The Four Hundred Blows (1959, dir. Francois Truffaut) ****/****

Many would say that one of the best films of the French New Wave and of all time is Francois Truffaut's 1959 feature debut, "The Four Hundred Blows".  It was really the film that kick-started the New Wave and has inspired many filmmakers to this very day.  The film would introduce the iconic character Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Leaud) who would reappear in a series of other films by Truffaut that would carry on his various adventures and exploits.  This debut feature introduces us to the character and portrays Antoine in an unsentimental, endearing series of vignettes and various mischievous encounters that would solidify the film as one of the best films about young people to ever have been made.
    Right from the get-go we are made aware of Antoine's failure to adhere to the mainstream and his inability to fit into the pre-established norms of his society.  We see him in a classroom where he is unjustifiably made the object of criticism and punishment for something he was not really responsible for.  One of the main themes of the film is the nature of injustice and how Antoine is wrongfully accused and unfairly punished at various times throughout the film both inside and outside the classroom.
   The film is semi-autobiographical and you get the sense that Truffaut put his heart and soul into the film, filling it with anecdotes and memories from his own troubled youth.  Antoine and his friend skip school to go to the movies and are depicted stealing a still photograph outside a theatre, actions that Truffaut was obviously fond of doing as a youngster.
   Eventually, Antoine's parents, at the end of the wits and rope, send him to a boy's reform centre where he will be forced to adhere to even stricter rules and conventions.  Antoine however, will eventually escape and, at the film's end, we are left with the memorable freeze frame of Doinel when he has reached the sea and looks back into the camera.  The look on his face in ambiguous and offers both a hopeful optimism about a new future and a glaring uncertainty about the impending reality of what is to come.  This is truly one of the great films of all time and is a brilliant portrait of the troubled life of an unconventional youth on the brink of adolescence and adulthood.

Death of a Cyclist (1955, dir. Juan Antonio Bardem) ***.5/****

Combining elements of film noir and melodrama, J. A. Bardem's "Death of a Cyclist" is a scathing critique of the Franco regime then in power in Spain.  His characters are mostly members of the bourgeoisie and in their self-centred, materialistic outlooks, Bardem paints a portrait of a then-modern day Spain which highlights the moral bankruptcy of the powers-that-be.
   The film begins with two characters - adulterous lovers - in a car that suddenly and unexpectedly hits a cyclist.  At first they stop and investigate the situation but decide to leave the poor man to die by the side of the road and not report the horrible accident.  The remainder of the film centres around the guilt and despair experienced by the two central characters as they try to deal with the reality of their decision to kill a man and not report it to the local authorities.
   There are many other side-stories and detours that the story takes along the way.  The man, Juan (Alberto Closas) is an assistant professor at a university and his preoccupation with the accident causes him to not concentrate on an important testing that would subsequently result in the failing grade of a young female student.  This leads to chaos as the student body protests the fate of the woman.
   Another character, Rafa (Carlos Casaravilla) a musician and art-critique has seen the two wayward lovers together and threatens to blackmail them.
    It turns out that the cyclist, in the end, will not be the only one to perish and all moral equilibrium is finally restored in the end.  Along the way, we are given an interesting, suspenseful tale from the mind of a brilliant Marxist director.

The Great Gatsby (1974, dir. Jack Clayton) ***/****

There will undoubtedly be comparisons between the new, Bazz Lurhmann-directed "The Great Gatsby" (2013) and the 1970's interpretation starring Mia Farrow and Robert Redford.  From my perspective, Lurhmann probably viewed the 1974 version a few times before taking on his updated version:  there are many similarities in the production design and settings of the two films.  At many times, I almost thought that the same sets were used or copied from one film to the other.
   The strongest part of this older version is Sam Waterston's Nick Carroway.  His performance is restrained and subdued to the extent that we really get a sense of the superiority of his performance over that of Tobey Maguire's version.  Robert Redford is adequate as well but the real hindrance of this film is Mia Farrow whose Daisy Buchanan is annoying and over-the-top.
  Obviously comparing the 3-dimensional party scenes in Lurhmann's version is pointless in relation to a 1974 production but I felt that this version got it more historically accurate and true to the Fitzgerald novel.  There isn't any of that crazy 21st century hip-hop music set to a 1920's setting and the effect is more realistic and tangible.
   Karen Black is up to her old nutty routine as Myrtle Wilson and the movie adhere's to Fitzgerald's novel with poise and verisimilitude.  The screenplay was by Francis Ford Coppola and he does a good job of bringing the novel's characters and plot to the screen.  It truly was a busy year for Coppola:  1974 also saw him directing "The Godfather Part II" and "The Conversation".  I recommend seeing both this version and the 2013 version.  It can be interesting and fun to compare and contrast these two different productions of a classic American novel.

My Week With Marilyn (2011, dir. Simon Curtis) ***/****

Michelle Williams stars as Marilyn Munroe in Simon Curtis' "My Week With Marilyn" a straight-forward, lush production that depicts the story of a young film student, Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne) who ambitiously pursues a spot in the production of Lawrence Olivier's "The Prince and the Showgirl" (1957).  He is assigned the role of third assistant director and is soon checking up on Munroe in her various late-comings and crises.  The friendship that develops between Colin and Marilyn is the centre-piece of the film and is poignant and often romantic.
   The film's success or failure is really pinned on whether Williams can capture the essence of Marilyn Munroe's fragile personality and I believe she does a terrific job.  Her mannerisms and character-ticks are spot on and you get a real sense that Williams has become the late starlet and takes over her life in way that is not really an imitation but a transcendent embodiment.
   The film is generous to Munroe in that it doesn't pin her down into any one stereotypical, historical account of the actress but leaves it open to interpretation as to which of the renowned stories that are known about Munroe are really true:  there is a mysterious quality to Williams' performance and the film's treatment of her that leaves the myth of her unanswered and unexplained in a positive way.  The filmmaker Curtis expertly reveals only so much of Munroe's persona so that the mystery of her personal life and screen iconography remain mysterious and mystical.
   The period detail of the film is beautiful and spot on.  The supporting performance from Redmayne and Branagh are strong.  You are left wondering if Colin Clarke's remembrances of his short time with Munroe were embellished or not:  some of the experiences of his brief acquaintance with the actress are hard to believe.  But, I suppose there wouldn't be much of a movie if there weren't some extraordinary circumstances to relate to the viewer.  This is a good movie that might have failed in the hands of some less-talented directors and performers.