I watched both the new Netflix version with Kevin Spacey and the 1990s BBC trilogy with Ian Richardson.  Similar but sufficiently different to avoid too much déjà vu.  Both versions break the 4^th wall.  At first I found this off-putting, but as time went on I realized how seductive it was.  Francis, the central character, is a heinous sociopath, but a charmer.  Talking to the viewer (and sharing smirks and eyerolls) allows him to exert that charm and make a sort of co-conspirator of the viewer.  It’s an effective conceit (and in my book Ian Richardson does the better job, but only by a hair).

FF=0

Horrible movie.

FF=4

I really, really liked this dark, bloody, surreal comedy. The cast is perfect, as if the parts were written for them. Sam Rockwell steals the film. He made me laugh out loud a couple of times. Favorite line: When Colin Farrell says (in his Irish accent) that he doesn’t believe in guns, Woody Harrelson says, “You don’t believe in guns? They’re not fucking leprechauns.” It’s loose, uneven at times, but you can hear a heart beating in the darkness. (And how you put together this cast for $15M is a miracle) Definitely worth a look.

FF=0.

Anyone else have problems with this? I’d heard such good things, I was surprised it was so sloppy. The final act – the return-to-old-school sequence — saved the film for me, but jeez, getting there was kind of a chore. I like Bond and I can suspend disbelief with the best of you, but the gaps in logic and common sense made for some tough going.

FF=2

Well, it took two years and 26 episodes, but I finally know who killed Rosie Larsen. This is gripping stuff. I found myself sitting there saying, “Okay, one more episode and then I’ll stop.” And after that episode was done, “Okay, one more…” And so it went. This is an extremely complex story so it’s best to see both seasons back to back. (You can do that on Netflix.) I had a half-year break between the first and second and was totally cornfused at the beginning of season 2.

FF=0

Pure pulp awesomeness. I can hear the pitch: “The Untouchables in post-war LA.” And that’s just what it is (although don’t hold your breath waiting for a Potemkin reference). Mickey Cohen subs for Al Capone, and Sgt. O’Mara for Elliot Ness. You’ve also got a Magnificent 7 lineup of cop stereotypes: the tough one, the womanizer, the sharpshooter, the black, the Hispanic, and the nerd. And Emma stone as Jessica Rabbit. The two opening sequences show different brands of badassness: Cohen’s as he draws and quarters a Chicago mobster, and O’Hara as he single-handedly busts up a rape in a whorehouse. The dialogue is awful but the sets and cinematography are awesome. Special tip of the hat to the brawl in a blacked-out cellblock lit only by muzzle flashes.

FF=1

(some spoilers here) Did I miss something? What was my take-away supposed to be? Act I is riveting. After that it’s a parade of addiction cliches – superbly acted, for sure – that maneuver us to an unbelievable (in all senses of the word: emotionally, logically, plotwise) NTSB hearing where, for no good reason, Whip decides to tell the truth. He could have said “I don’t know” and ended the case, but he chose self immolation. Did he see it as a last stab at decency? The only way to clean up his act? Okay, fine. Great. But from what we’ve seen of him to this point, it’s damn near impossible to buy. Especially since the whole climax turns on his gaining access to the super-stocked minibar in the so conveniently unlocked adjoining suite on the night before a hearing that will decide his whole future.

FF=2

Love spaghetti westerns, hated (that’s HATED) this one. Story, dialogue, acting, production, direction – all terrible. Even the props were bad! Ugh! Avoid at all costs.

FF=5

I tend to hate the found footage genre, and here’s a good example why. And guess what? There’s a wild white cop and his Hispanic partner who’s a devoted husband whose wife just had a baby. Let’s take a poll on whose funeral we attend at the end.  I had no idea it was found footage when I rented it. But even if I was a fan of the technique, they didn’t bother to maintain the conceit in any consistent way.

FF=3

I’d heard good things about this doc but wasn’t sure I’d like it. Turns out I loved it. A singer-songwriter named Rodriguez (who sounds a lot like James Taylor with a cold) had 2 albums out of Detroit in the 70s that were complete flops. Twenty years later he’s making ends meet doing construction, while in apartheid South Africa he’s become their Elvis, selling hundreds of thousands of albums – and he has no idea. They all think he’s dead. But an Africaaner goes looking for him and brings him to SA for a tour before delirious fans. If this were fiction, you’d laugh it off. But it’s real. And the unassuming way it unravels the mystery of Rodriguez is fascinating.

FF=1