Coogan's Bluff (Don Siegel, 1968)

Susan Clark and Clint Eastwood in Coogan's Bluff

Cast: Clint Eastwood, Lee J. Cobb, Susan Clark, Tisha Sterling, Don Stroud, Betty Field, Tom Tully, Melodie Johnson, James Edwards, Rudy Diaz, David Doyle. Screenplay: Herman Miller, Dean Riesner, Howard Rodman. Cinematography: Bud Thackery. Art direction: Alexander Golitzen, Robert MacKichan. Film editing: Sam E. Waxman. Music: Lalo Schifrin. 

If it weren't that it has the hard, garish, overlighted look of most movies in the 1960s, Don Siegel's Coogan's Bluff could almost be called a neo-noir. It has the genre's requisite unlikable but determined tough guy protagonist, willing to use sex and violence and flouting the law to achieve his goal, even if it means getting beat up several times. There's something masochistic about Clint Eastwood's Coogan, a deputy sheriff sent from Arizona to Manhattan to recover a fugitive. The screenplay gives him no backstory to explain his headlong relentlessness, but then there's nothing much to the screenplay beyond setups for action. It's an almost cynically mindless movie. 

The Panic in Needle Park (Jerry Schatzberg, 1971)

Kitty Winn and Al Pacino in The Panic in Needle Park

Cast: Al Pacino, Kitty Winn, Alan Vint, Richard Bright, Kiel Martin, Michael McClanathan, Warren Finnerty, Marcia Jean Kurtz, Raul Julia. Screenplay: Joan Didion, John Gregory Dunne, based on a book by James Mills. Cinematography: Adam Holender. Art direction: Murray P. Stern. Film editing: Evan A. Lottman. 

The Panic in Needle Park doesn't have much in the way of character arc: Bobby (Al Pacino) and Helen (Kitty Winn) end up pretty much the way they began, in search of a fix. What it does have going for it is immersiveness, a determined effort to plunge the viewer into the midst of some lost lives. That this perhaps isn't enough to make for an effective movie is, I think, signaled by some of the tricks screenwriters Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne pull, to heighten the viewer's emotional connection to the characters, which at one point involves the sacrifice of a cute puppy. But the movie is effective, largely because it's so well acted. It gave us one of our first looks at Pacino at his most hyperactive, as well as one of our rare looks at Winn, whose performance deservedly won the best actress award at Cannes. They're surrounded by a superb ensemble. 

Showgirls (Paul Verhoeven, 1995)

Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls

Cast: Elizabeth Berkley, Kyle MacLachlan, Gina Gershon, Glenn Plummer, Robert Davi, Alan Rachins, Gina Ravera, Lin Tucci, Greg Travis, Al Ruscio, Patrick Bristow, William Shockley. Screenplay: Joe Eszterhas. Cinematography: Jost Vacano. Production design: Allan Cameron. Film editing: Mark Goldblatt, Mark Helfrich. Music: David A. Stewart. 

Since the near-universal critical reaction that made Showgirls a byword for bad movies, attempts have been made to reevaluate it as a satire on Vegas or the entertainment business or the marketing of sex or something. Perhaps it was the double-edged cleverness of director Paul Verhoeven's next film, Starship Troopers (1997), that inspired some critics to find the same in Showgirls. So I conscientiously tried to watch it with that in mind. But no, it's just tawdry and tedious, with none of the wit or ironic distancing that would signal satiric intent. For example, just watch Kyle MacLachlan try to hide his embarrassment at some of the things he's supposed to do or say. 

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.