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swo17 wrote:

zedz wrote:In terms of 70s films, Paths is in a similar vein (but set in real, sometimes spectacular locations), and will be in consideration for my list.

Do you mean Monteiro's Veredas/Trails?

Yes indeedy.

Dirty Mary Crazy Larry (John Hough 1974) A huge hit upon release and a continued cult classic for reasons lost to time, because no evidence within the film yields an explanation for why anyone would enjoy any part of this. Perhaps audiences were fond of watching Susan George and Peter Fonda interact like eight year olds? Could it be they enjoyed watching cars go fast and hit stuff? Maybe it was the dialog everyone loved, with bon mots such as "Every bone in her crotch, that's what I'm going to break"? Or was it the unintentionally hilarious left-field fatalistic ending? Oh, I know, it's the not at all baggage-laden experience of watching Vic Morrow yell at a helicopter pilot to go lower.

Inserts (John Byrum 1974) In a decade with several notable disasters concerning Old Hollywood (the Day of the Locust, the Last Tycoon), how lovely that there's also a great one! The film opens with a brief stag film loop from the '30s played for a noisy, disinterested porno theatre audience and then proceeds to spend the remainder of the film revealing the events surrounding its creation. Unfolding in real time on one set, what we get is one of the most acerbic and cutting commentaries on the ugliness of the studio system completely devoid of period fetishization. Richard Dreyfuss' Boy Wonder, a former contemporary of DeMille and Von Stroheim, has been relegated to shooting dirty pictures in his lonely mansion. Several figures, including Bob Hoskins, perfectly cast as a low rent mogul, and his ingenue-in-training Jessica Harper, playing the wonderfully named Cathy Cake, enter in and out of the dark and cruel narrative. More than that I won't say, as part of the fun is watching everything unfold like live theatre, but the film addresses not only the sexually-charged base history of Hollywood itself but raises questions of cinematic function itself. The great thing about anything being able to be made in the 70s is that every once in a while a daring, esoteric film like this got released! This was rated X on original release and is a hard NC-17 now-- line for line and scene for scene this is one of the filthiest mainstream films I've ever seen. It's also brilliant. Definitely making my list-- the DVD's OOP from MGM, snatch it up before procuring a copy becomes a financial burden!

Prime Cut (Michael Ritchie 1972) Well, this is a movie that somehow exists. Tasteless and weird in equal measure, this is a film unlike any other, where bad guys get ground into sausage, where Gene Hackman plays a character named Mary Ann, where Lee Marvin is stabbed with a hot dog, where Sissy Spacek lounges about nude and drugged in a cattle pen for auction, where Marvin and Spacek outrun a wheat thresher, and where much much more bizarre shit occurs. I was glad, if that's the right word, for the viewing experience even if I'm not sure the film offers much more than bravado at its existence.

Prime Cut will likely make it into my top twenty and will be one of my highest ranking American films. I'll be back with a full throated defense of it tomorrow. For now it will suffice to say that I think that its own of the finest examples of the "grind house meets art house genre" that I discussed earlier.

Oh, and not to be testy, but I couldn't even make it twenty minutes into Inserts, though I'd be willing to give it another go.

Honestly I find that bravado reason enough to exist. Like I said before it's a total outlier for Ritchie, but a damn fine example of how to go out of one's comfort zone. It and The Candidate are basically guaranteed for my list. As an aside I actually love the two films you mentioned as bad odes to old Hollywood especially Schlesinger's crazed run of bad taste (certainly the prevalent taste of the decade).

You seen Race with the Devil yet, domino? Because that's the Peter Fonda road movie to watch.

Viewing Log:

The Buddy Holly Story (Steve Rash, 1978): Featuring the star of The Gingerdead Man and the director of American Pie Presents Band Camp, the two manage to craft fairly decent biopic. In fact this was probably the best that I've ever seen Gary Busey, as he came off as a relatively believable Buddy Holly, even doing his own singing. It was by no means a spectacular movie, but it did accomplish everything that it aimed for. The music was great, and it was wonderful to see Charles Martin Smith play something besides a dweeb.

The Last Supper (Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, 1976): Alea's brutal film serves as an indictment to both colonialism and Christianity, treating them as opposites sides of the same oppressive system. Don Manuel is a plantation owner who decides to celebrate the upcoming Easter by inviting twelve of his slaves to join him for a feast where he regales them with stories of St. Francis and the nobility of slavery. The next day the slaves revolt and the results are horrific. Like Alea's other films (although I have to admit to having only seen Memoirs of Underdevelopment before this) this is an angry work that mixes darkly comic and absurd elements together in its criticism of exploitation. It really is magnificent and an easy recommendation. It also definitely has a shot of making my final list.

Norma Rae (Martin Ritt, 1979): Ritt ended the decade by tackling the true story of Crystal Lee Sutton, a southern textile worker who helped to start union in her plant. The film, which changes the name of the protagonist (why?), stars Sally Field in the titular role and goes through the familiar motions of unionization in a small town, beginning with a local and racist populace afraid of losing their jobs and ending with them overcoming their fear and prejudices to work together. While it's far from Ritt's best of the decade (see my comments on the sublime Sounder from page one of the thread), there's enough to like here to recommend it. The characters are colorful enough, and while the film may not have aged well after numerous riffs and knock offs, there are a few scenes that still seem revolutionary (the iconic holding of the sign in particular).

Saturday Night Fever (John Badham, 1977): I can remember reading an AV Club article on false first impressions of art, where one of the writers discussed how she thought that the film would be a lighthearted disco fantasy. I thought the same, but the film was actually much darker, telling a story about an aimless youth whose life features casual drug use and racial and sexual violence. The film certainly is far deeper than the way that I used to pictured it (and consequently stayed far away from as a youth), but I have to admit to finding John Travolta's Tony Manero so unlikeable that I really didn't care what happened to him. In a similar vein, I found the film's most famous sequences, the dance numbers, to be its least interesting moments. While there are parts to like in here, I have to give it a pass.

There Was A Crooked Man ( Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1970): The revisionist western--one of the first of a decade that contained many--features another amazing all-star cast. Aside from Kirk Douglas and Henry Fonda (who I would watch in just about anything), the film also features great supporting work by Hume Cronyn, Warren Oates, and Burgess Meredith among others. Douglas plays a charming, but amoral man with half a million stashed away somewhere. His only problem is that he's stuck in jail. While he plots to break out, the straight laced but fair warden played by Fonda is set on reforming him. It's a fun ride that doesn't add up to much more than the sum of its parts, but it's a ride that's certainly worth taking.

Cold Bishop wrote:You seen Race with the Devil yet, domino? Because that's the Peter Fonda road movie to watch.

Very much seconded, and if you want thirded here is Alex Cox's introduction to the film from the Moviedrome series!. The only way I can describe Race With The Devil is as a hybrid of the paranoia of Invasion of the Body Snatchers with the sheer wanton automotive destruction of Cannonball Run! (Either that or Old Joy and The Last Exorcism!)

I like Cox's point about it coming in the wave of trucker, RV, car crash and CB radio films, given that Jonathan Demme's Citizen's Band/Handle With Care takes the CB radio and turns it into a pre-internet 'everyone is interconnected' storyline and that Peckinpah was soon to do Convoy. It all seems to be leading towards Peckinpah symbolically blowing up that RV with half the cast inside it in The Osterman Weekend - an act that signifies that the 'games' are well and truly over!

(Plus if you want to see another ass-kicking Peter Fonda role from just after this, I highly recommend Jonathan Demme's Fighting Mad!)

I saw it already for the Horror list-- my writeup's somewhere in that thread.

Re: There was a crooked man..., I think it's a total failure, and this comes from an avowed Mankiewicz fanatic. Thank god for Sleuth this decade!

This is outside the decade but have you seen the Branagh remake of Sleuth yet domino? I've got it in my 'to watch' pile but am worried about how it is going to update the entertaining original film.

bamwc2 wrote:The Buddy Holly Story (Steve Rash, 1978): Featuring the star of The Gingerdead Man and the director of American Pie Presents Band Camp, the two manage to craft fairly decent biopic. In fact this was probably the best that I've ever seen Gary Busey, as he came off as a relatively believable Buddy Holly, even doing his own singing. It was by no means a spectacular movie, but it did accomplish everything that it aimed for. The music was great, and it was wonderful to see Charles Martin Smith play something besides a dweeb.

The other great Gary Busey 70s performance (I'm a huge fan of Carny, but that is 1980) is in the same year's Big Wednesday, a surfing and relationship drama (which presumably feeds into why he got cast in Kathryn Bigelow's Point Break over a decade later).

Though if you are going to start exploring surfing films then the fantastic documentary Crystal Voyager should be your starting point (this is likely going to figure somewhere in my top documentaries list when we get to it).

Thanks, Colin. I've never seen either of those (or even heard of the latter), but I do own the deliciously insane Carny from Warner Archives.

knives wrote:With two sequels, a failed television show, and a remake I probably don't need to evangelize The Bad News Bears. Still though it is the best encyclopedia of insults and child endangerment you'll see legally.

I don't know how deep the discussion is as to the reverence of the film, but besides how funny it is it has a couple of very serious scenes that come out of left field. The pun is sort of intended because one of them comes from the pitcher's mound. But they feel very natural to the story's progression rather than distractions.

bamwc2 wrote:Norma Rae (Martin Ritt, 1979): Ritt ended the decade by tackling the true story of Crystal Lee Sutton, a southern textile worker who helped to start union in her plant. The film, which changes the name of the protagonist (why?)...

I believe it was because Norma Rae was a character based on Crystal Lee, not an attempt to accurately adapt her life story to film. The filmmakers used Crystal Lee's story and several true incidents (such as the scene with the sign) to make a film that rang true, but departed in other ways: the romantic interest with the union organizer (adding a "love interest" side plot is often crucial to the success of films like this) and subtle changes to make the film more relevant to the feminism of the era that didn't necessarily have to do with Crystal Lee. They covered their bases pretty well by changing the name.

Gregory wrote:

bamwc2 wrote:Norma Rae (Martin Ritt, 1979): Ritt ended the decade by tackling the true story of Crystal Lee Sutton, a southern textile worker who helped to start union in her plant. The film, which changes the name of the protagonist (why?)...

I believe it was because Norma Rae was a character based on Crystal Lee, not an attempt to accurately adapt her life story to film. The filmmakers used Crystal Lee's story and several true incidents (such as the scene with the sign) to make a film that rang true, but departed in other ways: the romantic interest with the union organizer (adding a "love interest" side plot is often crucial to the success of films like this) and subtle changes to make the film more relevant to the feminism of the era that didn't necessarily have to do with Crystal Lee. They covered their bases pretty well by changing the name.

This is all probably perfectly true, but I just assumed it was a practical thing. "Crystal Lee" sounds softer and is harder to hear clearly than the hard-edged phonemes of the name "Norma Rae." For the same reason, the latter name has more metaphorical value than the former.

Viewing Log:

The Boy Friend (Ken Russell, 1971): Ken Russell's love of the British stage shines through in this recreation of the 1954 musical. The story centers around Polly Browne (played by Twiggy in her big screen debut), who through a series of accidents, goes from behind the scenes member of a stage crew to the star of the production, attracting the attention of both a famous silent film director and the man who she pines for from afar. This film is pure confection: a sweet if ultimately hollow treat. Yet, unlike some of the other films about the theater from this decade (think Bob Fosse) Russell wasn't trying to craft anything other than a fun, escapist fantasy. In that sense this was a huge success.

Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (Shunya Ito, 1972): Unfortunately, going in to this one I was unaware that it was a sequel to Female Prisoner # 701: Scorpion. Having not seen the original, I can only judge the film and not the series. As a stand alone film, it's a great piece of exploitation fare. The film picks up one year after the events in the first movie. The formerly innocent Matsu has just finished a year in solitary confinement when the prison's sadistic warden tries to reintegrate her into the general population. Soon enough Matsu finds herself with a small band of escapees as they they go on a rampage of crime and violence. Most of the discussion of this film centers on the film's unique style, and I have to agree. That is what makes it rise above the other "women in prison" films of the era. Ito's camera rarely stays stationary. Instead, he playfully experiments with unique angles, edits, and framings. By itself this is not a good thing (just think Michael Bay, or better yet, don't), it works beautifully here. There's an obvious visual influence from Bergman's work in the previous in at least one of the scenes. This may be my all time favorite film to come from the Japanese grindhouse.

The Music Lovers (Ken Russell, 1970): Ken Russell's The Music Lovers comes at an interesting point in his career, where he transitions from the staid and upright works like his BBC Omnibus films to balls out crazy films that would mark the remainder of his career where he had artistic control. The film itself is a biopic of Peter Ilych Tchaikovsky. While attention is paid to his professional life, Russell is more interested in his private affairs as the composer ignores his own homosexuality and Oedipal complex to marry the emotionally fragile Nina. Given that this film was a transitional one, it contains elements from both sides of his career and successfully mixes both. The early concert scenes are masterfully handled in a classical manner, but by the time that we get to The 1812 Overture things just go insane. I now have only Valentino to watch from Russell in the 70s, and I have to say that he had one amazing output in this decade.

Welfare (Frederick Wiseman, 1975): Wiseman's camera stays in single social services agency in New York over the course of several weeks. During the film's nearly three hour run time we meet all sorts of individuals who seek government assistance, and learn about the complexities of welfare benefits as well as the myriad of social problems that lead them to poverty. While there are many memorable scenes in this documentary, I'll never forget the conversation between the elderly, racist WWII veteran and the younger African American man who has to put up with his bullshit about rioting. That scene alone may have captured the plight of inner city race relations as well as or better than any fiction film of the decade. It's definitely worth seeing.

flyonthewall2983 wrote:

knives wrote:With two sequels, a failed television show, and a remake I probably don't need to evangelize The Bad News Bears. Still though it is the best encyclopedia of insults and child endangerment you'll see legally.

I don't know how deep the discussion is as to the reverence of the film, but besides how funny it is it has a couple of very serious scenes that come out of left field. The pun is sort of intended because one of them comes from the pitcher's mound. But they feel very natural to the story's progression rather than distractions.

Like I said I figured I didn't need to go into what makes the film great, but it does indeed mix drama and comedy in that perfect way that Ritchie had mastered by that point.

I've not seen any of the Bad News Bears films (even the Linklater remake yet), but I note that there is a monograph out extolling the virtues of The Bad News Bears In Breaking Training! (And just to balance out all the comments we might make about 'rediculous' comments, the one by "Stacy Helton" on the Amazon product page is really interesting and well articulated!)

For those who have seen it how does that film fit into and compare with the others in the series?

The series is definitely one of diminishing returns and I don't think anything really compares with the original, but that sequel isn't out and out bad.

bamwc2 wrote:Welfare (Frederick Wiseman, 1975): Wiseman's camera stays in single social services agency in New York over the course of several weeks. During the film's nearly three hour run time we meet all sorts of individuals who seek government assistance, and learn about the complexities of welfare benefits as well as the myriad of social problems that lead them to poverty. While there are many memorable scenes in this documentary, I'll never forget the conversation between the elderly, racist WWII veteran and the younger African American man who has to put up with his bullshit about rioting. That scene alone may have captured the plight of inner city race relations as well as or better than any fiction film of the decade. It's definitely worth seeing.

This film has a strong chance of making my list, largely because that scene you mention is one of the greatest dramatic scenes of the decade. If it were scripted (and it's a very long scene, practically a one-act play), the writing would be phenomenal.

Alan J Pakula

Klute (1971) Warner R1
Love and Pain and the Whole Damn Thing (1973) Sony R1
the Parallax View (1974) Paramount R1 OOP
All the President's Men (1976) Warner R1/A
Comes a Horseman (1978) MGM R1 OOP
Starting Over (1979) Paramount R1 OOP

Producer turned director Alan J Pakula had trouble shaking the character-based monotonies of his frequent partner Robert Mulligan with his first feature at the helm, last decade's the Sterile Cuckoo, but he uses these tendencies to good measure with Klute (1971). Justly famous for Jane Fonda's Oscar-winning role, it's hard to believe the film is actually named after Donald Sutherland's bland detective. Fonda's iconic hairstyle and bravado are in good supply throughout, and Pakula shows a grand step forward towards the more complex masterpieces of his career. Fans of Klute's two stars should try to find time to watch Francine Parker's FTA, which captured Sutherland and Fonda performing anti-USO shows for the troops during the Vietnam war. FTA was my Number 50 pick last time and will likely be my Number 50 pick this time as well. As for Klute, it's a testament to the embarrassment of riches Pakula provides this decade that I doubt I'll have room for it this time around. That's not a knock on the film, but a commercial for some of his other work!

…But certainly not Love and Pain and the Whole Damn Thing (1973), a terminally dull backslide into Whocaresville as a May-December romance blossoms between stuttering, socially-inept Timothy Bottoms and terminally ill widower Maggie Smith. Lots of Spain location shooting and interminable coupling sequences which are neither cute nor romantic. Avoid. Pakula's reputation as a master of the conspiracy film was cemented by his next two films, the Parallax View (1974) and All the President's Men (1976). Both keenly use Pakula's avoidance of bombast to keep their focus small, even as events spiral out to a national level in both. Both figure prominently in the top third of my list, and I suppose it's entirely possible that there are people reading this who haven't seen either of these films. Stop. Everything. And. Fix. That.

No need to seek out Comes a Horseman (1978), though. Pakula fares no better than most of those brave/foolhardy directors who tried to bring the western back this decade, and all that's on-screen is a bunch of actors who should know better-- Jane Fonda, James Caan, Jason Robards-- enacting dimly-lit run-throughs of the hoariest genre cliches. Finishing out the decade is Starting Over (1979), the covert MVP of Pakula's oeuvre. Scripted by James L Brooks, this adult relationship comedy made me laugh out loud more often than any other film I can remember. Burt Reynolds was robbed of an Oscar nomination (no, really) but Jill Clayburgh and Candice Bergen both snagged noms for their roles. Bergen's nom was particularly well-earned, as she is called on to give a fearless performance in what is hands-down the funniest seduction scene I've ever seen. Looking back on my previous posts on the board, apparently every time I mention Starting Over I say some approximation of that last sentence. Why? Because it really is that good.

In all honesty I think Starting Over is Reynolds best performance and what cements him as a great talent, at least of the decade. Contrary to what's popular it will definitely be my highest rated Pakula and in my opinion the best of these '70s anti-romantic comedies that Allen seemed to have burst the bubble on with Manhattan. Also Warners has reissued The Parallax View.

Speaking of Reynolds though, I got to seeing your spotlight At Long Last Love and while it probably won't rank even amongst my top three Bogdanovich's of the decade at least in this cut it is a damn great film bursting with such an imbalanced propulsion that it's hard not to love. Oddly amongst the six leads Kahn probably was the only to rub me wrong with her training in music seeming to be a negative draw. For the most part the singing has a spontaneous improv feel sourced pretty exclusively with how much they seem to struggle with it, probably making the pool sequence of De-Lovely the highlight of the film, yet Kahn's imperfections are so actorly perfect that it didn't work as well for me as everything else. By contrast I think Shepherd has never been better giving a sexy funny performance that somehow manages to work the dramatic notes beyond the self aware kitsch that they should be (the beautiful photography and set design are also at fault here). The editing also seems really smart and is probably the closest thing to those Astaire films that it uses as a distraction from the larger pieces of pastiche functioning here. It's also pretty interesting to consider the overwhelming use of flora in the film since otherwise it works so hard to function as black and white even up to the colour grading. At this point I wouldn't have put it past this crew to do an Antonioni and just paint the grass white, but each burst of colour seems to work in building the grammar of the film. Real hip.

Like a lot of actors who later descend into self-parody, it can be easy to forget how charming a screen presence Burt Reynolds was this decade. Glad you enjoyed At Long Last Love!

Bugsy Malone (Alan Parker 1976) Once you remove the gimmick from the equation-- and this gangster film starring an all child cast is a gimmick film first-- what's left? A rote, cliched gangster film where the only "joke" in hearing the hackneyed lines is that they come from the mouths of babes. There's no greater commentary attempted or achieved here in the use of tykes, and the film undermines any attempts at engaging the material by playing it safe-- there's no actual violence, the kids get shot with marshmallow guns or hit with cream pies, removing even the slightest element of danger from the equation. This isn't a film concerned with ideas but with coasting by on the audacity of its premise-- I got the joke immediately, gave it a little rope for maybe ten minutes, then began counting down to the finish. I will concede that the songs are pretty good, but even the musical numbers seem to have no faith in the material, as all are obviously overdubbed by adults using adult voices-- why not have the kids at the very least sing like kids? I was surprised to learn this one is still culturally relevant in the UK. It sure ain't over here!

End of the Road (Aram Avakian 1970) A promising first half, filled with gonzo montages and suitably weird perfs by James Earl Jones and Stacey Keach, calms down into decidedly less interesting territory in its second half. As a counterculture rallying cry, I've seen better and worse. Features one of the most laughably not Baltimore Baltimores I've ever seen. The DVD helpfully does include the Soderbergh documentary on the film, which runs a little over half an hour and distinguishes itself by being wholly talking heads (framed and color-timed in Soderbergh fashion) with no footage or inserts. But beyond the stylistic composition, it's sadly your basic DVD EPK, and if you're as unimpressed with the film as I was, this too grows tedious.

the Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea (Lewis John Carlino 1976) I'm glad I watched this one alone, as I doubt anyone else could have heard the film over my constant sighing. Alternating between tedious seaside dullness, soft core peeping tom shots of Sarah Miles, and the most infuriating collection of Nietzschean moppets the screen has ever seen, this is one of the more interminable viewing experiences I've had lately.

bamwc2 wrote:Prime Cut will likely make it into my top twenty and will be one of my highest ranking American films.

I really love this movie, and am glad to see some love for Ritchie in general in this thread; regardless of the fluff he would go on to produce later in his career, his work in the 70s is so consistently biting and intelligent in construction and observation, with even something as ostensibly frivolous as Semi-Tough having its fair share of pleasing touches. Smile might be my single overall favorite, it's a real masterpiece, but there's not a bum picture in the whole lot.

India Song (Marguerite Duras, 1975): Although I had read a few of her books before, this was actually my first Duras film, and it actually knocked me off my socks. In the first few minutes I wondered whether this was actually a film and not some sort of experimental video piece made for an installation or something; practically unmoving images for a long time, no dialogue spoken by the characters directly but text provided by disembodied voices on the soundtrack, many of the going-ons filmed in mirrors. But the effect is stunning and entirely hypnotic (like her writing), and these distancing devices are fully in line with the content of the film which could be somewhat bluntly described as being about the inner fears and desires of high-class European colonialists living in a secluded world apart from the 'real' India, which is never shown but beckons and endangers the life they try to protect. An ultra-stylish performance by Delphine Seyrig as the female lead, and an equally convincing one by Michael Lonsdale (Thomas in "Out1") whose off-screen losing his mind about his love for Seyrig sounds really frightening. A truly impressive, unusual and also very beautiful film (these 'decadent' interiors must have been expensive) whose images resonate for a long time. Top 20 material, if you ask me.

Also about India, but in a much more conventional manner: Sikkim (Satayjit Ray, 1971). A documentary in the 'old style' about the North Indian state (independent at the time, actually) which very nicely depicts the life and culture of this remote region. Not extraordinary in filmic terms or in its documentary approach, but still a beautifully crafted film that is worth a look even though it's probably more or less a footnote in Ray's work.

Duras is a major presence in the seventies, but as far as I know only one of her films has been released with English subs: Nathalie Granger. It's terrific, but nowhere near as gloriously perverse and provocative as India Song or Le Camion (which could end up in my number 50 slot by virtue of its sheer bloody-mindedness).

Viewing Log:

Un Flic (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1972): This was the last of Melville's major films left for me to see (I only have Magnet of Doom, Two Men in Manhattan, and When You Read This Letter left in his canon), and while there were some strange choices made narrative-wise, it was another strong entry from the French master of crime films. The film centers on the life of Simon, a debonaire thief who led a botched bank robbery that left one of his men in the hospital. His crew planned to use the money to finance an even bigger caper, but fate would have other plans, as Simon's good friend, Commissaire Edouard Coleman (played by France's national treasure, Alain Delon) begins investigating the robbery. There are a number of high tension scenes in the film that work well, but other aspects (the train robbery with the helicopter in particular) that seemed far too wild for Melville's ascetic. Also I couldn't help but wonder why they'd name the film after Delon's character when his screen time is far eclipsed by Simon and his crew. Strange.

The Hired Hand (Peter Fonda, 1971): In this, the first of three films that Peter Fonda would direct in the 1970s, he plays out a drifter riding with his companions played by Warren Oats and Robert Pratt. When some local goons kill Pratt's character out of spite, his friends seek revenge. Believing that their fighting days are in the past, the duo seek out a long abandoned life, but soon realize that their actions have consequences. For a first time director, Fonda did a decent job with the film, though he did make some questionable choices with his repeated use of freeze frame and superimposition. Overall, it was an amiable enough western, though not great.

The Mother and the Whore (Jean Eustache, 1973): Starring Truffaut's former muse, Jean-Pierre Léaud as the young shiftless intellectual Alexandre, who juggles both a girlfriend and a lover. The two know of each other, and while his girlfriend accepts the arrangement, she grows weary of it quickly afterwards. Prior to this film the only other works I had seen by Eustache were Le cochon and Santa Claus Has Blue Eyes. Seeing those two and this absolute masterpiece of ennui makes me want to see the rest of this versatile director's work. Simply marvelous.

Trilogy of Terror (Dan Curtis, 1975): This anthology of short horror films is decidedly less than its reputation would let on. The film stars the always delightful Karen Black in each of the three segments, and though the poor Ms. Black doesn't fare well in any of the three, she does her best to make the material rise above the Z-grade schlock in it. Somehow ABC March 4, 1975 movie of the week has acquired quite the cult following. I, for one, couldn't figure out why.

Vertical Features Remake (Peter Greenaway, 1978): This faux documentary from Greenaway charts four attempted reconstructions of footage shot by Greenaway's fictitious ornithologist Tulse Luper. Since critics find fault with each attempted construction, shown here as "vertical features" like trees and fence posts while numbers are read off, no version of the film is considered successful. While I enjoyed the back story that Greenaway had constructed for the film (the questions of whether Luper was a mere figment of the film society's imagination struck me as a particularly intriguing thread that I wished had been pursued), the actual remakes were monotonous. I know that there are some posters that hold this film in high regard, and although I absolutely adore some of Greenaways 80s and 90s output, I simply didn't understand what he was up to in this film. I'd love to hear from one of the film's defenders who can explain to me what I'm missing here.