Cannes at Home: “Moulin Rouge!” @25

by Cláudio Alves

The 79th Cannes Film Festival is upon us and, as ever, Elisa is on the ground to report directly from the Croisette. Sadly, most of us can only watch from afar. For years, I struggled with festival-related FOMO, but one little annual series here at The Film Experience has helped combat it. Obviously, I’m referring to “Cannes at Home,” the rubric I’m happy to revive once more, perusing past films from the various cineastes in the Main Competition that are widely available. Alas, it’s very rare for a title vying for the Palme to open celebrations at Cannes, and this year is no different. Pierre Salvadori’s The Electric Kiss marked the fest’s official start, but it’s playing Out of Competition so the director’s work won’t be showcased here, in “Cannes at Home.”

Instead, let’s rewind to 2001, when the Cannes Film Festival celebrated its 54th edition. A quarter century ago, the Opening Film was actually among the competition lineup. It was none other than Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge!, the best movie musical yet produced since the millennium changed. Damn, 21st century cinema peaked early…

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Over & Overs: "Murder on the Orient Express" (1974)

by Cláudio Alves

To celebrate the Sidney Lumet centennial, I reflected on the director's filmography and tried to surmise which of his films had the biggest impact on me. In retrospect, I wish that exercise led to one of his many masterpieces. Yet, to choose something like Dog Day Afternoon or Network would be dishonest. As much as I adore those pictures, they're not works I tend to revisit that often. Certainly not to the point where music cues, editing choices, singular line deliveries, and shot compositions are so ingrained in my mind that re-watching them is a jolt of muscle memory. You could call my relationship with the film what some folk feel for their favorite comfort foods.

When the mood is blue and the soul needs a pick-me-up, Lumet's 1974 adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express is a reliable treat, just frivolous and hearty enough to appease the spirit with whodunnit shenanigans. Or it could be a warm blanket of a movie, the soothing embrace of an old friend. Is it great cinema? Not really, but I wouldn't trade it for the world…

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Over & Overs: "Singin' in the Rain" (1952)

by Cláudio Alves

It's been a while since the Over & Overs series has shown up on The Film Experience's timeline, and it's as good a time as any to rectify that. Indeed, revisiting a beloved picture one has seen more times than one can count is the perfect idea for today's celebration. You see, a century ago, Stanley Donen was born in Columbia, South Carolina, the son of a dress shop manager and future movie lover. He'd also be a movie magician, capable of turning the screen into materialized joy, like an alchemist who used the camera to transform and transport his audiences. Though one finds several titles are worth appraising in his filmography, a single picture stands above all others, the musical to end all musicals. It's Singin' in the Rain, of course…

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Over & Overs: Amadeus (1984)

by Cláudio Alves

To celebrate the recent centennial of sound mixer turned movie producer Saul Zaentz, I decided to revisit my favorite of his projects, the glorious marvel that is Amadeus (the second of his three Best Picture winners). On paper, the movie may sound like the most airless and insufferable of Oscar champions. It's a musician's biopic, probably my least favorite of prestige subgenres, whose take on history is closer to feverish invention than thoughtful analysis. With a theatrical cut running for nearly three hours, the movie's a behemoth of excess in a decade when the Academy was prone to shower such things with undeserved accolades. Nevertheless, I find myself besotted by Milos Forman's 1984 Best Picture winner, its meditations on mediocrity and spiritual discontentment, its celebration of opera, the lushness of its emotions...

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Over & Over: 1987's "Baby Boom"

by Eric Blume

Baby Boom, directed by Charles Shyer with a script by him and his then-wife Nancy Meyers, encapsulates 1987 beautifully.  From young James Spader's Wham!-like hair to Keaton's fashions to the dated woman-in-the-workplace-can-she-have-it-all plot, it could be a time capsule film for the year and its essence.  While we're celebrating 1987, this film couldn't be a better example of exactly where we were.

And yes, Baby Boom is a mercilessly commercial enterprise, engineered with cliche characters and "adorable" cutaway shots to the child inherited by the "Tiger Lady", J.C. Wiatt, played by Diane Keaton.  I can't defend this movie as a work of fine cinema, but I've returned to it over a dozen times for the sheer joy in Keaton's peerless performance...

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