I saw . . . this: Part I

IFC has these great commercials for fake movies that are obviously le suck, which eventually dissolve so that they can remind you that life's too short for movies that suck, so you must watch IFC. One of the great features of the commercials are pseudo-comments from non-reviews, including the one above.

Of course, that one kind of reminds me of my own rule regarding the review of classic pictures on this thing here. I like to tack a few sentences on from time to time to let you know that I am still watching and thinking somewhat critically. I decided that I could also string a bunch of them together to inform you that I had, indeed, seen this. So, here's my first whack at it.

All the President's Men (1976)

This was one of the best movies I have ever seen. The story of how two young reporters cracked Watergate is already well publicized (including in their book, which was the basis for the screenplay), so, really, how much could someone do with this movie? Well, director Alan J. Pakula could create the most tense film I have ever see. There's nothing particularly clever or innovative about the story-telling, camera angles, or lenses, but it forces you to the edge of your seat and keeps you there. It's not just one of the most relevant looks at the how of political cover-ups; its story of journalistic integrity and perseverance against a monolithic and faceless foe is the most relevant movie for today.

Barefoot in the Park (1967)

The Neil Simon play turned film may be a light confection, as free spirited as its female lead (played with wonderful charm by Jane Fonda), but it is also delightful, sort of the filmic equivalent of cotton candy: there one minute, dissolved the next, leaving no trace but not forgotten. Redford may exist is a bizarre charismatic chemistry vacuum, but it's a joy to see him try to hold his own against the force that is Fonda.

Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974)

The problem with putting DVDs on one's Zip list and having months, perhaps even a year, lapse before they arrive in one's mailbox is as follows: one tends to forget the movie. See, I thought this movie, one of Martin Scorsese's earlier works that earned eponymous protagonist Ellen Burstyn a Best Actress Oscar, was about a woman who took her son and left her abusive husband, working as a waitress and singer to make money and provide a stable home for her son. They move around a lot, and her dependence on him grows. Eventually, he goes off to college, and she breaks down, losing all sense of her self, and spouting the title line.

Not so much. Her husband dies, and the moving and working stuff is true. But the growing up and going crazy stuff? Not so much. More like finding space for others in the life of a fiercely independent work in this intelligent pro-feminist tale.