Paris, Je T'aime

Written at the time of the film's release. It's still a favorite of mine. Like a good French meal...lots of courses of small plates (if you don't like one, another will be on its way in ten minutes). Bon apetit!

Paris, Je'taime (Various, 2006) You give 22 directors two days in a particular quartier of Paris to film a "love story" and watch what happens.* The results are varied in tone and success, but all are unique in story-line and subject matter and look. 

If ever there was a movie to show the distinctiveness of the individual creator, despite their GPS position, this movie is it.

The cluster of films is like reading a good collection of short stories, all with just enough "hook" to make an impression, and in some cases, leave you wanting more. There is no continuity between them, save for a film-ending coda that combines several of the stars in brief tableaux while the segments are buttressed by nicely composed documentary shots of the city. That's merely the cartilage holding segments together. The soul of the thing are the many segments and the many takes on the city and its reputation.
1) Montmartre (Bruno Podalydès) The writer-director stars in his own contribution of a motorist who finally finds a parking space at the exact moment he's needed the most. Told mostly from the driver's perspective.
2) Quais de Seine (Gurinder Chadha) Cultural sensitivity is helped by mutual attraction as a young man (Cyril Descours) leaves his slacker pals and comes to the aid of a Muslim girl (Leïla Bekhti) on her way to the Mosque.
3) Le Marais (Gus Van Sant) a young man (Gaspard Ulliel) approaches a worker (Elias McConnell) at a printing press and stammers through a conversation about soul-mates that doesn't quite get through.
4) Tuileries (Joel and Ethan Coen) Contrarians The Coen Brothers spend their time in the Museum District inside the tube as a tourist (Steve Buscemi) has several culture clashes in Paris' seat of culture. Amazing how much story-line the Coens can cram into a short film...and how much animosity towards the French.
5) Loin du 16e (Walter Salles and Daniela Thomas) A nanny (Catalina Sandino Moreno of "Maria Full of Grace") makes a long commute to her charge and finds in it a moment of self-reflection.
6) Porte de Choisy (Christopher Doyle) Paris' Chinatown is given a Hong-Kong movie-maker's flair (by the cinematographer of, among others, "Shanghai Express") as a beauty products salesman (director/actor Barbet Schroeder) makes a call on a tough customer (Li Xin) running a salon. Stylized and witty, with equal parts sweet and sour.
7) Bastille (Isabel Coixet) A straying husband (Sergio Castellitto) meets his wife (Miranda Richardson) for lunch and instead of breaking up with her, finds himself devoting himself to her, utterly. Coixet has fun with a tragic story set in, pointedly of all places, Paris' prison district.
8) Place des Victoires (Nobuhiro Suwa) A grieving mother (Juliette Binoche) is given a last chance to make peace with her dead child with the help of a spectral cowboy (Willem Dafoe)
9) Tour Eiffel (Sylvain Chomet) "The Triplettes of Belleville" animator shows he's just as talented in "live action" doing a stop-motion film of a young boy relating the story of how his parents, both despised mimes, met and fell in love. Magical.
10) Parc Monceau (Alfonso Cuarón) Told in one continuous take, an older man (Nick Nolte) and younger woman (Ludivine Sagnier) meet at a pre-arranged place and speak of their worries about what will come next. Economical and sly, Cuarón also plays tributes to the other directors of "Paris, Jetaime" while he's at it.
11) Quartier des Enfants Rouges (Olivier Assayas) An American actress (Maggie Gyllenhaal) acting in a period drama, develops an addiction for her drug-supplier (Lionel Dray).
12) Place des fêtes (Oliver Schmitz) A Nigerian busker (Seydou Boro) gets his wish to have coffee with a woman he has fallen for (Aïssa Maïga). Told in brief flash-back with all the qualities of a dream.
13) Pigalle (Richard LaGravenese) Fanny Ardant and Bob Hoskins play a couple who are also players, creating a scenario on their anniversary to put a little spark into the act.
14) Quartier de la Madeleine (Vincenzo Natali) Gothic vampire tale of a tourist (Elijah Wood) who stumbles upon the activities of a beautiful vampiress (Olga Kurylenko). Love sucks.
15) Père-Lachaise (Wes Craven) Of course, Wes Craven gets the cemetery! But, he makes a simple film about love between a bickering couple (Rufus Sewell and Emily Mortimer) with a bit of poetic justice from Oscar Wilde (Alexander Payne).
16) Faubourg Saint-Denis (Tom Tykwer) Tykwer manipulates cinematic time and space chronicalling a love affair with an American drama student (Natalie Portman) passing before the blind eyes of a young musician (Melchior Beslon).
17) Quartier Latin (Gérard Depardieu and Frédéric Auburtin) Written by Gena Rowlands, who also stars with fellow Cassavettes Company alum Ben Gazzara, as a long-estranged couple who meet for a drink before finalizing their long-delayed divorce.
18) 14e arrondissement (Alexander Payne) An American (the wonderful Margo Martindale) on her first trip to Europe gives a report to her French class (in the language) of her trip.

Is there a favorite of mine? Yes. But like a French meal of many courses, if you're dissatisfied with any of the items, they're brief enough that another will come along shortly. What's interesting is that so many end with the turn of a franc that you don't realize just how well-done they are until they're gone...and a memory.

* There are 20 districts, but two of the pieces didn't make the cut.

Twilight Zone: The Movie

Twilight Zone: The Movie (John Landis, Steven Spielberg, Joe Dante, George Miller, 1983) The well-regarded TV series created by Rod Serling—to create a broader palette to write with, while also giving him a chance to write metaphorically about social themes without the pearl-clutching of sensitive advertisers—is one of those hallmarks of television creativity, as well as being the inspiration for creative thinkers the world over. It's probably running right now, this very minute, on some channel in the world as it's an evergreen series, one that never loses its charm or ability to chill...or preach. Every episode, narrated by Serling himself, offered some little lesson in humanity, some softball sermon, some irony, that offered "for your consideration" that one couldn't escape some aspect of goodness or frailty, even in one's escapism.

 

It could also creep the be-jee-sus out of you.

 

It was a staple for the television viewer uninterested in westerns, soap operas or family comedies, but more invested in science fiction, anthologies and speculative stories with a twist...and a point of view.

That included many of the up-and-coming film-makers learning their craft during the time the series was broadasting, the most prominent of which was Steven Spielberg, who secured a deal with the Serling Estate to make a tribute film, using the anthology format, some old hands, and recreating the show's magic utilizing widescreen, color, and the new diversity in special effects. At the same time he brought in scenarist Richard Matheson (who'd written 16 of the original episodes) and composer Jerry Goldsmith (who'd written the background scores for seven of the original episodes). Three of the four stories would be "re-imaginings" of old episodes and one would be completely original. Four different directors would be involved. The narration for each segment was done by Burgess Meredith, who'd starred in four of the original broadcasts.

 

One cannot discuss the movie without mentioning "the accident" while filming the first segment when star Vic Morrow and two Vietnamese child-actors were killed during a night-time helicopter shoot. All were killed instantly—and horrifically—when the vehicle crashed on them during what looked like a particularly chaotic sequence involving an unsupported vehicle, waist-high water with spray, children being carried by the actor, and explosions. Plus, there were many violations of safety and child employment. The tragedy cast a pall over the movie that it was never able to shake: Spielberg basically disowned the movie, director George Miller quit it, leaving the post-production of his segment to Joe Dante. One has to judge the results of what's on the screen dispassionately, and it's almost impossible to do with Twilight Zone: The Movie.

 

Segment One: Time Out (d: John Landis) 

You're about to meet an angry man. Mr. William Connor, who carries on his shoulder a chip the size of the national debt. This is a sour man, a lonely man, who's tired of waiting for the breaks that come to others, but never to him. Mr. William Connor, whose own blind hatred is about to catapult him into the darkest corner of the Twilight Zone.

 

A bigot, Bill Connor (Vic Morrow),* walks into a bar, but it's no joke. Bitter from being passed over for a promotion, he drown his sorrows and vents his besotted spleen, hurling invective at Jews, African Americans, the "usual suspects" on the White Supremacist List. Leaving the bar, he seems to be walking in other people's shoes...and times...as he is mistaken for a Jew in Nazi Germany, a "Negro" facing a lynching in the 1950's South, and a Vietnamese citizen in the Vietnam War. After caroming from time to time, he is last seen on a transport train headed for a concentration camp, unseen by his companions from the bar.

 

Landis' segment was totally original (if reminiscent of some of Serling's fables of bad men getting their comeuppance ironically while also presaging TV's "Quantum Leap" by a few years) and Morrow's performance in what is basically a one-man show is very strong. Landis shoots it like a low budget TV episode, making it feel much more like an episode from the original series. A not-too good episode, one should mention. One wishes—for Morrow's sake—that they could have hit it out of the park. It would have been small consolation for an unnecessary tragedy.

Segment Two: Kick the Can (d: Steven Spielberg)
It is sometimes said that where there is no hope, there is no life. Case in point: the residents of Sunnyvale Rest Home, where hope is just a memory. But hope just checked into Sunnyvale, disguised as an elderly optimist, who carries his magic in a shiny tin can.

 

Adapted from the original episode written by George Clayton Johnson by Johnson, Matheson and E.T. scenarist Melissa Mathison (credited as Josh Rogan), Spielberg's segment (filmed in six days) takes place at a rest home, which welcomes a new resident, Mr. Bloom (Scatman Crothers), eternal optimist, who encourages the oldsters to think young by the simple act of playing a game—kick the can—and, miraculously (not because it's Spielberg, but because it's John and TZ), they do become young little kids. 

 

That's where the TV episode ended, but the older, wiser scribes continue the story, making the kids realize that they've already had full lives that they couldn't recapture again and so—with one notable adventuring exception—they return to their aged forms, older, if spiritually renewed.

 

Spielberg almost did "The Monsters Are Due on Marple Street" but, after the accident, he changed stories, not wanting to do something with a night-time shoot, special effects and with kids involved. There are still kids in "Kick the Can" (he'd just finished E.T. and loved that shoot, working with children; he hadn't yet made Hook, which cured him of it), but no special effects and no risks. No real enjoyment, either, unless your preference is for oldsters and tykes acting very, very sincerely.

Segment Three: It's a Good Life! (d: Joe Dante) 

Portrait of a woman in transit. Helen Foley, age 27. Occupation: schoolteacher. Up until now, the pattern of her life has been one of unrelenting sameness, waiting for something different to happen. Helen Foley doesn't know it yet, but her waiting has just ended.

One of the creepiest of the original "Twilight Zone" episodes was based on Jerome Bixby's 1953 short story "It's a Good Life!" which featured Bill Mumy as little Anthony Fremont, the six year old "head of the household" due to his murderous psychic powers. A haunting, scary little story—which probably resonates with any adult who has children—"It's a Good Life!" has a nightmarish quality filtered through a young child's imagination, but doesn't offer any way out. Anthony's family is stuck in their situation and the only way to survive is to placate their kid's murderous impulses. The movie version is a bit looser.

 

Dante, working with Matheson's screenplay, complicates it and actually resolves it, while also filling it with childish nightmare images designed to both evoke horror and a laugh at the bizarreness of it all. Foley (Kathleen Quinlan), who is on her way to a new job nearly runs into Anthony (Jeremy Licht) on his bicycle and offers him a ride home. There she meets his family—made up of TZ alums Kevin McCarthy, William Schallert, and Patricia Barry as well as Nancy Cartwright and Cherie Currie—and the one's who are actually ambulatory are a nervous bunch. It turns out Anthony has earlier murdered his family and these people are replacements and subject to his whims, all the products of a child's hyper mind.

And (one should add) Dante's. Dante had just made The Howling and it so impressed Spielberg that he offered the "Twilight Zone" deal to him as well as the directing post for the forthcoming Gremlins. Audiences probably weren't prepared for the combination of goofy nightmare that Dante in all his glory could produce, and his ideas—produced with the help of make-up man Rob Bottin—are giddy atrocities that will either make you spit-up your popcorn or vomit it. It's a wild Easter-egg filled roller-coaster through a spook-house that's creepy-funny. And it even manages to have a happy ending. After Spielberg's segment, Dante's was a sharp slap in the face with a cream-pie. Oh, but just you wait...

 

Segment Four: Nightmare at 20,000 Feet (d: George Miller) 

What you're looking at could be the end of a particularly terrifying nightmare. It isn't. It's the beginning. Introducing Mr. John Valentine, air traveler. His destination: the Twilight Zone.

Please fasten your seat-belts. We're expecting some turbulence. The darling of the Australian film renaissance and director of Mad Max and the recent hit The Road Warrior is restricted to merely the interior of an airplane in this story of a very nervous passenger (John Lithgow) on the worst flight of his life. Already afraid of flying, his terror is increased exponentially by irritating passengers, a flight-path through a thunderstorm, and...a gremlin on the wing of the plane throwing things into a jet engine, threatening to make it crash.

 

The original is remembered for its simple concept and a performance by William Shatner that pre-sages scenery-chewing to come. But, Lithgow out-Shatners by an additional over-the-top 20,000 feet in a performance that is hysterical in both senses of the term. He's aided and abetted by Miller's restless—and at times, anarchic—camera and even some literal eye-popping special effects. Tight, efficient, and relentless, Miller's segment is absolutely brilliant...and always seems to come up in conversations on plane flights. It's the perfect capper in an uneven movie.

John Landis also did a prologue section, which opened the film before the titles—two dudes-in-flannel (Albert Brooks, Dan Aykroyd) spend a nighttime road-trip amusing each other. First, the driver teases by turning off his headlights at random, then they play a TV-theme song guessing game, which leads to talking about "The Twilight Zone" and ends with "Hey. You wanna see something really scary?"

Besides the Dante and Miller segments, that prelude is one of the things that people remember about the movie. There had been plans for certain characters to cross-over into other segments, but a late-in-the-game reshuffling of their order and a general torpor over the film due to the filming deaths nixed those plans.

 

The film did make money, but suffered blistering reviews—critics always mentioned the deaths and took pot-shots at Spielberg. No movie is worth a human life, but that would be true if the result was a masterpiece, as well. TZ's critics seemed to think the sin worse if the movie is only semi-successful. So much for moral high ground. But, people remember the best things about it—"Really Scary" "It's a Good Life!" and "Nightmare at 20,000 Ft." There have been a few revivals of the series (and probably always will be), and other similarly themed series from "The Outer Limits" to "Black Mirror." Spielberg even tried his hand in the game with his series "Amazing Stories," which served as a clearing house for his ideas and a proving ground for directors, old and new.

 

But, the movie lives up to the Serling grandiloquence—whether intentionally or not—of lying "somewhere between the pit of one's fears and the summit of his knowledge."

* The TZ movie is full of Easter eggs and little buried bits of trivia throughout: Bill Connor's name is a one-off of "Bull" Connor, the Alabama Sheriff known for his brutal treatment of Civil Rights protestors, "Helen Foley" is the name of a teacher of Serling's (and was used in a TZ episode), and Serling himself appears in the blink of an eye in the Main Title. Dante's episode is rife with actors from the series, including a cameo by Bill Mumy, who played the uber-kid in the original episode of "It's a Good Life" as well as mentioning city-names from other episodes.

From Beyond the Grave

Oh, that's right. October is "Hallowe'en Month." "Guess I best pay attention to Horror movies." 

From Beyond the Grave (Kevin Connor, 1974) It was not the best of times for the British film industry around the time this was filmed...but there were advantages. A cheap horror film, like this one, could always be made and because of the low overhead, often made money, even though times were tough. Plus, thanks to some industry-encouraging tax laws, even a film like this one could attract some very good talent, no matter how lurid the subject matter might be. 

From Beyond the Grave is a horror anthology film, collecting four tales under a central umbrella wrap-around story. All four parts were based on the work of British horror writer R. Chetwynd-Hayes, not exactly Edgar Allan Poe or H.P. Lovecraft or even Stephen King, but he had enough output with enough genuine creepiness that he made good fodder for this type of story.

The central conceit is a London hole-in-the-wall called "Temptations Limited"—"Offers You Cannot Resist," run by an elderly and deceptively frail proprietor (Peter Cushing). With one exception, the stories revolve around buyers who cheat the proprietor, but pay a price in the end.

-- "The Gatecrasher" Smarmy Edward Charlton (David Warner) buys an antique mirror from the proprietor, buts cons him into letting him have it a lower cost claiming it a forgery. Charlton, considers himself a high-roller and an amateur spiritualist, but he gets far more than he bargained for when the mirror reveals itself to be possessed by the spirit of Jack the Ripper (Marcel Steiner), who implores Charlton to murder so that he "can feed," which brings dire consequences to both victims and murderer.

-- "An Act of Kindness" Pity poor Christopher Lowe (Ian Bannen); he gets it from all sides: stuck in a lousy middle-management, too old to advance and too young to retire and in an abusive marriage with Mabel (Diana Dors) and a disrespectful son. The only respect he does get is from a matchstick salesman Jim Underwood (Donald Pleasance), veteran of "the war". Lowe tries to impress him that he's a vet, too, claims to have a medal—but resorts to buying one at Temptations Limited, even though he doesn't have the citation for it—and Underwood invites Lowe for dinner where he meet's Jim daughter, Emily (Angela Pleasance, daughter of Donald), who, frankly, is far too attentive to be comfortable—but, when she turns out to have occult powers, Lowe's life becomes more complicated by being made simpler.

-- "The Elemental" Different in tone from the other stories, as it is played for laughs more than chills. Ian Carmichael plays Reggie Warren, a well-to-do businessman and stuffed shirt who buys an antique snuff box after switching the price tag (the proprietor sends him off with a cheery "I hope you enjoy snuffing it!"). On his way, he's informed by the mad psychic Madame Orloff (Margaret Leighton, perfectly happy to play over-the-top) that he has an "elemental" on his shoulder and he should call if he needs her services. Well, Reggie goes home and his dog's gone missing, and his wife (Nyree Dawn Porter) has been attacked by some poltergeistial presence. Hilarity ensues, but not for Reggie.

-- "The Door" Well, not only does Temptations Limited sell mirrors, they also sell doors—ornate ones, and William Seaton (Ian Ogilvy) buys a rather sinisterly-carved one to shutter the pantry, a bitter over-the-top, at least in the opinion of wife Rosemary (Leslie Anne-Down). But, Seaton soon learns that the price for storing your dry goods could be your eternal soul, as passing through the door leads to another time and dimension controlled by the occultist, who had the door made, and that you may go in to get oatmeal, but you might leave your soul behind.

This was Kevin Connor's first directing gig—and he is still directing—won by his editing skills, which is more in abundance than his staging or framing. The film abounds with 1970's stylistics like hand-held shaky cams, and absurd distortions through fish-eye lenses, but every so often something stands out, whether it's the sheer creepiness of Angela Pleasance's performance or how the image in the mirror of "The Gatecrasher" sort of heaves into view creating a sense of dread. In anthologies the strongest story is usually the last one, but here, it's the first one (the placement is due to the protagonists in "The Door" being the only survivors of the movie because they didn't cheat the proprietor). It ultimately isn't much, but there's a lot of talent on display. Think of it as on a par with some good "Night Gallery" episodes.

And I know that "From Beyond the Grave" is a more grabber of a title, but the name of the film really should have been "Caveat Emptor."

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (And Other Tales of the Western Frontier)

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back—That's a Western Waltz
or
"Uncertainty. That is appropriate for matters of this world. Only regarding the next are vouchsafed certainty."
or
"Misanthrope? I don't hate my fellow man, even when he's tiresome and surly and tries to cheat at poker. I figure that's just a human material, and him that finds in it cause for anger and dismay is just a fool for expecting better."

There is a sense of nostalgia that prepares you for The Coen Brothers' new Western anthology film The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (which makes its premier on Netflix and is playing a very few theaters in the U.S., presumably for Oscar award consideration). It starts with a nicely-composed shot of a dog-eared book bearing the same title as the film, familiar for the plain dust-jacket (from a time before marketing became the thing to sell the book) that will be recognized to anyone who's had to clear out the bookshelf of a recently-passed relative, or from a Sunday afternoon perambulation through a used book store. You can practically smell the dust and age of the pages, as a hand crawls into frame and gingerly opens the book to the artistically rendered end-papers and then to the "meat" of the book, where the page-turning pauses on the dedication page, which has these words:

To Gaylord Gilpin

Who shared with us these stories,

And many more alike, one night

in camp above the roaring fork

'til approach of morn stained the sky

and our esteem for him stained our trousers.

This Book is Dedicated

There are six stories in the book, the titles giving no clue as to what they might be about. Turn the page and we see a list of the color illustration plates included in the volume. A tissue protects the illustration and we see the first burst of material showing us the contents, a single image and an arbitrary line of prose that only hints at what's inside, creating a mystery and a void to be filled, a goal to move on to. And we begin...with "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs."

1. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Buster Scruggs (Tim Blake Nelson) is a singing cowboy riding out of Monument Valley into what passes for civilization in the day and age, his legs wrapped around his horse, his arms wrapped around his guitar and his throat wrapped around the traditional ballad "Cool Water." Buster is a white-hat cowboy, loquacious of song and speech (by which he is constantly addressing the audience as in "Don't let my white duds and pleasant demeanor fool ya. I, too, have been known to violate the statutes of man... and not a few of the laws of the Almighty!"). His story demonstrates his "downright Archimedean" skills with a gun, and his reputation as the "San Saba songbird" as he creates a quick comic elegy for one of miscreants of poor nature who have the fool-hardiness to draw on him.*

One can see why the Coens were tempted to start with this one, as it is the funniest and most arch of the six stories, recalling to mind the Looney-Tunes nature of Raising Arizona, and with a lovely, goony performance by Nelson that endears you to him, even if, occasionally, it creeps one out. It sets up the tone for the entire film, where The West challenges the expert and the novice alike and Death comes in unexpected and inconvenient ways and should also prepare viewers that, as such, they can be surprising and grisly, as well. 

"The Ballad of Buster Scruggs" is a comic primer for the anthology, showing the film's approach to dusty death and the film's larger message of the nature of wilderness, and the efficacy of trying to rise above it.

"You seen 'em, you play 'em" sneered the hard man.

2. Near Algodones

An outlaw (James Franco) decides he's going to knock over the only game in town (except there's no town)—a bank that looks like it fell right out of the sky to land in the middle of the plains. But, it's just not his day. He has to contend with the institution's sole teller (Stephen Root), who's been through the procedure before, and who, in the opinion of the would-be robber, "doesn't fight fair." 

The outlaw will have very good luck today, but not so's you'd notice.

After waking up, he finds his neck in a noose, with a hanging party all ready to carry out its sentence. Fate steps in to get him out of the jam, but also put him deep into another one. He will ultimately learn that there's a good side to everything as long as he has the time to appreciate it.

"Pan-shot!" cried the old man.

3. Meal Ticket

A humble wagon makes its way through the scarce pockets of civilization that mark a mountain landscape. It is a traveling show, featuring a cultured orator, Harrison (Harry Melling), who has the added fascination that he is a quadriplegic. The show is fairly simple—the curtain of a small stage parts to reveal the orator, and after a dramatic pause that allows for gawking, he gives dramatic recitations of the story of Cain and Abel, and other sources as diverse as Shakespeare, Shelley, and Abraham Lincoln, to the spare audiences looking for diversion from the night and the cold. 

Harrison is under the care of his manager (Liam Neeson), who drives the wagon, posts the bills, prepares the stage, does Harrison's make-up, and provides sound effects for the parts in which God appears and needs accompaniment. He also collects the spare change that the audience provides for their night's entertainment, enough to provide a hot meal cooked over a campfire. The manager does that, too, and feeds Harrison by hand. Lodgings would be too expensive and the audiences are noticeably dwindling the farther they head through the mountains.

The two are tied together in partnership, but the days are long and the rewards are meager. 

"Meal Ticket" is a story of entrepreneurship, reduced in all its hard-scrabble desperation, and the eye toward improving business at all costs with little regard to anything but the sound of coins in pockets, and it resonates as timely as the day's financial headlines that emphasize the bottom line at the cost of human dignity...and life.

"The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven."

All Gold Canyon

Based on a Jack London story, "All Golden Canyon" tells the story of a grizzled prospector (Tom Waits), who enters a pristine valley with the intention of culling the riches hidden within it, without regard to the wonders that surround him.

He sets up an elaborate system, digging through the dirt, and noting the glittering specks of gold that he is able to pan out of it, to find the vein of gold that he knows must be there, the source of which he calls "Mr. Pocket," that will allow him to leave the valley a very rich man—if he can survive long enough to hit pay dirt.

And in all that mighty sweep of earth, he did not see a sign of man nor the handiwork of man.

The Gal Who Got Rattled

A mail-order bride, Alice Longabaugh (Zoe Kazan) travels with her brother by wagon train to meet her intended husband. But the journey is long and accompanied by cholera, natives, and her brother's dog, named Benjamin Pierce, whose instinct, owing to its city nature, is to bark at anything wild, upsetting the prickly members of the wagon train, already impatient by the deprivations of the long journey.

When her brother dies, Alice is left alone, on her own, with no experience, few prospects, and a singular disposition towards fretting, which endears her to the ramrod of the train, Billy Knapp (Bill Heck), who takes it upon himself to solve her cares and problems, much to the mute consternation of the train boss, Mr. Arthur (Grainger Hines), who has other considerations than those of a worrisome girl, out of her depth, and out in the wilderness.

The longest and most intricate of the stories, "The Gal Who Got Rattled" is based on a story by Stewart Edward White, and one could comment, here, on the top-tier performances and the exquisite photography (shot digitally, a Coen first) by Bruno Delbonnel, who's been doing a lot of work with the Coens, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Tim Burton and Joe Wright, but that praise can be said for the entire anthology, no matter the conditions or weather they were recorded in. The film is beautiful to look at, frequently threatening to overwhelm the stories, but never quite doing that, becoming an intricate part of the story-telling fabric, the wide expanses of prairie and horizon looming and often overpowering the melancholy insignificances of the tiny figures making their ways through them.

Mr. Arthur had no idea what he would say to Billy Knapp.

The Mortal Remains

Five passengers (played by Saul Rubinek, Tyne Daly, Chelcie Ross and Jonjo O'Neill and Brendan Gleeson) on board a stage-coach as they make their way from a sunset prairie to the enfolding night on their way to Fort Morgan. 

The five could not be less compatible as they hold conversations as to the nature of man and the nature of love on the one side of the stage, while on the other the two partners, Thigpen and Clarence reveal themselves to be "reapers"—bounty hunters, who on this very ride are carrying their latest victim (on the roof of the cabin) to be dispatched at Fort Morgan...but is that the only one designated by the gentlemen who clearly revel in their work? 

Unlike the other segments, "The Mortal Remains" is shot entirely on a sound-stage, even the fronts of the fort's houses are decidedly two-dimensional, but it ends the film on a decidedly creepy, if  ambivalent note, the kind of campfire story best saved for when the last embers glow out and leave only wraiths of smoke.

Whether or not he heard, the coachman did not slow.

And there you have it: the cowboy, the outlaw, the entrepreneur, the prospector, the wagon train, the stagecoach—tropes and aspects of the Olde West, but given a determined melancholy twist that has become synonymous with the works of the Coen Brothers. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is another genre-busting masterpiece that plants a flag in their careers, as they never do less than interesting work, but there are some that clearly stand out more than others.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is one of those. Not a "return to form," so much as one of those where everything works and their experimentation reveals the strengths of the inspiration they've decided to sardonically play around with—in this case, the Western's ability to show us that whatever we may gain, we lose something in the transition, making the genre both the perfect home of triumph entangled with tragedy, sometimes inseparably.

It is, indisputably, one of the best films of the year. Ironically, good luck finding it in a theater.

*

Surly Joe, the gambler, he will gamble nevermore,

his days of stud and hold'em they are done.

It was long about last April, he stepped into this saloon,

but he never really took to anyone!

Surly Joe, Surly Joe!

Oh, wherever he's gamblin' now, I don't know!

He was slick but I was slicker,

he was quick, but I was quicker,

and the table stopped his ticker, Surly Joe!

Surly Joe, Surly Joe!

Won't be missed by anyone, will Surly Joe!

Humankind he frowned upon,

but not now, his face is gone!

Guess your frowning days are done, oh Surly Joe!

Surly Joe, Surly Joe!

A cedilla on the "c" of Curly Joe!

He was mean in days of yore,

now they're moppin' up the floor

One more sight to make him sore, oh Surly Joe!

Surly Joe, Surly Joe!

Where the rest his face has got to, we don't know!

He was never any fun, now his grumpy race has run,

kisser blown to kingdom come oh Surly Joe!