Movies – Earn This

Charade (1963) Review – Almost Hitchcock

Dan S. — Fri, 13 Feb 2026 01:29:00 +0000

Stanley Donen’s 1963 film Charade has been described as “the best Hitchcock film Hitchcock never made,” and it would be tough to put it more elegantly than that. It’s a glossy, gender-flipped North by Northwest, with a healthy squeeze from the screwball comedy lemon. The result is a slick and silly spy story set in Paris with just enough intrigue to keep you hooked. It’s a film that thrives on charm—both in the impeccable craftsmanship of Donen’s direction and in the sheer magnetic presence of its two leads, Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant.

Much of Charade’s immediate appeal comes from how ridiculously good it looks. The cinematography by Charles Lang bathes the film in a rich colorful sheen that makes Paris feel like a dreamscape. Every frame could come from a fashion magazine, thanks to Hepburn’s dazzling Givenchy wardrobe (not to mention legendary beauty) and Grant’s effortlessly panache. Their combined star power is intoxicating, and they carry the film with a kind of natural elegance that makes even its silliest moments feel effortlessly chic.

The screenplay by Peter Stone is a little slow to get moving, taking its time setting up the central mystery: after the sudden death of her husband, Regina Lampert (Hepburn) learns that he was involved in some dangerous business, and now three mysterious men (played by James Coburn, George Kennedy, and Ned Glass) believe she knows where a missing fortune is hidden. Enter part two of our romance, Peter Joshua (Grant), a sort of male fatale. Peter and Regina hit it off, but much like a good Hitchcock yarn, the audience learns Peter has more to his story than he reveals well before Regina.

Once the story gets going, Charade is buckets of fun, full of double crosses, excellent quips, and even a little of that ol’ Hitchcock suspense. The film constantly shifts between tones—at times playful, at times romantic, at times thrilling—but Donen keeps it all in balance. His Hepburn’s wide-eyed reaction shots to each turn are half the fun, balancing between genuine peril and lighthearted laughs. The mystery itself is a delight, with enough twists to keep the audience engaged without ever becoming convoluted.

That said, Charade doesn’t have the same underlying tension or psychological complexity as Hitchcock’s best work. It’s more of a stylish confection than a deep, psychological thriller, but it doesn’t need to be anything more than that to be immensely satisfying. If anything, its lightness is part of its appeal. Even in its moments of danger, there’s a knowing wink to the audience, a recognition that this is all part of the fun.

The film does have a few moments that border on the broad and silly—James Coburn’s exaggerated Texas accent is a particularly odd choice, and some of the villainous antics lean toward cartoonish. But none of this detracts from the overall experience. In the end, Charade is a near-perfect cocktail of wit, romance, and suspense, wrapped in one of the most stylish packages Hollywood ever produced. It may not be Hitchcock, but it doesn’t have to be—it’s Charade, and that’s more than enough.

Rating: *** (out of 4)

Daddy Longlegs (1955) Review: Delightful execution of an iffy pitch

Dan S. — Sun, 13 Apr 2025 12:51:00 +0000

It’s too bad that basically any positive review of this film in 2024 needs to go on the defensive about the film’s premise, which would seem from a logline level to be “problematic” at best and “gruesome” at worst, because this is a really marvelous example of classic Hollywood musical. But, I’ll start with defending the story: Based on a book written by a woman and with a script co-written by a woman, this is not the sugar daddy, male gratification fantasy you might fear from the “anonymous older man donor” logline, and I’m pretty sensitive to such ookiness. Basically every beat and character dynamic is the best and least predatory version of itself, and the film addresses head on both its May-December age gap and the money-driven power imbalance with nuance and respect for Julie; honestly better than plenty of more recent films built with modern mores. The entire driving conflict of the film’s second half is the characters confronting the potential impropriety of the relationship and ensuring that Julie and Jervis’s love is authentic and earned. I find it notable that none of the female characters, least of all the liberated college women, have any issue with a 22-year-old falling in love with a charming and kind 50-something; it’s only the men obsessed with appearances who question the matter. (Plus, of course, Daddy Longlegs comes from a different time and you need to view it through 70 year old goggles. But even still, it holds up a lot better than it could have.)

With that out of the way, pretty much every aspect of Daddy Long Legs is stupendous. The production is gorgeous and huge, with outstanding Technicolor hues; I would kill to see this on the theater screen with a good projection. The choreography makes terrific use of the widescreen frame, and I just couldn’t believe my eyes that the takes were as long as they were, sometimes longer than a minute, yet the dancing so perfect (is that normal for these musicals?). The songs aren’t at the level of a Singin’ in the Rain, but how is that standard fair to any other movie? Astaire is sensational, but it’s Caron’s innovative, ballet-heavy dream sequence number near the end of the film that knocked my socks off. It’s better AND more narrative-driven and character-revealing than the comparable “Broadway Melody” if I may once again compare the film to the only studio-era musical I know inside-and-out. (I understand Daddy Long Legs to be unusual for not being an MGM production yet closely resembling that studio’s brand.)

And the non-musical stuff works well, much better than I expected. The script is well-structured and interesting, not just bones to get us from song to song; the acting is strong (Thelma Ritter showing up is always a treat); the ’50s college kid time capsule lots of kitschy fun. The story could have picked up the pace a smidge in the opening half, and the cast is maybe missing a giddy comic powerhouse third wheel (or maybe I need to stop just saying “this should be more like Singin’ in the Rain”). Ritter, Fred Clark, and Terry Moore collectively get you much of the way there, anyways.

The classic studio musical is a strange, somewhat forgotten beast of cinema, but Daddy Longlegs is close to a quintessential example of the format. It’s not the most iconic musical, nor the best, and it likely will never be beloved as the classics because of its dated premise, but Daddy Longlegs is a must for any musical lover.

Rating: *** 1/2 (out of 4)

Home Alone (1990) Review – Both candy and coal in the stocking

Dan S. — Sat, 21 Dec 2024 01:37:00 +0000

Home Alone is forever a fan favorite and often listed among the all-time great Christmas comedies. I hate to be a Grinch, but Chris Columbus’s film is no masterpiece, though it has charm to spare by the end. Oddly, the film’s opening act is its best and most adventurous even though people mostly remember the third act. I especially love the way these early interiors are shot from Kevin’s perspective: the chaos and powerlessness of childhood rendered almost expressionistically. More than once, I was reminded of Murnau’s The Last Laugh. The exaggerated movement, the towering adults, and the sheer sensory overload evoke a child’s-eye perspective that feels at once surreal and deeply familiar. The filmmaking in this section is energetic and inventive, setting the stage for what should be an equally engaging journey.

The ending, of course, is justifiably iconic. It explodes into an almost cartoonish slapstick symphony that defies physics, logic, and basic human durability. If you’re going to spend twenty minutes watching two grown men get systematically and sadistically dismantled by household objects, it helps when those men are played by Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern. Their chemistry and commitment to physical comedy elevate what could have been tedious sadism into a strangely joyful experience. There’s a reason this sequence remains burned into pop culture memory—it’s outrageously creative in its pain-delivery mechanisms, balancing cruelty with a near-Looney Tunes level of elasticity. If you’re going to watch a couple of hapless criminals get brutalized in increasingly elaborate ways, you could do a lot worse than these two.

However, everything in between these bookends sags under the weight of its own repetitiveness. It’s not just that the film has a predictable rhythm, but that it leans on the same beats and gags multiple times without variation. Conversations and jokes feel like they’re looping, not for emphasis but simply out of an obligation to fill time. The midsection drags, stretching what should be a zippy, tightly-wound premise into something baggy and overlong. I didn’t check the runtime, but I’d bet the actual home invasion sequence—the part everyone remembers—is packed into the final 10 to 15 minutes, meaning that a large chunk of the film is dedicated to setup that often feels redundant.

Much of this dead space is occupied by Catherine O’Hara’s subplot, which is less about entertainment and more about maintaining a sliver of plausibility. Her frantic journey home, while narratively necessary to justify the premise, never quite finds a compelling emotional or comedic groove—except, of course, for the scenes with John Candy, who, in a handful of minutes, injects warmth, humor, and effortless charm. The rest of her arc feels perfunctory, a way to make the eventual reunion land with a sentimental punch. But by that point, we’re already so deep into a heightened, kid-logic universe that realism is hardly a concern.

Culkin, to his credit, is better than expected, particularly in his moments of mischief. He carries the film with ease, his deadpan reactions and self-satisfied smirks making him more endearing than cloying. And if nothing else, John Williams’ score pulls everything together, lending even the slowest, most meandering sequences a sense of cohesion. Perhaps they should have let him edit the film, too.

Rating: ** 1/2 (out of 4)

Pick It Up!: Ska in the ’90s (2019) Review – Skank with me

Dan S. — Fri, 22 Nov 2024 01:36:00 +0000

This documentary about the history of ska music is a deliriously happy film that I personally connected to, so it’s very possible, even probable, that I’m overrating it. But this thing is a joy machine and a fastidious historical document, and I don’t just say that as an ex-marching band geek who loves music and good-time vibes and has very little sense about what is “cool” and “uncool.” Yes, I have predictably been to a bunch of ska shows, and count a handful of third-wave-ska-adjacent bands among my favorites, or at least formative favorites. But Pick It Up is really illuminating.

What is genuinely impressive about the documentary is how many people the crew interviews. It’s not just the quantity of subjects, but the breadth: Pick It Up! offers a rather complete cross-section of the noteworthy third-wave ska bands. Despite a decently thorough knowledge of third wave ska listening to a lot of it off filesharing services in my college and early-20s days, I actually had a hard time coming up with a major ska or ska-associated band from the ’90s without at least one band member offering a talking head or archival interview — only Sublime (who duly get bashed pretty hard here) and Op Ivy (who duly receive reverential treatment) came to mind.

There are some real deep cuts — Travis Barker talking about his time in Aquabats before joining Blink 182, for example. Some road-grinding legends offer great takes: Dan P and Scotty Klopfenstein and Jeff Rosenstock (!). The appearances, surprisingly, include many of the pre-’90s bands, too: the great 2-tone ska bands (like The Specials), and the transitionary figures (like Fishbone), and even a couple Jamaican first-wave legends. Hell, Tony Hawk shows up! (In reference to how Tony Hawk Pro Skater included Goldfinger, of course.) Biggest interview complaints: 1) no Tomas Kalnoky, 2) a bit too much burnt out Aaron Barrett.

So did the ska documentary really need to be over an 1:40 long, especially when it’s as light on concert footage as Pick It Up! is? Almost certainly not, but it really is stuffed with interesting reflection and tangents. You get a little flavor of the knotty story on how an offbeat, local scene could explode and hit Billboard, then implode and become a punchline.

And, most importantly, the film offers a spirited but honest defense of the genre. Yes, ’90s ska from Orange County was mostly white suburban goobers having fun on stage with their horns. They were in the right place at the right time to break out onto the national stage. Gone was the social message of even their direct inspirations, let alone the English and Jamaican protest music that defined the genre in the first place. But it was (and still is) a music fundamentally inclusive and positive and collaborative. Lots of joy in the music, lots of joy in this documentary.

Rating: *** (out of 4)

Movie review site: The Goods Reviews

Dan S. — Mon, 25 Jul 2022 17:39:04 +0000

Hey Earn This friends and readers…

Back in 2009, a group of us started this blog during our senior year of college. 13 years, 22 writers, 900 articles, and 1.2 million readers later, we’ve entered adulthood and have all moved to bigger and (debatably) better endeavors.

I’m excited to share with you one such effort, my biggest nonfiction writing project since I started this blog 40% of my life ago…

The Goods: Film Reviews

My movie review web site, The Goods: Film Reviews. The site was soft-launched in 2020 but fully launched just a few weeks ago. The archive already includes several hundred reviews.

The site is a companion to the podcast that my fellow Earn This writer, Brian, and I started back during the pandemic: The Goods: A Film Podcast, which is nearing 100 weekly episodes when I write this.

I hope you’ll come check out my film reviews and also give our pod a listen. I’ll also post the occasional review here as well.

Or just keep clicking through our Earn This archives. You’re always welcome here, too.

Best,

Dan S
Earn This – Co-Founder / Editor
The Goods – Co-Founder / Critic / Podcast Host

Movie Review Podcast: The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953) – I want my organdy snood

Earn This Staff — Mon, 21 Jun 2021 16:00:00 +0000

Join the hosts of The Goods as they a dive into the dreamlike Seussian curio, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. Brian expresses his longstanding admiration for film’s set and costume design as Dan sings the praises of August Zabladowski. From the wild dungeon ride to the “Do-Mi-Do Duds” to the apocalyptic ending, Dan and Brian find themselves celebrating as often as scratching their chins. So why wasn’t it a hit? And, more importantly, Is It Good?

Music credits: