Levon Helms’ passing this week prompted a viewing of Martin Scorsese’s 1978 rock concert documentary, The Last Waltz in my apartment this weekend.

For those of us with a limited familiarity of rock music of the 1960s, The Last Waltz is a stunning introduction to some of the greats. Scorsese sits across from members of The Band in relaxed, candid interviews in their California studio, while also capturing Bob Dylan, Van Morrisson, and Joni Mitchell, among others, on stage alongside The Band in a phenomenal farewell concert.

Though he is widely known as a feature director of mob violence dramas and grandiose biopics, Scorsese also has an impressive stock of music documentaries under his belt, and, even more impressive, The Last Waltz was his first dive into the genre. He has since told Bob Dylan’s, the Rolling Stones, and recently George Harrison’s stories on screen, in No Direction Home, Shine a Light, and Living in the Material World, respectively. He has also demonstrated a keen interest in rock and roll music through his soundtrack inclusions for his dramatic feature films.

The Last Waltz oscillates between the euphoric energy of the farewell concert and the sobering interviews as The Band members recall the good times and the bad in their life on the road. Though their love for the music they made together is entirely genuine, their fatigue is transparent, and it seems like the time is right to break up The Band. Scenes from the enrapturing final concert leave no room for doubt that The Band chose to quit while they were ahead. As they prepared to put down their instruments, Scorsese masterfully preserved their final concert on screen for us to enjoy many decades later, highlighting some of the greatest musicians of that generation and The Band that shared the stage with them.

The 1967 Best Actor race was filled with strong contenders–a mix of method actors (Paul Newman), newcomers (Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty), and classic Hollywood studio actors (Rod Steiger and Spencer Tracy). The winner that year was Rod Steiger in his spirited performance as a bigoted southern police chief working with a northern black detective (Sidney Portier). It’s surprising that Portier wasn’t nominated in the lead role over Steiger. He should have won for this performance instead of 1963’s Lilies of the Field. Instead, the studios pushed him into the Supporting category.

Rod Steiger in In the Heat of the Night
In the Heat of the Night is a great film and Steiger’s performance is excellent, but 1967 had some even more iconic roles for the younger actors, specifically Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke, Warren Beatty in Bonnie and Clyde, and Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate.

These were Beatty and Hoffman’s first nominations. Beatty went on to win for Best Director in 1982 for Reds and Hoffman won two Oscars for Best Actor in 1980’s Kramer vs. Kramer (a much deserved win) and 1989’s Rain Man. Beatty was just coming out of the shadow of being Shirley MacLaine’s brother, and Hoffman has always been known for being very anti-establishment and very anti-Oscar.  Beatty is great as Clyde Barrow opposite Faye Dunaway, and Hoffman displays a boyish dumbfoundedness in The Graduate. These two roles were career-defining for Hoffman and Beatty, but the one role that served as the embodiment of another actor’s career was Paul Newman as Lucas Jackson in Cool Hand Luke.

The Execution Scene

Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me…aren’t you?

Newman came onto the Hollywood scene in 1954 with the religious dud, The Silver Chalice, but his breakthrough role came in 1956 as boxer Rocky Graziano in Somebody Up There Likes Me. Newman exuded a youthful, charismatic charm that audiences found intoxicating. In some ways he was the successor to James Dean (with whom he was originally going to star in East of Eden), but a more stable, mainstream version. From 1958 to 1969, he starred in box office hits such as Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Long Hot Summer, Exodus, The Hustler, Sweet Bird of Youth, Hud, Harper, and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. All of these films embodied the Newman anti-hero, the roguish rebel that charmed audiences into getting his own way. But the role that really defined him was as Lucas Jackson in Cool Hand Luke. Jackson is sent to a chain gang prison for breaking parking meters and stealing change (a funny, if somewhat idiotic offense) and there he finds the will to live against the ruthless guards. The famous “What we have here is a failure to communicate!” line comes from this film.

Cool Hand Luke Tribute

It’s in the quieter scenes where Newman really shines, such as when he bets his fellow prisoners he can eat 50 hardboiled eggs, and when he slowly sings “Plastic Jesus” to himself. Newman deserved the nomination and in my opinion deserved the win that year. Ironically Newman, who was nominated 10 times (and won an Honorary Oscar and the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Oscar) finally won for the sequel to The Hustler—Martin Scorsese’s The Color of Money in 1986 (a year after he won his Honorary Oscar).

And where is poor Spencer Tracy in all this? Tracy, a solid character actor who was at his best in the 30s and 40s, would be nominated as the doubting father of a girl who wants to marry a black man in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? This was his 9th nomination and a posthumous one at that. He died 17 days after shooting was finished. Katharine Hepburn (his longtime real life companion) and his onscreen dutiful, liberal-thinking wife Christina Draper, won for Best Actress that year in what many (myself included) see as a consolation prize for Tracy’s death and a tribute to the many films that Hepburn and Tracy starred in together (9 in total from 1941 to 1967).

Tracy Monologue from Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

While Steiger took the Oscar home that night, Paul Newman deserved the win.

Below are the lyrics to “Plastic Jesus” written by Ed Rush and George Cromarty.

Paul Newman sings “Plastic Jesus” in Cool Hand Luke
I don’t care if it rains or freezes
‘Long as I got my Plastic Jesus
Sittin’ on the dashboard of my car.
Comes in colors, pink and pleasant
Glows in the dark ’cause it’s iridescent
Take it with you when you travel far.

Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sittin’ on a
Pedestal of abalone shell.
Goin’ 90, I ain’t scar-ied
‘Cause I got the Virgin Mary
Assurin’ me that I won’t go to Hell.

By N. DiSabatino

Alfred Hitchcock had a thing for blondes–just look at Rear Window, North by Northwest, Vertigo, and The Birds if you don’t believe me. Some of Hitchcock’s greatest leading ladies share particular qualities: blonde, chic, sensual, sarcastic, and definitely easy on the eyes. Hitch was meticulous in the details, from the right outfits (usually designed by the great Edith Head), the right hairstyles, and the right cool attitudes. Below are my picks for the top ten Hitchcock heroines. Some of these actresses have been in several Hitchcock films, so their placement on the list may represent several different roles.

10) Tallulah Bankhead as Constance Porter in 1944’s Lifeboat

Known primarily as a stage and radio actress, Tallulah Bankhead starred as sophisticated, materialistic reporter Connie Porter. After the boat she’s on is torpedoed by Germans, Bankhead finds herself stranded on a lifeboat with the other surviving passengers. One of the German soldiers is rescued and put on board. The passengers must decide his fate as well as their own in order to survive. Bankhead’s funniest moment may be when the crew are finally rescued and she instantly realizes she’s been without her makeup, “my lips! My face!” she screams.

9) Barbara Harris as Blanche Tyler in 1976’s Family Plot

In one of Hitchcock’s dark comedies, Barbara Harris plays Blanche Tyler, a fake psychic working with her boyfriend (Bruce Dern) to locate a woman’s missing nephew in order to earn $10,000. Some of the best scenes include Harris working her mojo as a psychic.

8 ) Shirley MacLaine as Jennifer Rogers in 1955’s The Trouble with Harry

The trouble with Harry is that he’s dead and no one knows what to do with his body. This was Shirley MacLaine’s first movie and she radiates on screen. MacLaine plays Harry’s widow, and she’s not too concerned with her husband’s demise. This was one of Hitch’s greatest black comedies and probably the only “non-blonde” Hitchcock heroine that fits the role of the Hitchcock woman.

7 ) Joan Fontaine as the second Mrs. De Winter in 1940’s Rebecca and as Linda McLaidlaw in 1941’s Suspicion.

Hitchcock’s first “American” film (and the only Hitchcock to ever win Best Picture) features Joan Fontaine’s breakthrough performance in the adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. There’s a lovely frailty about her in this performance as she tries to understand her husband Max De Winter’s (Laurence Oliver) past history with his first wife, Rebecca. Fontaine should have won that year, but instead it went to Ginger Rogers (a huge mistake, Academy!). Instead, Fontaine won a makeup award the following year in Suspicion, opposite Cary Grant, as a woman who suspects her husband may be trying to kill her in order to collect her life insurance.

6) Eva Marie Saint as Eve Kendall in 1959’s North by Northwest

In what may be one of the most seductive performances of all of Hitchcock’s heroines, Eva Marie Saint plays Eve Kendall opposite Cary Grant.  Her best scene is upon meeting Grant on a train, and she mentions to him that, “I paid the porter $5 to sit you next to me.” Some of her racy dialogue would have to be edited out before the final release. Her original line, “I never make love on an empty stomach” was changed to “I never discuss love on an empty stomach.”

Eva Marie Saint in “North by Northwest” with Cary Grant

5) Tippi Hedren as Melanie Daniels in 1963’s The Birds and Marnie Edgar 1964’s Marnie

Tippi Hedren may be the best example of one of the actresses that Hitchcock “molded” to fit his vision. Her part as socialite Melanie Daniels, who is terrorized by the unexplainable bird attack, was physically challenging to the actress and she suffered severe trauma when they filmed a scene where live birds were actually thrown at her face for hours at a time. Her follow up, Marnie, about a sexually frigid thief, contains a disturbing rape scene. She and Hitchcock had a huge falling out and he blacklisted her by refusing to let her out of her contract for years.

Tippi Hedren in “The Birds”

4) Janet Leigh as Marion Crane in 1960’s Psycho

About 40 minutes into the film, Hitchcock kills off his protagonist in one of the most iconic shower scenes in movie history. Marion Crane has stolen a great deal of money from her employer and finds herself on the run when she checks into the Bates motel. She will not be checking out. Leigh was deservedly nominated for Best Actress in a Supporting Role as the sensual, yet terrified Marion Crane.

Trailer to “Psycho”

3) Kim Novak as Madeline Elster/Judy Barton in 1958’s Vertigo

Novak stars opposite James Stewart in this psychological thriller in the dual role as Madeline Elster and Judy Barton. In the first half of the film, Novak portrays Hitchcock’s icy blonde to a T, and then reappears as mousy Judy Barton in the second half of the film. It is Novak’s remarkable transformation from Judy to Madeline that always stays in my mind. Set against the eerie green light and Bernard Hermann’s fantastic musical score, Kim Novak’s transformation is stunning.

Kim Novak transforms from Judy to Madeline in “Vertigo”

2) Ingrid Bergman as Dr. Constance Peterson in 1945’s Spellbound, as Alicia Huberman in 1946’s Notorious, and a Lady Henrietta Flusky 1949’s Under Capricorn

One of the films greatest icons, Ingrid Bergman made three films with Alfred Hitchcock throughout the 1940s. Notorious remains one of the strongest performances of any Hitchcock performance as Bergman goes undercover and marries a Nazi spy (Claude Rains) even though she’s in love with agent T.R. Devlin (Cary Grant). Bergman’s best scene may be when she secures a key to get to the basement wine cellar to uncover Nazi secrets for Cary Grant. Her character’s duplicitous nature is countered by her wonderfully vivid laugh and smile.

Kiss between Bergman and Grant in “Notorious”

But of all these ladies, the greatest Hitchcock film has got to be Grace Kelly

1) Grace Kelly as Margot Wendice in 1954’s Dial M for Murder, as Lisa Fremont in 1954’s Rear Window, and as Frances Stevens in 1955’s To Catch a Thief

Grace Kelly best represented the kind of woman Hitchcock wanted on film: icy, cool, funny, sexy, and sophisticated.

Kelly’s greatest part in my opinion is that of Lisa Fremont in Rear Window. As Jimmy Stewart’s sophisticated girlfriend, Kelly radiates in her style and humor. She becomes engrossed with the idea that Stewart’s neighbor has killed his wife. One of the best scenes is when Kelly actually goes over to the neighbor Thorwald’s apartment to find his wife’s wedding ring. She is cheeky, funny, and refreshing in the part. Kelly was nominated the same year for The Country Girl opposite Bing Crosby and William Holden as a boringly drab housewife and won the Oscar over Judy Garland in A Star is Born. In reality, she should have won for this performance, which was the embodiment of the classy, gutsy Hitchcock heroine.

Grace Kelly in “Rear Window”

by N. DiSabatino

Yesterday marked the 100th anniversary of the Titanic disaster, a tragic story told in history classrooms and on-screen by James Cameron in a film released in 1997. The film was re-released in theaters and in 3D last weekend.

I chose the above screenshot because too many of us remember Titanic as The Jack and Rose story. While the romantic plot was needed to focus this massive disaster story down to two characters we (hopefully) care about, the most affecting part of the film is undoubtedly the last hour and a half when the ship is sinking. The luxurious ship that served as an exquisite backdrop for the love story began to fall apart at every seam – water bursts through its crisp white walls, a cabinet full of china plates rattle to the floor as rushing water floods the lavish dining room, and ultimately we watch thousands of frozen bodies float lifelessly in the biting Atlantic.

Much has been written about Titanic, good things and bad things. Notoriously, the dialogue is a little silly at many points. But watching the film again for the first time on the big screen in fifteen years, I walked away marveling at what a talented visual storyteller James Cameron is. Titanic was one of the first epic, visual effects driven films of its kind, and today it remains an influential part of that history.

Note from the editor: Nicholas is a recent addition to the Unknown Critics contributors. For more on Nicholas, please see the About Page.

1962 was a strong year in the Best Actress category, with two seasoned veterans (Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis), two first time nominees (Lee Remick and Anne Bancroft), and one already established pro (Geraldine Page). It reminded me very much of this past year’s nominations with Streep and Close taking the veterans role, Davis and Mara as the first time nominees (for Best Actress that is; I know Davis was nominated already in Supporting for Doubt), and Williams as the pro.

The winner was predictably Anne Bancroft for her role as Annie Sullivan, the half-blind teacher who helps a young Helen Keller, in The Miracle Worker. And while it’s a fine, subtle performance, it’s a shame she didn’t win instead for her role as Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate in 1967. That year it would go to Katharine Hepburn as a consolation prize for the death of her partner Spencer Tracy in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?, but in reality, Hepburn’s performance as Mary Tyrone in Eugene O’Neil’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night should have won the Best Actress performance of 1962.

Hepburn’s character was a huge departure from her other nominated performances (most of her previously nominated performances were in some ways Hepburn playing Hepburn, but doing it beautifully). But Mary Tyrone, the morphine-addicted, depressed mother of Eugene O’Neil is a triumph in her trembling rage. One minute she’s the sweet girl of her youth and the next she’s smashing plates at the dinner table. The most chilling scene is the end, where Hepburn comes down from the attic dragging her wedding dress, believing that she’s a little girl about to enter the convent for the first time.

Hepburn’s Mad Scene in Long Day’s Journey Into Night (skip to about 3 minutes into it)

Another nominee that year who in her own right deserved to win was Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Nowadays seen as gothic, gay camp, Baby Jane is a maudlin, macabre tale of an aging child actress losing her mind and imprisoning her sister (Joan Crawford) out of jealousy. One of the great things about Davis (and perhaps what makes her at times stronger than Hepburn as an actress) is that she was always willing to be “ugly” to the audience. And she lets it all go in this role, wearing white caked-on face paint, an awful blonde doll-like wig, and smeared red lipstick. Davis is intolerably cruel to her sister Blanche (Joan Crawford), but the audience still feels sympathy for the pathetic mess she has become. One of the best scenes in the film is when Davis puts a bow in her hair and dances around a mirror singing one of her old vaudeville songs and then finally seeing herself as an old, withered old woman, she screams in agony. Incidentally if Davis would have won, she would have been the first actress to win three Oscars. The honor would go to Hepburn instead.

“But cha are in that chair, Blanche!:

The other two formidable performances that year were Lynn Remick (with her sole career nomination) as Jack Lemon’s alcoholic wife in The Days of Wine and Roses and Geraldine Page (with her third nomination out of five) as the boisterous film star Alexandra de Lago who courts playboy Paul Newman in Tennessee Williams’ Sweet Birth of Youth. Page is saucy as the over-the-hill actress who reminds one of Blanche Dubois, except with an impeccable wit and a better sense of style.

Remick on the other hand, starts off her role as a sober, mellow young woman and then takes on the alcoholic, brash tendencies of her husband (Jack Lemon). Tragically, while he gets sober in the end, she doesn’t. It’s a good performance and worthy of a nomination, yet not the one I would have bet money on that year.

Overall, 1962 offered some great roles for women, but in my opinion Hepburn deserved this Oscar more than Bancroft. I wish they could switch Oscars for these two roles and for the ones in 1967 when they would face each other again.

N. DiSabatino

Last week I crossed two films off my List of Films I Often Lie About Not Having Seen.

Now, I don’t think I have ever actually had to lie about this fact; rather, whenever someone mentioned The Godfather trilogy, I’d nod my head in agreement and venerate Francis Ford Coppola’s films as best as I could. I never acknowledged or corrected someone who wrongly assumed that I had seen them. In rare cases, I’d admit to the oversight, and then endure a 30-second lambasting…Never. Again.

Fair warning: If you, too, have never seen the Godfather trilogy (Well, Parts I and II. I have yet to see Part III, and that task is for a day when I feel I can stand Sofia Coppola’s acting, which may not come for years), I caution you in reading this post as there will be minor spoilers. And I mean it. I somehow managed to stay in the dark and experienced the film’s thrilling twists and turns with their intended impact. I’d hate to deny you that same experience.

As with all great narratives—and The Godfather‘s is one of the greatest—the story is layered and can be interpreted from many different angles. What I found most compelling in my first viewing was Michael Corleone’s (Al Pacino) trajectory. The Godfather is, from the beginning, a story of Michael Corleone’s demise—his loss of innocence and the erosion of his moral character.

Watching Part I and II side by side offers a striking comparison of both Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) and his son Michael (Pacino) in the family role of “Don Corleone,” the highest member of a powerful Italian mob enterprise. Part I shows us Vito in that role, and later in Part II, we see Michael pick up where his father left off. Both possess the cold, ruthless disposition that presumably any mob boss would need, but Michael is not his father, and his actions in the second film fray the tailored edges of the Godfather image Vito created.

Mario Puzo, the author, and Francis Ford Coppola (who wrote the screenplay together) carefully lay the groundwork for this transition long before it is executed on screen by Pacino. Perhaps Michael’s aggression comes from his military background, or because his outlook is narrowed by a privileged upbringing (unlike Vito’s gradual ascension to wealth and power after having immigrated to the United States an orphan from Italy). Though his impression at the beginning of the film is that of an attractive, angelic-like young man, Michael’s propensity for violence bubbles to the service when he volunteers to kill two enemies of the family involved in a heroin trafficking operation. He successfully carries out the operation, and at that moment, it really feels as though there was no turning back for him.

Many references are made to Vito’s wish that Michael would never travel down this path to become the Godfather. The eldest brother Sonny (James Caan) was the presumed heir, but his death in Part I changes everything, and Vito feels the loss of Michael’s innocence as he is called to the role (passing over his older brother Fredo, who is treated as simple-minded and incapable) as much as he feels the loss of his first born.

At times it is not clear if Michael truly loves his family, or if he loves them because the loyalty that ties them all together is all he has ever known. He is paranoid, and quick to act on a suspicion that someone might be against him, an affliction that ultimately leads him to order the death of his loving, yet dim, brother Fredo (John Cazale). Perhaps what is most chilling is that he brings his targets close, giving them the false hope that he has forgiven them, before he calls for their execution, as is the case for Fredo, and earlier in the film for his brother-in-law Carlo (Gianni Russo). Under Michael’s regime, the Corleone operation feels much more destructive and unstable.

I’m eager to watch these films (and perhaps Part III, too) a second time to take in this complicated narrative from another angle; but in the meantime, I’m taking in Al Pacino’s performance as Michael Corleone and filing it under one of the best on film. Michael’s transition to the role of the Godfather and the demise of his moral character transcends every expectation I had for the films.

Of the directors in favor of using 3D technology in their films–James Cameron, Michael Bay, Guillermo del Toro–I’m surprised to see Martin Scorsese added to this list. But there’s a first time for everything, and Martin Scorsese has just released his first 3D picture, Hugo, an adaptation of  Brian Selznick’s best-selling novel The Invention of Hugo Cabret.

I did not see the film in 3D and therefore cannot comment on its effectiveness. I can, however, comment on the remarkable 2D film Scorsese has made, perhaps his best since Goodfellas.

Those expecting an emotionally shallow family film will be sorely disappointed, as Hugo is an exquisite adventure drama, and a poignant homage to great cinema from one of the best directors of our time. Scorsese delivers the story of teenage orphaned boy Hugo (Asa Butterfield) living in a train station, with only a broken automaton to remember his father by. As he roams the station by day looking for missing parts to engineer the automaton back to life again, he evades arrest by the militant Inspector Gustav (Sascha Baron Coen) and aggravates toy shop owner Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley). When the second act turns to reveal that Papa Georges is in fact innovative retired film director Georges Méliès, the film deepens through Scorsese’s discerning lens, igniting the screen with a grandiose tribute to an important moment in the history of special effects in cinema.

Bear with me as I try to discern my way through a review of one film out of four that I saw within a 72 hour-span [November 24: Like Crazy, Hugo, November 25: My Week with Marilyn, and November 26: The Descendants].

Review: Like Crazy

In truth it’s not so difficult to separate and recall my feelings towards Like Crazy from my Thanksgiving 2011 theater marathon, because the film is so deeply personal, I’ve been wearing it around like a too snug, itchy sweater for the past week. A romance like this is extraordinarily rare, though I went into the experience perfectly content to sit through a schmaltzy, infantile mess. Some may find it so, but I can only fault a handful of moments with that label. I absolve the film for those flawed moments [flimsy montages that summarize several months, weak conflict in the form of a visa violation, the fact that this guy somehow dumps Jennifer Lawrence twice] because the rest are strikingly beautiful, but with the right amount of restraint.

There’s a scene somewhere down the jumbled, on-off relationship’s course where Anna (played by Felicity Jones, who recently took away Best Actress at Sundance for this role) sits across from Jacob (played by a slightly less charismatic Anton Yelchin) in a spacious subway car. He’s surrounded by luggage, she’s forcing a smile at him as the two make their way to a London airport to say yet another long goodbye. Moments later, we see Anna get into another subway car, densely populated, to go home, having just left Jacob at the airport to depart for Los Angeles. She struggles to find a space of her own in the crowded car. There are no tears, no musical cues, no embellishments that might indicate that she won’t see the man she loves for several months. Her everyday, everywoman struggle to navigate a busy public transportation system during rush hour is much more potent and heartbreaking than any crying scene could have been, and it’s part of why this film cuts so close to the bone with its audience.

Anyone who’s ever been in love will find a moment in this film, latch on, and enjoy the connection that Like Crazy has to the real world.

My commitment to this blog has been bimonthly at best this year. My commitment to film may be worse than that these days. But now that November is in full swing, my trips to the theater should become more frequent. So, I suppose I’ll just dive right in:

Review: J. Edgar

There was a time, maybe five years ago when I would defend Clint Eastwood’s work as firmly as any fledgling movie buff of the ‘aughts could. Million Dollar Baby came out in theaters at a time when I began to notice the skill of an actor transforming into a character, or a director’s ability to create atmosphere on screen that made me feel a certain way. Eastwood was one of those directors, and I awaited his films’ release dates with great anticipation.

And those dates have come one after another almost every year since MDB‘s release, and the films have been getting much, much worse. Eastwood is wearing thin (literally–sometimes I wonder if his skin will break like saran wrap stretched too far, but I digress). My assumption is that he is pushing himself too hard, rushing through his projects, taking on too much work (please PLEASE stop scoring your own films). His recent work has been collectively too long (read=rushed through the editing process), uneven in tone, and meandering towards perplexing conclusions that seem slapped on and unsatisfying. These troubles make for a disappointing J. Edgar biopic, but most frustrating is the watered-down, sympathetic version of a complex figure in history.

I’ll own up to some ignorance on my part–though I do have a B.A. in history, I did not know very much about Hoover before the film (in fact, I suspected that my friend and I were going to see a film about this guy). I had no knowledge of his political background, his legacy, or anything. J. Edgar is not a political drama or epic biography. It is a portrait of a man struggling with self-loathing from societal expectations, though not a good one.

This side of Hoover is certainly interesting, though in a film structured as the sweeping historical biopic Eastwood had us anticipating, it feels like it doesn’t belong. J. Edgar would be an ambitious project for any filmmaker, but Eastwood’s rush job leaves us with a frustrating, scattered picture, with no real attempt to show us any convincing version of J. Edgar Hoover.

Dearest readers, I am fully aware that I have had nothing to offer you but radio static over the past few months.

You see, it’s mostly my fault. Sometime shortly after the Oscars, I find myself wandering aimlessly without any films to be excited about. Sure, I can look towards the next year, but it’s very difficult to discern what may turn out to be good. And on another note, hype seems to situate itself on the shoulders of big blockbusters – the Captain America‘s and the Cowboys and Aliens of the world, not the good stuff that must find a charitable (and loud) voice around festival time. The truth is that there’s just not much to talk about in the off season, and when I’m not enthusiastic about something, it’s just not worth writing about. This is mostly my fault, but it’s also the fault of every studio that releases their movies in this way (but that is a rant I have delved into before and will spare you from at this time).

So what is there to catch up on? I have seen a few films so far this year. Some were quite good, some were quite bad, one was very good, and some were very bad – like when a friend and I decided on a whim to catch Red Riding Hood. I spent another impulsive evening watching Water for Elephants. I saw many things that were very middle-of-the road for me – entertaining enough to warrant an afternoon in the a/c (Super 8, X-Men: First Class, and Bridesmaids). I also saw the one big blockbuster I was really anticipating (mostly nostalgia for the books), Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which turned out to be much better than expected, with a formidable turn by Ralph Fiennes (who doesn’t really get to show his worth in the series until this film).

Another film I had been waiting YEARS to see is Tree of Life, which Terrence Malick finally released after what seemed like a decade in the cutting room. Like so many of Malick’s fans, I have mixed feelings about the whole production, but they are mostly positive feelings. Focusing on the central narrative of a 1950s Texan family helps, as all the other stuff feels disassociated. To see this film in mid-May, at the very least, offered something unique and unexpected.

Fresh out of a successful run at the Cannes film festival last May, Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris drew me into the theater twice this summer. If you want further thoughts on that, you could scroll down and read my review of the film.

And then, just when I needed to see something to get me excited about movies again, I found Beginners a few weeks ago at the local arthouse theater in Cambridge. Christopher Plummer takes on the role of a gay man coming out in his 70s following the death of his devoted yet complacent wife. This beautiful story is told from the perspective of his son, played by Ewan McGregor, who grapples with the sudden change in his father’s life. I saw Beginners back in August and I have not seen anything else since.

It’s been a slow summer with a few pleasant surprises mixed in there. Needless to say, I am ready to forge on to another great year for movies. It really has only just begun, as festivals are in full swing, and the good stuff is on its way.

Unknown Critics may start to look a little different. I’m planning to start reviewing again, and often. Some of my friends have graciously offered to contribute, and I hope that you’ll find their voices as insightful as I do. A new Black Swan or The Social Network is right around the corner, and I can’t wait to relish in what the season has to offer.

Cheers.