The Entity (Sidney J. Furie, 1982)

Ron Silver and Barbara Hershey in The Entity

Cast: Barbara Hershey, Ron Silver, David Labiosa, George Coe, Margaret Blye, Jacqueline Brookes, Richard Brestoff, Michael Alldredge, Raymond Singer, Allan Rich, Natasha Ryan, Melanie Gaffin, Alex Rocco. Screenplay: Frank De Felitta, based on his novel. Cinematography: Stephen H. Burum. Production design: Charles Rosen. Film editing: Frank J. Urioste. Music Charles Bernstein. 

The Entity was inevitably compared to The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973), often unfavorably. Unlike the earlier film, The Entity doesn't dabble in theology to explain why Carla Moran (Barbara Hershey) is being subjected to terrifying attacks by an unseen assailant. Instead it dabbles in psychology and research into the paranormal. Neither of which ultimately can explain what's happening to Carla. The psychologist, Dr. Phil Sneiderman (Ron Silver), has a plausible diagnosis for what's happening to her, rooted in sexual repression. But not all of the pieces fit, and when Carla rejects the treatment Sneiderman proposes, the attacks continue. Carla, afraid of being judged mentally ill, turns to researchers in the paranormal, whose scientific bona fides is questioned by Sneiderman and his colleagues. When neither approach succeeds, Carla is left on her own. If the film works as anything more than a horror shocker it's because of Hershey's splendidly convincing performance, which takes the focus of the film off of the supernatural and onto issues of trust and credibility. Carla's plight becomes a parable about women who fail to find empathy and support for a personal trauma, particularly rape. But only that subtext saves The Entity from being anything other than a routine thriller.

The Witches (Nicolas Roeg, 1990)

Anjelica Huston in The Witches

Cast: Anjelica Huston, Mai Zetterling, Jasen Fisher, Rowan Atkinson, Bill Paterson, Brenda Blethyn, Charlie Potter, Anne Lambton, Jane Horrocks. Screenplay: Allan Scott, based on a novel by Roald Dahl. Cinematography: Harvey Harrison. Production design: Andrew Sanders. Film editing: Tony Lawson. Music: Stanley Myers. 

Roald Dahl hated the happy ending that was tacked on to this film version of his novel, and I understand why. The book's ending was a resigned acceptance to the way things turned out, a touch of maturity to an otherwise childish fantasy. (I say "childish" here with respect for Dahl's ability to peer into the dark side of childhood.) But what works on the page doesn't work on the screen; the raucous pace and the grotesque makeup substitute the filmmakers' imagination for the reader's. What stimulates the imagination on the page is lost in translation. The viewer needs more assurance that all will be well than the reader does. So The Witches mostly works for me, thanks to Anjelica Huston's performance, in which the menace persists even after the makeup is removed. Mai Zetterling is an endearing grandmother and Jasen Fisher a suitably plucky hero, with amusing character turns from Rowan Atkinson, Bill Paterson, and Brenda Blethyn. I'd have to know the grownup pretty well before showing The Witches to them, but children should be able to handle it.  

Ring (Hideo Nakata, 1998)

Cast: Nanako Matsushima, Hiroyuki Sanada, Rikiya Otaka, Miki Nakatani, Yuko Takeuchi, Hitomi Sato, Daisuke Ban, Rie Ino, Masako, Yoichi Numata, Yutaka Matsushige, Katsumi Muramatsu. Screenplay: Hiroshi Takahashi, based on a novel by Koji Suzuki. Cinematography: Jun'ichiro Hayashi. Production design: Iwao Saito. Film editing: Noboyuki Takahashi. Music: Kenji Kawai. 

Hideo Nakata's Ring is a film with nicely creepy images and a neat premise that imbues modern technology with ancient dread: an ordinary and (at the time) familiar item like a videocassette that carries a deadly curse giving its victim a few days of torture and fear. The supernatural by definition has no rules, so the best anyone investigating a supernatural occurrence like a haunted videotape can do is find out what's causing it, which constitutes the film's plot. Of course, it helps if the investigator has supernatural powers like extrasensory perception, which is why I think the screenplay cheats a little, depriving the film of some of the menace it would have had if the tape's victims had less of an advantage.    

His Kind of Woman (John Farrow, 1951)

Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell in His Kind of Woman

Cast: Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Vincent Price, Tim Holt, Charles McGraw, Marjorie Reynolds, Raymond Burr, Leslye Banning, Jim Backus, Philip Van Zandt, John Mylong, Carleton G. Young. Screenplay: Frank Fenton, Jack Leonard. Cinematography: Harry J. Wild. Production design: J. McMillan Johnson. Film editing: Frederic Knudtson, Eda Warren. Music: Leigh Harline. 

His Kind of Woman starts out as a tough-talking film noir and ends up as a knockabout action comedy. The credit or blame for that belongs to Howard Hughes, the RKO studio head and executive producer, who waited until John Farrow had finished the movie and then had Richard Fleischer re-shoot it, even recasting the villain, originally played by Lee Van Cleef, with Raymond Burr. The New York Times reviewer hated it, partly because of the shift in tone, but most people like it. Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell were never going to outdo Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in dialogue like "They tell me you killed Ferraro. How did it feel?" "He didn't say." But they're good enough at it that they give the movie a core that the flurry of oddball characters and the loony setup for the plot needs. Vincent Price is wonderful as an Errol Flynnish movie star who spouts tags from Shakespeare as he joins Mitchum in taking on the bad guys. Hughes made sure that Russell's gowns, designed by Howard Greer, were as revealing as possible, and Mitchum spends a lot of the film without his shirt, looking a little thick in the waist to contemporary viewers used to gym-toned physiques. The end product probably wasn't worth the money Hughes lost on it, but it's still fun.  

Joyland (Saim Sadiq, 2022)

Ali Junejo in Joyland

Cast: Ali Junejo, Rasti Farooq, Alina Khan, Sarwat Gilani, Salmaan Peerzada, Sohail Sameer, Sania Saeed, Ramiz Law. Screenplay: Saim Sadiq, Maggie Briggs. Cinematography: Joe Saade. Film editing: Saim Sadiq, Jasmin Tenucci. Music: Abdullah Siddiqui. 

Haider (Ali Junejo) is a milquetoast, serving as factotum to everyone in the large household in Lahore, including his father (Salmaan Peerzada), his older brother, Saleem (Sohail Sameer), his sister-in-law, Nucchi (Sarwat Gilani), and their daughters. While his wife, Mumtaz (Rasti Farooq), works, he stays home, unable to find a job. When we first see Haider he is being pressed into service to take Nucchi to the hospital on his motorbike because she is about to give birth to another daughter. And then things change: Haider finds a job, and it's Mumtaz's turn to stay home -- though she really doesn't want to -- and cater to the family's needs. And so begins Saim Sadiq's prize-winning debut feature, a comic story that turns tragic in its course. Haider's chief problem is with the job he has found: backup dancer to a performer in a musical revue. Her name is Biba (Alina Khan), and she's transgender. At first, Haider tells the family that he's a stage manager, but the truth emerges. Everyone realizes that there's not much they can do about it as long as he's bringing in money, so he's allowed to continue. Haider is no dancer, but under Biba's tutelage he gets by, and soon he becomes a favorite of hers. There the complications really begin. Joyland reminded me of the Italian comedies of the 1960s by directors like Pietro Germi and Mario Monicelli that centered on a traditional society's conflict with contemporary ways of looking at the world. Sadiq's Pakistan is like their Sicily, but Joyland turns serious in ways that those films don't. It's a film that maybe doesn't quite set up its turn from comic to serious well enough, but the splendid performances make up for its flaws. 

Plan 75 (Chie Hayakawa, 2022)

Chieko Baisho in Plan 75

Cast: Chieko Baisho, Hayato Isamuro, Stefanie Arianne, Taka Takao, Yumi Kawai, Hideko Okata, Kazuyoshi Kushida. Screenplay: Chie Hayakawa, Jason Gray. Cinematography: Hideho Urata. Production design: Setsuko Shiokawa. Film editing: Anne Klotz. Music: Rémi Boubai. 

Plan 75, Chie Hayakawa's debut feature, is a fable about a future in which the problem of an aging population in Japan produces legislation that encourages people over 75 to take the option of government-funded euthanasia. It's a very near future: The clothes, architecture, cars and trucks, and even the advertising design all look contemporary. Hayakawa takes a somber, thoughtful, low-key approach to material that could very easily be turned into a horror movie or a biting satire. In fact, the film is perhaps a little too somber and low-key, for the strongest note in the film is pathos, which tends to blunt its edge. The central character is Michi Kakutani (Chieko Baisho), who has reached the age of eligibility for Plan 75, as it's called, with no job, no family, and the threat of having no place to live. She gets much encouragement to sign up from the media, from advertising, and even from those in her age cohort, so she takes the step. At the same time, some of the young people who have been hired to administer the program begin to ask questions about it. Hiromu Okabe, who works in recruiting people for the plan, discovers that his uncle Yukio (Taka Takao) has signed up for it. When Hiromu looks into how the plan is funded, he discovers evidence of corruption. Maria (Stefanie Arianne), a Filipina who works in Japan so she can send money back home to pay for her daughter's operation, takes a job with the plan that involves removing the clothes of the deceased and sorting through their belongs. There are echoes of the Holocaust in what she does, and she finds corruption, too. And Yoko (Yumi Kawai), who works as a counselor for those who sign up, spending 15 minutes a week on the phone with them, begins to have doubts about her job when she violates protocol and meets Michi in person, finding a woman still full of life and spirit. Still, the program is such a success that by the end of the film the government is thinking of lowering the eligibility age to 65. Almost all of the conflict in the film is internal: The only sign of opposition to the program comes when something is flung at a poster Hiromu is putting up. Hayakawa deserves praise for not yielding to conventional movie sensationalism, but as haunting as the film is, it would have benefited from a slightly sharper edge. 

Amanda (Carolina Cavalli, 2022)

Benedetta Porcaroli in Amanda

Cast: Benedetta Porcaroli, Galatéa Bellugi, Giovanna Mezzogiorno, Michele Bravi, Monica Nappo, Margherita Missoni. Screenplay: Carolina Cavalli. Cinematography: Lorenzo Levrini. Production design: Martino Bonanomi. Film editing: Babak Jalali. Music: Nicolò Contessa. 

If comedy has to have a point other than to make you laugh, Carolina Cavalli's droll Amanda seems to assert that only a misfit can help another misfit fit. Amanda (Benedetta Porcaroli) is certainly a misfit, a twentysomething who clomps around in clodhoppers, usually wearing a vest made of crocheted granny squares, sullenly looking for a friend. She has some awkward encounters with awkward men, but finally she finds something of a soulmate in the similarly alienated Rebecca (Galatéa Bellugi), who has closeted herself in her bedroom, seeing only her somewhat sinister therapist. Eventually, Amanda makes her way through the door and both of them blossom oddly. Amanda is like one of Wes Anderson's less twee movies, not so encumbered with style for style's sake and capable of making you laugh out loud if you just go with it.   

Unrest (Cyril Schäublin, 2022)

Clara Gostynski in Unrest

Cast: Clara Gostynski, Alexei Evstratov, Valentin Merz, Laurent Ferrero, Mayo Irion, Monika Stalder, Hélio Thiémard, Li Tavor, Laurence Bretignier, Nikolai Bosshardt. Screenplay: Cyril Schäublin. Cinematography: Silvan Hillmann. Production design: Sara B. Weingart. Film editing: Cyril Schäublin. Music: Li Tavor. 

The portmanteau "docudrama" was coined to denote an attempt to depict an actual event in a medium for fiction. It's kind of an oxymoron, and as a genre it usually works only if the historical element and the artistic element balance each other. Cyril Schäublin's Unrest fails to do so. It dramatizes the visit of the anarchist Pyotr Kropotkin (Alexei Evstratov) to a watchmaking factory in Switzerland in 1877, seven years before the adoption of the Universal Time standard. So we learn that in Berne, where the film takes place, the railroad, the municipality, and the telegraph office each ran on a different clock. You might call this anarchy, but it's a different kind of anarchy than the movement espoused by Kropotkin is concerned with, which centers on the rights of workers, including the ability to govern their work. The watchmakers of Berne, of which Josephine Gräbl (Clara Gostynski) is one, are suffering from the abitrariness and micromanaging of the company, which is determined to improve the efficiency and productivity of the workers, who do labor that demands patience and concentration. So the film has a lot to chew on, from the process of watchmaking to the political struggles of the day to the nature of time itself. Unfortunately, Schäublin also wants to experiment with cinematic technique and likes to savor moments at the expense of forward narrative drive. He seems to expect us to do the work of putting together the historical background while savoring the beauty of his images. He likes, for example, to frame scenes with the characters at the bottom of the screen and sometimes at its corners. Josephine and Kropotkin serve as the central characters to help lead us through the maze of history and ideas with which the film deals, but we often lose sight of them. In short, it's a tantalizing but chilly movie that only a dedicated cinéaste could really love. 

Our Father, the Devil (Ellie Foumbi, 2021)

Babetida Sadjo in Our Father, the Devil

Cast: Babetida Sadjo, Souléyman Sy Savané, Jennifer Tchiakpe, Franck Saurel, Martine Amisse, Maëlle Genet, Hiba el Aflahi. Screenplay: Ellie Foumbi. Cinematography: Tinx Chan. Production design: Philippe Lacomblez. Film editing: Roy Clovis. Music: Gavin Brivik. 

Ellie Foumbi's debut feature, Our Father, the Devil, is a thriller in which all the violent action occurs off-camera. When Marie (Babetida Sadjo) recognizes the new priest, Father Patrick (Souléyman Sy Savané), at the upscale French retirement home where she's the chef, she faints. She thinks he's the man she knew back in Guinea as Sogo, the warlord who raped her and forced her into his cadre of child soldiers. So one night when he comes to her kitchen after hours to ask for a snack, she knocks him out with a cooking utensil, hauls him into her car, and imprisons him in an isolated cabin. When he comes to, he denies that he was the man she once knew until she tortures the truth out of him. It's the setup for a moral fable that Foumbi tells quite well, and the absence of on-screen violence only heightens the tension and reinforces the film's treatment of the ethics of revenge. When Marie is torturing Father Patrick we see instead shots of her chopping vegetables and pounding a cutlet, which sounds comic in description but is really quite effective in the tense atmosphere Foumbi creates. Unfortunately, the tropes of thriller movies sometimes intrude. The scene when Marie and the hot bartender (Franck Saurel) she's been seeing consummate their relationship is gratuitous, and the sequence in which the roles of captive and captor switch back and forth is awkwardly handled. But it's superbly acted, especially by Sadjo and Sy Savané, and gives great promise of Foumbi's future as a director.    

Tótem (Lila Avilés, 2023)

Naíma Sentíes in Tótem

Cast: Naíma Sentíes, Montserrat Narañon, Marisol Gasé, Saori Gurza, Mateo García, Teresa Sánchez, Iazua Larios, Alberto Amador, Juan Francisco Maldonado, Marisela Villarruel, Galia Mayer, Lukas Urquijo López. Screenplay: Lila Avilés. Cinematography: Diego Tenorio. Production design: Nohemi Gonzalez. Film editing: Omar Guzmán. Music: Thomas Becka. 

I don't cry at movies, but sometimes I hold my breath in awe. I did so at the ending of Lila Avilés's extraordinarily beautiful and accomplished Tótem. I've never seen a film about a dying man so endowed with life. Everyone in Tótem knows that Tonatiuh (Mateo García) is dying, even his small daughter Sol (the enthralling Naíma Sentíes), and that the birthday party they're throwing for him will be his last. But they soldier on, filling this climactic day with brightness and love, along with some tears and some fights. Tona himself is a reluctant participant in the occasion, battling as he is with weakness and incontinence, but he's drawn into it anyway. The film could have been mawkish, but Avilés takes a documentary approach, concentrating on the noise and bustle of a house full of children and animals. The latter include a cat, several dogs, a parrot, a goldfish, some snails, and a few insects, which add the continuity of life to the tale about dying. There are funny scenes, too, one of them involving the charlatan one of Tona's sisters hires to rid the house of evil spirits, making an nuisance of herself and getting the film's biggest laugh with her curtain line. Avilés choreographs the crowd of actors of all ages well, getting fine performances from even the youngest. The cast was unknown to me, although afterward I discovered that I had recently seen Teresa Sánchez, who plays Cruz, the nurse hired to tend to Tona, in quite a different role, as the tough, determined owner of an agave plantation in Dos Estaciones (Juan Pablo González, 2022). I suspect there was quite a bit of improvisation beyond the script and a few happy accidents that got included, because it's a film that feels lived in.