Movies nobody I talk to has ever heard of, volume 2

Since somebody went 4/5 on my last list of obscure movies, here are a few more (and I know you must have seen Serenity, Nobo):

The Big Blue

Possibly the best movie ever made about holding your breath, The Big Blue is loosely based on the life of free diver Jacques Mayoll and his friendship and rivalry with Enzo Molinari, the first to go below 100m without any breathing equipment, leapfrogging each other's records while doctors warned that at the depths they were aiming for they were passing the limits of the human body. Jean-Marc Barr's childlike portrayal of Mayoll is like a dolphin out of water, fascinated by but unable to fathom the human beings around him. I instantly became a huge fan of Jean Reno after I saw him in his role as Enzo, the grand and boisterous son of Italy around whom the world of free diving revolves (and an affectionate send-up of Italians by a French actor and director). The last scene the two have together is a practical test for the full range of human emotion, if your SO can't squeeze out a single frosted tear they may be a sociopath... run before they put on Huey Lewis and the News.

There are two versions of this film available, the director's cut and the chopped down American release that cuts out an hour and in so doing makes an entirely different movie. The implication and emotional tone of the ending is strikingly different with the scenes missing from the American release, which goes even farther in tacking on a cloyingly happy dolphin montage, to the point where the entire genre of the film goes from tragedy to romance. I enjoyed both, but the happy ending of the American edit would probably seem cloying after seeing what the director intended, and Luc Besson's reaction to it was reportedly “They ruined my movie.” Make of that what you will, but I enjoyed both versions.

Gods and Monsters

I have raved endlessly about this film to any and all who would listen, because I think it's a remarkably underrated film that should stand out as a highlight in several careers. It's a largely imagined account of the last days of James Whale, the director who created some of the most iconic images in film: Frankenstein's monster and the bride of Frankenstein. There are three brilliant movies permanently linked in my mind as the children of Whale's original 1931 film Frankenstein, all works of art that expand on it in spectacular and subtle form: Bride of Frankenstein for it's visual craft and for the fascinating subtext in every gesture, Young Frankenstein because it's quite possibly the funniest film ever made (and is certainly the pinnacle of Mel Brooks' lofty career), and Gods and Monsters. The dramatic tragedy punctuated by mystery and wit is enough to make it a brilliant and tragically underrated film, as is Sir Ian McKellen living it up playing Whale as alternately elder statesman of film and winking, crumbling queen, an old man in his last days confronted with a man to whom he cannot seem to lie, and layer by layer the lies from which he constructs his facade and his dignity are all stripped away. What makes it a bit special is the way all the characters are based on Whale's cast from Bride of Frankenstein: Whale is Dr. Pretorius (McKellen), his housekeeper is Igor (Vanessa Redgrave), his brooding, flat-topped gardener is the Monster (Brendan Fraser), and his ex-boyfriend channels Colin Clive's closet-case Dr. Frankenstein from Bride, to name a few. After Gods and Monsters, I couldn't watch Bride of Frankenstein with out bursting out laughing at almost every pleading look Colin Clive gives the rest of the cast while Ernest Thesiger plays his mad scientist buddy as a screaming queen giving jealous glares to Frankenstein's naïve wife, and they sneak off to the laboratory for unnatural acts of procreation.

The Dreamers

This may not actually be so underrated, but I still like it. It's the last film (so far) by Bernardo Bertolucci, director of such films as The Last Tango in Paris and Il Conformista, and other movies I've never gotten around to watching. The film is about three students in Paris in 1968 amidst rioting and piles of garbage in the street, a pair of French siblings whose relationship is so close as to be incestuous, and an American kid who becomes absorbed into their circle as they camp out in their parents' empty flat over the summer. The independence and presence of an outsider changes the dynamic between the two siblings, who have never faced certain consequences of their adolescence and growing sexual desire, where no matter how many layers of art and film and pretension they pile on to themselves, they are being painfully forced by biology to confront the question of whether they will continue to grow up or remain where they are. For all three, the images they have of themselves and of each other begin to come apart as they find there is no way to put all three pieces together, the American pacifist who dreams of Paris as an intellectual refuge and these beautiful French children as stimulating lovers, the sister who has one man too many, and the brother who finds himself reaching farther out into the world than his companions can handle. But really, the only reason I saw it is because Eva Green is naked for like half this movie. It's fairly adventurous in what it presents sexually, so if you don't want to see a buck naked Eva Green digging for Michael Pitt's half-erect manroot, consider yourself warned, but I still enjoyed it.

Children of Men

I raved about this movie before but nobody took this as inspiration to go see it. In fact I've only ever met one other person who's admitted to seeing this movie, but she said it should have won an Oscar for best picture, squeaking past The Departed. I wouldn't go that far, but this is a case of a good movie turned into something special by its cinematography. The entire film is shot in extremely long takes with extensive movement through real locations, where for instance the camera follows Clive Owen through houses until he finds a spot to eavesdrop on an ongoing conversation, and this makes it one of the most engrossing films I've ever seen. In the opening, we follow Clive Owen for a few minutes out of a coffee shop and into the street where he adds a little eye-opener from a flask, and this makes it feel so real when the shop explodes in the next instant. The last movie I saw that was this grounded was Dead Man's Shoes, also seen by nobody. Michael Caine seems to have a ball as an aging hemp-clad hipster, Julianne Moore is effervescent as a terrorist cell leader, Chiwetel Ejiofor hits another near perfect mark as a fanatical nemesis, and it's just a generally all-round incredibly well-executed film. The theme of this film uses the premise of no children being born for eighteen years and the resultant breakdown of society as a metaphor for a declining Western culture that talks of nothing but death and immigrants, and it puts a chilling face on the future in the manner reminiscent of Blade Runner's polluted, filthy neon cage.

Serenity

I don't think you get to be a nerd without seeing Serenity. That may or may not be an appealing distinction, unless you're the self-described “nerd-slut” I was dancing with at the Wittemaus-Dragonlady wedding last week after my uncoordinated dancing style that requires a stiff vodka tonic in my hand scared away all the straight girls... but I digress. Serenity is the brilliant farewell to Joss Whedon's “Firefly”, killed before its time after being pre-empted for baseball almost every night of it's run on network TV. It does what so many of these types of properties fail to do: it finds a story to tell that shows a men and a women changed by their experiences, in a story big enough to justify breaking out of the small screen, telling the tale of Captain Malcolm Reynolds finding the human heart has an undeniable craving for something greater than ourselves, and uncovering the dirty little secret of a society that delivers piece and love only at the point of a sword. The series combines two stories and four genres: Mal's post-civil war western and River's noir spy thriller and sets them both amongst stars circled by ravenous degenerate zombie pirates for a touch of horror, in this half-Blade Runner, half-Unforgiven Chinese American neon punk western. Plus Summer Glau's ballet-trained martial arts showdown is a thing of beauty, as Joss Whedon said, “She told me she could wrap her leg backwards around a pillar and kick somebody in the head so we built her one.” I know it sounds ridiculous, but it is an amazing mix of grand adventure, human drama, politics and espionage, and above all some really laugh out loud visual humor. This film will probably stand as the best work of almost all the people who were part of making it, even if it takes a long time to be properly appreciated. I was hooked by the title card alone, the lonely cello playing over the name Serenity painted on Mal's ship, given all it that represents in the context of this film, and that shot as she hits the atmosphere and fires her engines with the flames firing past the cockpit where Nathan Fillion stands in this grand Captain's pose... I think it just took me back to watching “Albator” on Belgian TV as a kid (Albator was the coolest space pirate ever). If that sounds confusing and terrible, let me give one mainstream description: Firefly/Serenity was described as Star Wars if it had been about Han Solo instead of Luke Skywalker.

Anything with Christian Bale in it

Despite a long string of commercial failures, Christian Bale finally cracked the US market in Batman Begins, resurrecting the role George Clooney left for dead, in the best Batman film since 1966. Before that, and after, he's had a smattering of captivating performances in some intriguing films and some horrible misfires, none of which seem to have been viewed by anybody. Previously the only identification I could offer anyone was “he's the guy from American Psycho”, which was a great performance with a judicious use of the moonwalk, because his mainstream projects sank without a trace. I'm not going to tell anybody to rush out and see the movie where he and Matthew McConaughey are fighting dragons or that tragically forgettable remake of Shaft, but there is some interesting stuff mixed in, like some fine nude bathing work with Emily Watson in Metroland and frolicking naked in a fountain with Ewan MacGregor in Velvet Goldmine, if you're into that sort of thing. And I'll defend both Metroland and Velvet Goldmine as interesting, and The New World as absolutely beautiful if somewhat impenetrably dull. Equilibrium was the quintessential Christian Bale project that apparently played for a week with no advertising so nobody knew it existed until it came out on video, but it's a surprisingly well executed attempt to mix George Orwell and the Matrix, with martial arts, prozac, and more wide-eyed Emily Watson. I'll defend Batman Begins as the best superhero movie I've ever seen, crammed with brilliant British and Irish actors (and a couple from Holland and America thrown in for equal opportunity) and Christopher Nolan, Michael Caine, and Christian Bale got back together to do The Prestige, which I found to be tragically underrated and a hell of a lot of fun, beginning at the end then moving back to the beginning through two men reading each other's diaries in a relentless quest to penetrate each other's misdirection and illusion. Despite repeated jealous suggestions by ex-girlfriends that my enthrallment with Mr. Bale had reached entirely unnatural levels, I have yet to see all of his work, but I still say he's tragically underrated. I still think his scenes in American Psycho with Reese Witherspoon, where he's this dour, evil presence and she's all bubbly and unable to register that he's confessing to being a serial killer are grimly hilarious, and enough reason to make me go see the remake of 3:10 to Yuma.

Local Hero

Because I haven't seen it in a while, I'll throw in an honorable mention for Local Hero, the tale of a Houston oil man called Mac (played by that one guy from Animal House who was on the Sopranos) who goes to Scotland to buy land for a refinery, treading lightly so as not to tip his hand and provoke the locals into protesting the destruction of their town. The locals also tread lightly so as not to seem to eager, because they can't wait to dump their property and cash in. Meanwhile this whole town is such a fascinating collection of strange characters that part of Mac wants to settle down and run the local inn. It's a quirky movie full of dry humor that amongst other things knows how to tell a running joke, and it's quite charming, with a beautiful soundtrack by Mark Knopfler, who for years played the theme from Local Hero to close all his concerts. And you don't eat a rabbit that has a name... or two names!