12 Monkeys (1995)

In the most frustrating, self-negating way, it feels like “12 Monkeys” is two separate movies indiscriminately jammed together. The first half is absolutely brilliant, from a shared thematic, structural and narrative perspective, not to mention a visual style that’s instantly striking, recalling Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s “The City of Lost Children” and pointing to 1998’s “Dark City” at the same time (with plenty of references to director Terry Gilliam’s own “Brazil,” natch). Additionally, Gilliam extracts an impressively effective, poignant performance by Bruce Willis; the performer doesn’t always do it for me and I often find it hard to root for him, but here, he seems engaged and inspired by the material, and he manages to deliver one of his few powerful dramatic performances. Problem is though, by the second half, everything falls apart and the movie takes on a structure more akin to Hollywood mainstream action movies, like car chases and races against time and last-minute reveal after last-minute reveal that end up sapping the movie of any of its momentum or propulsion by constantly delivering ‘one more’ ending. By the time the credits roll, you realize that the movie has deflated like a balloon because its ideas sound absolutely fascinating… but Gilliam doesn’t seem to know how to shepherd them towards any sort of satisfying resolution. But, all that shit-talking out of the way, there’s no denying the power of the first half: It’s just so distinct, hypnotic and spellbinding that it’s hard not to get swept along with it, even if the narrative is unable to sustain its own propulsive, provocative ideas.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Knives Out (2019)

This is one of those big, fun ensemble comedies that used to be a lot more frequent in the 1990s. Maybe it’s a reflection of the reboot/sequel age of Hollywood mainstream movie-making expectations but I wasn’t quite sure what to make of an original property like this when it was out in theaters, but I’m sure glad I gave it a shot because it’s a delight. Unlike many ensemble comedies, this is one of those few where each member of the all-star cast is given several opportunities to shine, and the characters are unexpectedly, impressively well-developed, given how many there are and how interconnected all their dynamics are. Jamie Lee Curtis and Daniel Craig are the ostensible leads (and for Curtis, that’s primarily because of her steely command of the screen), and writer/director Rian Johnson does a great job of expanding the mystery of the central whodunit that propels the narrative forward by exploiting as much comedy out of the material via his talented cast and their terrific dialogue, while also laying a solid foundation for a number of prescient socio-political observations about wealth distribution without becoming pedantic or preachy. At over two hours it’s maybe a little on the overlong side, but when it’s all over, it’s definitely worth the ride and will likely stand up to repeat viewings.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Dolores Claiborne (1995)

Sadly overlooked at the time of its release, this adaptation of Stephen King’s emotionally complex family drama is one of the best mainstream movies of the 1990s. Kathy Bates and Jennifer Jason Leigh both do some respective career-best work here as a dueling mother and daughter, each writhing in long-buried trauma that resurfaces when Bates is accused of murdering her elderly employer. Bates is another formidable, towering Kingsian figure here, but the real standout is Leigh, who tears into her role like a runaway freight train, and she’s riveting to watch from beginning to end. In addition, director Taylor Hackford does a masterful job of interweaving a number of competing storylines and flashbacks to provide context, which has the effect of letting the movie’s secrets slowly and carefully unfurl until the final act, keeping viewers on their toes throughout. With strong supporting performances from Judy Parfitt, Ellen Muth, Christopher Plummer and a menacing David Strathairn, this is a memorable, extraordinarily well-acted masterpiece that will hopefully find a new audience.

Rating: ★★★★ (out of 5)

Wolf (1994)

There’s an undeniable pedigree to “Wolf,” which manages to be both a strength and a weakness. On the one hand, director Mike Nichols first foray into horror is predictably a classy, well-structured affair, with clear characterizations and terrific work by an ensemble cast. In addition, leads Jack Nicholson and Michelle Pfeiffer make a surprisingly effective pair and work well together despite the improbable age difference between the two, while the supporting cast is strong all the way through. However, the structured, careful approach to filmmaking with defines many of the movies directed by Nichols works against him here, as his approach to the suspense is too mannered for the movie to really come alive.

Rating: ★★★ (out of 5)