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nitrateglow · 2 years

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Favorite films discovered in 2022

I just noticed the immense amount of British films on the list and that’s the result of a deep dive into the British New Wave, a movement I had little experience with before. Also, the 1960s is prominent on this list in general. I didn’t realize just how many movies I watch from this decade until now.

Lawrence of Arabia (dir. David Lean, 1962)

An epic following the mysterious TE Lawrence, who served as a liasion between the Arab tribes and the British during WWI.

Until now, this film was the biggest omission in my viewing habits. I tried watching it in high school but gave up halfway through. In hindsight, that might have been for the best. At seventeen, I wasn’t mature enough to comprehend the film or knowledgeable enough about its WWI context to really get anything out of it. Now that I’ve seen it, I’m a believer-- this is a great film, perhaps the best of the cinematic epics that were so popular in the 1960s.

This is one I know I’ll be rewatching in the future. There’s just so much depth to the story and the characters. Peter O’Toole’s Lawrence is a wonderful enigma-- his performance is up there with Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc. I like how the movie constantly questions the motives of its hero. We’re never force-fed the answers or told how to feel, and I absolutely relish that.

Ryan’s Daughter (dir. David Lean, 1970)

Trapped in an unfulfilling marriage, a passionate young Irish woman embarks on an affair with a traumatized English officer during WWI.

Ryan’s Daughter has a reputation as a total bomb. Every critic wailed that the film was indulgent, devoting way too much time to a slight Madame Bovary retelling. I absolutely disagree-- I thought this movie was outstanding. I was greatly moved by its beauty, by its graceful and compassionate attitude towards its flawed characters, by its cautiously hopeful finale despite all the tragedy that had gone on before. I was never bored nor did I ever feel that the film was overproduced despite the intimacy of the story.

I’m glad this one is getting re-evaluated in the years since. It deserves it.

The Black Phone (dir. Scott Derrickson, 2021)

Captured by a serial killer and locked in his basement with nothing but a disconnected phone, a young boy starts receiving otherworldly calls from the kliler’s former victims, all of whom want to help him escape their fate.

I feel like this taut little horror flick was designed to appeal to me. One-room location. A reliance on suspense and dread rather than gore and jump scares. A vulnerable but intelligent protagonist set against a ruthless villain. It’s just fantastic, a wonderful chiller of the old-school. A friend and I watched this around Halloween and we were spellbound. I wish I had seen it in a theater.

The Collector (dir. William Wyler, 1965)

After coming into a great sum of money, a bank teller kidnaps the girl of his dreams and keeps her in his basement, hoping she’ll fall in love with him.

The auteurists never gave William Wyler his due as a filmmaker. Not one to pursue the same genre, character types, and themes over and over again, all Wyler had was an eye for composition, acting, and solid storytelling-- you know, little insignificant things like that.

My sarcasm aside, The Collector is an underrated gem-- you would never guess this was directed by an old-timer at the end of his career. The most fascinating thing about it is the dynamic between the captor and his captive. The two manipulate one another constantly, keeping you guessing just how this scenario will turn out.

Darling ( dir. John Schlesinger, 1965)

An ambitious model sleeps her way to the top of the fashion world, only to encounter hollowness and ennui.

I did not expect to love the sharply satirical Darling as much as I did. Everything about the film is exceptional, but Julie Christie really shines in the lead role. Her Diana is greedy and ambitious, yet she is intelligent and sensitive enough to know how shallow her life really is despite all the money, sex, and success she encounters. She wants to be amoral, yet a repressed sense of morality and a desire for meaning haunt her incessantly. Her attempts to attain transcendence seem doomed to failure, especially since she cannot fully wean herself from the competitive, materialistic society the movie so mercilessly shreds.

Double Suicide (dir. Masahiro Shinoda, 1969)

Separated by class in feudal Japan, a paper merchant and a courtesan struggle to preserve their doomed love in spite of all odds.

This wonderful film is based on an eighteenth century puppet play. While the production uses live actors, director Masahiro Shinoda utilizes a metafictional conceit that both pays homage to the story’s theatrical origins and suggests the doomed lovers are being controlled by a fate they cannot escape-- he has black-clad stagehands “pose” the characters, put out props, and change scenery between scenes. It sounds gimmicky and pretentious, but it works beautifully, resulting in a chilling love tragedy.

Casanova (dir. Alexandre Volkoff, 1927)

The philandering Casanova gets into several scrapes across 1760s Europe, wooing beautiful women and infuriating the authorities at every turn.

Ivan Mosjoukine is one of the silent era’s most downright fascinating figures. A refugee of the Russian Revolution, he became a superstar of French cinema, appearing in a variety of projects and sometimes even directing and writing (check out the quirky as hell The Burning Crucible if you want to see just how out there his work can get). I’ve heard him described as a cross between John Barrymore, Buster Keaton, and Lon Chaney. but none of that does his unique presence much justice.

In Casanova, he plays an amorous yet mischievous and sensitive character who hops from one misadventure to the next. The movie is sumptuous, a gorgeous evocation of the 18th century. It’s the kind of movie that begs to be seen on a big screen, but even at home, the light as champagne bubbles story holds up well. Not groundbreaking-- but does every movie need to be? Hell no!

Lady in a Cage (dir.Walter Grauman, 1964)

A wealthy matron finds herself imprisoned in a home elevator when hoodlums break into her lavish house.

On one level, Lady in a Cage is pure sweaty camp, complete with a bosom heaving Olivia de Havilland and James Caan doing his best Brando impression. On another, it feels like a feverish nightmare in line with the social tensions of the 1960s, with an out of touch rich woman seeing herself as the last decent person on earth while frustrated criminals raid her house. The atmosphere is oppressive, even apocalyptic, and the ending is shockingly gory given the period this was made and the stars involved. It’s bizarre, its overheated, but it’s not easily forgotten.

Nightmare Alley (dir. Edmund Goulding, 1947)

Nightmare Alley might be the ultimate film noir. Its cynical to the very heart, yet undoubtedly poignant in its presentation of the tragedy of conman Stan Carlisle. I was reminded of another noir from the classic period, Ace in the Hole-- not necessarily from the subject matter, but from how uncompromisingly dark the story is. Even the studio-mandated happy ending actually isn’t that happy when you closely examine it. Beyond that, the cinematography is gorgeous, the acting immaculate, the direction strong-- what more could you want?

A Taste of Honey (dir. Tony Richardson, 1960)

After an interracial affair with a sailor leaves her pregnant, a young woman moves in with a fellow outsider.

I thoroughly enjoyed this kitchen sink drama despite its relentlessness. Some reviewers write it off as too miserable-- and it’s true that it doesn’t give the audience a rosy presentation of life. However, the film isn’t overly bleak in my opinion. It also takes the time to show how beauty can still exist amid sorrow and despair, particularly in the form of friendship.

I read that Audrey Hepburn was originally considered for the lead role, but as much as I love her, she would have been all wrong for the part. I cannot imagine anyone other than the wonderful Rita Tushingham-- she isn’t movie star gorgeous, and her gamine qualities uneasily mingle with suppressed anger and fear. When I think of this movie, I think of her big, troubled eyes, prominently displayed in so many close-ups. In her, I see the quiet unease of adolescence personified with a rare honesty.

The Lineup (dir. Don Siegel, 1958)

A trio of criminals track down heroin shipments smuggled into San Francisco by unsuspecting civilians. As the cops try to track the crooks down, the bodies pile up.

This is a fantastic film, among the last noirs of the classic era. Starring Eli Wallach as a psychopathic drug thug, it starts slow but really picks up by the fifteen minute mark. The whole thing was also shot on-location in San Francisco, giving it a sense of gritty authenticity.

The Blair Witch Project (dir. Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez, 1999)

Three young filmmakers go into the woods to make a documentary about a local supernatural legend. It doesn’t go well for them.

So-called supernatural horror does not tend to scare me, though there are exceptions. I find the best supernatural horror is presented amidst the trappings of the mundane. After all, the supernatural is most disruptive when surrounded by business as usual. That’s what makes The Blair Witch Project so unnerving-- it feels like genuine found footage of normal people. While watching it, I thought it wasn’t that scary. Then I went to bed that night and found myself nervous of what might be lurking in the dark corners of my room. Considering the amount of horror I consume, that’s nothing to shrug off!

Tol’able David (dir. Henry King, 1921)

A young man must defend his family and rural community from a trio of thugs out to cause trouble.

Tol’able David is much beloved by silent film enthusiasts and for good reason! The nostalgic atmosphere immortalizes a rural America that was vanishing even by the early 1920s and the story has a mythic, long-time-ago feel that suits the heightened reality inherent to silent cinema. Richard Barthelmess also gives one of the most sensitive and powerful performances of his career. It might even be his finest moment as an actor.

Morgan! A Suitable Case for Treatment (dir. Karel Reisz, 1965)

Angst-ridden over his recent divorce, a young gorilla-fixated Marxist aims to win his ex back.

Yes, you read that summary correctly. This movie is INSANE yet strangely poignant. At its heart, this is a story about a man trying to come to terms with the dissolution of his marriage and his disenchantment with his own ideals-- this tale just happens to be wrapped up in an off-the-wall farce.

Isadora (dir. Karel Reisz, 1968)

Aged dancer Isadora Duncan looks back on her revolutionary career and torrid love life.

This biopic of dancer Isadora Duncan is so odd that I wasn’t sure how to take it at first. It’s told in a loose, nonlinear style, with a Proustian sensibility regarding its use of flashbacks. I tend to dislike biopics so color me surprised when I ultimately ended up enjoying this one. Duncan is not presented as a saintly figure nor as the opposite, but as a woman whose free spirit and unwillingness to compromise make her both admirable and infuriating. The script and Vanessa Redgrave’s wonderful performance perfectly bring Duncan to life, resulting in a haunting work about art as an all-consuming vocation.

The Fan (dir. Otto Preminger, 1949)

A society woman suspects her husband of having an affair, a misconception that threatens disaster for everyone involved.

The Fan is a forgotten entry in Preminger’s filmography, which is a shame because it’s a fantastic piece of work. I was first turned onto it by critic Imogen Smith, who praised it as an unsung classic and as that rare film that surpasses its source material. Considering this is adapted from an Oscar Wilde play, that’s a bold claim!

The film is an elegant comedy of manners, suffused with a strong sense of melancholy. Preminger added a prologue set in a broken-down postwar London, with Miss Erlynn trying to retrieve the infamous fan from an auction. Far from pointless fluff, this element lends a sense of poignancy to the scenes set in Victorian London. As Smith says in her review, “The frame gives the costume-drama portion a wistful edge; instead of the usual Hollywood gloss, here the past gleams through nostalgia like a flower buried in a paperweight.”

The Quiet Family (dir. Jee-woon Kim, 1998)

A family opens a bed-and-breakfast in the mountains, only for every one of their guests to die horribly during their stays. Concerned about how this will affect business, they hide the corpses... but the corpses just keep piling up.

This movie was later remade in Japan as The Happiness of the Katakuris and until I came across The Quiet Family on Freevee, I was not aware there even was an earlier version. Katakuris is basically a live-action cartoon musical, making The Quiet Family seem more sedate by comparison, but don’t be fooled. This is still a bizarre dark comedy and in some ways, I actually prefer it to the later version. It’s very reminiscent of Hitchcock’s The Trouble with Harry, only with a far higher body count.

The Northman (dir. Robert Eggers, 2022)

A Viking prince seeks to avenge his father’s murder. Yeah, it’s basically Viking Hamlet.

After Hayao Miyazaki, Robert Eggers is easily my favorite living filmmaker. His films truly transport the audience to other times and cultures, embracing how alien such an experience would be. The Northman feels like an old legend brought to life, incorporating supernatural elements in a mysterious way, never overexplaining them, just as you would expect in an old story. The film’s universe is brutal yet beautiful, never relenting. I saw this one opening weekend in the theater and let me tell you, you could have heard a pin drop by the time it got to the finale. Easily the most intense experience I’ve had at the movies in a long time.

Night Must Fall (dir. Karel Reisz, 1964)

A psychotic killer works as a handyman for an elderly landlady and her estranged daughter, and ends up manipulating the affections of both.

I don’t care what the critics say-- I love this bonkers movie. It’s an uneasy combination of quaint, drawing room thriller and trendy, sociopolitical new wave character study, and not everything about it works, but it hasn’t left my mind since I first saw it. It’s what I think remakes should actually try to be-- not an exercise in “member berries” or a shallow modern day dress-up of old material, but a bold re-imagining.

Onibaba (dir. Kaneto Shindo, 1964)

Two peasant women who loot the corpses of samurai to get by are torn apart by an amorous man and a supernatural mask.

What a creepy film! It’s one that really puts the rug out from under the viewer: at first, it seems like a typical period drama, but the supernatural subtly invades the story, leading to a truly chilling conclusion. But this isn’t a story where shocks and blood make up the horror-- it all comes from the messed up dynamic between the characters.

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2022?

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