Yesterday I didn't finish watching more than a dozen films

I must have gone through at least a dozen films yesterday trying to find something to watch. I’d started out renting on YouTube Francois Ozon’s 2012 In the House (top photo) a WIFF Weekend Recommendation. I love Ozon’s films and thought I hadn’t seen this one before. But it’s a rare movie I’ve missed and after some time it occurred to me – as these things do – that indeed I’d watched it in 'Ron’s Personal Movie Bank.' It’s a comedy drama but rather bizarre. And while starring some of my fave French actors (the versatile Fabrice Luchini, Kristin Scott Thomas and Emmanuelle Seigner). It started out well as a presumptuous pedant of a  teacher (Luchini) takes it upon himself

to mentor a promising writing student (Ernst Umhauer) it devolved into a tale of voyeurism and ended disastrously, leaving a sour taste in my mouth….And since I had a long afternoon and evening to pass in the middle of a holiday weekend, I forced myself (it’s come to that with film, unfortunately) to check out several films on Criterion and Netflix, none of which I watched in their entirety and many I nixed within 10 minutes. These included, surprisingly, since I otherwise admired her The Hurt Locker (2008), Kathryn Bigelow’s The Loveless (1981), Strange Days (1995) and the acclaimed Blue Steel (1990). None of them had the characters or driving plot; one (Strange Days) even seemed farcical. Then I tried a Terry Southern (“Hollywood’s Most Subversive Screenwriter”) series with Aram Avakian's End of the Road. It started out well – albeit a movie of its times – a kaleidoscope of American protest in the late 1960s but the literally frozen character of a supposedly numbed Jacob Horner (Stacy Keach) and mad characters at a psychiatric hospital may have played well when the film was released in 1970 but seemed ridiculously funny now. Okay, let’s see what was on Netflix, which is always a challenge. Actually, many of these I’d tried and given up on previously. They included The Love Scam, She Said, My Future You, Bad Influence, Life or Something Like It and The Life List. I even, shockingly, gave up on Ben Stiller’s The Heartbreak Kid (2007) which I think I’d seen before anyway. With still hours in the day to go I returned to Criterion and took a stab at Insomnia (Christopher Nolan 2002) and finally The Ghost Writer (Roman Polanski 2010) (bottom photo). Finally, I thought, this is sure to be good – it’s Polanski after all! But I think it’s the worst Polanski I’ve seen – long drawn out even with Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan and Sex and The City’s Kim Cattrall. Derivative and so much a product of its time, a film where Brosnan stands in for one time Brit PM Tony Blair and his supposed war crimes and charges before the International Criminal Court ….. In my 71st year and having been a rabid filmgoer for the past 50 of them, have I simply become too impatient, bored or jaded with movies? They’re either too similar (broken relationships or families), derivative (drawn out police procedurals), or woke (politically correct). But, bottom line, they don’t do what movies should do – and that’s entertain, keep me on the edge of my seat, engross me in a thrilling and novel experience. I closed my computer and went off to read

$37 for a movie? Even for London that's pricey

I know London is expensive, but I never expected to pay this much for a movie ticket! At the end of one fine day walking around central London this month I stopped at my favorite UK movie palace, Picturehouse Central, a block east of Piccadilly Circus in the heart of London’s entertainment district, the so-called West End. It’s a magnificent complex, carved out of a one-time famed cavernous restaurant. It has multiple floors, two cafes, a member’s bar and several floors of cinemas. I attended last year during the London Film Festival. But then I had a pass and discounted tickets. This time I was a said member of the public (though not a Picturehouse, a Brit chain, member). I decided to

see Italian director Paolo Sorrentino’s (The Great Beauty, 2013, The Hand of God, 2021) latest, Parthenope. I rolled up to the ticket counter, told the clerk what I wanted and touched my card for pavement. There it was - 19.60 pounds. What?! I did a double take. But typically, when you’re stunned, it doesn’t quite register. I walked to the cinema, took my seat and enjoyed the film, with the nagging thought of how damned expensive this thing was. I vowed to check it out affer the movie. Sure enough, that was the actual price. In Canuck dollars that was $37.36. Needless to say I hesitated before seeing another movie at any Picturehouse – or any other – London cinema.

As for Parthenope, it has its usual Sorrentino mix of fabulous images and obscure storytelling. Parthenope is the early Greek forerunner city to Naples, and a mythical character. Parthenope was said to have been washed ashore, having thrown herself into the sea after she failed to entice Ulysses with her song. Our modern Parthenope in Sorrentino’s film is played by newcomer Celeste Dalla Porta, a beautiful and stunning actress. It’s about her life’s journey from birth in the 1950s until the present day. Despite her physical allure and brainy persona, she eschews men who fall over themselves while charting her own intellectual course as a polymath. Along the way she encounters various iconic symbols (usually men) who try to influence her and present life alternatives, often representing good and evil. Sorrentino’s films are filled with stunning visuals in opulent settings. But the stories tend to the convoluted and stultifying. Nevertheless, he is one of the more creative directors working today - and working on a grand scale - something rare in 2025 cinema. 

Last night I decided to watch a Netflix film, The Good House (Maya Forbes 2021) starring Sigourney Weaver and Kevin Kline. Set in bucolic north shore Massachusetts, Weaver is Hildy Good, an attractive but lonely alcoholic middle-aged woman. I didn’t know if this watchable film was more about real estate or alcoholism. I say “watchable” except I didn’t finish it. Two-thirds of the way in I’d seen enough commercials to turn me off. I’ve been a basic Netflix subscriber since rejoining Netflix and never complained about the relatively few commercials that dot films. Until last night. The ads were hot and heavy often in clusters totaling more than one minute at a time.  Like watching bloody television!