8/10

Can't go wrong with the classic Bill Plympton style, and he exercises his friskier sensibilities that sprang through I Married a Strange Person.  You know what you came here for.




7/10

It took me a while to adjust to Plympton changing his patented pencilized style to something that looks like Beavis and Butthead (Mike Judge got a thanks in the credits), but it seems appropriate considering how the deliberately ugly, cheap and disposable aesthetic represents what are basically pretty ugly, cheap and disposable people.  Still pretty funny in places, but minor Plympton effort.

Last edited by Jinnistan (5/04/2022 5:08 pm)

More Eagle Pennell please.
 

Last Night at the Alamo (Pennell, 1983)



This review contains mild spoilers.

In my review of Showdown, I recounted the story of my attempt to order a pair of cowboy boots, only for them to get lost in the mail, and for the eventual refund to provide a bit of solace despite not fully numbing the melancholy of my cowboy-boot-free existence. (I should also note that I've been too fucking lazy to go buy a pair in person, although with masking requirements having been recently lifted where I am, I'm reluctant to go rectify that at the moment.) Now, this doesn't have a whole lot of relevance to the story of Last Night at the Alamo, where a couple of losers converge upon their favourite bar the night before it closes down, but you could argue that it has some thematic relevance. You see, I understand that cowboy boots aren't just practical and stylish footwear, but that they hold symbolic value and come with the weight of certain iconography and mythology. And with that, I could put myself in the shoes (or boots) of these losers who are enamored with a certain cowboy in the movie and what he represents.

The characters in this movie are sketched knowingly and arguably with some affection, but hardly flatteringly. There's the young crybaby who drags around his long suffering girlfriend, who you spend the movie waiting to dump his ass. There's the guy who just got kicked out of his house by his wife, who spends the movie arguing with her over the phone and insisting he isn't drunk in between sips of beer while threatening to burn their house down. (In one of the movie's more startling moments, this character drops a racial slur. While the movie doesn't exactly take him to task for this, it also gives him the least flattering portrayal out of this band of losers, so it's hard to read it as an endorsement.) There's also a guy (played by Texas Chain Saw Massacre screenwriter Kim Henkel) who barely talks and can't seem to remember his role in a supposedly amusing anecdote. The effect is a bit like King of the Hill, if that show were populated entirely by Bills and Boomhauers. And like that series, this is very funny in a low key, knowing way.

What these characters all have in common, aside from their presence at the titular bar, is their admiration for a cowboy nicknamed Cowboy. When the character finally arrives, he seems like everything they're not: cool, self-assured, stylishly dressed, handsome, charismatic. But over the course of the night, that facade starts to unravel, and you can see how he tries lamely to maintain his image through small acts of self deception. Getting turned down by a girl? She was married to a doctor, and he don't mess with that. Getting his ass kicked in a fight? Well, you should see the other guy. And that hat? It's not hiding a receding hairline, is it? These might be little lies he's telling his friends, but by the end when he not only proposes staging an armed defense of the bar but seems drunk enough to try it, you can see he's bought into his own bullshit.

The characters commiserate but lack the self-awareness for it to translate to any real introspection, let alone self-loathing. The movie emerges as a critique of a certain kind of masculinity, one which mistakes cowboy iconography for character and uneasily grapples with modernity. The guy with with wife trouble seems jealous of the computer programmer who lives down the street. Cowboy pointedly plans to star in western movies, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were a genre in decline at the time. And when he rails against the bar down the street for its Yankee influence, nobody seems to really care about the difference in whatever character he's attributing to the different establishments, as one watering hole is as good as another. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a tinge of sympathy. Some would argue that my city is a gentrified hellscape that's being steadily engulfed in condos, and I can't help but feel some nostalgia for some of the places we've lost over the years, if only for the memories I attach to them.

Now, while these characters are not ones I'd like to hang out with were I sober, I did enjoy spending time in this movie, with its stark black and white images, boozy rhythms and rich dialogue written with an ear for drunken inanities. This was a great little movie to stumble into and out of.

Rock wrote:

Last Night at the Alamo (Pennell, 1983)



This review contains mild spoilers.

In my review of Showdown, I recounted the story of my attempt to order a pair of cowboy boots, only for them to get lost in the mail, and for the eventual refund to provide a bit of solace despite not fully numbing the melancholy of my cowboy-boot-free existence. (I should also note that I've been too fucking lazy to go buy a pair in person, although with masking requirements having been recently lifted where I am, I'm reluctant to go rectify that at the moment.) Now, this doesn't have a whole lot of relevance to the story of Last Night at the Alamo, where a couple of losers converge upon their favourite bar the night before it closes down, but you could argue that it has some thematic relevance. You see, I understand that cowboy boots aren't just practical and stylish footwear, but that they hold symbolic value and come with the weight of certain iconography and mythology. And with that, I could put myself in the shoes (or boots) of these losers who are enamored with a certain cowboy in the movie and what he represents.

The characters in this movie are sketched knowingly and arguably with some affection, but hardly flatteringly. There's the young crybaby who drags around his long suffering girlfriend, who you spend the movie waiting to dump his ass. There's the guy who just got kicked out of his house by his wife, who spends the movie arguing with her over the phone and insisting he isn't drunk in between sips of beer while threatening to burn their house down. (In one of the movie's more startling moments, this character drops a racial slur. While the movie doesn't exactly take him to task for this, it also gives him the least flattering portrayal out of this band of losers, so it's hard to read it as an endorsement.) There's also a guy (played by Texas Chain Saw Massacre screenwriter Kim Henkel) who barely talks and can't seem to remember his role in a supposedly amusing anecdote. The effect is a bit like King of the Hill, if that show were populated entirely by Bills and Boomhauers. And like that series, this is very funny in a low key, knowing way.

What these characters all have in common, aside from their presence at the titular bar, is their admiration for a cowboy nicknamed Cowboy. When the character finally arrives, he seems like everything they're not: cool, self-assured, stylishly dressed, handsome, charismatic. But over the course of the night, that facade starts to unravel, and you can see how he tries lamely to maintain his image through small acts of self deception. Getting turned down by a girl? She was married to a doctor, and he don't mess with that. Getting his ass kicked in a fight? Well, you should see the other guy. And that hat? It's not hiding a receding hairline, is it? These might be little lies he's telling his friends, but by the end when he not only proposes staging an armed defense of the bar but seems drunk enough to try it, you can see he's bought into his own bullshit.

The characters commiserate but lack the self-awareness for it to translate to any real introspection, let alone self-loathing. The movie emerges as a critique of a certain kind of masculinity, one which mistakes cowboy iconography for character and uneasily grapples with modernity. The guy with with wife trouble seems jealous of the computer programmer who lives down the street. Cowboy pointedly plans to star in western movies, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were a genre in decline at the time. And when he rails against the bar down the street for its Yankee influence, nobody seems to really care about the difference in whatever character he's attributing to the different establishments, as one watering hole is as good as another. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a tinge of sympathy. Some would argue that my city is a gentrified hellscape that's being steadily engulfed in condos, and I can't help but feel some nostalgia for some of the places we've lost over the years, if only for the memories I attach to them.

Now, while these characters are not ones I'd like to hang out with were I sober, I did enjoy spending time in this movie, with its stark black and white images, boozy rhythms and rich dialogue written with an ear for drunken inanities. This was a great little movie to stumble into and out of.

Pretty much my feelings.

Both of Pennell's feature lengths are incredibly good. I think I might even prefer The Whole Shooting Match, but that is likely as much to do with my love of shaggier narratives as anything to do with quality. Alamo is definitely much more focused and it's good to see the director able to pull off something this clearly purposed.

If it weren't for Criterion Channel, I wonder if I ever would have come across either of these. Which is sort of criminal. While he's not quite as intensely wild as Cassavetes, or quite as majestic as Bogdanovich, or anachronistic as Altman, Pennel is a guy who probably should be considered just under that God tier, on the strength of the two films I've seen alone.

The only thing I wrestle with, particularly in this movie as Cowboy is meant to be seen as cool, is all I can do is recognize the guy who plays him as the actor who complains about his breakfast to Judge Reinghold in Fast Times. And there is something about a guy playing a character who wants his money back because it 'wasn't the best breakfast he's ever had' that is hard to rub off. As he comes wandering into the Alamo, instead of marvelling at his grace and confidence amongst these mortal schlubs, I just wondered if he was going to complain the beer there isn't at his preferred temperature.

Obviously, though, this all ultimately works in the films favor, as there is a performed slickness and self importance to his character that is evident from those first frames.
 

I enjoyed Soderbergh's last two. No Sudden Move got knocked for its heavy use of fisheye lenses, but I appreciated that a movie with the usual drab HBO colour palette managed to have its own distinct visual style. The killer cast didn't hurt either. And Kimi is a nice, nifty little 90-minute thriller.

Any of y'all seen The Northman yet? I liked Eggers' last two quite a bit, but never felt this one gets you on the same wavelength as the protagonist like the last two did. Still, lots of neat imagery and Eggers makes the most of the bigger budget.

A Taxing Woman's Return

The first one was really fun. They have a bunch of Itami's other films on the Criterion Channel, so intend to go through those at some point.

Saw this one last night:
The Little Hours (2017)



Thumbs–up to this naughty–nun softcore comedy. That's a lot to tackle so I was relieved to discover something far from formulaic. The jokes are fresh, it's both funny and steamy, which is rare ('seems movies are usually either one or the other), and it even sneaks in some respectable dramatic moments. It's nice to see someone had the balls to bring a little Bocacchery to the screen. 

Also I like Aubrey Plaza. 

With kind of a forgettable title imo: The Little Hours is currently flying the Prime banner.

...

Last edited by Rampop II (5/12/2022 7:54 pm)

Yeah! Dat durdy frat bro!

She gets respect, though. It looks like she's moving into writing and producing... good grief, four movies in 2020? And three in 2022? Just churnin em out, huh. 

Sick blu-ray cover.