Close Search Close

 

  • Comics
  • Theatre
  • Site News

Closet of forgotten dreams: Magpies raid Criterion’s unselected movies

Picking the best of the unpicked discs.

It’s the most notorious alcove stocked with movies outside of your old video store’s nook full of pornos — the Criterion Closet! Famous people go in and rummage through the shelves of the venerable disc provider, highlighting their favorite flicks. But despite hundreds of film fans having access to the closet over the years, hundreds of films have never been selected, according to a list released by Criterion itself.

No one at Media Magpies has been invited to enter the closet, but that won’t stop us from imagining what we’d do if we got there — and in particular, thinking about which films that haven’t yet gotten any love that we’d immediately snap up. Below and in no particular order is a list of Magpies, the movies they’d pick and why. Tell us what you’d pick in the comments!


Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was spun off into a successful sitcom, but the film itself is more sharp-edged and unsentimental than that. In Stephanie Zacharek’s terrific essay for Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, she quotes an exchange between Ellen Burstyn and director Martin Scorcese. Burstyn, who liked the script but felt it needed some additional realism to really shine, asked Scorcese what he knew about women. โ€œNothing,” he said. “But Iโ€™d like to learn.โ€ Alice shows that he did learn; he and Burstyn worked together to create this gem, a low-key, emotionally savvy story about a woman starting to learn what she really wants from life, and that it might be possible. Burstyn and child actor Alfred Lutter, playing her son Tommy, have a wonderful, caring chemistry that anchors the film, and Kris Kristofferson arrives late in the story as a love interest who might be her salvation, or her anchor. It might be Scorcese’s best movie, and it’s certainly my favorite. — Bridgett Taylor

Alphaville

The way that Alphaville conveys a bleak, neon-saturated landscape – the DNA of cyberpunk cinema – should have warranted its being a Criterion Closet pick. Now out of print, Alphaville mashes up genres (SF, noir, romance/melodrama) so freely that the film is a mid-60s cinematic wild card. From the opening that envisions galactic travel in a vintage Ford we are kept off balance. As the night-time streets of Paris are recognizable even as they become the routes through a futuristic city, director Jean-Luc Godard seems compelled to warn us that a dystopian future may be closer than it appears, even though the protests of May 1968 were a few years away. And for all of the heavy conceptual themes, such as the use of poetry to eventually defeat Alpha 60, an evil supercomputer (perhaps we could try it on AI?), what might be remembered the most are the luminous close-ups of Anna Karina โ€“ was this the face that launched a thousand starships? — John Bruni

I Walked With A Zombie

I can only assume the problem here is that people have never heard of I Walked With a Zombie. But youโ€™d think the title would be enough to make you at least look. This movie, from 1943, is obviously about classic voodoo zombies, not Romero-style brain-eaters. It is directed by Jacques Tourneur, so youโ€™ve got your eerie atmospheric filming going, too. In fact, it is, in a nutshell, Voodoo Jane Eyre, and who can resist that? Itโ€™s a bit paternalistic, of courseโ€”various white characters acknowledge using the tricks of voodoo to help those poor stupid black people who donโ€™t know any betterโ€”but if you can get beyond that, itโ€™s a heck of a film. — Gillian Nelson

Ran

My pick out of the Criterion Closet is Akira Kurosawaโ€™s late masterpiece, Ran. Itโ€™s a little more understandable that itโ€™s never been picked by anyone whoโ€™s actually been able to visit the Closet, as itโ€™s been out of print for quite a while. Kurosawa and Shakespeare have always been a match made in heaven — both were among the best at taking a simple story and really drilling down into what the story was really saying. Kurosawa was a master of black and white filmmaking, but Ran shows he was equally adept at making a world explode with color. It may lose some of the psychosexual undercurrents by gender-swapping the children of King Lear, but Ran is more interested in the regrets and humiliations of age. We may get older, but we donโ€™t always get wiser. — James Williams

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse

If M is Fritz Lang pushing new sound technology to meet his artistic vision, The Testament of Dr. Mabuse is Lang pushing his artistic vision to meet the possibilities of technology. The film, a sequel to the silent epic Dr. Mabuse the Gambler, keeps its titular villain behind closed doors at all times. All we get from him is his voice from behind a curtain. If youโ€™ve paid attention to film history for the past 90 years, you know where this is going, but all the credit in the world to Lang for getting there first. Where M announced the presence of its villain through the use of sound, Mabuse reduces the villain to nothing but his sound. The film was so good that it was banned by the Nazis, though they did offer Lang a sweet job running their film studio. He fled to Paris immediately. — Not David Lynch

This Is Not A Burial, It’s A Resurrection

“What they call progress, it is when men point their damning finger at nature and proclaim conquest over it,” someone says toward the end of This Is Not A Burial, It’s A Resurrection. Progress comes to Lesotho in the form of a dam that will flood a small village and force the relocation of all its inhabitants, living and dead; this does not sit well with Mantoa, who has just learned of the death of her son and who has seen her husband and daughter and grandchild die before him, and refuses to see their graves disturbed and her home destroyed. Writer-director Lemohang Jeremiah Mosese films Mantoa’s obstinance in slow sequences, placing a small elderly woman in open landscapes and confining rooms, a presence as unignorable as Yu Miyashita’s preternatural score. But the most enduring image in the movie is Mary Twala Mhlongo’s face, creased and implacable, beyond any heartwarming or hope yet refusing to give in. “It’s a senseless suffering, there’s no meaning to it,” Mantoa says of the grief she moves through. The film does not contradict her but Mosese’s portrayal of her denial of glib sentiment and perfidious progress is its own statement. Any resurrection is up to you. — Dave Shutton

Touchez pas au grisbi

Touchez pas au grisbi trades noirโ€™s trademark shadows for a creamy luminosity, as if everything in its first two actsโ€”the cigarettes, the wine, the pรขtรฉ, the favorite song on the jukeboxโ€”is here to be savored. Jean Gabinโ€™s civilized, world-weary gentleman thief is ready for a lifetime of the routine comforts he loves so well, but the plot inevitably comes in with incredible ruthlessness, until the bars of his signature tune feel more like the bars of a cage. I can never get enough of subtle genre shifts, and this unshowy transition from a chill hangout crime film to a bleakness that goes past words is one of the best there is. We watch a man become a shell. Itโ€™s a mark of the film’s earlier melancholy beauty that I still wind up thinking, At least he knew how to enjoy himself. — Lauren James