Every month, Establishing Shot brings you a selection of films from our group of regular bloggers. Even though these films aren’t currently being screened at the IU Cinema, this series reflects the varied programming that can be found at the Cinema and demonstrates the eclectic tastes of the bloggers. Each contributor has picked one film that they saw this month that they couldn’t wait to share with others. Keep reading to find out what discoveries these cinephiles have made, as well as some of the old friends they’ve revisited.
Chris Forrester, contributor | In Vanda’s Room (2000)
Via Northwestern’s Hoffman Visiting Lecturer for Documentary Media program, Block Cinema (full disclosure: I work here) had the fortune of presenting In Vanda’s Room (Pedro Costa, 2000) with the filmmaker in attendance last Wednesday. Nearly 25 years out from its release and presented on a big screen, it feels like one of the most major films of its era. For its filmmaker, as much for the art form itself, In Vanda’s Room represented a major rethinking of form and process that catalyzed a shift in its maker’s style; there is before In Vanda’s Room and after In Vanda’s Room and each is distinct. Coming off of a pair of well-regarded but in his words “miserable” (to make, mostly) films — O Sangue (1989) and Casa De Lava (1994) — Costa found himself tasked with transporting letters home from residents of the Cape Verdean islands to diasporic family members living in Lisbon after completing a film there. In the process, he found his way to the community of the city’s now-destroyed Fontainhas neighborhood and began forging relationships that would define his cinema moving forward.
One of those relationships was with a young woman named Vanda Duarte, who starred in Ossos (1997) and went on to play (a version of) herself in In Vanda’s Room. But more than just the small-scale portraiture the film’s title might imply, it’s a major undertaking (at nearly three hours in length) that uses the intimate production style of digital video to document the community Costa had found himself so tightly embedded in. The result is a staggering piece of durational cinema that weaves an intricate tapestry from the lives of Fontainhas’s residents and the visual and sonic textures of their dwellings and lives. Cast in Costa’s distinct visual style — which favors low-lit, high-contrast compositions as indebted to the trappings of Flemish painting as to the aesthetics of digital video — In Vanda’s Room is an essential act of self-reflection for both artist and art form: at turns beautiful, funny, deeply sad, and reverberating with a deeply human dignity.
Noni Ford, contributor | Lisa Frankenstein (2024)
When we meet Lisa, she seems like a somewhat typical teen outcast, unpopular with her peers and pining after a guy who seems just polite to her. As we learn early on into the first act of Lisa Frankenstein, she has been profoundly affected by the horrific murder of her mother and the new circumstances she finds herself in when her dad quickly remarries. He becomes a pushover while her new stepmom verbally berates her at nearly every family meal. An outcast at home and at school, it’s easy to see why she grows an attachment to a somewhat dilapidated cemetery in town and a particular grave featuring a sculpture bust of a young man. Here in nature, able to talk to the headstone or to write, she finds a place of reprieve from the restrictive, unwelcoming social environments she’s forced to engage with daily. On the night of a big party her cheery, positive stepsister drags her to, she unknowingly drinks a spiked drink and wakes up the next day with a dim recollection of something extraordinary happening the night before.
Soon enough, she finds herself face-to-face with the reanimated corpse of the boy in her favorite grave. Initially she is terrified of him but soon comes to learn that he means her no harm and through his grunts (he is unable to speak, and actor Cole Sprouse delivers a dialogue-free performance) they form a friendship. She is astonished to find that this new friend is very willing to kill others to protect or serve retribution for her, and while they at first just focus on payback, their rampage soon goes out of control. After each kill, they harvest body parts and graft them onto the Creature using a glitchy tanning bed. The movie is a fun, light comedy with several gags made about its 1980s setting. Kathryn Newton leaned into the camp of the character to deliver some great line deliveries, and Carla Gugino as the nitpicky stepmother was perfect as always. If you’re looking for something funny to take your mind off classes and finals, but also don’t want a true horror film, I’d recommend Lisa Frankenstein.
Jesse Pasternack, contributor | The King of Marvin Gardens (1972)
The King of Marvin Gardens is director Bob Rafelson’s follow-up to Five Easy Pieces (1970), a hit which established his friend Jack Nicholson as a leading man. While it is less well known than that classic and features Nicholson playing a different type of role than the ones which would make him famous, this film is still full of great performances and holds up as an underrated gem from the New Hollywood era.
This movie is about radio show host David (Nicholson) and his brother Jason (Bruce Dern), a fast-talking con man with mob connections who lives in Atlantic City. David goes to visit Jason, who ropes him into a plan to open a casino in Hawaii. They also get involved with Sally (Ellen Burstyn), who is trying to mold her stepdaughter Jessica (Julian Anne Robinson) into a beauty queen. The four of them try to pull off Jason’s scheme, but internal tensions in the group threaten to destroy them.
One of the most interesting things about this film is Nicholson’s performance as David. In contrast to the charismatic characters that had led him to stardom in Easy Rider (1969) and Five Easy Pieces, David is quiet and buttoned up. He rarely smiles and seems more comfortable talking into his recorder than he is with other people. But while I prefer Nicholson’s work when he is more exuberant (the friend I saw this with noted that Nicholson and Dern could have successfully swapped parts), it is fascinating to see him show his range here. His performance as David is a reminder that, in addition to having an iconic star persona, Nicholson is also a very good actor.
The rest of the cast is fantastic. Dern does an excellent job at demonstrating Jason’s magnetism and why he can con so many people. Scatman Crothers is fun yet menacing as Jason’s gangster associate. But for me, the greatest performance in this film is the one that Burstyn gives as Sally. In scenes where she berates Jessica or cuts her hair, she doesn’t seem to be acting. Instead, she seems to become the character and simply exist as her. It’s remarkable work which makes me want to see many more of her films.
The King of Marvin Gardens is less well known than some of Nicholson’s other movies. But it boasts great acting from some of the best actors in 1970s American cinema and brilliant directing from Rafelson, who beautifully captures what Atlantic City looked like before it legalized gambling. It all ends in the same way that Five Easy Pieces did, with a perfect final shot I will be thinking about for a long time to come.
Michaela Owens, Editor | The Saint in New York (1938)
A “buccaneer in the suits of Savile Row, amused, cool, debonair, with hell-for-leather blue eyes and a saintly smile,” Simon Templar was created in 1928 by author Leslie Charteris and appeared in numerous media over the years, including Roger Moore’s indelible, irresistible portrayal on the hit British TV show that ran from 1962 to 1969. Although I’d argue that Moore is the definitive Templar with his perfect mix of menacing charm and witty sophistication, I first discovered “the Robin Hood of modern crime” by watching 1938’s The Saint in New York, which was the character’s cinematic debut.
Directed by Ben Holmes and released by RKO, The Saint in New York took me quite by surprise when I encountered it some years ago. A taut B-movie with moody cinematography, a snappy pace, dialogue that is at turns poetic and funny, and interesting, dimensional characters, the film finds Templar being persuaded to come to New York by the police commissioner in order to take out a handful of powerful crime leaders who have the city in their grip. As he crosses the names off of his list of victims, the Saint forges an unlikely friendship with Inspector Fernack (the terrific Jonathan Hale) and falls for a mysterious woman named Fay (Kay Sutton).
While the romance between Templar and Fay ultimately doesn’t quite work — their initial scenes together are electric, but once she admits she loves him, it feels much too fast and Sutton’s acting is at odds with her character — there are many other things to like about this movie. On the wrong side of the law is Sig Ruman as a snarling crime boss, Jack Carson as his quiet, unsmiling henchman, and, in a particularly delightful turn, Paul Guilfoyle as Ruman’s other henchman, a dimwitted guy who can’t help but be in awe of Templar. The film works best, though, as a showcase for Louis Hayward, an underrated actor who will likely never get the proper recognition he deserves (he was also Ida Lupino’s first husband, their marriage occurring the same year as this film). After The Saint in New York, Hayward was replaced in RKO’s subsequent Saint movies with George Sanders thanks to a multi-picture deal with producer Edward Small that made him unavailable. While I adore Sanders and he plays Templar marvelously, there is an edge to Hayward’s performance that Sanders — the man behind Shere Khan, Jack Favell, and Addison DeWitt — shockingly doesn’t fully replicate. Hayward leans into the character’s bloodthirsty characteristics with glee and yet balances it with an aloof romanticism that makes this entry of RKO’s Saint series something truly special.
Note: a trailer for the film couldn’t be find, but here are some clips to watch instead.