After Yang (2022) and Late Spring (1949)

In our third episode of The Rise of A24 series, we are covering Kogonada's quiet meditation on familial AI, After Yang (2022) alongside the wondrous Late Spring (1949) by Yasujiro Ozu. Special Guest - Lillian Crawford is a freelance writer covering film and culture for publications including Sight & Sound, BBC Culture, The Guardian, Times Literary Supplement. In addition to her writing, Lillian is a prolific programmer and curator, including for the BFI, the Barbican, the Garden Cinema, and the Edinburgh International Film Festival. Dan is unable to hide his adoration Kogonada's debut film Columbus (2017). It currently ranks 7th on his best films of the 21st Century (so far) List. His follow-up, After Yang, is a more murkier affair. Set in a future where robots have become immediate family members, Kogonada attempts to humanize and ground sci-fi in a hazy emotional uncanny valley. Are we supposed to feel for the AI as we would a human or are we just mirroring our own subjective experiences onto an avatar? Rather than providing answers, the film drifts between aching grief, transcendent love, and non-dystopic visions of the future.Yasujiro Ozu is clearly a massive influence on Kogonada, and it is easy to see why with his film Late Spring (1949), a gorgeous melodrama about a daughter growing apart from her father. The film probably shares more with Kogonada's Columbus in its interplay between emotion and the natural world. Ozu is able to conjure the most hidden and profound emotions from his actors and the story. At the same time, he crafts a meticulous narrative that continues to propel forward even as the external drama remains subtle. A true masterpiece of filmmaking.

In our second episode of The Rise of A24 series, we are covering the gonzo horror of the Philippou brothers in Talk to Me (2023) and the roots of elevated horror in Andrzej Żuławski's Possession (1981)Special Guest - Returning to the podcast, Writer and Horror Film Aficionado, Andrea GomezA24 has built a reputation for edgy horror films. They helped to popularize the concept of elevated horror in the 2010s: The Witch, It Comes at Night, Hereditary. They have continued to nurture new voices in horror in 2020s with their patronage of the Philippou brothers. Talk to Me was produced without any A24 input or support. They stepped in when the film was screened to much shock and applause at Sundance in 2023. Before A24 became big producers, this is exactly how they built the brand and company. Find really interesting and exciting new films and take over the distribution. Talk to Me was a glam slam for A24, who acquired it for only single digit millions as it when on to make 92 million dollars at the box office.Possession was not a huge success upon its released in 1981. The outlandishly wonderful horror film popped off at Cannes winning the Special Jury Prize along with Isabelle Adjani winning Best Actress. But outside the artistic bubble of Europe, the film was met with extreme skepticism and outright hatred. The USA release was shambolic with the original 124 minute run time being cut down to measly 81 minutes. The UK outright banned the film in the 1980s. But time has a way of mellowing reactions and opening minds. Possession slowly became a cult film thanks to boutique home video releases. With the rise of elevated horror in the 2010s, Possession reached its vaulted status as a horror classic.

We are back with a new season of Film Trace. In this season, we will survey the short but illustrious history of film studio upstart A24. We will analyze how they have made such a massive impact on filmmaking in such a small amount of time.In this premiere episode, we are covering two new releases from A24: Sorry, Baby and Eddington. These two films act as bookends to the house style of A24. On one side - soft, highbrow, and cerebral. On the other - daring, outlandish, and transgressive. We pair the flighty rom com of The Holiday (2006) with Sorry, Baby and the conspiracy gumbo of JFK (1991) with Eddington.In dissecting these four films, the defining traits of A24’s style come sharply into focus. Major studios wouldn't touch either Sorry, Baby or Eddington. Eva Victor's Sorry, Baby is too quiet and too honest about sexual violence and its aftereffects. It also tells its story in a very non-linear fashion. Only an art-house imprint of a major studio would even consider releasing it. Eddington is resolutely an A24 film. Ari Aster is a devout auteur who chooses to tackle the origins of the Covid world where we all still very much reside. The film is diffuse, difficult, and without a clear protagonist or antagonist. It is an anti-studio film, perfect for A24.

In the season finale of our Visionary Remakes season, we investigate two versions of The Maltese Falcon, the original from 1931 and the more famous 1941 version.The Maltese Falcon has almost become shorthand for both Humphrey Bogart and the beginning of film noir. That famous film was preceded by a film adaptation a decade earlier, which itself was preceded by the hard boiled crime novel a year prior. The 1941 film has totally eclipsed both the original adaptation and the book in popular consciousness. Perhaps rightly so. John Huston's directorial debut is a masterwork in writing, editing, and acting. It has also been touted as one of the more rewatchable films from the era due to its production design, clockwork plot, and Bogart's enigmatic vibes.The Maltese Falcon is a great example of why some films should be remade. The remake improves pretty much every aspect of the original film. But our discussion takes a turn when Dan questions whether Falcon is truly a noir film. We dive deep into this topic and how labels and genres can often obfuscate the significance and heritage of a film. If The Maltese Falcon is not the first big noir film, then what gives it such a high value among film lovers and filmmakers? The answer of course lies within the film itself, not a genre label.

In episode seven of our Visionary Remakes season, we traverse two classic westerns. First, Kurosawa's Yojimbo (1961) and its nearly immediate Italian reaction, Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars (1964).The western has always been seen as a distinctly American film genre. The "west" in the word is the American West, a grand nearly ungovernable stretch of land filled with plains, deserts, mountains, rivers, and precarious cliffs, both literal and moral. It is a rich canvas that can tell a thousand different stories. Ironically, here we have two non-American voices calling out to the vast wilderness of the West. Perhaps it is a wild and mysterious place that exists in all cultures. Kurosawa's Yojimbo is not necessarily a textbook Western, but of course, it is deeply indebted to Shane (1953), High Noon (1952), The Gunfighter (1950), and John Ford's Stagecoach (1939) and My Darling Clementine (1946). At the same time, the source material was a hardboiled detective American novel from the 1930s, and we can not discount its place in the lineage of the chanbara films. Yojimbo is an amalgamation and many different styles and genres, but it still feels like a Western at its core.A Fistful of Dollars is resolutely a Western, but it came from somewhere left of the dial. Sergio Leone did not speak English nor had he ever been to America, let alone the American West. But Leone was able to spark something new and powerful in the waning genre. Westerns had been around since the beginning of film, but by the 1950s and 1960s, the genre had oversaturated culture mostly through dime-store tv shows: Gunsmoke, The Lone Ranger, Bonanza, and Rawhide. Westerns had become trite and tired. Along came Clint Eastwood, Sergio Leone, and Ennio Morricone to reinvent and rekindle that flickering flame.

In episode six of our Visionary Remakes season, we explore two versions of the King Kong myth, the original from 1933 and the 1970s remake. We toss in a dash of Peter Jackson's 2005 version as well.Special Guest: Riley - Good friend of the show and true film buff King Kong is a cultural institution. How that happened is still a mystery to us children of the 1980s. We grew up with the original. The 1976 version had been memory holed by the time we were children. The 1933 version is iconic for many reasons honorable or not. The special effects were groundbreaking for the time and its blending of genres was unique. But problematic doesn't even begin to describe King Kong (1933). It is hard to watch it without feeling a strong sense of distaste and unease, even viewing it as a film artefact. The remake of King Kong from 1976 was a bold attempt to one-up Jaws which came out the year before. The summer blockbuster was born, but a big budget and spectacular marketing campaign do not make a hit. The making of King Kong 1976 would probably make for a better movie than what we got on screen. Mired in legal trench warfare, this remake tried to update the King Kong story to incorporate the cynicism of post-Nixon years. It fails mostly, but it does not disappoint. It is an interesting and bizarre watch that is getting reappraised by Zoomers, for better or worse. Lastly, the 2005 version probably needs its own episode. Peter Jackson's King Kong was highly praised upon its release, and it still is held in high regard. But Dan has more than a few bones to pick with its prestige.

In episode five of our Visionary Remakes season, we dissect the original The Fly from 1958 as well as David Cronenberg's bombastic remake from 1986.Special Guest: Daniel Malone - Host of the great You Talkin' to Me? podcast where Daniel watches classic films with his son for the first time. Check it out!The impetus of this season was to explore how remakes can add, take away, or supercede the original. Of course, all remakes add to the discourse of the original, and it is not some arbitrary competition. But the intention to remake is in some sense always competitive. A producer, writer, and/or director wants to retell a story in a different way, presuming the original will no longer do. Often this desire is imprudent but The Fly is a great example of how that impulse can lead to something much deeper and richer than the original execution.The Fly (1958) is certainly not a bad film. It was an elevated B-movie for its time, shot in beautiful CinemaScope. Vincent Price dutifully shows up, and a couple scenes became iconic (both fly head reveals). When compared to David Cronenberg's masterpiece from 1986, the original suddenly feels quite quaint and slight, a time capsule curiosity rather than groundbreaking film. Cronenberg's The Fly is perhaps the paradigm of taking an interesting idea and expanding it into something much more and much better. The remake also demonstrates that an idea or concept is just the foundation of a film. The true totality of a movie is the collective creative action of hundreds of people. When it all gels, we get something special and magical.

In episode four of our Visionary Remakes season, we cross-examine two versions of Cape Fear, the original starring a creepy and enigmatic Robert Mitchum, and the 1991 remake from Martin Scorsese starring a crazed and manic Robert De Niro.Special Guest: Amanda Jane Stern - writer, producer and star of the award-winning psychosexual thriller Perfectly Good Moment. Streaming now on Tubi! Co-host of the podcast Don't Be Crazy.Both versions of Cape Fear are anchored by dazzling performances of the antagonist, Max Cady. Robert Mitchum reduces the overtly violent nature of Cady in order to play up his cleverness, obsessiveness , and wiliness. De Niro goes over the top in his version of Cady, playing him as zany, an almost comical but brutal cartoon villain. This difference underlines the drastically opposed tones, vibes, and outcomes of each version of Cape Fear. The 1962 original focused on the limits of justice. It clearly asks and attempts to answer where the line between enforced law and moral justice lives, albeit wrapped in a juicy and sensational B-movie plot. Scorsese's 1991 remake does not ask those questions, but it does drench us in pulpy genre stimuli: graphic violence, improprietous sexuality, and domestic disputes. The debate we have in this episode is whether either film is successful in its intended mission. Is the original too flat for a genre flick and perhaps too lofty to escape pretension? Do Marty and De Niro swing away and strike out, can a trashy thriller be too much even if it attempts to do nothing more than shock?

In episode three of our Visionary Remakes season, we bite into Dawn of the Dead, the original by George Romero from 1978 and the kinetic remake by Zack Snyder from 2004.Special Guest: Karl Delossantos, founder and film critic at Smash Cut, editor at The New York Times, a Rotten Tomatoes-approved critic, and member of the Online Film Critics Society.George Romero's Dawn of the Dead (1978) was my favorite film through my 20s and 30s (Dan here). The horror film's intoxicating mixture of gonzo production, revolting gore, pitch black satire, and anti-consumerist musings were a perfect match for my young adult mind. My adoration hasn't faded at all since I first saw it in high school, some 25 years ago. Dawn of the Dead is often considered Romero's masterpiece and perhaps the greatest zombie film ever made.The remake of Dawn of the Dead landed like an atom bomb in 2004. Running zombies! Zach Snyder's first, and inarguably his best, film helped launch a zombie cultural moment that peaked 10 years later when 22 million people watched the season five opener of The Walking Dead, a tv show heavily indebted to George Romero's dead universe. Zombies had become mass appeal. "What would you do in an zombie apocalypse" became a lamestream icebreaker question. While Snyder's Dawn was a catalyst for this popularity, it was really the ideas in Romero's Dead films that attracted people to this once very niche subgenre of horror.

In episode two of our Visionary Remakes season, we survey the recent Coen brothers remake of True Grit (2010) and compare it to the original film, a John Wayne vehicle from 1969.Special Guest: Brian Eggert is the owner and film critic of Deep Focus Review, where he has written movie reviews, in-depth essays, and critical analyses since 2007. Brian also regularly appears on KARE 11, the NBC affiliate for the Twin Cities, to review and discuss movies. He belongs to the Society For Cinema and Media Studies, Minnesota Film Critics Alliance, Online Film & Television Association, International Film Society Critics, Independent Film Critics of America, The Critics Circle, and National Coalition of Independent Scholars.Westerns have gone through many cycles since the beginning of filmmaking. Right now, we are seeing an uptick in interest as the tv show Yellowstone dominates the traditional tv market. But back in 2010, Westerns were definitely far off in the background as comic book movies had begun to take over the box office. In 2010, the Coen brothers were coming off a very successful adaption of No Country for Old Men (2007) as well as two more left of center films, the sprightly spy romp Burn After Reading from 2008 and the niche existentialist A Serious Man from 2009. It is unclear why they decided to remake True Grit and focus on the novel from 1968 instead of the John Wayne movie which came a year later in 1969, but the choice was very successful. True Grit (2010) became the 2nd biggest Western in the modern box office.The 2010 True Grit showcases the refined talents of the Coens alongside the gorgeous cinematography of Roger Deakins, the layered and rich music from Carter Burwell, and a smashing breakout debut performance from Hailee Steinfeld as the lead Mattie Ross. The 1969 version of True Grit offers so much less. Despite John Wayne winning an Oscar for his portrayal of Rooster Cogburn, the original film seems totally out of step and out of time. In hindsight, it was an end-of-the-line production for the core creatives involved. The director, writer, and star actor were all at the end of their careers. Indeed this very type of Western was on its last leg as evidenced by the giant leap the genre made at the same time this film was being produced and released. Watch any of the bigger westerns from the late 1960s and then try to sit through True Grit (1969). The dislocation and disorientation is severe. The original True Grit was a swan song that came about a decade too late.