Yeah Dude, Okay

Film Collection: Legend

August 26th, 2026

Directed by Ridley Scott
Written by William Hjortsberg
1985 | 114 minutes | English
DVD — Director’s Cut

Tom Cruise, Mia Sara, Tim Curry, David Bennent, Alice Playten, Billy Barty, Annabelle Lanyon, Robert Picardo, Cork Hubbart, Peter O’Farrell, Kiran Shah

What it’s about: Child of the Forest Jack (Cruise) takes his sweetheart, Princess Lili (Sara), to see the unicorns, embodiments of the world’s light and magic. But an impulsive Lili touches the animals, forbidden for mortals, and allows the forces of the Lord of Darkness (Curry) a chance to assassinate one of them, tipping the world onto the verge of eternal night. Separated in the ensuing chaos, the two young lovers must right the situation: him with the help of the mischievous Gump (Bennent) and his band of faeries, and her by resisting the temptations of Darkness.

Reflections: Of the big ’80s fantasy films, this is one of the dreamiest and weirdest. The director’s cut–which adds 24 minutes–moves at a languid pace, the characters are mostly flat archetypes, several important plot mechanics basically boil down to “it’s magic, it’s fine”–this is a movie that operates on vibes more than logic. But the director’s two previous films were Alien and Blade Runner–Ridley Scott can nail a vibe. Everything is suffused with an opulent and increasingly gothic design, storms of petals or clouds of bubbles dance around in the frame, there is glitter all over the place. The dialog veers from weirdly stilted (“Kill her! Forget her! Think of the unicorn!”) to bumbling-sidekick shtick (“Aye, tis no sight for a sober man.”) and nothing is ever really explained, but the texture of the whole thing is easy to get lost in.

More than that, though, I remember seeing this movie around middle-school age and there was something hypnotic about it. Watching it again as an adult, there is a thick undertone of coming-of-age sexuality to the whole thing that I think registered subconsciously–it feels like a fever dream, but it is doing something. There is also a lot of campy humor to it–just the way the goblin Blix (Playten) delivers a “Wow.” to an overreaction from the supreme evil is funnier than most of the actual “jokes.” But no one is working harder to sell this thing than Tim Curry (RIP, sir). Setting aside the wild design of his character, his performance is magnetically weird, over the top in exactly the right way, and he ends up carrying the whole film (just look at the box art).

I’m not surprised this flopped, which it did. It’s a really eccentric turn and still not really like anything else Scott has made. It doesn’t exactly make a lot of sense, but film–art in general–is not a totally intellectual experience. This feels more like it’s trying to tap into something more mythical–serving up sumptuous images and pulling together a mishmash of things from folklore and the collective unconscious. I kind of love this movie for that, but it also got me at the right age and it’s one I’d recommend cautiously; one’s mileage may vary depending on one’s patience for its oddball nonsense.
Film Collection: The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas

August 26th, 2026

Directed by Colin Higgins
Written by Larry L. King, Peter Masterson and Colin Higgins
1982 | 114 minutes | English
VHS

Dolly Parton, Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise, Charles Durning, Jim Nabors, Robert Mandan, Theresa Merritt, Lois Nettleton, Noah Beery Jr., Barry Corbin, Raleigh Bond

What it’s about: The town of Gilbert, TX exists in harmony with the Chicken Ranch, a old-west brothel on the edge of town that has become a local institution, currently being run by Miss Mona Stangely (Parton), who enjoys an ongoing tryst with the town sheriff, Ed Earl Dodd (Reynolds). But this harmony is disrupted by Melvin P. Thorpe (DeLuise), a shit-stirring, fame-seeking investigative journalist from New Jersey by way of Houston. Thorpe’s manufactured outrage reaches a fever pitch after a party at the Chicken Ranch with the Aggie football team, drawing attention from the Governor (Durning) and presenting an existential threat to the future of the Chicken Ranch and perhaps Mona and Ed Earl’s relationship as well.

Reflections: RIP Dolly–pouring it out for a real one. I have a sentimental attachment to this film; it’s weird, a little leaden in places, and was apparently miserable to make, but it’s also some genuine country fun. The songs are great, Burt Reynolds has a little bit of an edge to his grumpy comedy, and Dolly has enough charisma to carry the whole thing, even if it doesn’t fully let her let loose. Dom DeLuise does an awkward boot-scoot in a weird little cowboy outfit and a pageboy haircut. That’s… certainly something to see. Charles Durning got an Oscar nomination for this. It’s very sex-positive and not weird about it. There’s a lot to enjoy.

And while it is absolutely meant to be broad entertainment, there is a certain resonance in it. Underneath the musical coating, you have the archetypal western story: modernity upsetting an older way of life that there’s no going back to. And that modernity reflects ultimately the same late ’70s/early ’80s anxiety in something like Network–Thorpe even tells Ed Earl he and his television show represent the new kind of justice. For all the chuckles and cheery attitude, there is a melancholy to it, and one of Dolly’s best songs gets the heart of that moment (“I Will Always Love You,” written well before the film but repopularized by it).

But more than that, there is an earnestness to the silliness, a kind of old-fashioned, cheesy quality that modern comedy is too self-aware to really replicate, but which still holds up. It’s the kind of movie one wants to watch on a cozy afternoon–light and cheerful, spilling over with star-power, some pathos, but it all turns out all right. Even one of the authors of the original play admitted the work wasn’t exactly Shakespeare, but it’s got heart and charm and is worth watching if you haven’t seen it or revisiting if you have.
Film Collection: Damien — Omen II

August 24th, 2026

Directed by Don Taylor
Written by Stanley Mann & Mike Hodges
1978 | 107 minutes | English
Blu-Ray

William Holden, Lee Grant, Jonathan Scott-Taylor, Lucas Donat, Robert Foxworth, Nicholas Pryor, Lew Ayers, Sylvia Sidney, Lance Henrikson, Lucas Donat, Elizabeth Shepherd, Allan Arbus, Meshach Taylor

What it’s about: Seven years after the events of the first film, Damien (Scott-Taylor) is now a middle-school aged kid, living under the care of his uncle Richard (Holden) and aunt Ann (Grant) and attending a prestigious military academy with his cousin Mark (Donat). But Damien can’t escape the fact that he is the Biblical Antichrist, surrounded by forces working both for and against him, and as he wrestles with the truth of his identity, his uncle is forced to reckon with the fact that the turmoil in his company and the increasing feeling that something is wrong with his nephew may be connected.

Reflections: The horror of this movie is the horror of adolescence from two different perspectives. On the one hand, you have Damien beginning the film as a kid who knows there’s something different about him, coming to realize that he actually is the monster every pubescent kid fears they must be at one moment or another, and having to come to terms with what that means. And on the other hand, you have Richard as the parental figure, playing out the nightmare of realizing that the child you’ve raised is growing into something you don’t recognize, something that may even be dangerous. That’s a really interesting concept, and this movie is trying to do a lot with it.

The problem is, while it’s a fascinating situation, it doesn’t have a lot of forward momentum. Despite a lot of really interesting scenes, the movie never feels like it’s headed toward anything; the ultimate stakes aren’t ever really clear. There are a lot of interesting ideas floating around: corporate expansionism as a tool of evil in a friendly guise, an environmental awareness, the fact that the Antichrist thrives in military culture, the paranoia of a destructive conspiracy at work in all levels of society. But the script never quite follows through on any of them. The performances, atmosphere, mis-en-scene, etc., are all firing, but the film doesn’t do anything resolute or satisfying with them.

Which isn’t to say it’s not a good watch. Some of the death scenes are fantastic–the reporter Joan Hart (Shepherd) being mauled by raven and flung into a truck is a particularly campy highlight. As I was watching this, I was trying to come up with comparable films, and it’s kind of a combination of Dead Poet’s Society, We Need to Talk About Kevin, and Final Destination. Like a lot of first sequels in horror franchises, it’s not as strong as the first film, but it does take the premise into some more personal and experimental territory, and it’s worth watching for that.
Film Collection: Veronika Voss

August 23rd, 2026

Directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Written by Rainer Wenrer Fassbinder, Pea Fröhlich & Peter Märthesheimer
1982 | 104 minutes | German
Criterion Blu-Ray

Rosel Zech, Hilmar Thate, Cornelia Froboess, Annmarie Düringer, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Doris Schade, Erik Schumann, Günther Kaufmann

What it’s about: In 1955, West Germany, an affable sports reporter named Robert Krohn (Thate) comes across a distressed woman in the rain. The woman turns out to be Veronika Voss (Zech), a star of 1930s cinema who has fallen out of the limelight in the years since the war. Despite already having a girlfriend, Henriette (Froboess), Robert is bewitched by Veronika, but soon discovers she herself is under the the spell of Dr. Marianne Katz (Düringer), a neurologist running an eerie clinic who may not have Veronika’s best interests at heart.

Reflections: Inspired by the life and death of the German actress Sybille Schmitz and cribbing its notes from a bygone era of noir and melodrama–notably Sunset Boulevard–Fassbinder, struggling with his own drug addiction at the time, wraps a bleak and angry story in a sugary coating of nostalgic weepie kitsch. The politics of the film–part of the director’s BRD Trilogy, which each take the life of a 1950s woman as a microcosm of the German postwar consciousness–seem to revolve around this juxtaposition: a criticism of his era’s simultaneous denial and aestheticization of the recent past, but I’m not an expert on German cultural history and can only take stabs at that kind of interpretation.

What’s left is a kind of strange anti-love story. Robert can’t explain–doesn’t even seem to want–his fascination with Veronika and is ineffectual at either rescuing her from anything, achieving justice, or getting the truth. Veronika claws at the walls of her cage, but also plays a willing accomplice in her own destruction. Henriette’s affection and openness are the pathway to her doom. Nothing is truly resolved, no catharsis takes place, and Dr. Katz, disinterested in any real emotion, is the only one who doesn’t lose. Yet Fassbinder uses all the tropes of high emotion–the gorgeous black and white cinematography and noirish lighting, the sparkle of opulent movie star glamor, a soundtrack that mixes classical European film scores with American country and swing–to deliver a story that ends up feeling all the more cold, sharp, and nightmarish that way.

This was a first-time watch, and it left me with an impression I’ve gotten from all the Fassbiner work I’ve seen: a restless talent with a keen intellect, a firm stylistic vision, and a relentless energy being swallowed up by his dreams. The film won’t be for those who don’t like a bit of a sour taste, but the electricity of the filmmaking is intoxicating.
Film Collection: W.

August 23rd, 2026

Directed by Oliver Stone
Written by Stanley Weiser
2008 | 129 minutes | English
DVD

Josh Brolin, Elizabeth Banks, Ellen Burstyn, James Cromwell, Richard Dreyfuss, Jeffrey Wright, Scott Glenn, Thandiwe Newton, Toby Jones, Noah Wylie, Jason Ritter, Stacey Keach, Michael Gaston, Robb Corddry

What it’s about: The rare biopic of a sitting president, Stone and Weiser juxtapose the time around George W. Bush’s (Brolin) 2003 decision to invade Iraq with his rise from a 1960’s Yale fratboy failson to the office of the presidency. In the parallel stories, Bush wrestles with insecurity and uncertainty, struggling to earn the respect of his father (Cromwell) as a younger man and to demonstrate he’s earned his place as an older one, but not quite savvy enough to do either, culminating in disaster.

Reflections: What a movie to watch in 2026; there is a moment where Dick Cheney (Dreyfuss) gives a presentation about controlling the Strait of Hormuz that gave me chills. I remember seeing this film at the time and finding it the kind of unsubtle political critique I’d expect from Oliver Stone: Brolin, as Bush, never seems to quite know what he’s talking about, Dreyfuss is practically twirling his moustache as Cheney, Scott Glenn’s Donald Rumsfeld talks like an alien pretending to be human, Toby Jones plays Karl Rove as a weird, spidery little hanger on, etc. There is a scene where the cadre of them are walking-and-talking on a ranch road, only to realize they don’t know where they are, which was a little on the nose. And so on. But seeing it again now, in the context of current political discourse, I have kind of shifted my opinion on its restraint and its overall success because of that.

The dark joke of it is the way its played in earnest–the emotional anxieties of an entitled rich kid have the arc of a tragic struggle because they actually took on tragic consequences. But in structuring it that way, Stone and Weiser are forced to give their subject some empathy; George does have a gift for connecting with people, even if he’d honestly rather be drinking a beer with them and watching baseball than trying to understand complicated things like foreign policy. The failure of the situation came from a system of people trying to act decisively, willing to compromise on ideals, and overeager to protect their reputations more than any personal, nihilistic avarice. Stone holds back as a filmmaker also–tipping his ironic hand a little with his needle drops, or indulging in an overwrought dream sequence here or there, but without the kind of showy indulgences he does admittedly well in his most famous films.

And in retrospect, all of that means it’s trusting its viewer to recognize it in a way that a film like this probably couldn’t anymore. And the events it depicts were a flashpoint in the societal erosion that led to where we are now. Which does make it kind of tragic, even beyond the perspective it presents knowingly, and an interesting piece of cinema as cultural history.
Film Collection: The Maltese Falcon

August 23rd, 2026

Directed by John Huston
Written by John Huston
1941 | 100 minutes | English
DVD

Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Gladys George, Peter Lorre, Barton MacLane, Lee Patrick, Sydney Greenstreet, Ward Bond, Jerome Cowan, Elisha Cook Jr,

What it’s about: The third and most famous adaptation of Dashiell Hammett’s 1930 novel that sees San Francisco PI Sam Spade (Bogart) visited by a “knockout” dame (Astor) who hires him and his partner Miles Archer (Cowan) to find her sister. But when Archer is killed on what should have been a simple tail job, Spade soon discovers he’s been made a fool of, roped into a scheme between an association of dangerous eccentrics, all pursuing the eponymous maguffin.

Reflections: Not only was this the first film by the legendary John Huston, it also basically defined the character of the noir detective going forward. Bogart brings an electric, predatory darkness to his Sam Spade, a man who does the right thing, not because he wants to, but because he doesn’t. In the devilish smirk he gives Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) before knocking him out or the hungry fascination with which he tries to pull apart Brigid O’Shaugnessy’s (Astor) story, we see a man who could break at any moment, whose frustration with being condescended to and used could boil over into violence. And he’s matched in his weird intensity by the rest of the cast: Lorre’s eerily soft grace, Greenstreet’s pompous bluster with bladed edges, and Astor clinging desperately to the good-girl mask even as her lies unravel.

Houston cages this carnival of oddballs in a series of softly lit chambers, allowing their larger-than-life figures to loom over the camera or linger out of frame. His script has the witty repartee flowing at a clip, keeping the audience on top enough of the labyrinth of a plot to be satisfied as long as they’re paying attention while still feeling twisty and unpredictable. And the story of the falcon itself adds a touch of Allan Quartermain/Indiana Jones historical fantasy which the story cynically strips away, revealing it for a naive dream, an attitude which–for a film made as the world was descending into war–nods to a larger dourness that informs the atmosphere without sacrificing any of the thriller’s immediate energy.

It’s kind of hard to talk about this film because of the way in which it’s been imitated, elaborated upon, and parodied so thoroughly at this point. But it’s interesting for more than being the reaction point of a whole subgenre and not hard to see why it landed as hard as it did, picking up Oscar nominations for picture, supporting actor (Greenstreet) and adapted screenplay, cementing Bogart’s stardom as one of Hollywood’s coolest leading men, and spring-launching Huston as a remarkable new talent who would go on to spend nearly 50-years behind the camera.
Film Collection: Saturday Night Fever

August 22nd, 2026

Directed by John Badham
Written by Norman Wexler
1977 | 118 minutes | English
DVD

John Travolta, Karen Lynn Gorney, Barry Miller, Joseph Cali, Paul Pape, Donna Pescow, Martin Shakar, Val Bisoglio, Julie Bovasso, Fran Drescher, Monti Rock III

What it’s about: Tony’s (Travolta) life is going nowhere: his Brooklyn-Italian Catholic family is broke, repressed and unsupportive; his friends are immature, racist, sexist hoodlums; his job at the paint store doesn’t exactly mean much to him. The only place where Tony truly feels alive is the dancefloor of the local disco where he and his buddies party every night. When he bumps into Stephanie (Gorney), an equally good dancer with a mind to lift herself out of their working-class neighborhood. he may have finally met someone he can connect with on a real level, awakening a drive within himself he didn’t know was there. If he can manage to not screw it up.

Reflections: Notoriously based on a New York Magazine article that the author later admitted was complete fantasy, this is a movie that altered the course of pop culture and it’s hard not to think of it in those terms. But it contrasts the otherworldly glitter of its iconic dance sequences with a heavy, uncomfortable coming-of-age story. Travolta is at the peak of his charisma here and he sells an unlikable character as a protagonist genuinely trying to rise above the toxicity that’s all he knows. And it’s the dedication to his art that overcomes his prejudices and opens that possibility for him, which comes across earnestly felt.

And that art is the showpiece here. Where the dramatic story is ugly and perhaps a little trite, the dance scenes are magnificent: washes of color set to some of the most influential music of their era, where a dynamic camera cradles the expressive performers. They also ground the narrative: the scene of Travolta and Gorney rehearsing for the first time, trading moves and improvising, sells their chemistry in an important way, as does their restrained and intimate routine at the (inevitable) dance contest. And their infectious, democratizing energy launched a thousand discos across the country for a while.

This one is actually a first-time watch for me; I’ve had it for a while, but never gotten around to it. The thing is an artifact of its time in ways that are both fun and gross, but the pressure Tony feels to escape the miasmatic bullshit of his world is deeply relevant in 2026. It’s not the most intellectual work of art, but the heart of the film still works and it’s absolutely dripping with undeniable style.
Film Collection: Bloodsport

August 22nd, 2026

Directed by Newt Arnold
Written by Sheldon Letich and Christopher Crosby & Mel Friedman
1988 | 92 minutes | English
DVD

Jean-Claude Van Damme, Donald Gibb, Leah Ayres, Norman Burton, Forest Whitaker, Bolo Yeung, Ken Siu, Roy Chiao, Lily Leung, Phillip Chan

What it’s about: As a young, troubled kid, Frank Dux (Van Damme) was taken in and mentored by a Japanese martial arts master (Chiao), eventually becoming a surrogate son who inherited the old man’s special technique. Now that his father figure is sick, Frank takes leave from the army to honor that legacy in the Kumite, an elite, no-holds-barred fighting tournament in Hong Kong. But the sadistic current champion (Yeung), a pair of CID agents (Whitaker and Burton), and a plucky reporter (Ayres) all complicate or misunderstand Frank’s quest for identity and actualization.

Reflections: Let’s be clear, this movie is stupid. It’s based on memoirs of a real person that–unsurprisingly–have likely been wildly exaggerated. It ignores several basic questions that arise from its plot: what, exactly, is the government’s investment in Frank? How did a happy-go-lucky white guy like Jackson (Gibb) end up here? Why is Chong Li (Yeung)… like that? Forest Whitaker is trying something here, but otherwise, the acting is clearly not the priority. The music is impossible to take seriously. And its social politics are deeply questionable, even by 1980s standards.

However, with a generous eye, there is a level on which this movie is about the spirituality of physical expression. It comes alive when it sets aside the dressing of its drama and focuses on the male body and what it can do, littered with shots of stretching, twitching muscles. The fight scenes and training montages are kind of low-key; they’re shot and performed in a way that, to a layman at least, seems to be honoring the actual sport involved over filmmaking spectacle by using wide camera angles and (mostly) restrained edits. As an artistic experience, it is a vehicle for imagining the mastery of that state, the deepest possible connection with the animal, material part of who and what you are. The satisfaction of keeping that together, no matter how extreme the circumstances. And if one can be open to it, it’s surprisingly effective in eliciting a meaningful response on a visceral level, if one can ignore how badly it articulates itself.

There’s also just something profoundly silly about it: the way Frank showboats while escaping the CID guys, the ridiculous faces the fighters make, the stiffness and artificiality of the dialogue, the absolute vintage 1988 extra-mild cheese of the original songs. It isn’t–and probably shouldn’t be–a movie for everyone, but as far as big, dumb, boy movies go, this one has a certain sauce.
Film Collection: The Road

August 21st, 2026

Directed by John Hillcoat
Written by Joe Penhall
2009 | 111 minutes | English
DVD

Viggo Mortensen, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Charlize Theron, Robert Duvall, Guy Pearce, Molly Marker, Michael K. Williams, Garret Dillahunt

What it’s about: Adapted from Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 novel (which I have not yet read and can’t speak to), the film follows an unnamed father (Mortensen) and son (Smit-McPhee) surviving after an unclear apocalyptic event. With no animals and no way to grow crops, any strain of civilization has disappeared and the man struggles with not passing on the trauma and loss he’s experienced while preparing his son for a dying world of cannibals, thieves, and the constant threat of starvation.

Reflections: In the first five minutes of this film, we see a father instructing his prepubescent son on how to commit suicide, if and when it becomes the only option, which pretty much sets the tone for the rest of the movie. It’s a difficult ask for an audience, to spend nearly two hours in a world essentially devoid of any hope or light. On a literal level, the visual experience of the film is a muddy, hazy mix of grey and brown that does not shy away from muck and gore. And metaphorically, what few glimpses of warmth exist in the film’s scant characters are still tinged with despair, anger, and cynicism acted out by men who lack the tools–emotionally and materially–to stand up to the moment, even when their hearts are in the right place. It falls almost entirely on the boy to carry any kind of connection to the material, and that’s a lot of weight to put on a kid.

Smit-McPhee is up to the task though, giving a really strong child performance and letting us in to a perspective that has never experienced anything but this harshness and is aware of and frustrated by the difference between what he’s being told is important and what his father often chooses to do. Mortensen also does a lot of great work here, but the best of it is in reaction, and while the supporting cast is excellent, none of them stick around. The subtle, aching score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis also offers a little relief, staying out of the way, but lifting quiet moments up on long string tones like rays of sunshine. And the ending manages to not sell either itself or the viewer out, offering at least a crumb of possibility to cling to.

There are moments that are a little awkward and saccharine, but that is part of the film’s effectiveness, I think, part of the stiffness of the father character in particular. That effectiveness is going to be a matter of taste and mood for a lot of people; it’s slow, interior, and a profound bummer to actually sit and watch. But there is catharsis in facing darkness also, and this is tightly crafted to facilitate that.
Film Collection: The Secret of NIMH

August 21st, 2026

Directed by Don Bluth
Written by Don Bluth, John Pomeroy, Gary Goldman & Will Finn
1982 | 82 minutes | English
Fullscreen Format DVD

Elizabeth Hartman, Peter Strauss, Derek Jacobi, Dom DeLuise, John Carradine, Shannon Doherty, Wil Wheaton, Paul Shenar, Arthur Malet, Hermione Bradley, Aldo Ray

What it’s about: A (very loose) adaptation of a 1971 novel by Robert C. O’Brien, the story follows Mrs. Brisby (Hartman), a recently widowed mouse and mother of four, living in the garden of a farm. The beginning of plowing season is coming, meaning they must move, but one of her children is sick and unable to make the journey. Her quest for help takes her to a group of rats living under a nearby rosebush, escaped experiment animals from NIMH who have acquired human-level knowledge of language, culture, and science and are seeking to establish their own independent society.

Reflections: I grew up with this movie, so it’s easy to take it for granted. But looking at it decades removed from both the particular sociopolitical anxieties of the late ’60s/early ’70s that spawned the novel and the “just go with it” vibes of 1980s children’s media, it’s kind of unhinged. A real government institution, and the leading mental-health research agency in the United States, has accidentally(?) created a tribe of super-rats who are on the loose. In this version, these science rats are also weirdly courtly and have a straight-up wizard king. Death is omnipresent, existential threats continually escalate, and several characters are very down for murder. The comic relief is problematically horny. There’s a lot going on here.

The film does a bit of a disservice to the book, but it’s also presented with Don Bluth’s characteristic painterly visual sense and willingness to embrace darker themes, which are enough to make it compelling if one doesn’t think too hard about it. The obligatory signature song isn’t anything to write home about, but the child characters are given dignity, there’s only a slight nod to any kind of romantic plot and, as bluntly presented as it is here, the message about perseverance through grief and sometimes risk is a good one. Dom DeLuise is doing what he does, but Elizabeth Hartman’s vocal performance is wide-eyed and earnest. Very young Wil Wheaton and Shannon Doherty are there. I still enjoy it.

I don’t know if that means I can recommend it. Even setting aside that society has changed a great deal in 44 years, a lot of it is obnoxious and nonsensical. But it is an iconic example of the kind of darkly fantastical story that haunted my generation’s childhood, which a lot of recent films, video games, YA novels, etc., have been trying to recapture.