There is no denying that Taika Waititi is one of the hottest directors in Hollywood right now. Just look back to his last four films. What We Do in the Shadows (2014) is a modern horror magic trick, an unexpected mockumentary that introduced many to his abstract and quirky sense of humour. Soon winning more fans with his Sundance darling Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016), it was yet another one of his features to receive universal acclaim. Jumping into a completely different realm, he took one of the biggest risks seen in the Marvel cinematic universe, somehow transforming Thor from sullen, dark, depressing and somewhat wooden, into one of the funniest post modern adventures imaginable with Ragnarok (2017). Jockeying into yet another unexpected realm, he next became Oscar respected film maker with 2019's Jojo Rabbit (a comedy set in one of the least funny places imaginable – World War Two Germany). A man who can find laughs in even the most unexpected places, it is quite rare to find someone in this modern movie landscape that is willing to take such chances with his career – and it is utterly refreshing. Likely unknown to some, he has actually long been an Oscar-nominated film maker. . . earning a nod all the way back in 2004 for his live action short film, Two Cars, One Night.

A giallo that mostly forgoes the prototypical violent splatters and liberal amounts of nudity for a good old fashioned Agatha Christie style murder mystery, 1972's Knife of Ice, also sometimes known as Dagger of Ice and The Ice Pick (memo: ice does not play any part in this motion picture), is the fourth and final time Italian film maker Umberto Lenzi (Seven Blood-Stained Orchids) and American actress Carroll Baker (Baby Doll; The Game) would work together. Baker stars as Martha Caldwell, a woman who has been mute since she was thirteen (it all stems from the fact she was rescued by her parents during a horrid train crash, only to then witness them burn to death – in many ways, the occurrence has stunted her at that very age). Opening with a fantastic sequence in which she attempts to conquer her fears by waiting at the train station for her incoming cousin, Jenny Ascot (Evelyn Stewart – The Psychic), it very much sets the mood – a tense, classical style intro (somewhat reminiscent of the many works of Hitchcock) that makes us feel for our struggling main character.

Could there be anything more embarrassing than being a mama’s boy? Well, there might just be – being a Grandma’s Boy (directed by Fred C. Newmeyer). Silent comic superstar Harold Lloyd’s second feature length film following 1921's A Sailor-Made Man, this 1922 offering, like its predecessor, spawned out of a smaller two-reel idea, growing into a richer, more in-depth narrative. Coming out a year after Charlie Chaplin’s seminal first full length feature, The Kid, the fellow comedic actor was enthralled by his so-called rival’s film – describing it as “one of the best constructed screenplays I have ever seen on the screen. . . The boy has a fine understanding of light and shape and that picture has given me a real artistic thrill and stimulated me to go ahead”.

A title with so many connotations – of course, it speaks to the fascinating time tinkering found in Christopher Nolan’s new film Tenet, but it also refers to a pre-Covid time. . . a place where people nonchalantly made the trek to movie theatres where packed crowds would communally enjoy the newest blockbusters. Whether Tenet will be able to turn back time and safely fill cinemas during this new normal is yet to be seen. A mesmeric and visually stunning spectacle that finds Nolan playing within his favourite themes, Tenet is clearly self-indulgent, yet not to its own detriment. Following up works like Memento, The Prestige, Inception, Interstellar, and, to a lesser degree, Dunkirk, Tenet, for lack of a better description, is a sort of password. . . an entry by fire into a small group of people who are attempting to prevent World War III. It is a CIA agent simply known as The Protagonist (John David Washington – BlacKkKlansman), who is introduced into this precarious, mind-bending new world.

It is always an intriguing prospect to watch the one film that doesn’t fit into a genre film maker’s oeuvre. For The Master of Suspense – Alfred Hitchcock, it was the screwball comedy Mr. and Mrs. Smith (circa 1941 – no, he was not alive to direct the Brad Pitt/Angelina Jolie vehicle in 2005), for Martin Scorsese, the master of the crime movie, it has to be the children’s film Hugo, and for Jesús Franco, the creator of stylish exploitation B pictures packed with sex and violence, 1984's Bahía Blanca fits the bill. The master of pumping them out fast, this was Franco’s tenth of ten movies made in 1984. . . a time when the independent industry was losing their avenue with exploitation flicks (and Franco’s famous touch of softcore was being eliminated by cinema being divided into either adult or mainstream), as Hollywood was learning how to create higher budget slasher flicks that blew these little pictures out of the water – meaning that, the writer/director found himself self-producing a lot of his own films (often disappearing or finding their way onto sub-par VHS – like this rarely seen picture).

Some things never change. . . and by that I mean true love. . . and by that I mean the love found between a newly rich older man and a much younger woman. . . case in point, 1937's 3 Dumb Clucks, directed by Del Lord – a Three Stooges classic. Larry (Larry Fine), Curly (Curly Howard) and Moe (Moe Howard) have found themselves in jail. . . watched over by a very simple and overly helpful Prison Guard (Frank Austin). Receiving a letter from their beloved mother, she asks her boys to escape their confines and help bring their father home to her. . . as he has made millions through the oil fields he owns and has taken up with a young blonde gold digger, Daisy (Lucille Lund).