This is sort of a coda to my 80s art house blog series — I sort of think of Atom Egoyan as belonging to that cohort, but he really had his breakthrough a bit later, in the 90s.

So he’s like a transitional figure, I guess? Because I’m gonna continue on with the very, very different 90s art house people next.

There was a thing in the 80s where you have to have a scene set at a strip show, because that er shower that er you weren’t uptight or something? But this movie seems to be set there? And is very sinister!

I don’t think I’ve seen this movie before?

When watching movies from before like 2005 I’m finding myself going “ooooh awesome” even at shots like this — because this just look casually great. As opposed to the beigeness of all movies after they started with digital cameras and colour grading everything to whatever colour they wanted in post.

But you don’t end up with results like this using that process.

Or this.

It’s just like movies were casually visually interesting in a way that post-grading films aren’t.

I mean, look at this! It’s awesome.

Hey, it’s that guy…

Man, this movie is kinda hypnotic. I have no idea where any of this is going.

OK, not all these lighting choices are totally successful.

Oh, I’ve been wondering where I recognise this guy from:

I think this is like their outback? Where their spirits are?

Wow. I wasn’t at all sure about how I felt about this movie until the last second, really. The strip joint setting seemed so… *rolls eyes* but turns out to be integral to what’s going on. And then the heart-wrenching final ten minutes…

It’s some kind of masterpiece, isn’t it? It’s a hard sell for sure, because it’s just so odd — it isn’t about anything you think it’s about, and then it snaps into focus and it’s devastating.

Exotica. Atom Egoyan. 1994. ⚅

I started watching this movie thinking that it was a Stanley Donen movie or something…

… but it’s not — it’s Howard Hawks. And it’s an excruciating watch.

It’s basically Bringing Up Baby done for the 60s, with Rock Hudson as the Cary Grant part.

For the Katharine Hepburn part, we have not one, but two Magic Pixie Nightmare Girls (from Germany, for some reason? financing?).

There’s a lot of odd bits in here…

Hepburn and Grant had wonderful chemistry, so while Grant’s character sometimes wanted to strangle Hepburn’s character over her madcap behaviour, there’s absolutely zilch here. Instead the two women are just insanely (and I mean insanely) annoying, and I wanted to strangle them myself.

Oh, and this embarrassment… He’s Native American, see.

The movie has one thing going for it — Hudson’s not all bad with the physical humour. But even there, Grant did these things so much better.

Many older directors didn’t really do well in the 60s, or at least made a few clunkers. Michael Powell (of & Pressburger fame), for instance, made some real stinkers, and even Hitchcock couldn’t keep up. This movie feels like somebody old wants to make a new, modern comedy, but ends up halfway to a Carry On movie, only without the boobs.

It’s well shot, though.

Wet shirt time!

Yeah, OK, it’s more like two thirds to a Carry On movie.

The plot goes for zany but ends up dumb.

It’s well-liked by imdb.

Yeah.

I dunno; I really really disliked this movie — I was annoyed and I was bored — so I’m going to throw an unfair die. So there:

Man’s Favorite Sport?. Howard Hawks. 1964. ⚀