Tag: tcm classic film festival

Nicolas Cage in snakeskin jacket standing on a desert road in Wild at Heart

Wild at Heart

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

David Lynch

Often hailed as the master of untraditional storytelling – but not all his films earn the title. (Looking at you, Eraserhead.)

Say what you will about the end product, his inventiveness is undeniable. Vision and ambition alone are worthy of esteem. At the very least, a Lynch screening gives you something to ruminate on.

I caught a midnight screening at TCM Classic Film Festival. An interview with David Patrick Kelly introduced the film. He’s so dynamic – it was great. He performed three little tunes on a ukulele while the interviewer beamed. One was “Locomotion,” with the crowd joining in. So fun.

Sailor (Nick Cage) resists the sexual advances of his girlfriend’s mother in a restroom stall, and must defend himself from the retaliatory knife attack by the scorned woman’s boyfriend. That’s the setup.

Casting a Black man as the mother’s lover seems engineered for unpredictability, not commentary. Just another Lynch wildcard.

Unexpected Directions

Events unfold boldly from there in a bizarre, fragmented manner – equal parts pleasant and unpleasant.

The film leans hard into a punk rock ethos. Lots of metal guitar, flame effects and scream singing. Abrupt, severe violence early on.

The savagery Nicholas Cage displays in defending himself is truly upsetting. A switch is thrown and he becomes a different person temporarily. Does he go overboard in resisting the attack? Seems like one of the things the audience is supposed to puzzle over.

But this is our protagonist; we’re supposed to root for him the rest of the film. Which is manageable – but not easy. I like Nick Cage, but not blindly.

Laura Dern brings a mix of innocence and chaos that fits the mood, though her character sometimes feels more symbolic than real.

Still, the values displayed by our leads resonate – fidelity, enthusiasm, protection, commitment. They love each other, dancing and open/honest discourse. Admirable qualities on atypical display. Their romance gives the chaos some shape.

The exaggerated Southern drawls, while feeling folksy and cute, often grate and don’t add up to much. Accents that stand out in a mostly distracting way.

Tonal shifts are frequent. An odd sexual undercurrent. Familial problems of the highest degree.

Darkness and depravity are explored with a delicate hand – never glorified, but always present.

Lynch assembles it all with a fever dream logic – obsessed with texture more than coherence.

As An Audience Member…

The viewer mostly moseys along, occasionally intrigued but often flat-faced. It’s not boring. There are hints of depth – but not much reward. You keep wondering: Where is this going? And by the end, the answer seems to be: probably nowhere.

It’s a ride, sure. But one that burns bright, makes a mess and leaves little behind.

★★★★★

Briefer thoughts at: IMDb & Letterboxd. For another TCM review read Colossus: The Forbin Project. Non-TCM? Windy City Heat or Tombstone.

Janet Gaynor kneels on a kitchen floor, exhausted from cleaning – a still from Servants’ Entrance (1934).

Servants’ Entrance

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Before Walt Disney’s name meant feature-length fantasy, it popped up in odd places – like this 1934 live-action comedy about heiresses and hard work.

Servants’ Entrance may seem like an odd candidate for a modern film review, but beneath its vintage surface lies a surprisingly thoughtful narrative.

A short animated segment arrives in the film’s later half – a technical exercise in blending animation with live action. Walt Disney in the batting cage. Refining techniques he would later use in Mary Poppins.

What never ceases to amaze is his tendency toward uniqueness and originality.

In this case, dishware comes to life and invades Hedda’s bed in a nightmare sequence. The chaos is playful, but also pointed: sharp cutlery, hostile teacups and mean ceramics. She repels them all with firm words and a commanding tone.

Walt probably recycled the “living dishware” concept elsewhere, but nothing comes immediately to mind. While technically effective, the scene offers only mild fun. Its real value lies in story terms. Our tragic heroine is so buried in new responsibility that it haunts her even in sleep. She carries herself with such grace in the absurdity that we love her all the more for it.

I attended a packed screening at the 2025 TCM Classic Film Festival. Too packed.

A full auditorium is no way to enjoy a screening. Contemporary releases are bad enough, but prestige retrospectives like this can be worse.

Attending alone, I hunt for an open single seat amid a block of overenthusiastic viewers. Andrea Kalas delivers a sharp, tightly rehearsed intro focused almost entirely on the animated sequence. I later speak with Sloan DeForest – who ducks in just to catch that scene before leaving to introduce another film elsewhere. Apparently, this moment has a fanbase.

Strange emphasis. The animation is a curiosity, sure. But the allegorical framing of the story is far more resonant.

The events of Servants’ Entrance unfold with symbolic charge: an oil baron receives news of corporate collapse and his daughter’s sudden engagement in the same breath. From there, the film becomes a meditation on class discomfort and dignity in labor. The entitled couple steps into the working world – with uneven grace.

What’s great is its depiction of professionalism. The career path to monetary self-sufficiency. Thankless long hours doing blue collar labor in the early stages. Including a variety of attempts and missteps.

The grind of starting at the bottom, eagerly applying for roles as the lowest of servants.

Janet Gaynor plays the heiress, Hedda Nillson, a plucky upstart. Much of the plot is satire, requiring earnest delivery of absurd dialogue. Gaynor is seamless here. Each line fits with the tone and still doesn’t break from believability. Hedda Nillson feels like a real person. Not the most gorgeous bombshell, but a cracker jack hard worker with perfect enthusiasm. The type of gal every fella would like to marry. 1934’s contemporary heroine.

The chauffeur, Erik Landstrom (played by Lew Ayres), embodies a different shade of professionalism. His aversion and passive aggression toward Hedda border on despicable. The audience hates him upon introduction.

This feeling deepens during the dishwashing scene. Nillson’s searching for the other (higher up) servants when Landstrom explains they’re in bed. After a festive occasion such as the night’s party, it falls to the lowest servant to clean up the remaining mess.

“I’m not a gentleman,” he explains, “If I were I’d be helping you.” He lets his coffee mug, saucer, and plate clatter atop the piled rest.

Hatred.

But in retrospect, what the viewer fails to appreciate is Landstrom’s perspective. He’s not some embittered underling. He’s well established in a career that’s about to elevate him beyond blue collar rank. And just as he’s about to secure a foothold on that next rung, a pretty source of risk and temptation appears. It’s not that he dislikes Hedda. If he doesn’t love her instantly, he at least recognizes the danger she represents – especially given her relationship status. His initial coldness is a form of self-preservation. An attempt to repel her. And in that light, his resistance becomes…dignified.

It makes you consider the duality of attraction and motivation. The tension between what you want and what you can afford to want.

Somewhere after that point, the audience turns. Perhaps solely because it’s what Hedda wants. Which again speaks to the power of Gaynor’s performance.

It’s old. It’s not in color. Are you going to watch it? Probably not.

But given the context of the film’s production, Servants’ Entrance is solid – and worth a watch for more than a Disney footnote. The real magic isn’t in the plates that spring to life. It’s in the woman who keeps her dignity when they do.

★★ ★★★ ★★

Access IMDb and Letterboxd for breezier reviews.

Or check out Suddenly Last Summer or Eraserhead for more TCM Fest fueled reviews!

Eraserhead

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Been on my Netflix instant queue for 6 years.

It looks scary and it’s by the writer/director of Mulholland Drive (a film I enjoy; check out my review) and Blue Velvet (a film I’m still ‘back and forth’ on.)

It was playing at midnight at the TCM Film Festival in Los Angeles, so I was pretty excited to watch it on the big screen.

The man introducing the film was Patton Oswalt, so amongst a number of funny things, he also shared the following.

Mel Brooks used the resources of his own production company, Brooksfilms, to give David Lynch his first chance at a mainstream directing job with The Elephant Man. Patton reiterates that Stuart Cornfeld convinced him to do so by dragging Brooks to a midnight screening of Eraserhead.

Since I was young, I’ve had the utmost admiration for Mel Brooks.

And let me tell you something sister, E-Head’s unsettling.

I hate this movie.

Slimy slithering intestines don’t flutter my fancy.

Did that sentence make you feel gross? It should; hopefully it scares you away completely.

Because that’s all this movie does; it seeks to disturb the viewer.

So in that department: Mission Accomplished, Mr. Lynch.

This is by far his worst.

It’s smart; don’t get me wrong. But originality only goes so far with me. When the ride gets painful, stars begin falling off. It’s not fun, enjoyable nor educational.

Some consider it thought provoking. I don’t.

To be more specific, Eraserhead is about the fears of fatherhood. Despite the cover, it doesn’t disturb in a manner akin to horror flicks.

It’s about depravity and inhabits it’s own dark shred of sadness that doesn’t require a specific genre. Let’s call it what it is: A student film.

There’s a lot I don’t like.

In particular, I really hate the fetus-stomping blonde (or Lady in Radiator, played by Laurel Near) with the fatty cheeks. It’s never fun when she shows up; out of tune and singing the saddest song ever.

Any scene involving the deformed baby, its grotesque skin disease or the anxiety-inducing wail of sorrow; I’d happily discharge from my brain.

It’s the single cringe-worthiest hundred minutes of my life. And I’ve seen a couple movies that’ll convert an entire nunnery.

Jack Nance as Henry Spencer is very good.

The Girl Across the Hall (played by Judith Anna Roberts) is also solid. She dons a low cut dress and walks with a sinewy strut that’ll entrance.

But all the acting is good, I suppose. Allen Joseph as Mr. X is an oddball who offers the only chuckle.

Lynch apparently likes featuring scenes of a spotlight on an empty stage. The same idea shows up in Mulholland Drive. I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

More often I wonder whether it’s worth the ponder.

Towards the beginning, Henry traverses squat mounds of ashy dust while a train whistle blares in the background. Considering the subject material, I wonder if it’s in reference to Ernest Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants. That short story’s about debating abortion and a couple torn up by unexpected pregnancy.

And it’s Hemingway; it’s wildly unpleasant. But much more enjoyable than Eraserhead.

Okay, I’ll slow down with the pessimism for a moment.

To be honest with you I could hate on this movie a lot more than I’m going to. It has redeeming qualities but they bring the rating up to a whopping one star. I’m not mad about it; it’s just not what I go to a movie for.

These moments of redemption are few and far between. There’s a lot of intricate camera angles involving shadows and how they fall on the characters.

Even the majority of the smart stuff leaves a bad taste in my mouth! Like the leafless twig thrust into a pile of soil upon the nightstand. Dirt granules certainly spill onto his mattress on occasion.

There are two particularly noteworthy scenes. They’re both gross and unsettling, but somehow they shine amidst the pit of yuck.

When Henry’s in bed with a woman, they’re wrapped up in the sheets like a spider, and her teeth are chattering like she’s freezing. The spindly way she’s twisting, contorting and toiling amidst the covers is creepy and discomforting.

The other scene involves Henry making love to a woman, and their infidelity descending into milky white tub water situated in the center of the bed. It’s a beautiful shot and really a thought-provoking scene with a fascinating dynamic.

But even then, it’s still pretty unsettling.

Ugh! There’s so much filth in Henry’s room. The sound effects and score are constantly ghoulish, grotesque, creaky, whistley, shadowy, lurid, crackly, scratchy and overall irksome.

It’s an Odyssey through disgust, silt and darkness. And it’s the rockiest ride amidst a meteor shower.

Do yourself a favor and skip Eraserhead, and check out Mulholland Drive or Blue Velvet instead. Only the biggest of Lynch’s fans will like this. It’s ‘un-good.’

By the way, I don’t know what he saw in it, but I still highly admire Mel Brooks.

Looks like it’s time to catch The Elephant Man.

★★

Briefer takes at IMDb & Letterboxd.

For better 70’s film check The French Connection. Or different Lynch Wild at Heart.

Casablanca

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film Reviews1 Comment

It’s up for debate whether or not this film holds up.

If forced to pick a side, I say it does.

The reason I can’t commit to a hard and fast argument is because I’ve seen the film twice. Once in high school, six years ago.

The second occasion is yesterday night at the Music Box Theater in Chicago. The print is being screened as a promotion for the upcoming Turner Classic Movie Festival.

And the crowd is so eager to laugh at every minor joke, they completely overcompensate and ruin much of the movie.

The uproarious laughter is loud enough it stifles half the dialogue, and serves as a constant reminder we’re in a theater. There are some who will give pre-emptive laughs, chuckling during the buildup and destroying any comedic timing.

I sure hope the devil reserves a special place in Hell for these people. But I guess I should talk about the movie at some point or another.

Casablanca is very good, especially considering it’s release in 1943.

It is the epitome of a ‘classic movie.’ Yes, yes?

Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine and Claude Rains as Capt. Louis Renault steal the show in this film. It’s a lot funnier than you might think.

There are lovable and despicable characters (which is always helpful) and dare I say it, some heartwarming moments.

In black and white! Can you believe it – kids in my Proverbial Audience?

(I’m prolific in the single-digit demographic.)

It’s a film about cynicism and impression, and can be surprisingly upbeat. The narrative is truly exceptional, and the ending is more than satisfactory.

This might be the most misquoted piece in history. Nobody ever says, “Play it again, Sam.”

I have no idea why that and, “Badges? Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges,” from Blazing Saddles are so commonly misquoted. It’s a rather strange phenomenon.

For some odd reason I thought Victor Laszlo was an antagonist, but I sure was wrong on that one. The role’s played by Paul Henreid, and he’s rather excellent as well. Peter Lorre, too, as Ugarte, is pretty great.

The hardest scene to swallow is his attempt to escape the police. The chase is a little silly.

What is it about Humphrey Bogart? Soon as I hear that brusque tone, I think, “Gee I like this fella.”

Maybe it’s him smoking that cigarette in the white jacket, or his ever-sustained calm.

He’s a great protagonist. And the movie’s a lot of fun.

I think you’ll like Casablanca.

If you haven’t seen it yet, check it out!

★★★ ★★★ ★★★

Briefer takes at IMDb & Letterboxd.

I prefer my black and white in tune, like Singin’ in the Rain.