Film Recommendation Newsletter

Wednesday, Sept. 27th, 2023

Hello there. My name is Kevin, and I’m excited to introduce a biweekly movie recommendation newsletter on Substack.

We all have the challenge of finding something good to watch. My mission is to simplify this process by providing suggestions, which are available on at least one streaming service. Whenever possible, I’ll provide a free YouTube or Kanopy link. The selections will focus on films that have had a profound impact on me.

I’ll be releasing newsletters every Saturday and Wednesday morning.

Six recommendations per newsletter, 12 total per week

• three films I recently enjoyed

• one random genre film (new genre each newsletter)

• one personal favorite

• one challenging but rewarding watch

The first three are free for every newsletter — the others are behind a $5-a-month paywall. I have seen over 600 films in the past 615 days, 371 in 2023 alone, so I have plenty to share.

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Three films I recently watched:

Je, Tu, Il, Elle (1974) (Max, Criterion Channel, Internet Archive)

• Dir. by Chantal Akerman

  86 mins

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Chantal Akerman's debut feature film, Je, Tu, Il, Elle, is a daring and stunning exploration of the emotional descent of Julie, following the end of her relationship with her girlfriend. She spends multiple days in her room, writing a letter to her ex-girlfriend, while consuming nothing but sugar.

I previously wrote on this blog about how I am a big admirer of the transcendental style of filmmaking and that Akerman is a titan of the genre.

Once Julie had made up her mind to go out, a trucker pulled up and offered her a ride. As the trucker and Julie traveled, the only sound was background noise. Their brief companionship was insignificant, and it was evident that Julie was trying to find solace in the loneliness she feels without her partner.

After regrettable sex with a random trucker, Julie asks the trucker to drop her off at her ex-girlfriend's apartment. Julie’s ex lets her into the apartment without speaking. You watch as they quietly sit across from each other at a dinner table. The ambient nature takes over again as they barely speak, staring at each other.

“You have to leave tomorrow,” Julie’s ex-girlfriend tells her.

The tension finally breaks with a jump cut to Julie and her ex-girlfriend in a vulnerable and intimate 15-minute sex scene.

Chantal Akerman's Je, Tu, Il, Elle is a captivating film that utilizes a minimalist and meticulous approach. The camera remains mostly static, but this allows viewers to appreciate the subtle movements of its actors. The dialogue is sparse, yet its poetic nature encourages the audience to contemplate the scenes. Akerman's editing is particularly noteworthy, such as when she fades to black as the sound of Julie's shower, passing cars and pedestrians can be heard. Akerman was responsible for four roles in this film: director, lead actor, writer and producer. Her pioneering of transcendental cinema is evident in Je, Tu, Il, Elle, showcasing her instant brilliance.

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Mikey and Nicky (1976) (Max, Criterion Channel, YouTube)

• Dir. Elaine May

  106 mins

I’d do anything for you. Anything. And unless you’re sick or in trouble, you don’t even know I’m alive,” Mikey says to Nicky.

Where do I even begin with Mikey and Nicky? This film overlaps into one of my personal favorites, but having recently rewatched it for the fifth time this year, I felt compelled to share it without the paywall.

I am an avid admirer of both Peter Falk and John Cassavetes. I’m particularly grateful to Elaine May for bringing the two of them together in a film where Cassavetes wasn’t the director. Cassavetes is my favorite actor and my second favorite director. His performance in Mikey and Nicky is his best work and the finest film Cassavetes has ever worked on.

In the film, Peter Falk portrays Mikey, while John Cassavetes plays Nicky, a small-time mobster. After stealing money from his mob boss, Nicky finds himself in a precarious situation and calls upon Mikey to help him escape the predicament.

Falk and Cassavetes trade lines like a heavyweight boxing match, throwing powerful punches at one another. This film is seething with rage, but it’s also unbelievably compassionate, as evidenced by one of the most moving scenes in movie history, Mikey gently embracing Nicky as he cries on his shoulder. Soon after, Nicky's terror is reflected in Cassavetes' gaze. His paranoia culminates in stomach ulcers attacks, which Mikey attends to with tenderness, vividly demonstrating the strength of their bond.

I strongly urge you to watch Mikey and Nicky in the evening to appreciate the film to its fullest. Most of the scenes, except for the ending, were shot in low light, intensifying the performances of the actors and the cinematography of Elaine May.

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An Autumn Afternoon (1962) (Max, Criterion Channel, YouTube)

• Dir. by Yasujirō Ozu

  114 mins

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Yasujirō Ozu is renowned for exploring familial dynamics and generational shifts in his films. He debuted with the silent feature film Sword of Penitence in 1927 and released his final film, An Autumn Afternoon, in 1962. I have a deep affinity for slow, introspective and transcendental films, which can all be attributed to my discovery of the work of Ozu.

As he grew older, Ozu began to gradually implement fewer conventional cinematic techniques in his works. His earlier films, such as The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice, included subtle camera movements and transitions such as wipes and fades, which were eventually replaced by simple cuts. His later works featured a more refined approach, aiming to create a transcendental experience. The low-angle 50 mm lens shots he used, which replicated the viewpoint of sitting on a tatami mat, characterized Ozu's signature visual style. Frames were always static and perfectly composed, shot at a closed-down aperture that kept the entire image in focus.

Ozu's long takes of static scenes require commitment and discipline, yet they can create a deeply spiritual and fulfilling experience. This transcendental style of filmmaking may seem tedious and pretentious, yet it allows for thought and introspection, making it one of the most impactful forms of art I have ever encountered.

Ozu dedicated decades to crafting family dramas, ever refining techniques he deemed detrimental to attaining transcendence. His final film, An Autumn Afternoon, is one of the most remarkable swan songs in film history. While it may not be as well-known or influential as Tokyo Story or Early Summer, the film stands as his most polished work, devoted entirely to his transcendental style. An Autumn Afternoon is a timeless testament to the legacy of one of cinema’s most esteemed directors.

I’ll leave you with a quote about An Autumn Afternoon — from Paul Schrader

“Throughout, An Autumn Afternoon, Hirayama had been a paragon of stoicism; no disaster could perturb his hard exterior. His deeply engrained ironic attitude would let nothing affect him outwardly. So when “nothing"—and there’s no immediate cause for his weeping — does so radically affect him, it is a decisive action. It is the final disparity in an environment which had become more and more disparate. It demands commitment. If a viewer accepts that scene — if he finds it credible and meaningful, he accepts a good deal more. He accepts a philosophical construct that permits total disparity — deep, illogical suprahuman feeling with a cold, unfeeling environment. In effect, he accepts a build such as this: there exists a deep ground of compassion and awareness which man and nature can touch intermittently. This, of course, is the Transcendent.” - Paul Schrader