Russians, River and a Rabbit: on shelves and screens this month

River Phoenix and Lili Taylor get tender in Dogfight (1991).
River Phoenix and Lili Taylor get tender in Dogfight (1991).

A Nancy Savoca double feature, Rinko Kikuchi with a rabbit, gritty Namsploitation and resplendent Russians make up our Shelf Life highlights this month.

“What would I do without Letterboxd?” Despite having been very much alive in the pre-Letterboxd era, that question did cross my mind recently—and not just because I write here. Letterboxd is the only thing that’s ever compelled me to keep a consistent record of my film-watching habits, as the cemetery of half-filled notebooks I have stashed away somewhere can attest. But meeting a Letterboxd member who prints out paper copies of his top ten every year to make a zine—hello, Matthew—got me thinking about offline equivalents.

An informal poll on the social-media platform formerly known as Twitter revealed that there are film fans out there who have been keeping spreadsheets since the late ’90s, organized by genre, star rating and theatrical vs. home viewing. There are people who lovingly paste ticket stubs into scrapbooks—digital tickets are, obviously, unpopular with this crowd—and who print lists of movies to keep in their wallets. Then there are the bullet journalers, and the Notes appers. A few chaotic souls keep records on sheets of loose-leaf paper, or through elaborate Post-it note systems.

Many of them also have Letterboxd s, and all are doing personal archival work in their own ways. The nerdier, the better, I say.

Rolling Thunder

Available on 4K Blu-ray April 23 from Shout! Factory.

Rolling Thunder

Rolling Thunder 1977

It’s the intermediate titles that really get you. I’m not talking about the completionist deep cuts you watch once your cinephilia has reached terminal levels. I mean the hidden gems that you seek out—or are recommended to you—after you’ve seen the classics. Those are the films that transform you into someone who makes liking movies a part (or all) of their personality. For me, Rolling Thunder was such a film. I had already seen Pulp Fiction and Taxi Driver, so when I read that the script Paul Schrader wrote immediately after Taxi Driver became one of Quentin Tarantino’s favorite films, I had to see it.

That was—let’s just say that it was long enough ago for me to learn about Rolling Thunder through Tarantino’s short-lived Rolling Thunder Pictures label, and not his chapter about it in Cinema Speculation. In the meantime, I’ve seen many more so-called ‘Namsploitation’ pictures. Revisiting this one, it struck me as neither the most glamorized nor the most exploitative treatment of the theme. Though it does have a patina of grindhouse grime (and that infamous hook on William Devane’s hand), this is primarily a character study, exploring the dissociative return of two POWs (Devane and Tommy Lee Jones) to a civilian world they can no longer understand.

Devane’s performance is key to Rolling Thunder’s unsettling sense of calm, and the impending violence that implies. As Michael notes, the actor “never loses his cool. Not when he’s overwhelmed by the ‘welcome home’ parade his town throws for him, not when his wife leaves him, not when her new lover attempts an awkward late-night chat, not when his family’s killed, not when he’s hunting down the culprits. His face is always in resting position, his voice calm, his actions pragmatic.” Jones’s stoicism is even scarier: AD917 describes the “slack-jawed emptiness” of the actor “detach[ing] himself from his body just to get through [the] everyday ritual” of a visit with family. “Unable to function in peacetime, the soldiers escape their new reality through murder. This is what war has made of them. It’s who they are now. It’s what makes them happy.”

Rolling Thunder is being upgraded to 4K this April by Shout! Factory, which also released it on regular old Blu-ray a few years back. The set goes for US$39.98 retail, significantly less than the $2,550 in silver dollars—“one for every day you were in Hanoi’s hell hole!”—Devane’s character is awarded in the film. (I’ll save you the click: that’s $13,058 in 2024 money.)

I Am Cuba

Available on 4K UHD Blu-ray April 23 from The Criterion Collection.

I Am Cuba

I Am Cuba 1964

Soy Cuba

On the opposite end of the war-movie spectrum is I Am Cuba, a film that suggests ing a war—or, in this case, a revolution—is not only good for you but it will fill you with a sense of pride and belonging like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Of course, this 1964 Soviet/Cuban co-production is technically a propaganda film, so some flattening of the issues is to be expected. The movie flopped with the public in both Cuba and the Soviet Union, and was nearly lost as a result. Still, it’s so well made that nothing could keep it down.

Every shot in I Am Cuba would be the best shot of another, lesser film, and the actual best shots in the movie are jaw-dropping. There is no such thing as a throwaway in director Mikhail Kalatozov’s approach to filmmaking: even minor moments—a shot to establish that someone walked across a room, say—are filmed at impossibly beautiful angles, with thoughtful composition and wide-angle photography that would make Orson Welles cry. American Cinematographer published an article a few years back explaining how some of these seemingly unattainable images—the camera floating above a funeral procession, ing through walls at a dance club—were captured. And the ingenuity (and agility!) involved is astonishing.

Since the style is the substance of our discussion of this film—although you can engage in political debate in the comments of reibureibu’s review, if you like—I’ll let you look up the content of each of its four segments on your own, and concentrate on Letterboxd member responses. “We’re losing our sh–t for CGI long takes when this movie exists?” Jake asks. Jamie says it’s “simply put, one of the most powerful pieces of cinema that has ever been crafted,” which “has to be seen in order to be believed,” according to Dirk Diggler (speaking of movies with tracking shots through parties…). Stephen adds that “to love film is to love Soy Cuba.”

Kalatozov and his comrades have very much earned their place in The Criterion Collection, where I Am Cuba bows in 4K UHD/Blu-ray this month.

Nostalgia

Available on 4K UHD Blu-ray April 23 from Kino Lorber.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia 1983

Ностальгия

Speaking of Russians crafting awe-inspiring images, did you know that a film by the legendary Andrei Tarkovsky has not been released on home video in 4K UHD until this very month? You might expect Stalker or Andrei Rublev to be the first, but it’s actually Nostalgia, a late-period effort that first brought Tarkovsky to Italy, leading to his eventual defection to the West. In some ways, it’s a stereotypical art film, the kind where characters deliver long monologues punctuated by enigmatic imagery and no one ever cracks a joke. So, you know, fair warning to the proudly anti-intellectual TikTokkers out there.

But you, dear Letterboxd column reader, are more curious and open-minded. You can appreciate the ephemeral ache of the characters’ longing for a place and time that never existed except in their own minds. You find perfectly centered long shots slowly pulling back to reveal exquisitely composed tableaus thrilling. Barring all that, you can appreciate the colors. My god, the colors! Shades of watery green and gray have never looked more exquisite—in a gloomy kind of way, of course.

Much of Nostalgia takes place at a crumbling Italian hot spring, where Russian poet Andrei (Oleg Yankovskiy) is attempting to find inspiration for his biography of an eighteenth-century composer who died by suicide after a stay at the same resort. Tarkovsky films the resort in a neutral monochrome palette that makes any variation—skin tones, mossy stones, the warm flame of a single candle—pop. It all builds, slowly, to what Andre calls “easily one of the greatest shots… in cinematic history.”

It’s a vibe, in short. And though the story and symbolism can be cryptic, the emotions attached to them come through loud and clear. “Tarkovsky’s images are grand, emotional, and moving, both literally and metaphysically,” Brendan says. It’s a sentiment Yi Jan echoes, writing that “through Tarkovsky’s lenses, everything seems to have a higher, more personal meaning.” Wes gets even more abstract, saying, “the only way I think I could accurately get across how this made me feel is to record my dreams and play them out.” Marinate in it with Kino Lorber’s new 4K UHD edition.

Dogfight / True Love

Available on Blu-ray April 30 and 23 from The Criterion Collection and Kino Lorber, respectively.

Dogfight

Dogfight 1991

True Love

True Love 1989

The availability of Nancy Savoca movies on Blu-ray is about to triple, as three of the Bronx-born filmmaker’s films receive the physical media treatment in April 2024. We covered Household Saintsnew on Blu through Milestone Cinematheque—when its new 4K restoration debuted in theaters back in January. The other two were new to me, as Savoca’s Sundance-winning indie debut True Love (pictured above) and studio follow-up Dogfight premiere on physical via Kino Lorber and The Criterion Collection, respectively. (I’d say it’s a big month for both of those labels, but when is it not?)

Savoca and her producer/husband Richard Guay co-wrote 1989’s True Love, which I have to assume is at least somewhat autobiographical, given its affectionate details and holistic understanding of the gender dynamics of Italian American culture. Savoca and Guay are still together, which is a relief given this film’s cynical view on how the expectations of others can push people into making commitments they’re not ready to honor.

Justin calls it “near defiant against convention and refreshingly dour,” to which sbat86 adds, “there aren’t many romantic comedies [that] move beyond the meet-cute, will-they-won’t-they dynamic to explore whether or not the central couple is actually right for each other.” I found it to be an appealingly shaggy slice of life, whose authenticity—as with Household Saints and Michael Imperioli—is enhanced by the presence of a future Sopranos cast member. In this case, it’s Aida Turturro, once again pulling sibling duty in her screen debut.

After the success of True Love, Warner Bros. hired Savoca to direct a script by long-time TV writer Bob Comfort. The result was Dogfight, a film I feared would be hard to watch thanks to its premise—a group of off-duty Marines hold a contest to see who can bring the least attractive date to a party—but was actually as sweet and tender as could be. That’s in large part to Lili Taylor and River Phoenix’s “beautifully delicate and well-balanced performances” as our mismatched central couple. They make this, as Sydney describes it, “one of the few movies I’ve ever seen where the two leads seemed like real people who felt real love for each other.”

Credit must also go to Savoca, of course, for creating a safe, warm environment in which her actors could be truly vulnerable with one another, resulting in a film that Lizzy says is so “infused with love and care that it practically glows”. I found myself feeling very protective of these characters and invested in their fates, and I can’t wait to visit them again.

Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter

Re-release in theaters and on digital now from Bleecker Street.

Another film that strikes a tricky tonal balance, and comes out just about perfect as a result, is Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter. Released in 2014, this title comes from the Zellner Brothers, one of the last stable (knock on wood) of sibling directing duos in American cinema. It’s based on the true story of Takako Konishi, a Tokyo office worker who traveled to Minnesota in search of the buried bag of cash from Fargo in the early ’00s. (I’ll let you click the link to find out what happened to her.) Like the Coens’ film, it has a shifty relationship to the “truth”.

Kumiko (Rinko Kikuchi) knows that Fargo is just a movie—or, at least, she seems to. But she chooses to believe that Steve Buscemi really did leave a satchel full of money somewhere in North Dakota for her to find. Because otherwise, she’s just an ordinary woman trapped in what Matt describes as “a misogynistic, withholding world in which she seems to disappoint everyone”, and that’s too much for her to bear.

There are a lot of ways this story could go wrong: it could go too dark, too cute, too abstract, or too exoticizing, and it manages to sidestep them all with grace. (Its relationship with that last landmine is my favorite: under David Zellner’s eye, Minnesota is just as weird as, if not weirder than, Tokyo.) Laird says it’s “quite beautiful and sweet in spite of the quiet sadness that permeates it”, one of several reviews that describe it as a sad movie. That’s interesting, because while Kumiko is absurdist and bittersweet, it also makes me believe in the essential goodness of humanity. Many people go out of their way to help Kumiko on her adventure. And although some hold her back more than they aid her, the fact that she makes it as far as she does on a stolen credit card and a few English phrases, to me, creates hope in the possibility of magic in this cold world.

A festival favorite that fell out of circulation only a few years after its debut, Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter is returning to theaters and debuting on digital from Bleecker Street in anticipation of the Zellners’ latest, Sasquatch Sunset. That film accomplishes the cruder, but equally miraculous, feat of making you care about Riley Keough and Jesse Eisenberg as poop-slinging sasquatches, which naturally makes it one of our best films of this year’s Sundance.


‘Shelf Life’ is a monthly column and newsletter by Katie Rife, highlighting restorations, repertory showings and re-releases in theaters and on disc.

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