A Criterion Channel journey, films #11-20


Here’s the second part in my series of thumbnail sketches of the films I’ve watched on the Criterion Channel streaming service. These 10 films were viewed over the 2nd half of September and early October.


Ganashatru/Enemy of the People (1989): Ganashatru, an adaptation of a 1882 Henrik Ibsen play, was one of only five films by Indian master Satyajit Ray that I had not yet watched, so I was naturally thrilled to find it on Criterion. It features two Bengali acting stalwarts, both of whom started their careers in Ray films – Soumitra Chatterjee made his debut in Apur Sansar (1959) and Dhritiman Chatterjee in Pratidwandi (1970). Soumitra C. plays a doctor in a small town who observes an increase in jaundice cases, gets the local drinking water tested and discovers it is contaminated, possibly from old sewage pipes. A popular temple is in the same locality and his discovery implies that the temple’s “holy water” is also contaminated. This brings the doctor into conflict with the temple trustees and his own brother, the municipality chairman (Dhritiman C.), who are concerned that his “theory” will scare away devotees who visit the town (Peter Benchley borrowed this Ibsen plot device for Jaws). These vested interests launch a slander and misinformation campaign, which results in the doctor being branded an “enemy of the people”. This film really resonated with me, as I found strong parallels with the way politicians and special interest groups use media to spread misinformation today, be it regarding Covid or climate change or elections.

The Steel Helmet (1951): I’ve read quite a lot about Samuel Fuller, the independent American filmmaker, but had never had access to his work. Luckily Criterion has half dozen of his films and I started off with The Steel Helmet. It was the first American film to tackle the Korean War (which had started a few months earlier) and was made on a shoe-string budget in under two weeks. The film showcases the underlying racism in the US military directed against its own African-American and ethnic Japanese soldiers, and also towards the Koreans that the Americans were defending. It’s a gritty film, not easy to watch and very much devoid of any heroic war scenes. In fact, the war setting is essentially a vehicle for the message and it remains one of Fuller’s most acclaimed films.

Vampyr (1932): Another director I’ve read about a lot, but never watched is Carl Theodore Dreyer, the Danish master whose work spanned nearly half a century. His horror film Vampyr was considered a low point of his career when released, but has gained appreciation over time. In the film, a young man named Allan Gray arrives at a village and decides to spend the night at the local inn. He soon gets caught up in some mysterious occurrences through the night, perpetrated by the local village doctor and an elderly woman who turns out to be undead. Ultimately, Gray kills the woman by driving an iron stake through her corpse and the doctor dies by suffocation when flour is emptied into the chamber of the flour mill he is hiding in…a truly gruesome scene. The film is also known for the famous dream sequence in which Allan Gray sees himself looking at his own dead body in a coffin. Dreyer placed a piece of gauze in front of the camera lens, which creates a fuzzy, “found footage” look to the entire film. Overall, I wouldn’t say it’s entertaining in the conventional sense, but is certainly required viewing for anyone interested in the history of cinema.

The Idiot (1951): I am a fervent devotee of Akira Kurosawa’s films, but there are a few like Dodes’ka-den and I Live in Fear that I haven’t been able to appreciate. Unfortunately, I have to add The Idiot to that list. Although based on Dostoevsky’s literary classic, and filled with the biggest names in Japanese cinema (Toshiro Mifune, Setsuko Hara, Takashi Shimura, Minoru Chiaki, Chieko Higashimaya), the storyline and in particular, the acting of Masayuki Mori as “the idiot” just irritated me no end. At nearly three hours in length, the film just kept going on and on, with its convoluted relationships and repetitive hand-wringing by many of the characters. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood for an overdoes of existential angst, and in that sense, it has probably cured me of any desire to read the Russian classics.

Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957): Yet another masterwork by John Huston, this film features the powerhouse pairing of Deborah Kerr AND Robert Mitchum, in what is essentially a two-hander that could even have become a stage play. The film is set in the South Pacific in 1944, with Mitchum playing a US Marine who escapes from a Japanese attack and is washed up on an island. He finds an abandoned settlement and just one resident, Sister Angela, a novitiate nun who arrived a few days earlier with another priest, who died soon after. The first part of the film plays out like a relationship drama, with the two very different types of individuals learning to work together to survive. The second half transforms into a thriller, with the arrival of Japanese troops on the island, forcing Corp. Allison and Sister Angela to go into hiding. There are many twists and turns, and I genuinely feared that there would be a tragic ending, but fortunately the US Marines save the day. The core of the film is the relationship between the brash but good-hearted corporal and the prim but feisty nun. Deborah Kerr received the fourth of her six Best Actress Oscar nominations for this picture, which was also nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay.

Mustang (2015): One of the most powerful movies I have seen in recent years, this Turkish language film which was nominated for a Best Foreign Film Oscar and dozens of other awards, tells the story of five orphan sisters trapped in a conservative, patriarchal society and their attempts to break free. The girls are virtual prisoners in the home of their uncle, while their grandmother attempts to marry them off one by one. The narrative is presented from the perspective of Lale, the youngest of the girls, played by Güneş Şensoy. I was strongly affected by the injustice and the hypocrisy portrayed in the film, as well as the realization that there are hundreds of these real-life stories taking place around the world every day. This was Turkish-French director Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s debut film and one not to be missed.

Güneş Şensoy (center) plays Lale, the youngest of the five sisters trapped in a rural patriarchal society in Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s 2015 film Mustang. The other sisters are played by İlayda Akdoğan, Tuğba Sunguroğlu, Elit İşcan and Doğa Doğuşlu.

The Black Cat (1934): This was the first of several horror films produced by Universal Pictures to leverage the popularity of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, following their instant stardom in 1931 with Frankenstein and Dracula respectively. The film combines elements of revenge thriller, psychological horror and even some science fiction. For audiences who only associated Karloff with the brutal monster in Frankenstein, it’s quite a revelation to see him here as a suave and brilliant architect, the owner of a futuristic home in the mountains of Hungary. Bela Lugosi is a local doctor who returns to the area after 15 years in a prisoner-of-war camp, seeking vengeance on Karloff’s character for his betrayal during World War I. A young couple on a holiday become the unwitting pawns in the cat-and-mouse game of intrigue between the two enemies. The film ends in a grand climax, which includes a satanic cult and some pretty gruesome scenes.

Supermarket Woman (1996): This breezy comedy is the second last of the 10 collaborations between director Juzo Itami and his wife Nobuko Miyamoto, before his untimely and mysterious death (ruled a suicide, but suspected murder) in 1997. It’s very much in the vein of A Taxing Woman and its sequel, with Miyamoto-san’s character Hanako helping her friend, the owner of a struggling supermarket, to revitalize his business and take on an unethical rival around the block. There are plenty of heartwarming and inspirational scenes, as the gutsy, never-say-die Hanako inspires the different department heads of the supermarket to change their outdated practices and become more competitive and customer-friendly.

The Raven (1935): Another Karloff-Lugosi pairing from Universal Pictures, this one is named after an Edgar Allan Poe poem, and the plot has a macabre connection to the works of Poe. Bela Lugosi plays brilliant but megalomaniacal surgeon Dr. Vollin, who becomes romantically obsessed with a young woman after performing an emergency operation to save her life. When the woman’s father asks Dr. Vollin to keep out of his daughter’s life, the surgeon concocts a diabolical scheme to murder the father. To achieve his objective, he takes advantage of an escaped murderer Bateman (played by Karloff) who arrives at his door one night asking to have plastic surgery performed to alter his features. Frankly, it’s a contrived plot, with the purpose being to showcase some grotesque make-up on Karloff and to set up a climax in Dr. Vollin’s secret chamber filled with torture devices inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s stories. Although not as graphic as contemporary horror films, the implied violence and twisted mentality are disturbing enough. With a running time of just one hour, it’s a watchable oddity from the Universal Pictures horror library.

The Valachi Papers (1972): Although an English language film, The Valachi Papers is actually a Dino De Laurentiis production with a predominantly European cast and crew, with the exception of American star Charles Bronson. And Bronson himself was a big name on the continent at that point, having appeared in a number of popular European films including Once Upon a Time in the West, Rider on the Rain and Red Sun. Bronson plays Joe Valachi, the real-life mafioso who became a government witness in 1963 and whose revelations about the American mafia form the basis of most of what is known about them by the general public. The film covers a 40-year period, from Valachi’s induction into the mafia ranks as a teenager to the events which led to him becoming an informant. Bronson of course, is known for his screen presence, but I was captivated by the performance of the supporting cast, including veteran actor Lino Ventura as mafia boss Vito Genovese, Guido Leontini as Genovese’s capo Tony Bender, Angelo Infanti as Genovese’s partner-in-crime Lucky Luciano and Joseph Wiseman as Salvatore Maranzano, the first of the American mafia “Godfathers” (Wiseman rose to fame playing the character of Dr. No ten years earlier). The film had a tough time upon its release as The Godfather had come out just a few months earlier and critics compared it unfavourably with Coppola’s instant classic. Nevertheless, it’s a solid film and well worth watching for fans of the genre.


For reference, here’s the link to #1-10.

Next up, #21-30, which will include films from Japan, Spain, Iran and the US.

Favourite rock/metal concept albums (Part 9) – Steve Hackett’s Voyage of the Acolyte


It’s been 14 months since the last entry in this series, which was Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois. This time around, I am going back in time again the 70s to an artist I only recently discovered, Steve Hackett, the lead guitarist for Genesis in the 70s when they were a prog rock band. Hackett decided to record his first solo album during a break after touring for Genesis’ 1974 megahit A Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. When putting together the musicians for the recording sessions, he invited two of his bandmates from Genesis – Phil Collins on drums and Mike Rutherford on bass. He rounded out the core band with his brother John Hackett, who I think then appeared on all his subsequent solo albums. The album was very well received and Hackett went on to record more than two dozen solo albums with his latest having been released a few weeks ago at the age of 71!

Artist: Steve Hackett (guitars, mellotron), accompanied by John Hackett (flute, synthesizer), Phil Collins (drums, vocals on Star of Sirius), Mike Rutherford (bass guitar, 12-string guitar), Sally Oldfield (vocals on Shadow of the Hierophant), John Acock (all keyboards), Robin Miller (oboe, English horn), Nigel Warren-Green (cello on The Hermit)

Album: Voyage of the Acolyte (1975)

Narrative genre: Pastoral/medieval

Album theme/concept: Song titles linked to Tarot cards

Best songs: Ace of Wands, A Tower Struck Down, Star of Sirius, Shadow of the Hierophant

What makes it special: For starters, we get half of the band Genesis for free on the album! This is a predominantly instrumental album, showcasing not just Steve Hackett’s prowess as a guitarist, but also in the departments of production and musical arrangement. The songs have an easy flow and feel layered and textured, on account of the use of the Mellotron and synthesizer, as well as additional instruments like flute, oboe, cello and English horn on some songs.

The album kicks off with a strong track, Ace of Wands, characterized by a catchy riff. It’s a great showcase of Hackett’s guitar playing, while giving plenty of room for the Mellotron, flute and bells.

The standout song on the album, however, is not an instrumental. It’s the 7-minute epic Star of Sirius, which one reviewer described as the best Genesis song that Genesis never recorded, has Phil Collins on vocals…and he would go on to take over as lead vocalist for Genesis on their next album, following the departure of Peter Gabriel. The songs starts off in dream-like fashion with guitars and mellotron, and then at the 2’30” mark, Collins’ drumming kicks in and ramps up the pace.

Another favourite is the instrumental A Tower Struck Down, with a strong percussive sound which manages to sound rather sinister, and could well have been the soundtrack for a thriller or horror film.

Singer-songwriter Sally Oldfield who made a name for herself singing on her brother Mike Oldfield’s hit 1973 album Tubular Bells, provides her distinctive vocals for Shadow of the Hierophant, which is the longest track in the album, clocking in at over 11 minutes. There is also a 17 minute version available as a bonus track on the album. It’s quite a musical journey, with different parts of the track sounding quite different from each other; in fact I had to check if I was still on the same song!

An interesting footnote, the album cover is a watercolour painting by Brazilian artist Kim Poor, who went on to marry Steve Hackett and designed many of his subsequent solo album covers.

Although this was the only concept album that Steve Hackett released, two of his other early albums, Spectral Mornings (1979) and Defector (1980) contain equally outstanding tracks.

A Criterion Channel journey, films #1-10


I got myself a Criterion Channel subscription in September this year and have watched more than 60 films in the past three and a half months, a mix of international arthouse and American classics. I’m going to try and write out short thumbnails of all the films, in groupings of 10 films each.


The Clock (1945): This is only the third film I’ve watched by celebrated director Vincente Minnelli. The romantic comedy was his follow-up to Meet Me In St. Louis, reuniting him with that film’s star (and his future wife) Judy Garland. She plays a spunky city girl who has a chance encounter at Penn Station with a guileless small-town soldier (Robert Walker) on a two-day trip to New York City. Although not love at first sight, there is a connection between the two which deepens over the next 24 hours, and results in a frantic tussle with the city’s bureaucracy to get married before his return to base. It’s very much a product of its time, reflecting a simpler value system when people were grateful just to be alive. Frankly, I didn’t care much for either of the two leads, although their earnest on-screen personas made the story believable.

Corporal Joe Allen (played by Robert Walker) and Alice Maybery (played by Judy Garland) have a whirlwind romance in Vincente Minnelli’s The Clock (1945)

Mélodie en sous-sol/Any Number Can Win (1963): This outstanding French crime film stars heartthrob Alain Delon and acting legend Jean Gabin, who team up to pull off an audacious heist of a casino in Cannes. As is typical for this genre, a significant part of the film is focused on the assembly of the team and the logistics planning. Delon’s character impersonates a high roller in order to stake out the casino from within, and he gets to look good in a tux while romancing one of the beautiful young stage performers. Most French heist films create empathy for the criminals and then break the audiences’ hearts when the heist ultimately fails…this film is no different and the manner in which their plan unravels at the end is both stressful and devastating.

The Tale of Zatoichi (1962): This is the first film in the beloved Zatoichi film series, featuring the eponymous blind masseuse who moonlights as a swordsman, righting wrongs and breaking the hearts of impressionable young village damsels. I had watched a later entry in the series Zatoichi Meets Yojimbo, which I found very boring, although it featured Toshiro Mifune reprising his role as Yojimbo. On the other hand, the 2003 remake by Takeshi Kitano is one of my all-time favourite samurai films. Therefore, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect with this franchise origin film but it turned out to be entertaining enough, once I got accustomed to the physique and mannerisms of actor Shintaro Katsu. The stories, no doubt, got repetitive over the years, but understandably became a guilty pleasure for legions of fans.

Across the Pacific (1942): Released shortly after Humphrey Bogart’s megahits The Maltese Falcon and Casablanca, this spy thriller was directed by John Huston with Vincent Sherman taking over when Huston joined the US war effort. Bogart plays Army Captain Rick Leland who infiltrates a Japanese spy network attempting to coordinate an attack on the Panama Canal. The film reunites Bogart with his co-stars from The Maltese Falcon, well-known character actor Sydney Greenstreet as the antagonist and Mary Astor as his love interest. The film lacks the magic of Bogey’s other hit films, but is reasonably enjoyable. Interestingly, in the original script, the Japanese attack was supposed to be on Pearl Harbor (!!!), but then the real Pearl Harbor attack took place during filming, so the script was re-written changing the target to Panama.

The Browning Version (1951): I had watched the 1994 adaptation of Terrence Rattigan’s play starring Albert Finney, but this one from 1951 has now become my preferred version. Filmed from a screenplay by Rattigan himself, it features Michael Redgrave as the bitter, cuckolded Classics teacher Andrew Crocker-Harris, now in the autumn of his career and about to retire on account of his failing health. Redgrave’s restrained but searing performance of a man who is on the brink of mental collapse due to a lifetime of repressed emotions and unfulfilled ambitions won him the Best Actor award at Cannes, and the film itself was nominated for the Palm d’Or. There are brilliant supporting performances from young actor Brian Smith as the sympathetic student Taplow and Jean Kent as Crocker-Harris’ frustrated and vicious wife. I saw strong thematic parallels with Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, something other critics have commented on as well.

Classics master Andrew Crocker-Harris (played by Michael Redgrave) and his student Taplow (played Brian Smith) in Anthony Asquith’s The Browning Version (1951)

A Taxing Woman’s Return (1988): This sequel to the popular 1987 comedy A Taxing Woman, continues the adventures of the intrepid female tax investigator Hideki Gondō, who continues her battle against corruption and tax evasion. Directed by Juzo Itami and starring his wife and regular leading lady Nobuko Miyamoto, this film continues their successful collaboration which started off in 1984 with the dark comedy The Funeral and followed a year later with the brilliant Tampopo. This time around, Ms. Gondō investigates a religious sect which is being used by politicians and the mafia as a front for tax evasion. Miyamoto-san’s on-screen energy and a great supporting cast make this comedy a breezy watching experience.

Odd Man Out (1947): James Mason’s performance in this film earned him some of the best reviews of his British cinema career, shortly before he moved across the Atlantic to become a big Hollywood star. Mason plays Irish Nationalist Johnny McQueen, who at the start of the film is in hiding, having escaped from prison a few months earlier. He is now ordered by the Nationalist leadership to rob a mill to secure funds for the movement. The robbery goes wrong, a guard is killed and McQueen is shot and injured during the escape. Separated from his gang, the rest of the film traces McQueen’s tortured journey through the underbelly of the city as he seeks to evade capture. Having become a household name as a wanted man, he crosses paths with a number of Dickensian characters, never sure if they will help him or betray him to the police. The film is beautifully shot by cinematographer Robert Krasker with a strong noir-inspired visual sensibility; a similar effort, working with the same director Carol Reed, would win Krasker an Oscar two years later for The Third Man.

Kathleen Sullivan (played by Kathleen Ryan) and the ill-fated Johnny McQueen (played by James Mason) in Carol Reed’s Odd Man Out (1947)

The Grand Maneuver (1955): This tedious comedy-drama by director René Clair was a complete waste of my time. A lieutenant in the French cavalry undertakes a bet with his fellow officers that he will “win the favours” of a woman whose name has been picked randomly from a lot. I just found the whole premise unpleasant, although in the style of the times, the film makes it all out to be harmless fun! The film features Brigitte Bardot in one of her early roles just before she achieved international stardom.

Samurai III: Duel at Ganryu Island (1956): This is the final entry in Hiroshi Inagaki’s trilogy of films chronicling the adventures of renowned Japanese Kensei (“sword-saint”) Miyamoto Musashi, played by screen legend Toshiro Mifune. I had watched the first two films almost twenty years ago, but hadn’t managed to track down the final film until now. Samurai III features returning characters from the earlier films, including the two women who are in love Musashi, and a skilled samurai Sasaki Kojiro, who is obsessed with defeating Musashi in direct combat. Actor Kōji Tsuruta, who plays Sasaki Kojiro, lights up the screen with his striking features and intensity, while Mifune is his usual imposing presence. The duel occurs only at the end of the film, but there was plenty of plot development and character interaction to keep me glued to the screen throughout. I’ll certainly go back and watch the first two films when I get a chance.

I Was Born, But… (1932): This early silent film from Japanese master Yasujiro Ozu is a charming little gem, about the difficulties faced by two little brothers in settling into a new neighborhood and school. Their father has just moved the family to the suburbs of Tokyo so that he can be closer to his place of work. The siblings have to deal with the inevitable bullying from a group of neighborhood kids, which they manage to overcome. But the real blow comes when they see that their stern father, who they worship at home, demean himself excessively in front of his boss and co-workers to curry favor. This realization leads to tantrums at home and a dramatic hunger strike, all of which eventually fizzle out in the face of their parents’ maturity, good nature and some yummy home-made onigiri. It’s a wonderful story about the complicated world of adults as seen through the simple eyes of children, but told without any judgement by the storyteller. Later in his career, Ozu directed a loose remake with stronger comedic beats, titled in Good Morning.


More to come with #11-20, which will feature films from India, Germany, Japan, Turkey and the US.