Pride & Prejudice (1995)

Elizabeth meets Darcy at the Netherfield Ball; noses are upturned and we're off to the races. While Darcy nixes the burgeoning romance of Lizzie's sister Jane with his own pal Bingley, Lizzie stokes Darcy's jealousy (and sates her own arch-but-curious heart) by courting fop-in-disguise Wickham, who has his eye set on anything with a dowry. Sinuous subplots and intrigues work to keep our star-crossed lovers from recognizing that they are, in fact, star-crossed lovers. You know the rest.

The 2005 film version didn't effectively transfer Austen's acerbic social comedy, falling victim to lush production and overwhelming atmospherics: heated arguments during unseasonable downpours; romantic reconciliations upon dewy sunrise-lit meadows; breathlessly whispered passions vs. hurricanes; &c. By contrast, in the BBC's classic version, calm and stately direction lifts Austen's story right off the page. The actors make the most of their roles, particularly David Bamber as the beguilingly smarmy Mr. Collins, and Alison Steadman as Mrs. Bennet, at times so gratingly comic you could swear she's channeling Terry Jones in Python drag. Colin Firth's career-making turn as Darcy is pitch perfect; the critical moment when he pivots to declare himself to Lizzie is a delirious relief -- and nary a melodramatic thunderstorm in sight.

Destroy All Monsters! (1968)

Those wacky Japanese folk have exiled all the world's giant beasties-who-are-totally-not-dudes-in-rubber-costumes (Godzilla, Baragon, Mothra, Rodan, Gorasorus, &c.) to a remote island imaginatively code-named "Monsterland." (And what a dump compared to that swanky Skull Island, no turn-down service or anything, but I digress.) Undoubtedly cutting short plans to open a theme park featuring Jeep safaris -- See the Monsters in their Natural Habitat!! -- some no-good Kilaaks swoop down from their secret base on the Moon, and set all the creatures loose. Before you can say "Toho" the liberated beasts are smashing up cardboard replicas of London, Manhattan, Tokyo, Peoria, you name it. This is all part of the Kilaak's plan for world domination, right up until the beleaguered Earthlings invent broadband wireless and regain control of "their" monsters. A showdown with Ghidrah (representing the Kilaaks) atop Mt. Fuji decides the Ultimate Fate of Mankind. For all their troubles saving Earth from alien invaders, our conquering heroes are promptly sent back to the critter ghetto that is Monsterland. What's the lesson here?

Hide & Creep (2004)

Dang it all if small-town Thorsby AL ain't overrun by zombies. On top of that, there's no TV reception to speak of, which means no coverage of the (suspiciously off-screen) flying saucers whizzing overhead. Ah, hell, who cares -- The News has been a hoax since the "moon landing" and everybody knows it. Meanwhile, some non-union actors in pancake-zombie makeup stagger uninvited into strip clubs and barbecue joints, whilst mullet-endowed yokels hunt them down armed with rifles and machetes and, well, mullets. Where's the General Lee when you really need it? When some kind of Space Lady shows up, that's the end. I would spend more time describing the plot, but I can't. Loopy no-budget hybrid of Clerks, Shaun of the Dead, and any given Ed Wood production (be sure to go heavy on the Ed Wood now, y'hear?). Filmed in the scenic college burg of Montevallo. Which might explain some things.

The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada (2005)

Eponymous Melquiades (no relation to Erik) slips across the border into the American Southwest to befriend rancher Pete Perkins, the film's moral anchor and former roommate of Al Gore. Perkins hires Melquiades for some honest ranch hand type work, the kind most Americans won't stoop to anymore, too busy skimming stockholders of big energy companies to be bothered. Melquiades thereby makes a passable living herding goats, 'til one day a twitchy border patrol officer named Norton, graduate of the MAGA Sharpshooting Academy, "accidentally" takes him out. Local law enforcement in the form of Dwight Yoakam settles in to do nothing -- nothing, that is, until Perkins enacts his own justice, crisscrossing the border with a complaining Norton in tow, aiming to deliver the body of Melquiades back to family and country, to oversee a proper burial for an improper death. Magnetic performance by Tommy Lee Jones was but a warm-up for his turn in No Country for Old Men (2007).

The World's Fastest Indian (2006)

Anthony Hopkins, looking for all the world like 1980s-era Ray Bradbury, plays Burt Munro, a Kiwi with a one-lane mind. His quest: to break the world motorcycle land-speed record at Bonneville with his custom 1920 Indian Scout. To that end, Munro is your favorite nutty uncle: living a stripped-down life, mechanically inclined, viewing the world through the prism of his obsession, blind to most else. Hopkins' portrayal is note-perfect, exuding a sublime, only occasionally corny charm as Munro explores a world that at first seems a few steps ahead of his naivete, but eventually gravitates to his gentle but inflexible grace, an application of the same patient, meticulous approach by which he modified his precious "motor-sickle" for that odds-defying run across the salt flats. Indian is based on "one hell of a true story" according to the poster, making it a kind of high-octane version of David Lynch's The Straight Story (1999), and certainly the best character-study film this side of The Apostle (1997). Great cameos from Diane Ladd and Paul Rodriguez.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)

The Good Doctor arrives at the village fair displaying a wondrous zombie-in-the-box named Cesare, a somnambulist oracle. Actually, puppet-like Cesare is no oracle, he's only following Caligari's diabolical directions, which include night errands of serial murder. A wax dummy kept in the box doesn't fool authorities for long, and Caligari is traced back to his lair by a friend of one of the victims, and the evil conspiracy uncloaked. But there's one more twist awaiting those who would seek justice... Caligari remains a weird and disorienting experience for the modern viewer; aside from bookending moments set in a serene garden, all events transpire in a cramped, off-kilter dreamworld of oddly striped geometric patterns -- a landscape that has inspired visual designers ever since, from Hitchcock's Spellbound (1945) to the Batman (1966-68) TV series to the entire career of Tim Burton. Because it is secondary to the design, the story moves in compartmentalized moments, and sometimes not at all; what a modern viewer would consider the "plot" occurs in the final ten minutes. Undoubtedly an influence on H.P. Lovecraft's tale of psycho-spiritual transference, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, written just seven years later.

[Seen at the Capri Theatre in Montgomery AL with live musical accompaniment by Devil Music Ensemble.]

The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005)

Our eponymous, experience-challenged sad-sack is Andy (Steve Carell), surrounded by well-meaning but clueless bro-buddies who endeavor to liberate him from his lifelong celibacy. Despite questionable adventures in meat-market bars and speed-dating carousels, Andy finds lovely compatibility in Trish (Catherine Keener). But can true love deliver the dirty, dirty sex that Andy's been hearing so much about? Crude and crass without being too-terribly stupid, this coming-of-age (see what I did there?) comedy never degrades or insults its characters, elevating a one-joke premise into a nuanced story. Much credit to Judd Apatow and company; turning the obsession over "collectibles" (action figures kept pristine, in the original packaging, to maintain value) into a hilariously layered psychosexual metaphor deserves kudos. But what was the deal with the whole Bollywood Age of Aquarius set piece? Oh well, I laughed anyway. Wasn't that the point?

Slacker (1991)

Semi-scripted documentary showcasing the bohemian fringe community in Austin TX, circa 1990. Richard Linklater's camera functions like the proverbial fly hanging out on yonder wall, focusing on a rotating series of characters -- many of whom appear to be students or at least campus ne'er-do-wells, all of whom lead busy but job-free lives (though Linklater has stated his usage of the term slacker was meant to be positive, it has entered the lexicon distinctly otherwise). The capricious narrative bounces from one eccentric persona to the next: Linklater himself gets the ball rolling as the motormouthed "Should Have Stayed at the Bus Station," ranting about alternate universes from the back of a taxicab. Other oddballs of note: "Guy Who Tosses Typewriter," "Scooby Doo Philosopher," and "Hand Stamping Armlicker." While a young scam artist tries to unload "Madonna's pap smear" on the nearest rube, an aging anarchist bemoans being out of town on the day Charles Whitman climbed the UT clocktower to a dude who believes NASA astronauts encountered aliens on the moon, just like in 2001 (1968). Before long, this bizarre clutter begins to cohere into a crazy-quilt whole. Best of all, everyone seems to be having a good time, if not actually "Having a Breakthrough Day." Shoohee, howdy, shucks.

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a down-on-his-luck writer (is there any other kind?) who finds employment revising a bloated Salome screenplay, pet project for aging silent-screen diva Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson). The rub is that he must dwell in her creepy mansion/shrine-to-her-former-self while he works, listening to Desmond emote to the shadows. She is convinced Salome is the key to her comeback. Gillis knows better, but he soon comes to forget or ignore that fact, as the ghostly allure of faded stardom gets the better of him, all despite the cloaked warnings of Max (Erich von Stroheim), Norma's mysterious butler. As the plot of Billy Wilder's noir classic slowly spirals in on itself, the movie itself spirals outward, one particular scene being key: Desmond snuggles down with Gillis and commands Max to screen one of her early silent pictures -- the meta-joke being that the film screened is Queen Kelly (1928) indeed starring Swanson, and directed by von Stroheim, one of the few he helmed before falling out of Hollywood's favor, keeping his career afloat by taking bit parts ... much like the role of Max, in this film, perhaps. Likewise, the Twilight Zone episode "The 16mm Shrine" is a supernatural narrative extension, in which an obsessed and secluded actress finds a portal out of this world and into the world of her old movies. Better than the static hell seemingly preferred by the characters of Sunset Boulevard.

Network (1976)

After declaring intent to commit suicide during his live broadcast, newsman Howard Beale is kept on-air by network bigwigs for the ratings generated by his spontaneous, outrageous statements ("I'm mad as hell..." and other greatest hits). As revenue increases, the dowdy set is exchanged for a velvety, spotlit stage Beale shares with gossip-mongers and soothsayers, while the suits upstairs (Max Schumacher, the principled head of the news department, and Diana Christensen, the bloodthirsty new head of programming) make for literal odd bedfellows. This would be a one-track satire if not for Paddy Chayefsky's brilliant late-reel turnabout involving a shadowy corporate figure who delivers a fire-and-brimstone carpet-calling. Mad Prophets, indeed. A sub-plot unveiling how acts of terrorism are staged for video hits uneasily close to the the 21st Century; a weirdly prescient journey into the dark heart of television news/entertainment. Bring back J. Fred Muggs!

I Walked with a Zombie (1943)

Back in the day, zombies weren't out-and-about, freely chomping on the living, munching on brains, begetting other zombies. They were, well, just dead people who wandered around, looking creepy, because they were dead. In this particular case, a nurse sent to the West Indies to care for a rich man's invalid wife ends up falling for the guy, despite the escapades of his drunk half-brother, not to mention their wicked mother, or the voodoo freaks all around, etcetera. How can our heroes find time for love with all these zombies underfoot? Great atmosphere was Val Lewton's hallmark; the eerie path through the sugarcane field that the women must take to get to the houngan is a high point. Years later, ethnobotanist Wade Davis would document exactly the kind of voodoun society depicted here in The Serpent & the Rainbow -- which in turn Wes Craven would use as inspiration for a zombie B-movie of his own. Reincarnation, anyone?

Heaven (1987)

Diane Keaton's short documentary about the Great Beyond is a zesty picnic of original interviews and bizarro Heaven-related stock footage. No celebrities or notables are questioned (everyone appears to be a random citizen of Hollywood's back alleyways, except for that one dude who eventually became a cheap-suited televangelist in the 1990s; perhaps this movie was his big break?). Under Keaton's lens, nobody has any real evidence of the afterlife, so any faith-based theory will do, no matter how kooky -- just pick one that fits. The one indisputable line: "In one-hundred years, everybody in this room will be dead." Worth seeing for 1950s-era television footage of three Bible "experts" cheerfully defining the architecture of Heaven: literal streets of gold, wealth, and mansions. Is that all there is? More of the same crap we mindlessly fight over down here? *sets an alarm for 100 years from now*

Wild Palms (1993)

Patent attorney Harry Wyckoff (James Belushi) becomes embroiled in a virtual reality/3-D TV/mind control conspiracy puzzle-plot involving randomly appearing rhinos, a network of tunnels beneath the swimming pools of Los Angeles, roving packs of black SUVs, and extra-perception sunglasses that aren't nearly as cool as those in They Live (1988). This six-episode miniseries intends to skewer Scientology but instead ends up being about four (five?) episodes too long. Uninspired direction and flat cinematography are at odds with the scripted elements, rendering the final product akin to a crappy mash of All My Children and a latter-season installment of The X-Files; nothing looks eerie or intriguing when it's videotaped through a Vaseline-smeared lens under the warm California sun. The acting is both hammy and wooden at the same time, a real feat from the likes of Robert Loggia, Angie Dickinson, David Warner, Dana Delany. Not to be confused with the William Faulkner novel of the same name.