backtrack; My fair lady (1964)

my-fair-lady

An old geezer creating an improved kind of young woman for his own pleasure is a slightly creepy concept. The movie is also far too long, and most of the songs aren’t memorable enough. But some touching moments do exist, everything is impeccably produced, and the characters are all rather charming in their own peculiar way.

Some kind of masterpiece, I suppose. Hardly in my own book of class, gender, and language.

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backtrack; The french connection (1971)

french

Disillusioned, gritty, and immoral – this remains a very competent and interesting cop movie even if you would delete the legendary car chase. But then again, why would you?

Fast and furious – in my book of highly dubious decisions.

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backtrack; Marnie (1964)

marnie

Heavy-handed symbolism, grisly special effects, dubious morals. This disturbed drama of sexuality and identity is a rather tough one to fancy, but it made an indelible impression on me when I first saw it decades ago.

In my most Freudian book.

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backtrack; Les parapluies de Cherbourg (1964)

parapluies

Not the colours, not the singing, not the actors. For me, this is mainly about the story – sentimental and bittersweet, innocent and mature, cute and tragic.

But I do admit that Catherine Deneuve is breathtaking. In my book of the complications of life and love.

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backtrack; Goldfinger (1964)

gold

Seminal Bond with legendary villains and gadgets. Still entertaining, though severely outdated.

Powerful Shirley Bassey title song. Maybe in my book of nostalgia.

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backtrack; The haunting (1963)

haunt1haunt2

To paraphrase tennis legend Lennart Bergelin: Do you have what we in Sweden call »mysrysare«? This neat and interesting exercise in gothic sceneries and mental deterioration is crammed with »cosy thrills«.

The female lead sways as the house almost becomes the main character. In my book of paranormality and psychology.

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backtrack; Nattvardsgästerna (1963)

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Reduction, clarity, consistency. Bergman’s relentless austerity, Sven Nykvist’s magic camera, and the quiet intensity of the actors elevates this contrived – even ridiculous – story from intellectual concept to high art.

In my most demanding book of restraint and absence.

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