On one hand, Basic Instinct is a morally bankrupt film that has no illusions about being anything more than a trashy, titillating murder mystery attempting to flaunt sex during a time of repression and conservatism. On the other hand, I understand a lot of the jokes in National Lampoon's Loaded Weapon 1 now.
Katie Tippel - Verhoeven's only Dutch film of this month - may be a little too conveniently coincidental of a narrative, but it does lay down the 3 themes on which Jim will be keeping an eye as the month goes along: the separation and clash between social classes, the usage of sex as an exploration of power dynamics, and (sigh) an inability to direct actors very well.
Mat Bradley-Tschirgi Part 2: Verhoeven Buggaloo. Yes, Mat returns to IDMB after the relaunch of Sequelcast to discuss the sexy, violent, and quite often satirical films of Dutch filmmaker Paul Verhoeven. In addition, the boys also explore what it would look like if Verhoeven had directed Man on of Steel before moving on to the recommendations: Katie Tippel (1975), Basic Instinct (1992), and Starship Troopers (1997).
Kim Ki-duk month couldn't wrap up fast enough after Jim got done watching Pieta, a film that in just about every aspect - from digital aesthetic to despicable characters to misplaced theological allusions - completely baffled him in the context of the film's high regard.
After Jim has a mini-existentialist criss of the film criticism kind, he manages to (maybe) say a few coherent things here and there about Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...And Spring. But only a few.
Do we deserve the world we live in? Do we get the world that we deserve? Do these characters deserve grace and redemption? Why the hell does this film end on such ambiguity? Why are there so many scenes of people going to the bathroom? Will David and Jim remain friends after this?
David Bax stops by I Do Movies Badly for his fourth tour of duty to talk hockey for far too long (of course) and the idiosyncratic arthouse films of South Korean filmmaker, Kim Ki-duk, who Jim literally had no idea existed until David pitched the idea. What Jim learns is that the films of the Catholic filmmaker living in a predominantely Buddist country are unfairly linked together with the South Korean Revenge subgenre and often deal with themes of what it means to be human and if humans deserve the world in which they live (or live in the world they deserve). Those films are: The Isle (2000), Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring (2003), and Pieta (2012).
February and Francois Truffaut wrap up with 1973's Day for Night, the kind of film about filmmaking that may be short on innovation, but more than makes up for in enthusiasm, joy, and pride in those who - like Truffaut - are crazy enough to dedicate their lives to cinema.
If the French New Wave filmmakers weren't intending to be revolutionary and were just instead concerned with making the kind of fun, complex, Hollywood-esque films that they wanted to see, then in a way, Shoot the Piano Player is a purer encapsulation of the novelle vague sensibilities than The 400 Blows could ever be.
In his first exploration of the French New Wave since college, Jim explores the jovial and sympathetic nature of the juvenile delinquent protagonist of The 400 Blows and dares question whether it's actually a GREAT film on its own or just a great EXAMPLE of a specific expressionistic moment.