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With all the hubbub surrounding Gen-Z’s delicate sensibility involving sex on screen,  The Shape of Night , released in 1964, would likely require a strong trigger warning.  Produced at time when Japanese studios were leaning towards more overt scenes of sex and violence to compete with an encroaching TV audience, director Noboru Nakamura crafts a technically beautiful film that brutalizes its central female character both physically and emotionally for the entire run time.  A noir morality play set in the world of prostitution and pimps,  The Shape of Night  doesn’t condone this “degenerate” lifestyle, but makes it clear that some choices are more complicated than a simple right and wrong. Yoshie becomes quickly infatuated by Eiji, a regular customer she serves at the local bar; so much so that she moves into his tiny apartment and becomes their sole source of income.  By the time Eiji’s career as a low-level yakuza is revealed, Yoshie is too deep in love to care.  But the suggestion

One of the biggest blind spots in the parenting toolbox is our inability to judge the true depth of our children’s emotions.  As adults, we think that only grown-up problems matter, when in fact the stakes are just a high for our kids.  Few films capture this flawed logic better than Luigi Comencini’s  Misunderstood  (1966), a melancholy coming-of-age story that digs deep into familial bonds that keep us together…and, just as often, tear us apart. After the death of his estranged wife, John Duncombe is at a loss how to break the news to his two sons. Andrea, the eldest seems to take things in stride, carrying the burden for his younger brother Miles.  But while their father keeps busy with work, the children become more and more desperate for his attention, particularly Andrea who finds himself labeled a “troublemaker” despite every effort to impress.  Instead, it’s Miles, with no memory of his absent mother, who becomes the focus of the family, blissfully ignorant of the tragedies of

You could make a case that genre films are more important for cultural study than any movie that pops up during awards season.  The reason being, while the latter makes every effort to be  timeless , genre films are distinctly  of their time .  Take  Joysticks  (1983) for example, a blatant cash grab that tries to take advantage of two popular trends.  “You got your video games in my sex comedy.  No, you got your sex comedy in my video games!”  Either way, director Greydon Clark had dollars signs in his eyes when he shot this T & A quickie that captured – in truly embarrassing fashion – the early ‘80s generation fascination with boobs, bits and flatulence.  Bailey’s Arcade is the hangout for all of River City’s disaffected youth who bond over games like Gorf, Galaxian and Defender.  But local big wig Joseph Rutter (Joe Don Baker) doesn’t like the affect it’s having on his impressionable daughter so he arranges various acts of sabotage to shut the place down.  After some rude pranks

The adage “When legend becomes fact, print the legend” might have come from a John Ford western, but applies equally well to the exploits of Eliot Ness.  After all, Hollywood would love you to believe the famed prohibition-era crimefighter and his fellow  untouchables  were solely responsible for busting up Al Capone’s criminal organization and making the streets of Chicago safe – not to mention liquor-free!  The truth is more complicated but it makes for a rousing bit of cinematic exaggeration as adapted by film noir veteran Phil Karlson in  The Scarface Mob  (1959), a theatrical presentation of the two-part TV special that continued on for five seasons as  The Untouchables . Brought in to fight fire with fire, Ness (Robert Stack) recruits his team of tough guys on the down low, hoping to dodge the police corruption hampering all previous efforts to enforce the Volstead Act.  And he makes headlines with high-profile raids on breweries and speakeasys that take a bit out of Capone’s pro

Much like the early work of Tim Burton, the films of director Frank Henenlotter exist in their own twisted universe.  Only instead of a gothic suburban fairyland,  Basket Case  (1982) puts down stakes in a seedy Times Square hotel populated by an endearingly colorful collection of hookers, thieves and pimps.  The newest tenant is Duane Bradley (Kevin Van Hentenryck), a naive upstate import whose most defining characteristic is the large wicker basket he carries under his arm.  What's in the basket?  Why, his separated Siamese twin, Belial, who looks more like a stumpy octopus, on a mission of revenge against the doctors who performed their illegal operation and "broke up the band," so to speak. Inheriting the "Midnight Movie" mantle from  Rocky Horror  (it had a two year run at one famous NYC theater),  Basket Case  wormed its way into the horror genre like a venereal disease.  But Henenlotter's film has a DIY aesthetic that's charming even when it's

Historical period pieces take advantage of everything cinema has to offer: thousands of extras, elaborate costumes, detailed sets and a carefully orchestrated visual palette all in an effort to convince the audience that what they’re seeing is  real …when, of course, all that artistry means it’s anything but.  Based on the legend of one of China’s “Four Great Beauties,”  Hsi Shih: Beauty of Beauties  (1965) is an ambitious response to western epics like  Cleopatra  (released just two years earlier), sending its heroine into the lion’s den to seduce and undermine King Fucha and destroy the barbarous Wu Kingdom from within. Part of a delegation of women sent to appease Fucha’s insatiable appetites, Hsi Shih has actually been trained to whisper into the ears of the enemy and foment a feud with the senior advisor.  Quick on her feet and easy on the eyes, His Shih does her job so well that even fellow countrymen begin to question her loyalty.  But when the time comes for action, she’s the c

Henry Fonda was the most unlikely of tough guys.  With a slight build and soft features, his look was more appropriate for a clumsy romantic suitor or folksy vagabond, both of which he played quite well.  But when his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, Fonda could scare the living bejesus out of just about anyone!  So, his career as a western icon flourished along with his everyman roles and, finally, in  The Tin Star  (1957) both aspects of his onscreen personality get to shake hands. Former sheriff turned bounty hunter, Morgan Hickman (Fonda) ambles into town just as the  current  sheriff, Ben Owens (Anthony Perkins), a wet-behind-the-ears temp, is facing his greatest challenge.  The biggest bully in the county is gunning for the job…and isn’t afraid to use his  own  guns to secure the position.  After some convincing, Morgan agrees to take the young lawman under his wing, hoping to show him the ropes before he winds up six feet under.   Director Anthony Mann, hot off a string of ed

My favorite directors have always been showoffs:  Hitchcock, DePalma, Spielberg (when he’s feeling frisky) and gonzo auteurs like Sam Raimi.  There’s just something about their cinematic ambition, constantly reminding the audience that, yes, there actually  is  someone behind the camera calling the shots.  And that directorial discontent shines through even in the early days of the medium, such as Paul Leni’s 1927 adaptation of  The Cat and the Canary .  While the rest of the industry was still learning the basics of visual language, Leni fills his frame with tracking shots, POVs and dramatic lighting that set the standard for every spook show to come!  Gathered for the reading of the last will and testament of eccentric recluse Cyrus West,  the potential heirs meet up in his decrepit mansion to discover who will inherit the estate and family jewels.  Predictably there is some petty jealousy when young Annabelle West is named the sole beneficiary…that is, if she can be proved sane afte

The post-modern gangsters pioneered in Quentin Tarantino’s  Pulp Fiction  didn’t take long to spread to every corner of the cinema landscape.  Suddenly pop-culture references became just as important as shoot-outs and characters were swimming in quirky idiosyncrasies.  Even low-budget auteurs like director Albert Pyun ( Cyborg, The Sword and the Sorcerer ) jumped in headfirst, dragging meat-and-potatoes action stars like Christopher Lambert along for the ride.   In  Mean Guns  (1997), Lambert stars as Lou, one of a hundred-or-so assassins hired by the Syndicate, all of whom are invited to a secret meeting led by Vincent Moon (Ice-T).  In the spirit of competition, Moon offers up 10 million dollars to the three survivors of what turns out to be a  Battle Royale -style death match.  Lou teams up with Marcus, Dee and Cam – an innocent bystander – in a group effort to shoot their way to the top of the leaderboard.   Set against an ironically peppy mambo music score, Pyun delights in lettin

Before streaming began slopping out content to horror fans like pigs at a trough, the  After Dark Horrorfest  was a cool way to provide obscure and international genre efforts some theatrical exposure, quickly followed by a premiere on the burgeoning DVD platform.  There were more than a few gems in there, including  Frontier(s) and  Lake Mungo .  And director Nacho Cerda’s  The Abandoned  (2006) probably sneaks into the top ten; a long dark night story set in the Russian backcountry where two siblings attempt to get uncover their family history…which, as they discover, probably should have stayed buried. After inheriting the property, Marie discovers her birthplace is an isolated, spooky dump that provides more questions than answers.  But she  does  discover a twin brother, Nikolai (Karel Roden), who also experiences lingering doubts about his identity.  Confronted by zombie-like doppelgangers and jumbled recollections of their parent’s death, the duo struggles to make sense of the p