C&C 54: Life in 4K
Restorations, recommendations, and my new default Negroni
2024 is a leap year, which means we got February 29th. But it felt like a few extra days were also slipped into September while we weren’t looking. I had to contend with numerous deadlines, the New York Mets already operating in playoff mode, and a host of other issues, so I’m glad that brutal month is finally over.
One way I kept my sanity and maintained my schedule was to build in breaks to see new 4K restorations of some favorite films. Committing in advance to time away from your desk makes it easier to concentrate when your nose is actually to the grindstone. And dedicating that time to experiencing a film you’re already familiar with, but in a new way, has an uncanny power to rejuvenate. In a chaotic election year, it felt even more necessary to abandon the noise and immerse myself in something that I know and love, without distractions.
Initially, I was on the fence about revisiting Le Samouraï (1967) on the big screen, but two factors changed my mind. First, of course, was the passing of its star Alain Delon in August at age 88. Then came a conversation with your friend and mine Ethan Iverson about hit man movies, and I knew when it ended that I’d be seeing Jean-Pierre Melville’s masterwork again. I regret the hesitation, because watching Delon don a trench coat and fedora to slip out into a rainy Paris night and complete an assignment is one of the reasons why movies exist, and therefore one of the reasons why life exists. (Note to self: “style to burn” always warrants a trip to the theater.) 4K does Delon a lot of favors, not that he needed any of them.
There was no such deliberation about attending a screening of the 50th anniversary restoration of The Conversation (1974). It’s a testament to the genius of Francis Coppola’s film that my first encountering it in a college film class did nothing to diminish its impact. My professor prattled on about the name of Gene Hackman’s surveillance expert Harry Caul, how a caul is an amniotic membrane that can cover a child’s face and head at birth, how Harry’s translucent raincoat resembles a caul, and my reaction being: I don’t care about any of that nonsense. That’s one of the greatest movies I’ve ever seen. Decades later, I still feel that way. The new restoration looks and more importantly sounds breathtaking, Walter Murch’s meticulously constructed audioscapes defined to the decibel. Every time I rewatch The Conversation I am struck anew by how deeply, twistedly Catholic it is. Maybe that’s why the movie has always resonated with me. Like Harry, I’m a New York guy who relocated to the West Coast, still thinks the nuns are watching, and has kept a few secrets. All I need is the raincoat.
Over Labor Day weekend, I cued up The Shining (1980) in connection to a project. When a 4K version turned up unexpectedly at month’s end, I checked into the Overlook Hotel again. Partly because I realized, to my astonishment, that I’d never seen the movie on the big screen. But mainly because Stanley Kubrick’s film produces a frisson of dread that is delicious in its relentlessness; you’re never comfortable for a single second of its 144 minutes, and I wanted the deluxe version of that unease. There were knowing chuckles at some of Jack Nicholson’s dialogue and reactions for the first hour, but they dried up in a hurry. The last act played to terrified silence.
A good-sized audience was at every one of these screenings. Revival films are proving to be smart business, and in Los Angeles they’re keeping a whole ecosystem of theaters afloat.
What (Else) I’m Watching
Robot Dreams (2023). This Oscar-nominated, dialogue-free animated film plays out in a 1980s New York City inhabited entirely by anthropomorphized residents. But don’t worry, the Mets are still there. A lonely dog orders a robot friend and they get along great—until a mishap separates them. Heartrending but also goofy, it speaks to something profound about life. And for New Yorkers, it’s worth watching for the nostalgia alone.
Rebel Ridge (Netflix, 2024). Star Aaron Pierre owns the screen from the outset in the latest film from Jeremy Saulnier (Blue Ruin). It opens like a traditional town tamer, with an outsider riding in to set a corrupt burg right. But Saulnier subverts expectations throughout; Pierre tools in on a bicycle, for starters, and the script digs into the debilitating problem of civil asset forfeiture. Even the standard violent ending doesn’t play out in typical fashion, which Saulnier explains was his agenda all along.
The Substance (2024). To hell with moderation and nuance. There’s just viscera in this body-horror bonanza structured like a fairy tale and climaxing with a bloodbath—which, come to think of it, is how plenty of fairy tales wrap up. The casting of Demi Moore, who gives a fearless performance, is all the subtext that this darkly hilarious look at how women are perceived requires.
What I’m Drinking
September was so chaotic I managed to miss posting during Negroni Week, but then you can enjoy that cocktail all year. Lately I’ve favored bartender Phil Ward’s Cornwall Negroni, so called because he concocted it at a summit hosted by the late Gaz Regan in Cornwall-on-Hudson, New York. Ward’s variation abandons the traditional equal-parts formula for a gin-forward approach, and splits the vermouth to include that bitter favorite, Punt e Mes. As usual with a Negroni, you can serve it on the rocks or up; this riff plays particularly well in a coupe. And you don’t have to flame the orange twist, but I can never resist a bit of theater.
Cornwall Negroni
2 oz. gin
½ oz. Campari
½ oz. sweet vermouth
½ oz. Punt e Mes
2 dashes orange bitters
Stir. Strain into a rocks glass with fresh ice or a coupe depending on preference. Garnish with an orange twist, flamed if you feel like it.