Conclave (2024)

Director: Edward Berger

Cast: Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow, Isabella Rossellini

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Having been waylaid by the Oklahoma Flu for the better part of a month, I’m sad to admit that I’ve missed most (read: all but Dune: Part Two (2023)) of the best picture contenders for this year. Luckily, Peacock had me covered and only jammed two minutes of commercials into my eyes at the top.

Did I Like It: I’ve found myself, and really only since my recent viewing of The Exorcist (1973), strangely admiring of the Catholic clergy. I mean, I haven’t gone completely insane. I’m not going to take an entirely new theological viewpoint, and I could really spend the rest of the review talking about all of the bad things that the Catholic church has perpetrated through their myopia. But the best among them seem intellectually curious and ultimately confront doubt with some regularity.

On that front, I immensely enjoyed the film. The deep dive into papal politics kept me rapt with the same level of interest of any political drama. My sympathies naturally went with the more liberal cardinals, and that’s only partially because Stanley Tucci can’t avoid being likable*, even when he’s engaging in some underhanded machinations.

My only real reservation about the film lies with the third act. There’s a twist, I suppose, in just who becomes Pope at the end of the titular conclave. I won’t spoil it for you, but some might clutch their pearls at the turn. The turn itself isn’t my problem, though. It’s that the twist doesn’t seem to come from anything else that happens in the film. It almost feels like the ending of some other film about gender politics in the Vatican found itself grafted onto this film. I far more enjoyed the road to that twist than the twist itself.

*Truly, they had to pit the man against Tom Hanks to make him anything less than likable in The Terminal (2004).

Blow Out (1981)

Director: Brian De Palma

Cast: John Travolta, Nancy Allen, John Lithgow, Dennis Franz

Have I Seen It Before: Never. I’m horrified, too. The Criterion Blu Ray* has been sitting on my shelf for months.

Did I Like It: Oh, very much so. I’ll admit that I’m at something of a loss for what to say about the film as I get into the meat of this review. It’s extremely well made. It is likely the movie I would point to when someone either looks at me blankly or turns their nose up when I say that De Palma is** the heir to Hitchcock.

It’s a perfectly formed thriller. Beyond merely being laser-focused on the things a thriller needs to be to work, it is witty and surprising at every turn. De Palma got his first big break in horror through Carrie (1976), but he has a lot to say about the state of horror in the 80s, and the opening sequence says it all without saying a word at all. De Palma makes a passable Friday the 13th (1980) clone in the film’s opening minutes, only to ensure us very quickly that’s not what this film is about at all, and the film doesn’t care for those types of movies all that much, either. This is a movie that loves movies, even when they’re terrible, and I definitely feel a thematic connection to the material before I even kind of get to know Jack Terry (Travolta).

Which reminds me: you probably came here for some kind of deeper insight. I know I did. The one element I can’t quite get over in this film is Travolta himself. I’ve always found him to be far too mannered of a screen presence, as if he were preening like a peacock every time the camera finds him. Even in my favorite of his performances, Pulp Fiction (1994) and Primary Colors (1998) there’s a showiness on display that never feels quite fully authentic. Here, though through highs and lows, obsessions and boredom, Travolta just exists in the film, and it is a richer exercise for that restraint.

It’s just a good movie. If the collective aversion to any film older than 30 years is what I think it is, then you may not have seen it. You probably should.

Turns out I had more to say about the film than I thought.

*Actually the 4K/Blu Ray Combo pack, so I’m moving one step closer to eventually relenting the final frontier of physical media, even if I’m not completely certain that every motion picture was built for the highest possible resolution.

**Or, I suppose, was. I’m sure somebody has what they think is a cogent explanation for why De Palma can’t seem to get a picture together anymore, but I’m already dubious of it.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)

Director: Rupert Wyatt

Cast: James Franco, Frieda Pinto, John Lithgow, Andy Serkis

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure.

Did I Like It: There are three elements of this film—probably the weakest so far of the rebooted Apes series—that stand out to me on this viewing. First, the weakest part of the film is certainly the human element. Franco runs through the movie, vaguely embarrassed to be a vessel for exposition, and the less said about his relationship with Frieda Pinto, the better, if for no other reason than the film itself is absolutely disinterested in the relationship itself. It also doesn’t help that every time the film loses its self control and becomes content to fall into typical reboot tropes of bringing out lines from previous entries, it is usually coming from the incidental human characters. If memory serves, each time it was Tom Felton.

Any film that has a great and growing pandemic as one of its central plot pillars is going to play a little bit differently ten years down the line than it did in those halcyon days of Obama’s first term. That can’t be blamed on the filmmakers, but it can’t be ignored, either. Even odder still, the particular Typhoid Mary in this case—the neighbor (David Hewlett) is played (or at least I react to it) as a perpetually put upon comedic character.

And yet, the film works. Why? Serkis. Better than any other actor in existence, Serkis is able to transmit so much pathos through layers of special effects. He is able to make the childlike Caesar believable, and then subsequently sell Caesar’s journey from trying to join the world of his own kind, his fury at losing everything, and the honest temptation he feels to try to put things back the way they were, regardless of how much that can never happen by the time the film ends. It was the smartest decision to make Serkis’ performance the centerpiece of this trilogy.

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984)

Director: W. D. Richter

Cast: Peter Weller, John Lithgow, Ellen Barkin, Jeff Goldblum

Have I Seen it Before: Yes. A handful of times.

Did I Like It: And in the past, I’ve never been a huge fan of it. Certainly not like other people do. I had decided somewhere along the line that this was just one of those films that I didn’t “get” like The Princess Bride (1987) or the Lord of the Rings series.

But as I continue with my creative work some of these last few years, I finally have begun to define just what my genre is. It’s not science fiction, certainly not of the hard variety to be sure. It’s not really historical fiction, per se, especially because I tend to not be able to help myself when it comes to sending my characters traveling through time. A reductivist will occasionally delight in calling it fan fiction, and if you hold true to that, the only defense I’ve been able to offer in the past i that I will occasionally delve into meta-fiction.

But that last term has never been able to cover it, really. All this time I’ve been trying to work in the milieu of neo-pulp.

And you’d be hard pressed to find a better example of whatever that might mean than this film. Clearly I needed to give it another chance, right?

And with that clarity of mindset going into the film, I definitely enjoyed it for what it is. The plot is a an elaborate confection of pulpy goodness, and the cast—especially Weller—has more than enough charisma to float things across any rough spots.

So what is the problem I’ve had with the film this whole time? I honestly think it was the film’s score. IT’s a bit too precious for its own good, and honestly, I’m still not a fan of it.

The Roosevelts: An Intimate History (2014)

Director: Ken Burns

Cast: Paul Giamatti, Edward Hermann, Meryl Streep, John Lithgow

Have I Seen it Before: We watched the first couple of parts as they aired, but we were moving into this house as it aired, and lost track of the series until quite recently after I got hooked up with PBS app and its comprehensive Ken Burns collection.

Did I Like It: Once again, it becomes somewhat impossible to effectively criticize Burns’ work. Within the framework of his genre, he is the best at what he does. Each film is immaculate, and I have seen more than a few imitators in the historical documentary, and it is imminently possible (in fact, likely the default) to screw it up.

So then this rumination must go to the subject, or in this case, subjects. With Burns’ fair eye, all three Roosevelts of particular note (Teddy, Franklin, and Eleanor) are given full credit for their strengths. With all seven parts running the viewer just shy of fourteen hours, it would have been a significant blunder for some key element of any of the three lives to be assessed. They each so fully engaged with their lives and the worlds in which they found themselves, that many, but not all sins can be forgiven.

They’re failures are given a substantial analysis as well. Teddy (it will truly be difficult to refer to the subjects with due deference, so I assume the reader will forgive undue familiarity) nearly completely whiffed on any degree of courage where race relations were concerned. Franklin was at his heart far too pragmatic to bring a foolproof reworking of the social contract and a perfect peace to a post-war world before succumbing to the ravages of infantile paralysis. That doesn’t even begin to cover the myopic, cowardly internment of Japanese-Americans. Even Eleanor viewed it as a necessity, and it is one of the few times she was confronted with a question of moral right and failed to meet the occasion. Had she been clearer-headed on that, and as steadfast as she had been on everything else, she could have very well turned her husband around on the matter.

Pet Sematary (2019)

Director: Kevin Kölsch, Dennis Widmyer

Cast: Jason Clarke (sigh), Amy Seimetz, John Lithgow, Jeté Laurence

Have I Seen it Before: Oddly enough, no… Although it feels like the sight of Jason Clarke taking a walk in the middle of the night has bored me forever.

Did I Like It: That feels like a ridiculous question. No. No, I didn’t

Let’s talk for a moment about Jason Clarke. I’m sure he’s a perfectly fine person, but I can’t—after many attempts to make sense out of it—figure out how this man has become a regularly working film star. Between this, Winchester (2018), and Terminator: Genisys* (2015) he’s well on his way to becoming the Ted McGinley of tired franchise movies.

And for once, I don’t think it’s entirely, or even mostly Clarke’s fault that the movie surrounding him is a slowly simmering garbage fire. This film drags through it’s interminable (and yet somehow less than 2 hour) runtime as a mishmash of plot elements set up that go nowhere. The masked cult surrounding the Pet Sematary is introduced in the first few minutes, and hardly referred to again in the film. Pascow (Obssa Ahmed) loses his head** and then promptly has no role for the rest of the film. And even poor Gage (Hugo and Lucas Lavoie), the previous anchor of everything you would expect to come from the story of Pet Sematary has nothing to do other than act as a misdirection for the one profound change from the source material.

And that misdirection does pique peak interest from me during the screening, but unfortunately what appears to be the only rationale for the film to exist in the first place accounts for a minute, and there’s still a lot of movie to sit through at that point. In a fit of fancy I got a large drink and popcorn, so it still managed to be a pleasant way to spend an aftrnoon.

* Which I originally typed with the most ridiculous spelling I could imagine, only to find that the “correct” spelling was even more preposterous.

** It’s deeply distressing how proud I am of this sentence.