Night Has a Thousand Eyes (John Farrow, 1948)

John Lund, Gail Russell, and Edward G. Robinson in Night Has a Thousand Eyes

Cast: Edward G. Robinson, Gail Russell, John Lund, Virginia Bruce, William Demarest, Richard Webb, Jerome Cowan, Onslow Stevens, Roman Bonhen, Luis Van Rooten, Henry Guttman, Mary Adams. Screenplay: Barré Lyndon, Jonathan Latimer, based on a novel by Cornell Woolrich. Cinematography: John F. Seitz. Art direction: Franz Bachelin, Hans Dreier. Film editing: Eda Warren. Music: Victor Young. 

Night Has a Thousand Eyes is a supernatural whodunit that almost comes apart at several points, especially when the killer goes undetected in a houseful of cops by hiding behind a curtain. But it's held together by Edward G. Robinson's performance as a former vaudeville mind reader who discovered that he really did have the ability to see the future. Many plot turns later, he finds himself under suspicion by the police for trying to con an heiress by predicting her death, which he's really trying to prevent. Director John Farrow manages to maintain a noir atmosphere through a nonsensical story, though he's not helped much by the blandness of Gail Russell as the woman in jeopardy and John Lund as her rather thick boyfriend. William Demarest is better cast as the grouchy detective in charge of the case. It's the kind of movie that works best if you relax and don't try to make sense out of it. 
 

Little Murders (Alan Arkin, 1971)

Marcia Rodd and Elliott Gould in Little Murders

Cast: Elliott Gould, Marcia Rodd, Vincent Gardenia, Elizabeth Wilson, Jon Korkes, John Randolph, Doris Roberts, Lou Jacobi, Donald Sutherland. Alan Arkin. Screenplay: Jules Feiffer, based on his play. Cinematography: Gordon Willis. Production design: Gene Rudolf. Film editing: Howard Kuperman. Music: Fred Kaz. 

The most remarkable (and depressing) thing about the shrill, scattershot, and frequently hilarious Little Murders is how relevant its satire of urban violence remains after 50-something years. It can be faulted for some unchecked sexism and homophobia and for some caricature intellectuals that evoke screenwriter Jules Feiffer's cartoons from the era but have lost their edge today, but if anything the angst and fear it depicts has only grown more acute in the era of Trump redux. 

Oasis (Lee Chang-dong, 2002)

Sul Kyung-gu and Moon So-ri in Oasis

Cast: Sul Kyung-gu, Moon So-ri, Ahn Nae-sang, Ryoo Seung-wan, Choo Kwi-jung, Jin-gu Kim, Son Byung-ho, Ga-hyun Yun, Park Myung-shin, Park Gyeong-gyun. Screenplay: Lee Chang-dong. Cinematography: Yeong-taek Choi. Art direction: Jum-hee Shin, Kil Won Yu. Film editing: Hyun Kim. Music: Jaejin Lee. 

Lee Chang-dong's Oasis seems to me a kind of great film, a phrase I don't use lightly, especially about one with scenes so painful that they tempted me to stop watching. At the same time, however, it also has scenes to which my response was a kind of astonished, even reluctant laughter. Lee's control of tone and mood is what tempts me to invoke greatness. When we first meet the protagonist, Jong-du (Sul Kyng-hu), he has just been released from prison after serving time for a hit-and-run that killed a man. (The truth about that incident of vehicular manslaughter is one that Lee keeps from us until a moment of low-key ironic surprise late in the film.) Penniless, wearing only a short-sleeved shirt on a frigid day, the slow-witted Jong-du tries to find his family, only to discover that they've moved away without telling him. The only way he can reconnect with them is by getting arrested. After they reluctantly take in the feckless, undisciplined, unemployable Jong-du, he then decides that he should do something to make amends with the family of the man who died in the hit-and-run. But they're not much better than his own family: They're in the process of moving, leaving behind Han Gong-joo (the amazing Moon So-ri), who suffers from severe cerebral palsy, under the care of her neighbors in a subsidized apartment house for disabled people. They regard Gong-joo as a source of supplemental income. And so the two outcasts, Jong-du and Gong-joo, are thrown together by the indifference and venality of their families. What develops between them could have been a mere sentimental fable about survival of the least fit, but Lee makes it much more with the help of two marvelous actors and a deft use of unexpected details, including touches of fantasy. It's a movie that should come with a multitude of trigger warnings, but for those who can take it, it's a memorable achievement. 

Staying Vertical (Alain Guiraudie, 2016)

Damien Bonnard and India Hair in Staying Vertical

Cast: Damien Bonnard, India Hair, Raphaël Thiéry, Christian Bouillette, Basile Meilleurat, Laure Calamy, Sébastien Novac. Screenplay: Alain Guiraudie. Cinematography: Claire Mathon. Production design: Toma Baqueni. Film editing: Jean-Cristophe Hym. 

Like his film Sunshine for the Poor (2001), Alain Guiraudie's Staying Vertical seems to be about (among other things) the dangers of getting involved with people who herd sheep. Which makes both movies entries into the anti-pastoral genre, one that hasn't been much explored since, oh, the sixteenth century. (The classics would include Shakespeare's As You Like It and The Winter's Tale.) The setup is this: Léo (Damien Bonnard), a filmmaker, is traveling through the south of France in search of inspiration for his next film. On the road, he spots a handsome young man named Yoan (Basile Meilleurat), whom he tries and fails to pick up with a variation of the old "would you like to be in the movies" line. Rebuffed, he continues until he meets Marie (India Hair), a shepherdess living with her two young sons and her father, Jean-Louis (Raphaël Thiéry). Léo gets Marie pregnant, but after she gives birth she leaves Léo to take care of the baby as well as assist Jean-Louis with the flock, which is being decimated by wolves. Meanwhile, Léo's producer is bugging him to finish a screenplay. And, oh yes, Léo reconnects with Yoan and the old man he looks after, Marcel (Christian Bouillette). As if he didn't have enough distracting him from finishing the screenplay, everyone except Yoan wants to go to bed with Léo. It can't end well, and it doesn't, but with a film like Staying Vertical the journey is everything.    

Mother Hummingbird (Julien Duvivier, 1929)

Maria Jacobini in Mother Hummingbird

Cast: Maria Jacobini, Francis Lederer, Hélène Hallier, Jean Dax, Jean Gérard, Jean-Paul de Baere, Lya Lys, Madame Baume. Screenplay: Julien Duvivier, Noël Renard, based on a play by Henry Bataille. Cinematography: Gaston Haon, Armand Thirard, René Guichard. Art direction: Christian-Jacque, Fernand Delattre. 

A sumptuous production and adroit camerawork distinguish this rather too-familiar domestic melodrama about a Parisian woman (Maria Jacobini) who leaves her icy husband (Jean Dax) and her two sons (Jean Gérard, Jean-Paul de Baere) to run off to Algeria with a handsome but ultimately fickle legionnaire (Francis Lederer). Jacobini's performance is solid, but she's undermined by the silent film's slowness, with too many long closeups as she agonizes over her choices in life. 

Julien Donkey-Boy (Harmony Korine, 1999)

Ewen Bremner in Julien Donkey-Boy

Cast: Ewen Bremner, Chloë Sevigny, Werner Herzog, Evan Neumann, Joyce Korine. Screenplay: Harmony Korine. Cinematographer: Anthony Dod Mantle. Film editing: Valdis Óskarsdóttir. 

Between a grim start and a bleak ending, Julien Donkey-Boy is an eye-straining and soul-bruising excursion into the lives of Julien (Ewen Bremner), a schizophrenic teenager, and his not very supportive family: an abusive father (Werner Herzog), a pregnant sister (Chloë Sevigny), a confused brother (Evan Neumann), and a remote grandmother (Joyce Korine). It's a kind of masterpiece of cringe.  

Front Cover (Ray Yeung, 2015)

Jake Choi and James Chen in Front Cover

Cast: Jake Choi, James Chen, Elizabeth Sung, Jennie Page, Sonia Villani, Ming Lee, Li Jun Li, Benjamin Thys, Peter Hans Benson, Rachel Lu, Kristen Hung, Wayne Chang, Scott Chan, Ben Baur, Tom Ligon. Screenplay: Ray Yeung. Cinematography: Eunah Lee. Production design: Kate Rance. Film editing: Joseph Gutowski. Music: Darren Morze, Paul Turner. 

A gay New York photo stylist (Jake Choi) meets a closeted Chinese movie star (James Chen) in this likable but rather too predictable romantic drama.   

Alias Nick Beal (John Farrow, 1949)

Audrey Totter and Ray Milland in Alias Nick Beal

Cast: Ray Milland, Thomas Mitchell, Audrey Totter, George Macready, Fred Clark, Geraldine Wall, Henry O'Neill, Darryl Hickman, Nestor Paiva, King Donovan, Charles Evans. Screenplay: Jonathan Latimer, Mindret Lord. Cinematography: Lionel Lindon. Art direction: Franz Bachelin, Hans Dreier. Film editing: Eda Warren. Music: Franz Waxman. 

An attempt to blend film noir and fantasy, Alias Nick Beal casts Ray Milland as the devil, who leads an honest politician (Thomas Mitchell) astray. Despite good performances and nice atmospheric detail, the film fizzles in a too-pat resolution of the plot. 

Fast Company (David Cronenberg, 1979)

Cast: William Smith, Claudia Jennings, John Saxon, Nicholas Campbell, Don Francks, Cedric Smith, Jody Foster, Robert Haley, George Buza, David Graham, David Petersen, Chuck Chandler. Screenplay: Phil Savath, Courtney Smith, David Cronenberg, Alan Treen. Cinematography: Mark Irwin. Art director: Carol Spier. Film editor: Ronald Sanders. Music: Fred Mollin. 

A cheesy racing flick with a low-wattage cast and not much suspense from a surprising director, Fast Company doesn't have much to offer anyone except devotees of David Cronenberg who will try hard (and probably fail) to see signs of auteurship. It's so carelessly put together that at one point you can see that the image has been flopped because the "Goodyear" logo on a character's cap is reversed. The mediocrity extends to a song score by composer Fred Mollin that sounds like it's ripping off "Born to Run" -- Springsteen couldn't be persuaded to provide the real thing. 

Black Coal, Thin Ice (Diao Yinan, 2014)

Liao Fan and Gwei Lun-mei in Black Coal, Thin Ice

Cast: Liao Fan, Gwei Lun-mei, Wang Xuebing, Wang Jingchun, Yu Ailei, Ni Jinyang. Screenplay: Diao Yinan. Cinematography: Dong Jingsong. Film editing: Yang Hongyu. Music: Wen Zi. 

When body parts start turning up in coal deliveries to factories in northeast China, the police launch an investigation that culminates in a botched arrest attempt. During the shootout, detective Zhang Zili (Liao Fan) is seriously wounded. Five years later, Zhang has quit the force and is far gone in alcoholism when he reconnects with police detectives who have reopened the investigation: Dismembered bodies have started turning up again, and the victims have a connection to Wu Zhizhen (Gwei Lun-mei), the widow of the supposed victim of the earlier murder. Wu works for a dry cleaner, and Zhang decides to do his own investigation, dropping off a coat to be cleaned and striking up a conversation with Wu. One thing leads to another, and Zhang finds himself deeply involved with her. Writer-director Diao Yinan takes a film noir premise and turns it into a darkly playful detective drama, interpolating sometimes downright surreal incidents, like horse in a hallway and a fully clothed woman in a bathtub. It ends both satisfyingly -- the mystery is apparently solved -- and enigmatically -- with a scene that evokes the original Chinese title, which translates as "daylight fireworks." Diao's control of setting and atmosphere and the performances of Liao and Gwei are exemplary.