Review #23 THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS (1954, Richard Brooks)

 

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An American journalist settles down with a beautiful woman in mid-20^th Century Paris, but not all is gay in Paree.

Starring  Van Johnson, Elizabeth Taylor, Walter Pidgeon, Donna Reed, Roger Moore

Written by  Julius J Epstein, Philip G Epstein, Richard Brooks   

Produced by  Jack Cummings

Duration  116 minutes   

According to Amazon Prime, theirs is the ‘unedited original version’ of THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS. OK, so what’s the difference? The internet yielded no answers, so I’m left speculating. 

Was there once a clamouring to see the director’s definitive version, like with BLADE RUNNER or NIGHTBREED? If so, why was it held back from us and how has it changed?

Or, is it like how my DVD of THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972) declares that it is ‘uncut for the first time in the UK?’ But what exactly could have been so scandalous in a movie from 1954 that it had to be sliced out? Was there too much of Elizabeth Taylor’s ankle shown, enough that Richard Burton burst into the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer lot in a drunken rage and demanded that all the offending footage be burned, and only after his death in 1984 (right after making 1984) did prints with those two inches of white flesh restored see the light of day?

The mystery rages on, but judging by the terrible quality of the Prime version, I’m deducing the subtitle to mean that it’s from some kind of original print. This may get cinema historians’ knickers twisted up into a pretzel, but my reaction was that I hadn’t seen such poor quality since the video nasty-era of dodgy copied VHSs. Obviously this movie is nothing like I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE or THE DRILLER KILLER – however, I will admit that, by the end, I was almost hoping for Abel Ferrara to leap out and put me out of my misery by going nuts on the cast with a raging Black & Decker.

Yes, having now sat through the thing, I can’t for the life of me see why any version of THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS would warrant celebrating.

It’s based on material by F Scott Fitzgerald, which is encouraging, or rather it was before I watched the movie. Beyond the novels like The Great Gatsby (good), Tender is the Night (bad) and The Last Tycoon (unfinished), Fitzgerald also churned out loads of short stories.

Those bite-sized fictions were dismissed by critics as cash-grabs rather than having any artistic merit, but I very much enjoyed his ones set in Hollywood. They revolve around down-and-out alcoholic screenwriter Pat Hobby, once known as ‘a good man for structure’, now reduced to hanging around the studio lot like a discarded piece of a long-forgotten set dressing. Check them out! 

Anyway, it’s one of Fitzgerald’s other 150-odd short stories that THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS is based on. The story has American journalist Van Johnson feeling driven to stay on in Paris as WWII comes to a close (in Europe, at least) when he gets caught between the lanes of Donna Reed (wowzer) and her sister, Liz Taylor (double wowzer). What a dilemma – it’s kind of like the arduous bind Rene Zelweger faces in BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY: how to choose between dashing, suave, rich Hugh Grant or suave, dashing Colin Firth, who also isn’t short of a few quid.

So, Van swerves his way around his first world problems in post-Second World War France. One really feels for his plight, as he endures hardships like Liz snuggling up to him on a bench at dawn beside the Seine and whispering to him, ‘I like the way you kiss me.’

After meandering around for ages in search of some conflict, the movie takes a sudden dive into heavy-handed melodrama. We skim through the years at quite a clip, with a succession of failed novels leading wannabe-writer Van to the bottle, which fuels his resentment for his effervescent wife as he inexplicably steers himself away from one of the most desirable women who ever lived.

Then, before Van can give his head the MOT it sorely needs, his suspension gets truly fucked when the neglected Liz starts fooling around with a baby-faced Roger Moore, playing a dashing young tennis pro. And then, she only goes and dies of pneumonia, in an incident that’s pretty much Van the Man's fault, sending him into the head-on collision of a custody battle for their daughter against her aunt – who, you'll recall, our lunkheaded hero part-exchanged back when it looked like this movie might actually have some decent mileage.

THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS is the answer to the question, ‘What if CASABLANCA had been two hours of Rick and Ilsa's French flashbacks, except they got married and ended up being miserable?’ Not something I think anyone's ever pondered.

It’s exhausting stuff, and I’m left with only enough energy to plead that the next time Hollywood decides to adapt Fitzgerald, instead of another tepid tale like this or taking a stab at Gatsby yet again, we get something a bit more light-hearted. So how about that Complete Adventures of Pat Hobby then, eh? Ah, go on!

Two stars out of five.

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  By the end of the movie, Van has his daughter back in the passenger seat and is adamant that they will take the exit ramp away from France for good and motor off to a new life back in America.

What would a movie called THE FIRST TIME I SAW PARIS be about?  For me, it was circa 2000 on a school trip; Disneyland Paris, too. What a time.

Previously:  THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT

Next time:  LAST KNIGHTS

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com

Review #22 THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (2009, Dennis Iliadis)

 

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Just like the original: when a different middle-class couple realise that the drifters they have let into their home are responsible for the rape and murder of their daughter, friendly hospitality once again turns into bloody revenge.

Starring  Sara Paxton, Martha MacIsaac, Garret Dillahunt, Aaron Paul, Tony Goldwyn, Monica Potter

Written by  Adam Alleca, Carl Ellsworth

Produced by  Wes Craven, Sean S Cunningham, Marianne Maddalena

Duration  110 minutes

How exciting – my first review of a remake of a film I’ve already reviewed!

I can’t remember whether back in 2009 the word ‘remake’ was still in vogue. In more recent years, recycling/resurrecting existing intellectual property has tended to be called either a ‘reboot’, which takes stories we know and reinterprets them (the PLANET OF THE APES movies come to mind, or the various iterations of BATMAN), or a ‘legacy sequel’ (good ones: SCREAM 2022, TOP GUN: MAVERICK, BLADE RUNNER 2049, BAD BOYS FOR LIFE; bad ones: COMING 2 AMERICA, THE MATRIX RESURRECTIONS, TRON: LEGACY, HALLOWEEN).

LAST HOUSE ’09 is definitely a straight-up remake. It’s not trying to update for the 21st Century the tale of ostensibly respectable parents avenging their murdered children by brutally dispatching the culprits. It’s certainly not a continuation of the same timeline or a long-in-gestation direct sequel.

Horror has to have the most remakes of all the major genres. There’s been a lot of ’em! And it would be wrong to dismiss them as uniformly bad just out of principle even if, for sure, it tends to be potluck which way things go.

Bringing back the creator(s) to produce can seems like a good sign: the LAST HOUSE and HILLS HAVE EYES remakes are both pretty decent and have Wes Craven on board as a producer, whereas he went nowhere near the unpleasant A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET from 2010. I find it hard to see this as a coincidence. On the other hand, fellow genre-legend John Carpenter is credited on 2005’s disastrous THE FOG, and has admitted more generally that he doesn’t care about how good the new versions of his films are, so long as he gets paid.

So anyway, yeah: ‘pretty decent’. That basically sums up this THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT. It’s hard to imagine anyone preferring it, unless they found the early-’70s fashions and slang from before too distracting. But LAST HOUSE ’09 does omit certain elements from the original whose absence no one could possibly miss – I’m talking about the bumbling comedy cops who hitch a ride atop a truck loaded with chickens after their squad car breaks down, or the jolly closing tune with lyrics that cheerfully recount the grim events we've just sat through.

This version nails its forbearer's gruelling sense of impending dread to a tee, albeit in a slicker, bigger-budgeted, noughties kind of way. Garret Dillahunt managed to go straight from loveably dopey deputy in NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN to one of the most effective amoral sickos in recent memory, his portrayal of the monstrous Krug certainly equalling David Hess’s.

It's longer than the first go-around, so pads the runtime out with some unnecessarily detailed character introductions for heroes and villains alike. It shows the world what Jesse Pinkman would be like if he himself broke bad beyond any possible redemption. The score sounds like John Murphy put his ‘In the House, in a Heartbeat’ from 28 DAYS LATER in as a temp track and then forgot to replace it.

And, all in all, I liked it. In the face of lazy, knee-jerk opinions about the limited value of remakes, I always lean on the fact that THE FLY and THE THING turned out to be two of the best films of the ’80s. LAST HOUSE ’09 is nowhere near that level, but it does what it sets out to do with competency and professionalism and just about earns its right to exist. It may have sprouted deep in the looming shadow of the original, but it still managed to grow in that shade into a perfectly edible… mushroom. So, there you go.

Three stars out of five.

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  It’s an isolated vacation home by a lake this time, so the proximity to previous or subsequent houses is even harder to determine than in the ’72 vintage. But why would, um, Greek director Dennis Iliadis, known for, er, a film titled HARDCORE that doesn’t have George C Scott in it, lie to us?

What would a movie called THE FIRST HOUSE ON THE LEFT be about?  Right, so I have to do this again too. OK, well, this time, let’s say the people living in that earlier house turn out to be even more unhinged than Krug and company and slaughter the whole gang seconds after welcoming them in, forgoing the act-three suspense and just cutting straight to the grisly retribution.

Previously:  THE LAST DESCENT

Next time:  THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS  

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com

Review #21 THE LAST DESCENT (2016, Isaac Halasima)

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The true-life rescue attempt of a 26-year-old medical student and experienced spelunker who got trapped in a Utah cave.

Starring  Chadwick Hopson, Alexis Johnson, Landon Henneman, Jyllian Petrie, Jacob Omer

Written by  Isaac Halasima  

Produced by  Bryan Fugal, Mike Staheli, Aaron Stephenson   

Duration  105 minutes

 

 

This is a serious film. It’s based on a serious, real-life incident: the 2009 rescue attempt of John Edward Jones in Nutty Putty Cave, west of Utah Lake, USA (even if ‘John Jones’ does sound like a bland, made-up movie name.)

But we have a problem here. Seriously, ‘Nutty Putty Cave’? That was a distraction for me going in. What the hell kind of name is that? It sounds like something off of Doctor Who, with all its cringe-inducing ‘timey-wimey’ guff. So what, was ‘Rocky Chocky’ taken? Did they never think of ‘Cavey Wavey’? I ask you, Nutty Putty ... it makes me think of Nic Cage's pronunciation of ‘naughty’ with his girlfriend in THE ROCK (I couldn't find a clip on YouTube; it’s about 15 minutes into the film.)

I was also getting strong 127 HOURS vibes from THE LAST DESCENT, another real-life story. In that one, we know James Franco’s character lives – albeit minus one limb. In APOLLO 13, we know they get back to Earth. In TITANIC, there's no way the ship won't go down.

This means that THE LAST DESCENT faces a distinct narrative challenge: the foregone conclusion. The above films tackled this with strong characterisation, by focusing on the problems happening in the moment, and by use of charismatic stars. James Cameron especially knew what he was doing by making TITANIC Romeo and Juliet on the waves (with your actual former son of Montague!) and putting the stakes of their class-shattering love affair front and centre. Sure, they’re on a ship that sinks – but we knew we were watching a doomed romance, so the fact that it was taking place among one of the most famous tragedies of the 20th Century became practically immaterial.

Alright, so THE LAST DESCENT has all that to navigate. But note as well that the description up there says ‘rescue attempt’. Yes, unlike most ripped-from-the-headlines stories, but similar to the sinking ship film, this did not have a happy ending.

Whew. Quite a lot to contend with for this little flick. The only question left is, does it pull it off?

First, there’s tinkling piano. A baby is born. Tiny hand grips big. Life is precious. ‘His name is John,’ someone (a nurse?) says. OK, so it’s our hero, placed into the alcove of a blanket that sinks as if into a dark hole – ominously foreshadowing his fate.

Then we cut to him in his 20s, with wife and his own child, meeting his brother at the airport. The first thing that strikes one about Chadwick Hopson, who plays our John Jones here, is how much he resembles Topher Grace. And so does Jacob Omer, playing the brother! I mean, I guess that qualifies as good casting. But what was the reasoning? Did the real Topher G turn them down? Was he keeping his schedule free in case Sam Raimi decided to direct a fourth Spiderman film and needed him to come back as Venom?

Next scene, and they're driving away from the airport and bantering, as brothers will. Nutty Putty (!) Cave has reopened and they decide to go spelunkin’ together. At the entrance to the darkness, both wife and bro have some good foreboding lines:

 

Bro: "Do you want to change up the batteries in your headlight to be safe?"

John: "Nah, we're only going for a few hours."

Wife: "Hey, give me a call when you're ready to come home. I want to talk about... stuff."

John: "What 'stuff'?"

Wife: " ... I'll tell you when you get home."

Turns out she was – gasp! – pregnant and the baby from the opening was actually a flashforward to the newborn John Jr, who daddy John will never meet. Ouch.

So, into the cave the bros go. They’re crawling about, lit only by torches and glo-sticks. They’re having a good time, they chat about the past, they bond. It’s kind of hackneyed, but that’s OK.

Deeper they go. It gets claustrophobic; well, moreso. They lose each other. They find each other. But John’s stuck. And bro’s attempts to dislodge him are unsuccessful. So, bro has to leave him to get help.

I was expecting there to then be a long spell with them searching for John, but after only a couple of minutes of screentime, the rescue team arrives. This is actually quite effective for the movie's sense of dread, as John has the means of salvation right next to him, but they can’t do jack. Our man is stuck pretty tight; the rescuers just can’t get any damn leverage. And since he’s wedged in upside down, the blood is travelling to his head, bringing on delirium and full-body shutdown faster than the longer lead time he would have had if the main dangers were ‘only’ dehydration and starvation.

He’s stuck too deep for them to pull with ropes and they don’t have time to get machinery set up to drill. Someone even suggests getting peanut oil down there to try to slide him off, like a wedding ring stuck on a bloated finger.

But it’s clearly hopeless.

OK, so by now we’re approaching THE LAST DESCENT'S halfway point. How will the movie fill the rest of its time towards its foregone conclusion?

With flashbacks. Lots of flashbacks, with John’s voiceover explaining every detail of his childhood and meeting his wife. And the recollections get understandably less nostalgic and more morose as John’s chances of survival in the present steadily plummet.

It’s hard to be too flippant about something like THE LAST DESCENT, despite my natural instincts. I didn’t really enjoy the extended retelling of John’s Hallmark-movie romance, and it all gets a bit too magical realism for me towards the end. And the budget-127 HOURS vibe was hard to shake. But the movie takes on a narrative challenge and doesn’t drop the ball, despite the odd fumble, retelling a poignant story with respect. So ultimately it deserves a smattering of measured applause. 

After this tragedy, they sealed up that cave. They should probably just detonate the bloody thing to be on the safe side, so no one has to say its stupid name or get stuck within its stupid depths ever again.

Three stars out of five.

 

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  For John Edward Jones, sadly yes.

What would a movie called THE FIRST DESCENT be about?  It would be pretty nerve-wracking, I’d expect. I took a school trip to Chislehurst Caves where the guide turned off his torch to make it full dark, and that was bad enough for me.

Previously:  LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT

Next time:  THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com

 

Review #20 LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT (2015, Rodrigo García)

 

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For 40 days and nights, Jesus Christ, son of God, walks the desert, gathering insights into humanity and Himself.

Starring  Ewan McGregor, Tye Sheridan, Ciarán Hinds, Ayelet Zurer

Written by  Rodrigo García   

Produced by  Bonnie Curtis, Julie Lynn, Wicks Walker   

Duration  98 minutes   

   

 

Ewan McGregor as Jesus Christ? Really? Wait ... and Satan? Blimey. Who does he think he is, Jim Carrey in Robert Zemeckis' version of A CHRISTMAS CAROL? Peter Sellers in DR STRANGELOVE? Did he want to stretch himself beyond merely nailing a spot-on Alec Guinness impression for Obi-Wan Kenobi to emulating Guinness’s multi-role antics in KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS?

Or did the makers of LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT hire McGregor because he’s done duel roles before: in THE ISLAND, where he plays both a clone and the cloned? Then again, that would entail somebody actually remembering THE ISLAND ...

I really couldn’t picture the Scottish actor as Jesus going in. For me, it tallied with other notoriously leftfield casting choices, like Robert Downey Jr as Sherlock Holmes, or Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher, or Kevin Costner as Robin Hood. But hey, those worked out, mostly – maybe not Costner, but still, he manages to not detract from the reliable Sunday-afternoon-TV enjoyment PRINCE OF THIEVES delivers. 

Now, Satan, Ewan for that I understood right away. He's had a calculating malevolence in his eyes ever since playing the supercilious Mark Renton in TRAINSPOTTING. In fact, as far back as cocky journalist Alex from SHALLOW GRAVE.

On the subject of TRAINSPOTTING: in all this time, have we been supposed to be pronouncing Ewen Bremner’s Christian name differently? Did the pair have a laugh about it when they re-teemed on the set of BLACK HAWK DOWN, possibly pulling their fellow Brits among the cast into the joke, like Tom Hardy, Orlando Bloom, Hugh Dancy, Ian Gruffudd, Matthew Marsden and Jason Issac? (Fuck, there were a lot of people in that movie.)

Anyway, on LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT, Ewan with an ‘A’ plays the ultimate ‘Christian name’, with the emphasis firmly on the human part of the Holy Trinity.

The first thing the viewer notices from the outset is the movie looks terrific. Somehow, the great Emmanuel Lubezki is the DP on this obscure project (he’s mates with the writer/director, Rodrigo Garcia). The go-to lensman for the likes of Alfonso Cuarón, Alejandro Iñárritu and Terrence Malick, and winner of the Academy Award for Best Cinematography three years in a row between 2013 and 2015, the Mexican is a dab hand with natural lighting and he certainly has plenty to play with here, what with the whole thing taking place outdoors and all.

The definitive ‘humanised Jesus’ movie is, of course, Martin Scorsese’s THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST. Whilst that was about the son of God's final days (flash-forwarded to briefly here), this one instead takes a non-scripture-compliant look at some of his 40 days and nights in the desert, as recalled in the book of Matthew. The opening line from our man (of God) here is ‘Father, where are you?’ – putting us also in the is-He-really-listening? territory of Scorsese’s more recent theological epic, SILENCE.

And Ewan is fine. He’s sincere. Not much is said; not much needs to be said, not when you’re dealing with issues as weighty, significant and culturally familiar as does LAST DAYS IN THE DESERT. His Jesus is recognisably human, riddled with doubt, curiosity and not without range – in one scene, where he struggles to turn a blanket into windbreaker against the elements, he runs a gamut from determined to frustrated to amused to exasperated.

When Ewan-as-the-devil turns up to push Jesus’s buttons, I was pleased that they didn't go for anything trite like dressing him in black or any even less subtle interpretation (red skin, horns, pointy stick). Instead, McGregor does it all in the performance like a proper actor, as if this were a stage play – which, taking away the Lubezki visuals, it could well have been. When playing ol’ Lucifer, he switches from Alec Guinness-esque posh English back to his natural Scots brogue – just like he did as the nastier character back in THE ISLAND. (See, someone remembers it.)

Tye Sheridan is also among the sand dunes, having found a religious bonus level in READY PLAYER ONE. Ciaran Hinds is there too, as his Dad, with beard and walking staff. Jesus grapples with their human conflicts, and in doing so gets more perspective on his own father-son tensions.

Look, it’s a film about a man with Daddy issues trying to resolve them by wandering around a barren landscape, occasionally coming across others and accompanied by an evil doppelganger. It’s not confrontational like THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST, and it’s not touched by genius like the works of Scorsese, lensmanship notwithstanding. It doesn’t on the surface have much in terms of drama, incident or narrative. 

But it’s designed to be a spiritual experience first and foremost, and so, the only question really is, does it work on those terms? I can only answer yes; yes, I would say that it does.

Three stars out of five.

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  Jesus has certainly been in the desert for a while when we join him, but there’s no action movie-style countdown, and at the end he doesn’t explicitly return to civilisation, so there may still be more days of sand in his sandals and finding a rock for a pillow to come.

What would a movie called FIRST DAYS IN THE DESERT be about?  That early, optimistic period. Still feeling that last home-cooked meal, enjoying the fresh air, not yet attacked by any snakes or suffering back ache from sleeping on the bare ground.

Previously:  LAST MAN STANDING

Next time:  THE LAST DESCENT   

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com