also embedded with the same righteous violence that is embodied in the film—Algiers makes punk rock music of the oppressed. Second was that former PoYB film correspondent Fisher made a rare sojourn into classic film to see this one, and had a lot of good things to say. I'm glad to say that he was right on the money in terms of this film speaking to the truth about fascism and that it's important for films like this to raise questions about the subject, if only to allow its audience to answer them. This is not just a good movie, it's an important one.

The way that it goes about making its importance known is itself important, I think. I'm talking about the cinema of the thing, and not just the politics therein. The Battle of Algiers is like a documentary, on purpose. The unseen FLN announcer acts as a narrator, explaining what's going on. It plays out like black-and-white newsreels. It was filmed so soon after the actual battle that there were people who took part in the real-life conflict acting in the film. All this is in service of making the film feel "real," which is integral to its purpose. You wouldn't get the message if it didn't seem real or felt exaggerated. Yes, this is real. Yes, fascism is real. Yes, you are being oppressed right now. Yes, there is something you can do about it.

It took me maybe half the movie to really appreciate what it was trying to do. Thus, the first half was slow for me. But when it sped up, it did so exponentially. The first hour was tough to get through, the next 50 minutes were exciting and I was into it, and the last ten minutes or so found me stunned. I think this probably mirrors how these things happen in real life, too. It happens gradually, and then all at once. The movie even pointed out the quick escalation, how the French quelled the uprising but then over a year later, there was a large and spontaneous uprising in the street, so strong that independence was won soon thereafter. The Battle of Algiers made me wonder if we'll ever see something like that in the U.S. Maybe we already did in Minneapolis. Maybe we never will, with half the nation licking cops' boots and a government who is more than willing to murder its own citizens if they're on the wrong side of the political divide.

I appreciated the fact that this movie has been used as a "training documentary" for organizations like the IRA and the Black Panters, re: urban terrorism in the fight for independence and freedom, and I also appreciated the fact that the director was quick to say that it wasn't that simple. Pontecorvo was correct to paint the theme of The Battle of Algiers more broadly, that it was more about the fragility of the human existence, and that there needs to burn within us a sense of justice in order for us as a species to survive. You see America crumbling because an agent of the state murders a mom in her car in cold blood and half the country defends the murderer. Something about The Battle of Algiers needs to speak to all of us in order to survive.

When I watch this film, and films like it, I find hope. I was thinking about hope as I considered the music of The Battle of Algiers. There is a musical motif that comes up again and again, and I'll admit, it's not very melodic. It sounds more like a broken car engine, loud and noisy. It's rhythmic, a loud clanking, in 4/4 time. I think it's supposed to sound like a beating heart, and I think that heart belongs to the human race. There is hope in the fact that the rhythm appears again and again in the film, that it never stops until the credits roll. The hope is that it never stops for any of us, that the heartbeat of the human race can continue, on and on, past any atrocity that might befall upon us by our oppressor.

GRADE: 4.5 pukes out of 5

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 4.75 pukes out of 5

Meet us in the secret comment section behind the false wall.

(NEXT TIME: We take the battle of the human spirit to the parking lot, in 2024's Rap World.)

Never Seen It #289: Tokyo Story

I'm afraid we expect too much of our blogs. They lack spirit. They lack ambition. I've told that to my son. He said that there are too many movies in Tokyo. That it's hard to watch 400 of them that you've never seen before. What do you think? Blogs today have no backbone. Where is their spirit? That's not how I raised them!

Tokyo Story

1953

Yasujirō Ozu

We're trying something new this quarter in Film Club. Instead of solid small groups, we've assigned certain movies to random small groups of friends in a sort of round robin-type thing. Thanks to those who were assigned Tokyo Story and chose to participate and watch, and thanks to Sean G. for picking the movie in the first place.

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Sean G.

"Isn't life disappointing?"

Life is full of pain and beauty and stillness, but it always ticks by. For as beautiful as life is, it inherently is not what we fully want it to be. You never have enough time, you turn into people you don't want to be, tragedy strikes whenever it feels like it. But that's such a simplified way to look at a movie as layered and full and nuanced as Tokyo Story. 

I love Yasujirō Ozu. I've loved his movies for years. I don't know of any other filmmaker or artist who can sum up the complicated feelings and experiences of human life as beautifully and heartbreakingly as he can. Similarly with Tokyo Story, when I watch An Autumn Afternoon, Late Spring, or any of his many other films, I immediately reflect on the choices and relationships I've made in my own life. His ability to empathize with seemingly all aspects of the human experience is astounding. Entire books have been written about this film alone. I could watch, discuss, and try to analyze this movie for an entire lifetime and will always have a changing point of view or a new experience to relate to. This movie is life.

Tokyo Story, of course, makes me think of my own parents and grandparents. I'm lucky that my parents are still living, as are three of my four grandparents. I was talking to my mom about her parents last week and their loneliness came up. "They stare at the walls and at each other all day" is what she said. It's never easy to acknowledge the loneliness that others—especially loved ones. It made me feel sad: one, because they're getting older and may feel lonely most of the time, but also because I do not see them or even talk to them enough on the phone. They live in New Jersey and I live in Texas. Recognizing that no amount of time is enough time is even harder when I know that I could be spending more time with them if I lived closer. Still, it would never be enough time. We never know how much time we have on this Earth or with others in our lives. No matter how much time, it never feels like enough. That is disappointing. 

Man, there is just so much to say about this movie. Ozu uses the same cast in most of his films, and they play similar roles each time. The incredible Chishū Ryū (the father) is one of my all time favorite actors because of the beautiful work he does across Ozu's filmography. His performance and the performances of the entire cast—especially, for me, Chieko Higashiyama (the mother) and Setsuko Hara (Noriko) cannot be discussed properly in a written review. The characters they breathe life into are so real. Hara is a legendary Japanese actress who retired from the spotlight early in her career. I CANNOT RECOMMEND ENOUGH Satoshi Kon's Millennium Actress—an animated masterpiece based on her life. 

Fuck, I wish I had more to say in a thoughtful way. It 100% makes sense why this is one of the greatest movies in the history of cinema. Ozu's camerawork invites us to be an observer to the lives of these characters: to feel them, sit in their loneliness, feel their pain. His movies relax me and are transcendental. They are the human experience created for us to reflect on and express in ways that we cannot. Everything about this movie is incredible. 

Ozu is truly THE MASTER. Please watch his other movies. I would start with An Autumn Afternoon, Good Morning, Late Spring, and Floating Weeds.

GRADE: 5 out of 5

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Zach

"Life is disappointment."

"Nothing but disappointment."

One might think this is the thesis of this movie. As could its final line, which goes something like "yes, you'll be lonely." But they're not. I don't think so. I don't think this movie thinks all roads lead to disappointment. It can be, certainly. But it perches all of us on the edge of things, those of us who have what we have right now, but who still have the power to change the future, rather than regret it when it's gone.

I'm a healthy person. My parents are healthy. They just came to visit me. I'm planning my next trip to the U.S., trying to juggle expensive flights and find the most efficient/right one. There's no specific reason for me to come to the U.S. right now. It's just for the Passover holiday coming up. But there's no specific occasion or life event that's being marked. I don't have to go.

The thesis statement of this movie, then, hinges on moments like this, which we all experience, even when we live around the corner from our parents or other loved ones. Even when our own children are inside the house, I imagine. The time goes fast. Did I do enough? Was I good enough? Should I go, should I spend time, even when it's disruptive, even when things are good, even when nothing specific is being asked of me?

The movie yells its answer from the rooftops. And it is this: Go. Go now. Travel to the U.S. Even though there's no occasion. Go, even when there's no reason. Go, just to sit at breakfast with them, reading the newspaper, saying nothing. Just be there. And be good to them. Don't look back at the past and wonder what if. In our movie's case, don't go to the "baseball match" instead of staying longer with your lonely father.

I don't think the couple's Tokyo children were entirely bad. They are complicated, just like all of us. Shige certainly seems, on the surface, to be the worst—asking for her mother's mementos, having the idea to send them to the hot springs, and so on. But she cares. She cares a lot. She just doesn't know how to square the reality of time and her aging parents with her day-to-day life, which feels the most pressing. 

I can relate. I get anxious when my parents come to Israel, that they will disrupt my life, too. I spend lots of time with them, though, and I try to go out of my way to care for them, to honor them. But I ask myself the same question. Do I do enough? Do I have my Shige moments? 

One of my biggest fears is that I am more like Shige than like Noriko, who goes the most out of her way to honor her in-laws. 

(The Osaka son seems to have even fewer redeeming features, and yet he walks out of the funeral ceremony, unable to see his mother becoming smaller and smaller, as he says, but he can't find a way to escape his own evil inclination, to care more about his day-to-day than the eternity of his loved ones.)

And yet even Noriko feels like she doesn't do enough. Like she's selfish. Can any of us escape our own self-judgment? The father, too, saying that he should have been kinder to his wife while she was still alive. We are our harshest critics. And yet there is truth to Noriko and the way the father criticizes himself. There is always more we can do, more we have to do.

I have it all right now. I can take any job I want. I have a good family around me. People are healthy. I can marry anyone I want. And yet I can't stop thinking of how I have it so good. How do we act, when we have it good? Do we take it for granted, like the Tokyo/Osaka children seem to? Or do we push more, push harder to love the ones around us, love our parents the way they deserve, and honor them, give to them, endlessly and without a second thought, even when they trigger us, even when that seems like the hardest thing in the world to do?

I can't remember the last time I watched a movie that felt so much a part of me, that spoke so closely to my life. But I don't think that's because it specifically speaks to me. I've never been to Japan. It's more about the way the film touches a basic element of humanity that we all experience, if we're lucky. It has the uncanny ability to speak to everyone's lives because it is so close to the lived human experience, for all of us. That's why it is so powerful.

I don't see any reason why I shouldn't give this movie a perfect score. I can't say anything bad about it, can't find a specific flaw. Nothing man made in this world is perfect, but we should honor the things that come close.

Just like our parents. 

Grade: 5/5

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Joe

The idea that Barry Lyndon could be described as a "painting" really opened my eyes to another way of watching movies. I think about that all the time. If I had the time, I would probably rewatch Barry Lyndon to determine whether I liked it any more than I did the first time, now that I knew to look at it like a painting. I don't have time, though. Too busy watching other movies for Film Club. But I can take what I've learned from previous movies and apply those lessons to the next ones. While watching Tokyo Story, I quickly realized that this was a movie that was meant to be seen as a painting.

I'm just going from the gut here. I don't actually know the craft. But in my gut, it feels like there was something special happening in Tokyo Story. I noticed it maybe ten minutes into the film: the camera didn't move. Long scenes would take place in homes where people were moving from room to room, and the camera didn't follow them. Instead, there was a camera in each room, low to the ground (subservient, much like the family members who chose to hang out while kneeling on towels), and they remained stationary as our characters moved about here and there. It had a way of making it seem like we were peeking in on something private.

I would have to start from the beginning to see if there were any camera movements at the beginning of the film, before I noticed what was happening. I clocked it otherwise, and it took until the 61st minute of Tokyo Story for the camera to move. It was a scene when Mother and Father were sitting outside, and the camera moved to meet them where they were sitting. (The movement was a "truck," I believe, which is a term I only know because I just looked up a guide to camera movements.) I suppose there should be a question of why this is the one scene when the camera moved. Logistically, maybe they briefly had access to equipment that allowed for it to happen on this 1953 movie set. Spiritually, maybe something else was happening. Maybe this was supposed to be a shift in the movie from petty family drama to serious family drama, like a camera movement mark the exact moment Mother gets sick.

That's it, though. No more movement. Stationary cameras throughout the entire rest of the 135-minute movie. That's assuming that you don't count when the camera itself is stationary on a moving vehicle, like a trolley. I guess that's technically movement too, though it's supposed to make you feel like you are with the passengers of said trolley, who are technically stationary as well, but also moving. It's a new feeling in the film, that movement, which I suppose is mirroring how alien being on a big-city trolley must feel to Mother and Father, who are only visiting.

I have not looked up this movie online yet. I probably do that in between the credits and sitting down to write on the blog for about 95% of the films that we watch in this club, but there are certain films that are so bursting with ideas and so effective in moving me (ha) that I rush off to write before I lose that feeling. I don't think Tokyo Story was perfect, but only because no movie is perfect. There were, however, so many moments when it felt perfect. It was simple and beautiful. There was no trickery here, the film just plopped us into a moment in time for this family, and allowed us to watch their small drama unfold. It was touching, both in the ways I felt empathetic, and in the ways the film's structure enhanced that empathy.

Something else filmmaking-wise that I noticed early on was the decision to have some of the characters speak directly into that stationary camera for many of the conversations. E.g. Father would be talking to Mother but the camera would be right in Father's face, and then Mother would respond but the camera would be right in her face. A note I made early in the film speculated that this was bad acting, but a note toward the end of the film made sure to reverse that thinking. It was a feature, not a bug—Father comforting Noriko with a big smile on his face, speaking calmly to the camera, that all had a way of comforting the audience to. I felt comforted, like he was speaking to me, tell me not to be so sad. I wonder if this was an intention of the filmmaker and actors, or if it's just something I needed to feel from the film.

I appreciated too the fact that there was no melodrama in this film. The first half of the film seemed like it was building up to the idea that Shige and maybe Kōichi were going to be the villains of the story, doing something to screw up their parents' lives. And while there was a small tension that remained there even after Mother's death, it never fully bloomed into something extraordinary. It was a very ordinary, banal drama. Father, even after Mother dies, shrugs it off: "you're very busy, don't mind me." Even after all the discussion about children being disappointments or how kids change as they grow up, and Mother's worries about Shige not being as nice as she was when she was younger... I mean, all of this matters, but they don't add up to anything sinister.

Which felt truer to real life! I wonder sometimes what my parents think about me behind closed doors, and I have to imagine it is something like the conversation between Mother and Father here. "Joe was such a nice kid... what happened... haha we still love him though..." Mother dies, that's just how it goes. No one is blamed. Father doesn't try to say that it was the trip to Tokyo that killed her. He also doesn't call out anyone for trying to ditch their parents for the entire week they are there. Shige can be kind of a dick and still be very, very sad at the passing of her mom. That's just how it is. Human beings are complicated, interfamilial relationships even more so. Nothing is black or white.

I keep thinking that maybe it all seemed beautiful in its ordinariness because of the camera, though. There were emotions rippling through each scene between different combinations of characters, and I could feel them, sometimes very strongly, but never once did I feel like I was being told how to feel. The camera didn't suddenly zoom in when a character expressed surprise. It didn't track a character to show that this character's feelings were most important. Nothing like any of that. It just stayed put. It invited us to remove our sandals, and take our spot on the floor, allowing us space to watch the story unfold. I was indeed watching a painting, come to life.

GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5

Meet us in the comments to let us know what you think! I have so many more thoughts!

(NEXT TIME: Another group of Film Club members assemble to watch The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension!)

Never Seen It #278: Dick Tracy

All right, that's enough! I want 'em dead, both of 'em. I want this blog dead and I want 400 movies I've never seen before dead. What's the matter, you bums forgot how to kill people? Doesn't your work mean anything to you anymore? Have you no sense of pride in what you do? No sense of duty, no sense of destiny? I'm looking for generals; what do I got? Foot soldiers!

Dick Tracy

1990

Warren Beatty

Thanks to Group I for sharing their thoughts!

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Sam

Such a mix of feelings. Warren Beatty creates a beautiful landscape for him to play good guys and bad guys against. The colors and costumes and makeup pop. But the plot and characters are laughable. At first, I thought there was a larger comment to it. But I think he was faithfully adhering to the comic strip. There's no larger message. He's just really into Dick Tracy. Madonna stands out fine, but all of her motivations leading back to Dick Tracy doesn't make sense. Neither does the needless rule that we don't touch Dick Tracy. Fun to watch but forgettable.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

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Catherine

Had to break down my thoughts into stream-of-consciousness bullet points this time:

• There's a negative review of Dick Tracy on Rotten Tomatoes that calls out the film for being "cartoonish," which is very funny to me since it's such an intentional move and they knocked it out of the park IMHO.
• The color palette is lovely (lovely?? sorry, I'm tired), and captures that retro comic book style so well
• I had a hard time getting lost in the film when Madonna was on screen. I couldn't stop my brain from yelling, "Hey, that's Madonna!" which is strange because I could watch A League of Their Own all day every day and never have that problem, but seeing her as a mysterious chanteuse didn't work for me for some reason. Maybe it's just too close to who she is in real life.
• Oscar nominee Al Pacino ruled.
• This movie is laugh out loud funny. When Tracy punches an entire group of bad guys with a single uppercut I couldn't have been more delighted.
• It's Warren Beatty's baby and he gets to be the star if he wants, but I wonder if the film would've been even better with some handsome, square-jawed, almost animated looking Bruce Campbell type as Tracy.
• "Cartoonish" philistines aside, I agreed with some criticisms I read that the film lacks substance and has a flimsy plot, and yet as I write this sentence I can't help but think that it's gotta be a pretty spot-on adaptation of at 1930s noir comic strip, and perhaps all of that was intentional in which case NO NOTES you win again, Warren Beatty.

4/5 pukes

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Sean

I currently have shingles, which hurt and make me sleepy, so this review is gonna to be more bullet points of what I liked and disliked than a full review.

Things I liked:

• The production design was astounding. That first shot of the city looked like a cartoon, and all of the sets and painted backgrounds blew me away. Not surprised they won an Oscar for that. 
• The acting was great all around, although I don't think the cast was given much to work with,
• considering the roles are broad film noir archetypes. 
• I'm sure some people took issue with Pacino, but I loved him. Perfect for a big bad guy role. I wish Charlie Korsmo was in more movies. I will always love Hook and he's so good in that too. Charismatic as hell with range. He's great as Dick's sidekick. 
• The cinematography and lighting were a stand out for me. The shots with items or people extremely in the foreground with other action in the background get like panels of a comic book.
• I loved the color palette too. Basic, striking colors.

Things I disliked:

• The makeup. While it is impressive and essential for the villains based on their designs in the comic, I really really hated seeing it. Flattop in particular. I know we aren't supposed to like the villains, and they're meant to be disliked, but seeing how fucking ugly they are made me angry. If this movie was on TV, I would turn it off because I don't wanna look at that shit. If I was a movie-goer in 1990 and saw the trailer, I would not see the movie for that reason alone. I'm definitely going overboard on this, but it disturbed me that much.
• Dustin Hoffman. He was incredibly distracting in that I couldn't stop thinking "oh that's Dustin Hoffman trying to be cartoony." It was annoying.
• I wish there was more music. I really liked the songs, but there weren't enough for me, and thought they could break the story up a bit more.
• It was just kind of boring for me. I love slow cinema (Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du..., Andrei Tarkovsky's films), but it's gotta be more interesting than Dick Tracy felt.
• Not a complaint, just a question: where the hell are all the people in this city? We don't see anyone but the villains, cops, Dick, women, the orphans, dancers, and diner employees. There are no citizens in these streets or in the many many buildings.

I'm glad I finally saw this, but I know I'll never ever watch Dick Tracy again when there are over 2,000 movies in my ever-growing watchlist.

3.25 pukes out of 5

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Joe

A problem I usually have with these modern adaptations of older properties is that there's always this knee-jerk reaction to make the film's characters and tone more sardonic, sarcastic, hip, and ironic. I understand that the filmmakers are attempting to fit into the modern audience's expectations, like maybe they don't trust that the kids are comfortable with sincerity, and so they have to, for example, take a book from 1901 about a nice little rabbit and turn it into a shit-talking pun vehicle for the unctuous James Corden. They're following the money, but they're gutting the soul of the thing.

I've never read Peter Rabbit. I've also never read the Dick Tracy comics. So this is possibly me making untoward assumptions about the source material. You'll forgive me if I'm mistaken, but this is a Film Club, not a Comics Club (if you start one of those, I'll be there). My assumption is that I am imagining that the tone of the film is pretty consistent with the comics. There's been no updating for modern audiences (and you understand that "modern audiences" were 35 years ago, so I'm stretching the definition, I know). This is a comic book, presented as a movie, and that comic book is still the same comic book that came out in the 1930s. I find that admirable, if not necessarily enjoyable.

The movie magic, if there is any, comes from the idea that a movie could so faithfully adapt a comic book, and have it still feel like a comic book. Ya know, since movies and comics are different media completely. I like reading about how they tried to never move the camera, to recreate the panels of the comics. The colors are so vivid and unworldly that they are both memorable and distracting, but very comic book-like for sure. If the question is "why is the living FUCK does this character look like THAT?!" then I have to imagine that it was because they took great pains in transporting a free-drawn caricature of a cartoon character and made him look exactly the same on the screen. Which is cool! It made characters like Flattop look more horrifying than basically any Cenobite in Hellraiser. I didn't like it! Creepy as fuck! But still kinda cool! Definitely made me feel something! Which is good!

There is a hard-fisted commitment to the tropes. There is no upending of expectations. The conventions of the gumshoe detective are fully intact, and taken at face value. This isn't some bullshit that you'd find in the 21st century, where an IP is fucked for commercial appeal. I am watching Dick Tracy as he always was, as he's always acted, as he's always looked. As someone who has never read a single panel of that comic series, I thought it was convenient that I know feel like I'm familiar with the comics. I get the sense that Warren Beatty probably loved these comics as a kid and wanted to recreate them faithfully, and that's cool too. It's just a change of pace from what you'd see today. (I'm repeating myself, but that's a trope of my writing on PoYB, and like Dick Tracy, I'm sticking faithfully to the tropes.)

The flipside is that I don't feel like there's anything to pull from this film-watching experience. No larger themes beyond "this was a comic, doesn't it feel like a comic?" It's not saying anything new. I can appreciate on a structural level how faithful this thing is meant to be, but on an artistic level, it feels hollow. It tells me everything about a comic strip from the '50s, and it tells me nothing about the human experience. It was not hard to get through, but it would be hard to return to.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

Miscellaneous thoughts: Madonna was a great actor, why haven't I seen anything else she's been in beyond A League of Their Own?; seeing Charlie Korsmo in this one, after previously seeing him in Hook and Can't Hardly Wait and What About Bob? (that's four of the nine total movies he's ever been in), pretty much locks up any round of Six Degrees you could possibly play; I now need to go back to the Al Pacino Dunkin Donuts commercial from Jack and Jill to see if there are any Dick Tracy references, because this Shrek cell phone dude was fucking nuts in this movie.

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 3.313 pukes out of 5

Get the Kid some food and meet us in the comments!

(NEXT TIME: a two-day turnaround with Group G slapping us with To Have and Have Not)

Titanic Rising, Sean G.

It's hard to know exactly what to say about a piece of art that meets and exceeds every expectation. Weyes Blood's Titanic Rising is sad, cinematic, beautiful, cohesive, regretful, hopeful. With all the weight of the world's largest ship forever sinking slowly into the great abyss.

These songs made me feel the specific feelings that seem to only come with heartbreak. I've slowly had to rebuild myself after getting dumped and the stages of that grief are so vivid in Natalie Mering's music. Depression, anger, confusion, regret, denial, acceptance, the feelings of hope that never become anything more. It's been years since I've lived in that aftermath of heartbreak, but Titanic Rising transported me back to the strangely comforting despair I've lived in before.

Natalie Mering is the torch singer so many musicians wish they could be. Her voice is beautiful and powerful and soft at the same time. It's soothing, like she's singing sad lullabies to herself and to us, trying to convince us that it'll all be ok. Her voice reminds me of Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite musicians and singers. I could listen to her sing anything and it would be completely engrossing, how I imagine the effect of a Siren's voice. I don't know how else to describe it. I actually don't know the words to accurately do so.

I am obsessed with the production of this album. It's so completely cohesive, with its luscious strings and gorgeous piano. I couldn't help but picture her singing each song by herself, spotlit on a darkened stage in a massive, empty concert hall. Every note, instrument, and melody feels somehow both contained in a vacuum, while also bursting out into the far reaches of the universe. 

I love, love, love Harry Nilsson, and I thought of his music while listening to Titanic Rising. Especially in the jaunty "Everyday." This standout "fun" song on the album still feels like creeping dread, the doom waiting at the end of everything, asking the seemingly unanswerable questions about love—and our existence with and without it. 

"True love is making a comeback

For only half of us, the rest just feel bad

Doomed to wander in the world's first rodeo

You never let it show."

To quote Back to the Future: "Heavy."

I can see listening to Weyes Blood becoming somewhat of an obsession. An artist I'll never get tired of. I also feel this way about Tom Waits, the Velvet Underground, and a select few other musicians. Layers always peeling themselves back to reveal more depth and emotion of her deceptively simple melody and lyrics. I genuinely feel like seeing Weyes Blood live would be a completely overwhelming experience and I wouldn't know what to do with myself. This is not an exaggeration.

5 out of 5, 10 out of 10, 1,000 out of 1,000 pukes

Album of the Week: Titanic Rising

I think it's cool to get friends to pop in and out of Record Club. Who among us hasn't gotten a text or email from Joe K*** reading something like "hey, can you do me a favor...... it's for the blog...."? Now, the question to me would be, how responsive would people be if they received a text that was like "hey, can you do me a favor........ and do Record Club every week for the next 52 weeks?" Would that work? Who's going to be receptive to a text like that? Hit me up if you're looking for a good New Year's resolution for 2026.

Record Club:

archives | supplemental

spotify playlist | youtube playlist

choose | writing

WEEK 355 — November 16-22, 2025

Titanic Rising

by Weyes Blood

LISTEN:

Spotify | YouTube | Bandcamp | Apple

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PICKED BY SEAN G.

SEAN'S PITCH: "Singer-songwriters might be my favorite type of musicians. I have trouble defining the genre or sound, but I know it when I hear it. Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson, Joni Mitchell, etc. Storytellers expressing pain and humor with thoughtful lyrics and stirring melodies. I'd heard my first Weyes Blood song a couple years ago and never followed up. But the ethereal quality of her voice and the arrangement of strings and piano haunted me in a way that my favorite Nilsson or Mickey Newbury songs do. Titanic Rising seems to be a favorite among her acclaimed discography, so I figured I'd start there."

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ALBUM DETAILS

GENRE: Baroque pop, art pop, progressive pop, dream pop, psychedelic pop, soft rock, singer-songwriter

RELEASED: April 5, 2019

LENGTH: 42:22

TRACKLIST:

1. A Lot's Gonna Change
2. Andromeda
3. Everyday
4. Something to Believe
5. Titanic Rising
6. Movies
7. Mirror Forever
8. Wild Time
9. Picture Me Better
10. Nearer to Thee

LYRICS: Genius.com

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ARTIST DETAILS

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

ABOUT: Natalie Laura Mering was born on June 11, 1988, in Santa Monica, California. She is known by the stage name Weyes Blood (pronounced "wise blood"). Her family moved to Doylestown, PA, where she attended Central Bucks West (my cousin Harry attended CB East in the same year, bummer that a few suburban blocks separated me from ever meeting Weyes Blood). She went to college in Portland, and was involved in the noise scene out there, fronting a couple bands. She eventually changed it up (and started officially going by Weyes Blood, and not "Weyes Bluhd") and released some chamber pop albums, the genre in which she eventually found critical acclaim. She canvasses for the Democratic Socialists of America, which, among other reasons, makes her cool as fuck in my eyes. No talk of any recent music, beyond a 2025 collab with the artist Drugdealer.

DISCOGRAPHY: This is Weyes Blood's fourth of five albums. The first (as a solo artist) was 2011's The Outside Room (probably released on or around her college graduation day, if she graduated on time). The most recent was 2022's And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow.

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ADDITIONAL INFO

READING SOME SHIT: a 2022 feature with Clash Music

WATCHING SOME SHIT: Tiny Desk concert featuring three songs from this album (and some smoking hot supporting musicians who are definitely NOT robots)

RECORD CLUB CONNECTIONS: The scene on the cover of this album features a bedroom poster of Lou Reed of the Velvet Underground, so this might be the first time a Record Club alumnus has showed up on another Record Club album's artwork (correct me if I'm wrong).

Weyes Blood immediately joins the Three Albums Club, as her voice was featured on two previous RC albums in guest appearances: Imploding the Mirage by the Killers and Fear of Death by Tim Heidecker. (I'll have to sit down and take note of who else in this club at some point. Off the top of my head, it's at least Lil Wayne and Maren Morris.) She also featured on a non-RC Perfume Genius song at one point.

As noted by Weyes Blood herself in an interview, she grew up near where Ween is from. Doylestown is indeed pretty close to New Hope! I've made that trip before! And "near where Ween is from" is a pretty great way to describe Doylestown, I can't lie.

She's opened for Kacey Musgraves and Beck (Rachel S. was there!). Her second album is called The Innocents, which shares a name with the RC album by Erasure. She named the meteoric sensation Universal Consciousness as one of the most influential albums of her life.

MENTIONS ON THE BLOG: "Everyday" got an honorable mention on PoYB's Top Songs of 2019 list. A really short blog post used "Everyday" as its embedded song in 2023.

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OTHER ALBUMS TO CHECK OUT

LAST WEEK'S ALBUM: Man Alive by Everything Everything, and make sure to check out the reviews if you wanna see what we thought of it!

RC@5: We're relistening to the Record Club album we featured exactly five years ago this week. The RC album for this week in 2020 was Little Neon Limelight by Houndmouth.

RC f/u: We're attempting to catch up on all the new albums from our esteemed Record Club alumni. Mini-review coming on Saturday, this week for The Life of a Showgirl by Taylor Swift (I'm going to write very little about it, and no, I'm not being sarcastic, it really is going to be a small review, I don't have time for this woman to upend my life by forcing me to write 3000 words about some fucking pop album).

SHADOW RECORD CLUB: Each week, we're exploring the genres of last week's album. If there is a genre that has a #1-rated album that I've never heard before, I'll download it. If not, I'll just give you my best recommendation. Last week's Man Alive was a math pop album. We're listening this week to Unhappy Refrain by wowaka. I've never heard it before.

NEXT WEEK'S RC ALBUM: In case you need some extra time with an album to write a review for it, you can get a head start on Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid by Bob Dylan!

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COUNTDOWN:

69 Weeks Until Week 420

We are tracking and counting down every week from here on out till Record Club Week 420. We started this countdown 69 weeks out. I am happy to announce that during Record Club Week 420, we will be covering Donny Most by the esteemed Happy Days virgin Donny Most. I am also happy to announce that Week 420 of Record Club will feature 69 reviews from 69 different people. 

THIS WEEK: We are 65 weeks away from Week 420.

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Happy listening, RC family!
Have a great week!

Never Seen It #272: Hellraiser

I thought I'd gone to the limits, watching 400 movies I'd never seen before. I hadn't. The Cenobites gave me an experience beyond limits. Pain and blogging, indivisible.

Hellraiser

1987

Clive Barker

Group I has solved the puzzle box and is ready to share their thoughts before they get sucked back into hell.

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Allison

What... what is this? Who is this for? Am I supposed to be scared or horny, because I'm definitely neither.

Hellraiser makes several baffling decisions along the way that hinder what had the potential to be a titillating good time. The movie clearly takes place in England, but instead remains vague about its exact location (only insisting that it's "better than Brooklyn"), and dubs over half of the British actors, including those playing the figuratively slimy human Frank and the literally slimy un-human Frank. Hey, why was Larry's brother British to begin with? Why did Frank keep putting clothes on before he had skin? Was Larry so bad at sex that one night of missionary at knife-point with Frank led Julia to obsession and multiple murders? Why the rats? Why does this movie insist on putting so many fingers in mouths?

Putting aside the plot, characters, and excessive mouth fingers, the visual effects are at least interesting. Fun, even. The few times I was able to turn my brain off, I had a pretty good time. The first time we saw reincarnated Frank was a thrill. He's so gross! Frank wearing Larry's skin at the end of the film was simple but effective. The Cenobites are certainly striking (and before you ask: marry Pinhead, fuck chattering teeth guy, kill lady Cenobite and slug-dude), but they don't offer much outside of visual appeal. Pinhead's little spiel about their whole deal is thin, at best. If you remove the Cronenbergian grotesquerie needed to render this film watchable, what are you left with? A mid, vaguely softcore thriller.

2.5 nipple clamps

(Where does half a nipple clamp go? You really don't want to know...)

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Sam

Concepts and makeup only go so far. If a film lacks any interesting characters, it can only be so enjoyable. They don't even have to be heroes or relatable, just mildly interesting would do. As it is here, Hellraiser is at times entertaining, but mostly an exercise in cheesy '80s tropes with empty skin sacks. 

The movie I compare this most with is The Fly, which is masterpiece body horror for the era. But while Cronenberg geeks out to the max with his creatures, the film stands the test of time because Jeff Goldblum's character is likable, and the Icarus plight is familiar. 

Here, there's no North Star. The British stepmom leads most of the movie, but we never understand her motivations. Her stiff husband nominally is moving to the suburbs to get her back to her comfort zone, but we don't know why or what she's running from. All we learn is that she's been cucking him with his pleasure-hunting brother, Frank. Also, there's a daughter, who needs to prove she can do it on her own, who becomes the final girl. Both stepmom and daughter have empty backstories that don't go anywhere or have a payoff. 

But, ok, is there a cohesive theme around pain-for-pleasure chaser Frank? He travels the globe to find an interdimensional rubik's cube to unlock the only worthy part of the movie—the Pinhead gang. Is Frank wrong for his pursuit? Like, every character in this movie is punished for having sex in some capacity. But the daughter survives? So she's good? But her dad doesn't, so he is not good?

Ultimately, the film is in service to making these demons look crazy as hell. It certainly succeeds on that part, and I can understand why there are subsequent films. This is not high art and it's mostly a chore to get through. But the chattering teeth are fun!

2.5 out of 5 

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Catherine

One of my favorite parts of Film Club has been watching wildly popular movies that I probably wasn't ever going to get around to on my own, then having to reckon with all those preconceived notions I'd accumulated over the years.

Hellraiser is a big one for me. Pinhead's stare taunted me nearly every weekend of my childhood when I wandered the Blockbuster aisles trying to pick out a movie with my family. From the VHS cover alone, I'd always wondered just how disturbing and bizarre this movie really was and, once again, the real thing was completely different from what I'd imagined.

To start, Hellraiser was MUCH hornier than I thought it would be. The first 30-40 minutes are more softcore porn / soap opera than horror movie, as we flash back to the wife's brief and steamy affair with her brother-in-law. It got to a point where I legitimately thought I was watching the wrong movie and had to check twice that I didn't accidentally put on some weird sequel or spin-off. And speaking of the affair, I gotta say, I did not really buy into the Frank charm! Which is kind of important as it's the motivating factor behind the depravity this otherwise regular-seeming lady descends into for the rest of the film. In my estimation, Frank is what happens when Arthur Fonzarelli gets kicked in the head by a horse, rendering him mostly nonverbal. But this does it for Julia in such a profound way that I just had to accept and move on so as not to get too overwhelmed by my confusion.

Sidenote in Julia's defense, she is married to a complete dud. Imagine splitting your hand nearly in half and instead of running to—I don't know—the nearest towel, sink or first aid kit, you rush straight up the stairs to your wife and proclaim, "here," presenting your mangled appendage like a little kid who just found a caterpillar.

Overall, I had a hard time designating this movie as broadly "good" or "bad." For the most part, it felt like the film was begging for a Mystery Science Theater riff track, then some amazing practical effects would swoop in or a genuinely disturbing jump scare would get me and I'd have to give it to 'em. It was (mostly) visually impressive and a lot of the gore and makeup effects were masterfully done. I have no issue understanding how the Cenobites were instantly cemented as pop culture icons (though oddly they were a bit of a plot afterthought?), and it made sense why makeup artist BOB KEEN got such a dramatic credit in the beginning of the film.

I may have to mull this one over for a few more days, but bad acting and flimsy plot aside—seriously, they don't bother to even attempt to explain the mechanics of the box or how Frank is regenerating or any of the magic of these interdimensional demons AT ALL—I really enjoyed watching this movie, and at a cool one hour 34 minutes, it felt like a wiser use of my time than most things I could've gotten up to on a Tuesday night.

Favorite quote: "We belong to each other now, for better or for worse. Like love... only real." Ok Frank.

3.5 pukes out of 5

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Sean G.

I've loved reading horror since I read my first Stephen King short story when I was ten or eleven years old. Watching horror movies, on the other hand, is something I only started doing about five-to-ten years ago. Walking through video stores as a kid, the artwork on the horror VHS boxes both terrified me and intrigued me. I was certain I could never handle the terrors that lived inside of the box. If I kept my distance, I would be ok. But once I saw what those images could do, I feared I could never go back to the innocence that came with not knowing. 

But here I am. Age 35, and I've finally seen Hellraiser. And to be honest, it left me wanting more. The level of visceral horror that I expected was a bit lacking. And I wanted more Cenobites! I wanted them to do more! Part of this expectation, aside from fearing this movie for close to 30 years, is that I've read The Hellbound Heart, Clive Barker's novella that he published the year before the release of the movie.

His writing is disturbing, and grotesque, and unquestionably visceral. It hurts my insides and makes them churn. And I love it. Staying up, scaring myself to sleep, reading horror into the wee small hours of the morning is something I've done with my favorites since I was a child. 'Salem's Lot, It, How to Sell a Haunted House, and more recently Clive Barker's stuff. 

I realize this desire for more makes me somewhat similar to Frank Cotton. I should be careful what I wish for. I'd hate to go too far, so far that the only way back is to have my brother's wife kill for me. I would hate to do that to her. She just had a son and her and my brother are so happy and lovely.

Some things I really loved about Hellraiser:

• I thought the acting was great. Larry, Julia, and Frank all play their characters to the tone of the movie so well. 
• I loved the tone! It felt like the British dramas from the '80s and '90s that would air on PBS during the day when we were growing up. Like a BBC production peppered with kick-ass special effects. The lighting and the outfits and cinematography in particular really gave it that look and feel.
• The special effects of Frank's tearing skin were great. Same with his re-animation process and the victims being drained of their insides. I read that Barker had to tone some of the violence down for the censors to avoid an X rating. So that's a bummer. From Wikipedia: "Close-ups of Kirsty sticking her hand into Frank's stomach, exposing his guts, a longer version of the scene where Frank is being torn into pieces, and the final shot where his head explodes were also cut." I would love to watch his original cut somehow, if it exists.
• When Kirsty realizes her "dad' is actually Frank. I saw it coming, but that was still a fun reveal. Just enough of his skin was giving the look of Hannibal Lector wearing the cop's face. Fun stuff.
• The design of the Cenobites is great too.

So, in short, I love Clive Barker. He taps into a more severe body and sexual horror that really explores his themes of sexual pleasure vs. pain so well. When you think you've experienced it all, it's not enough. You still crave more. Truly scary thoughts. I wanted the Cenobites to do more, but the effects and production design were all pretty fun. The villains are evil, driven, and literally bound by their sick desires. 

This movie was a great time, even though it left me wanting more. Given the theme though, how much is enough, and how much is too much? 

3.75 pukes out of 5

P.S. I 100% recommend reading The Hellbound Heart. Also, his short story "In the Hills, the Cities" is without a doubt my favorite piece of short horror that I've ever read. Avoid looking anything up about it beforehand. Here's to more horror and more fun. 

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Joe

I've been playing with the idea of "horror movie protagonists are stupid" lately, and I don't know if I've come to a solid conclusion on whether this is a bad thing or an excusable thing or an unimportant thing. But it was on my mind as I watched Hellraiser. There was a scene early in the film in which Larry is trying to convince Julia that it's a good idea to move into the run-down house that he and his long-lost brother own, and he's attempting to be chipper and cheerful to make his point. This, despite the fact that he walks into the kitchen and sees a pile of maggots and cockroaches crawling around. In response, Larry slowly backs away, and doesn't mention what he saw to anyone.

So this makes him stupid, right? There's something "not right" with the house, but he ignores it, and manages to get killed because of it. I would say that there's sufficient reason to be frustrated with the logic of this movie and other horror movies, in that the characters are required to be dumb in order for the plot machinations to click into place. If everyone on earth was able to manage stress appropriately and make smart decisions under pressure, and thus made the wise decision to run as far away from the source of danger as possible and tell as many people as possible, then there wouldn't be a movie. 

A wild thought occurred to me this time around, though. I honestly think that if I was in the same position as Larry, I might have acted the same way. Like, if I'm trying to convince a loved one that everything is okay and that nothing is wrong, and then saw something that was clearly wrong, like a big pile of disgusting bugs, then I might... slowly back away, and ignore the problem for a little longer. Not worth the mental stress, honestly. I don't know what this says about Hellraiser, but I think it says something about the idea of horror movie characters being "dumb," maybe pointing to the idea that it's not as simple as that.

Another Larry-ism from early in the film was when he got a deep cut on his hand and told Julia "you know how I am with blood!" and threatened to pass out. I would say that I relate to this sentiment in a general way, in that I wouldn't pass out, but I am definitely extremely squeamish when it comes to blood and cuts/abrasions in film. Having watched Hellraiser yourself, you can imagine that I spent the entire 90 minutes with a permanent grimace on my face. Gruesome stuff. If one of the purposes of this film was to be provocative to the audience, then it no doubt succeeded.

But I still don't think that I would say that I was "scared" while watching. I was thinking about the idea of fear the other day. Have I ever written about what my "biggest fear" is? It's slugs. Like the slimy shell-less creeps that crawl in your garden at dawn. I don't know why. The house I grew up in had them in the backyard, and there was probably some incident in my early childhood that neither I nor anyone else remembers. To this day, I see a slug, and my heart starts pounding and I get all tingly with fear and I move as quickly in the opposite direction of the slug as possible. 

I was thinking about how there's a fear there but I don't know why, and that there's a fear there even though I am old enough and wise enough to know that there is no tangible threat. If I'm riding my bike and I experience fear when a car blows past me almost killing me, the fear makes sense because there's an actual threat. But what to make of fear without the threat? Like with slugs? I was thinking about how it becomes up to me to acknowledge the fear and acknowledge the lack of a threat and just, ya know, accept the emotion of fear for what it is: very real and very baseless. There's a process of self-actualization involved where you have to consider your fear and play with it and understand it, which is easier said than done, but once it happens, you can say something like: the slugs can't hurt me!!!

It was interesting to watch Hellraiser and experience so many emotions that you could describe as "fear" while still acknowledging that this is a fictional movie and it cannot hurt me. I think that this is the best way of explaining something I've felt for a while now, and that is the idea that I'm missing out on something because I don't really think that horror movies are "scary." It occurred to me while watching Hellraiser that I was technically scared of the film, and all the gruesome cutting and stabbing and flesh-peeling and all that. The emotions I felt during that were identical to the emotions I feel when I see a slug. But for the longest time, it was so hard to identify those feelings as "fear," because it never crossed my mind that a fictional movie would be a "threat." And they are not, for the record. The gore is produced through the magic of movie makeup and special effects. What I'm saying now is that maybe it's time to acknowledge that inducing the emotion of "fear," however unlike actual fear of a real threat it is, means that the movie is a successful one. A successful horror movie, anyway.

So on a movie critique level, I'd compare my takeaway from Hellraiser as similar to my takeaway from The Evil Dead, in that the movie was less a coherent and meaningful story, and more a vehicle to frighten audiences through the magic of movies. Which is cool! I don't mind that! That actually takes a lot of skill, to be able to replicate the emotion of fear while everyone in the room knows that the Pinhead in the room is not actually real. If you're the type of person who is able to feel fear and then acknowledge that what you're feeling is a physical response and not actually based on anything real, then Hellraiser is an easy movie to appreciate.

Like The Evil Dead, there's not much more to it than that. There's nothing interesting to say about the human condition that I could find. I suppose there might be something along the lines of, errrr, how a lie can spiral out of control and cause untold consequences and maybe try to be a little more honest about your life and your behaviors so that you don't end up stabbed by your hedonistic ex-lover brother-in-law? I could see someone more skillful at this than I am hammering (whoops) that metaphor out of this movie. Maybe I could've been the one to do it; maybe it's just simply distracting that that brother-in-law lover was, in his human form, the splitting image of Luigi Mangione.

One difference from The Evil Dead is that I at no time got worried that the plot of Hellraiser was nonsensical. The Evil Dead didn't give a shit about why these people were in the woods or why the woods were attacking them or any of the other thousands of little stupid plot logistics that made no fucking sense and didn't matter. Hellraiser was similarly uninterested in explaining anything... but there's a difference between the explanation missing and the explanation simply hidden. All the stuff about the Cenobites' existence and why Frank got mixed up with them and what the puzzle box was, all that stuff felt like a lore that simply existed to the left of the screen. I mean, it was based on a novella and was written and directed by the author of that novella and it has literally ten sequels that probably do more to flesh out (whoops) the Cenobite lore, right? I'm just saying that all the "Why?"s that I felt here were comfortable set to the side, whereas all the "Why?"s I felt during The Evil Dead had to be beaten back with a stick.

I've already written way too much, sorry about that, but man, this was an interesting flick. I don't know if it was good, but it was interesting, and it's gonna stick with me. Why in the world did Frank-as-Larry say "Jesus wept" right before the Cenobites hook-and-chained his face skin so far apart that it exploded? I have a suspicion that shit like that was included just to be memorable, and not because it meant anything. But it was memorable, and so I have no choice but to say that Hellraiser was a good movie. Even though it was literally painful to watch.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5

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GROUP AVERAGE GRADE: 3.05 pukes out of 5

See you in the comments for more!

(NEXT TIME: More Cenobites in the Hellraiser sequel, titled Mona Lisa Smile.)