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.