As John eluded to in his hot take, filmmakers like Spike Lee, Jim Jarmusch, and Steven Soderbergh seized on technological advances in the late Eighties and showed that you could make a movie on a shoestring budget. They helped pave the way for the indie explosion of the Nineties and, more importantly for this post, inspired Whit Stillman to give up his illustration company, sell his apartment, and go all in on making a personal comedy about wealthy young socialites. The result was Metropolitan, a film that feels equal parts frivolous and vital and serves as a reminder that there was a time that we could feel sympathy for the rich.

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This is gonna be a quick one. I had to cram this movie into the back half of my day and then bust out this review without time to reflect. So here’s my hot take!

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John Woo’s The Killer is a 1989 Hong Kong action thriller starring Chow Yun-fat and Danny Lee as a compassionate hitman and the reckless detective who’s out to get him. It’s an insanely stylish action movie in which the rules of reality are brushed aside by rule of awesome. As in, shooting a pistol in each hand while diving through a window might not make practical sense, but it sure is cool to watch. “Life’s cheap. It only takes one bullet,” says a character at one point, but in practice it takes more like a hundred.

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Me choosing House of Games for Criterion Month is the equivalent of closing your eyes, throwing a pile of DVDs in the air, grabbing one, and then deciding to watch it. Before yesterday I knew slim to bupkis about this film. I knew it was the directorial debut of acclaimed playwright/Jiu-Jitsu master David Mamet and that it fit my theme of “First Time Filmmakers”. As for what the film was about and who was in it, I had no clue. I know now, and I am Jiu-Jitsu kicking myself for not discovering this movie earlier.

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In most American films, the ’60s are either portrayed as this time defined by hippie optimism or the social and political upheaval wrought by Vietnam. So it makes sense that a British dark comedy depicting the tail end of the ’60s would be beholden to neither sensibilities. Instead, we get a grey, dreary look at the ’60s filled with the typical amount of boozing associated with the UK, and with a little bit of drug use thrown in. That said, Withnail and I still manages to capture the freedom and wildness of the ’60s, just with a bit more of a cynical angle, courtesy of an English perspective and a couple decades of perspective. Continue reading →