THE CASTLE OF CAGLIOSTRO (1979), dir. Hayao Miyazaki

“The Castle of Cagliostro” proves you don’t need flesh-and-blood actors or real locales to stage an exceptional action adventure. Cartoons can do the job just nicely, so long as the writing is smart and the animators are talented.

The movie stars Lupin the Third, a thief descended from Arsene Lupin, the main character of French author Maurice Leblanc. Although he’s a master criminal, he possesses gentlemanly qualities and gadgets a la James Bond, and he’s also remarkably agile, as evidenced by the opening sequence in which he and his sidekick steal a fortune from a casino safe.

But as Lupin quickly recognizes, the bills are counterfeit, which leads them to take a trip to Cagliostro, where the secret of all the forged money is reputed to be. There, they encounter a young woman named Clarisse, who is trying to escape an arranged marriage to a nefarious count. During the rescue, Lupin recognizes the crest on the ring she is wearing, and it’s possible they share a deeper connection.

What follows are breakneck chases, daring escapes, puzzles, even a touch of comedy as an Interpol agent tracks the thief to the count’s castle. It’s interesting to watch “The Castle of Cagliostro” nearly 20 years after it was first released, given that it’s in the action adventure genre, which has been dominated since the 80’s by the twin pillars of James Bond and Indiana Jones.

Of course, Miyazaki’s film came out a few years before “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” and Lupin is refreshingly free of Dr. Henry Jones’s influence. He’s less of a brawler, more of a lady’s man, and even though the action in “Raiders” is occasionally like a cartoon, Indiana Jones is always flesh and blood. Not so with Lupin, who can scale walls like Spider-man, and at one point drives a car along the side of a mountain.

Ian Fleming’s Bond, however, has been around since the 50’s, and some of his movies’ influence can be found in “Castle;” chiefly, the villain’s hideout equipped with hi-tech traps. Meanwhile, like any serialized adventure, there is a pre-established cast of supporting characters, including a rival female spy, a sidekick who’s good with a sword, and that aforementioned Interpol agent, who is no dummy but unfortunately finds himself always one step behind his prey.

The art is top-notch for pre-CGI days, but it’s Miyazaki who elevates the entire enterprise to masterpiece levels. Known internationally for epics like “Princess Mononoke” and “Nausicaa,” he co-wrote the screenplay with Harauya Yamazaki, and it’s a very clever one, especially in the various subterfuges Lupin uses.

True, “Castle” may be less serious than Miyazaki’s later efforts, but unlike a lot of modern animated films which seem to be marketed towards young children, this one is free of dumb jokes and all the characters act like they have a brain in their heads. It’s as if Miyazaki set out to entertain grown-ups as well as the young, and as such, Lupin’s motivations are unexpectedly complex and the ending is surprisingly touching.

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)

JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS (1963), dir. Don Chaffey

With all due respect to director Don Chaffey, most of the credit for “Jason and the Argonauts’” success belongs to special effects wizard Ray Harryhausen, who frequently brought the fantastic to life in this mythological adventure flick.

Set in ancient Greek times, when a pantheon of Gods frequently toyed with the fates of Man, the family of King Aristo of Thessaly is massacred by Pelias (Douglas Wilmer), a rival who also plans to kill Aristo’s children. Luckily, the goddess Hera intervenes, rescuing young Jason and continuing to watch over him into adulthood. When he reaches the age of 20, grown-up Jason (played by Todd Armstrong) decides to raise an army to overthrow Pelias, avenge his father and sisters, and claim his rightful place as king.

But Jason also wants to prove his worthiness to the public, so he sets out to find the Golden Fleece, a gift from the Gods reputed to be somewhere at the ends of the Earth. Gathering a crew of the toughest and most clever – including such legends as the strongman Hercules (Nigel Green) – he and his crew set out aboard the Argo, from which the band of heroes later get their name.

Of course, an odyssey is nothing without dangers, and the traps and beasties encountered in “Jason and the Argonauts” include a statue come to life, mountains that crush any ship unlucky enough to sail between them, the multi-headed serpent known as the Hydra, and re-animated skeleton warriors. The latter helped earn the film a place among the greatest adventure movies, and also represents Harryhausen’s most recognized work as well as some of the best stop-motion animation ever.

Personally, as much as I liked the skeletons, my favorite special effects sequence involved the rock statue set off after one character fails to heed the word of the Gods. Not only did I love the design of the guardian – tall enough to tower over nearby mountains, carved Greek soldier’s helmet for a head – I admired the half-lurching way Harryhausen decided to animate him, sort of resembling a toy soldier marching.

I also liked how its “Achilles heel,” when exploited by Jason, ends up spurting a steamy hot liquid. Exactly what the substance is never gets explained, but it’s a detail that somehow feels right.

Another terrific special effects moment involves those aforementioned mountains that crush unwitting ships. This time, instead of stop-motion animation, Harryhausen and Chaffey utilize rear-projection for the sequence, which culminates in a Poseiden-like entity rising up from the ocean and really giving Jason and company a shoulder to lean on. Sure, compared to the seamless CGI-graphics of today, it looks as antiquated as anything else in the movie, but the filmmakers add little details that truly give their work personality – in this case, the end of Poseiden’s tail can be seen flopping up and down along the water’s surface.

If “Jason and the Argonauts” has a flaw, it’s that the human characters are not nearly as compelling as their special effects counterparts. Aside from the titular hero, who could best be described as “defiant,” the screenplay gives none of the crew members much depth or opportunity to stand out. The exception might be Hercules, who disappears early on (ostensibly to star in his own adventure flick), and that’s a shame, since he leaves at exactly the point in which Nigel Green starts giving him true gravitas and making him compelling.

Nevertheless, watching for the retro-style special effects is fun enough, and the movie really is about something: that although the Gods are out there, when it comes down to the really important decisions in life, Man makes his own fate. That makes “Jason and the Argonauts” an enduring classic.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

MCCABE & MRS. MILLER (1971), dir. Robert Altman

“Glamorous” is the last adjective anyone would use to describe “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,” which sets out to show how brutal life was in the North American frontier. Directed by the great Robert Altman, it overturns a lot of conventions of the Western genre, depicting a world devoid of nobility, love, and ultimately, heroic ideals.

The plot involves a man named John McCabe (Warren Beatty), who sets out building his fortune in Presbyterian Church, a burgeoning town located in northern Canada. The main industry there is zinc mines, and the town is seemingly devoid of women. McCabe, whose dream is to start up a gambling house, purchases some prostitutes, but is woefully unprepared for some of the realities of the business.

Enter Constance Miller (Julie Christie), who seems as smart and cultured as John McCabe is not. She has an idea about opening a high-class whorehouse in place of what he already has set up. Such a place, she argues, would draw customers from beyond Presbyterian Church and double his money. All she needs is an investor who will let her run it. “I’m a whore, and I know a lot about the business of whoring.”

Mrs. Miller, however, is a serious businesswoman, while McCabe is the gambler by trade. This leads to conflict after the new brothel and bathhouse are built, when some men from a large corporation look to buy them out of their holdings. Believing he can wheel and deal with the best of them, McCabe turns down their price, which later infuriates and worries Mrs. Miller. “They’d just as soon shoot you as look at you,” she warns him.

Indeed, three assassins soon arrive under the auspices of hunting bear, and begin a reign of terror against the two entrepreneurs. A gunfight – notable for both its brilliant staging as well as overall ugliness – ensues: there’s no showdown out in the open, but on the contrary, participants hide in the shadows, have no qualms about shooting somebody in the back, and die messy deaths amidst desolate and snowy backdrops.

“McCabe & Mrs. Miller” is not exactly the kind of western Hollywood produced during its Golden Age. The differences start with the actors: Beatty, despite having leading man looks, conveys none of the moral fortitude of a John Wayne-type hero. He doesn’t resemble a villain either, more a supporting cast member – some dandyish-looking, grumbling, frequently drunk supporting cast member who should be providing comic relief with a seemingly-endless supply of bawdy jokes.

There’s also an unsubstantiated rumor McCabe was a gunfighter who killed a man named Bill Roundtree. He never acknowledges this, and when trouble is actually looking for him, McCabe seems awfully hesitant and full of trepidation for someone who once took another person’s life.

While the movie busies itself tearing down a legend, it also paints a grim picture of women in the wilderness: removed from creature comforts; stared at by lustful, desperate male eyes. Mrs. Miller provides some sanctuary, but the movie does not shy away from how isolation affects her as well. If McCabe has his liquor, she has her own vices, too. They’re just more exotic ones.

Julie Christie gets Mrs. Miller perfectly, conveying glamour as well as the requisite emotional detachment. She may not pack McCabe’s bluster, but she’s a better businessperson, as evidenced by a terrific scene in which she’s both motherly and rational in selling a recently-widowed mail order bride (Shelley Duvall) on prostitution. When she was married, having sex was a means of paying for her room and board. It’s no different now, except she gets to keep a little extra for herself, Mrs. Miller argues.

Overall, the relationship between herself and McCabe is a complicated one, and this is very much a movie where the opposite of what would happen in a traditional western takes place. That’s especially clear in their romance or lack of one, although McCabe does get to utter something borderline tender: “I never did nothing to you except try to put a smile on your face,” he says.

Mrs. Miller, on the other hand, only seems to thaw in one scene where she urges him to get out of town after outside forces threaten. She turns away and starts crying, and we expect her to reveal how she cares deep-down about her boorish business partner. But it turns out she’s really worried about losing the future profits from their partnership.

That may seem all too cool and cynical for some, but Altman, who also adapted the screenplay from a novel by Edmund Naughton, was known for his modern sensibility, and “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” ranks among his best work of the 70’s. Given the widespread distrust of the establishment during the decade, it probably made sense for major corporations to be the main villains. However, there’s also a darkly-humorous scene with intimations about what big liars politicians are.

McCabe seeks help from a lawyer (William Devane) who just happened to have been a governor. The man talks about using newspapers to affect public opinion, but offers no real assistance on how not to get killed. It’s funny, the kind of thing you’d read in “Doonesbury,” but you get the feeling this is exactly what Old West legends really were: ordinary, flawed individuals touted as heroes, when all they really did was gamble and lose.

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)

SABOTEUR (1942), dir. Alfred Hitchcock

Hitchcock’s first movie featuring an all-American cast, “Saboteur” walks a fine line between warning audiences that their enemies are where they least expect, and reminding them the way of the United States is to show compassion and not give in to hysteria.

As in many of the director’s films, an ordinary man finds himself in extraordinary circumstances. Barry Kane (the appealing Robert Cummings) is an aircraft factory worker who witnesses the death of his best friend when a fire breaks out at their plant. It appears a fire extinguisher was sabotaged with gasoline, and Barry is implicated when the individual whom he claims gave it to him cannot be found.

Believing other lives are in danger, he evades the law and journeys from the American southwest to New York City, where one of the director’s most famous set pieces is staged on the Statue of Liberty’s torch. Along the way, Barry also makes a daring escape or two, and finds himself involved with Pat (Priscilla Lane), a woman who initially wants to turn him in.

The movie’s tone successfully alternates between drama, sly humor (during the middle third, billboard signs are used to comment on the action), and mounting dread as a plot to set off a bomb in the Brooklyn Navy Yard is uncovered. However, it is not foreign agents or spies who are the culprits, but the crème-de-la-crème of American society, led by a man named Tobin (Otto Kruger).

The screenplay repeatedly hammers home that money, big California ranches, swimming pools and membership in high society render one impervious to suspicions of terrorism. Meanwhile, average Americans are not only content shielding their social and economic superiors, they’re quick to condemn a relative nobody like Barry, whose alleged crime raises their ire. As Pat says at one point, it’s her “patriotic duty” to turn him in.

With most of mainstream America against him, the protagonist’s only hope lies with outsiders including an old man, whose blindness symbolizes that handing Barry over to the cops would not serve the cause of justice. The argument “innocent until proven guilty” is also made by the leader of a circus sideshow which votes to give our hero a lift. Only a little person ignores the voice of democracy, and he is disparagingly referred to as a “fascist.”

Given there was a war taking place abroad and the uneasy climate at home – treason, after all, became punishable by death – one can understand characters’ decisions not to get involved in Barry’s quest to prove his innocence. But is that what makes a good American, this movie seems to ask. Is it blindly doing what we’re told, going with what newspapers and government agents say unquestioningly, or is it giving someone the benefit of the doubt and not giving in to our insecurities?

Such questions came to the forefront again during the McCarthy witch hunts a decade later, and it would be interesting to see how Hitchcock addressed these issues, if he did so at all. But he deserves credit for doing so here, and for visual touches pointed out by other reviewers, such as introducing the saboteur by having their shadow appear behind a white wall upon which the opening credits are imposed.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

THE FOUNTAIN (2006), dir. Darren Aronofsky

Drubbed by a lot of critics when it first came out, it’s possible to see why “The Fountain” has mostly been forgotten. Given the premise, the quest for a way to defy death, as well as the titular reference to the fabled Fountain of Youth, one expects high adventure in the “Raiders of the Lost Ark” mold. But although the film’s canvas is vast and there are a few scenes involving swordplay, this is a highly-personal drama built mostly around two characters.

Still, there’s plenty to appreciate about “The Fountain,” starting with the craftsmanship of Aronofsky, who also wrote the screenplay. It’s his third film overall, and the follow-up to his critically-acclaimed “Requiem for a Dream,” in which the legendary Ellen Burstyn – who has a small role here as well – crawled through grimy subway stations under the influence of diet pills.

As in “Requiem,” which made drug addiction seem scorching and personal, Aronofky takes a potential epic and presents it in a surprisingly intimate style. Most of the film consists of first-person point-of-view shots from the perspective of his two leads, Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. Despite the presence of a few ancillary characters, they are clearly the focus, even as the film crisscrosses between the Spanish Empire, the modern world, and the celestial heavens.

In one of the three storylines, Jackman and Weisz play a couple named Tommy and Izzy Creo, respectively, and their performances ground the film emotionally. We care about their love story, which faces one of the most familiar obstacles in the history of romance: coming to terms with one partner’s death. But “The Fountain” has its heart in the stars, and Aronofsky, who previously showed a gift as a visual poet, finds the eternal within the ordinary: endless waves in a wallpaper pattern; streetlights extending into the distance.

One of the best set-ups involves a dark room with small, hanging lanterns resembling stars, making it appear as if Jackman takes a walk through constellations. There are also quite a few camera shots looking down on people’s heads, which makes sense in the context of the film, since characters are constantly looking into the faraway distances, both for and at the answer to their questions.

I’ve spent the last few paragraphs noting the aesthetics in “The Fountain” and trying not to give away much more. Truly, this is a movie to be experienced, but has a message that can be understood by nearly everyone. However, if you’ve ever read Mary Shelly’s “Frankenstein,” there will be a shudder of recognition when one character, who is a doctor, says, “Death is a disease, it's like any other. And there is a cure. A cure. And I will find it.”

Things don’t end quite the way “Frankenstein” did, although there is one special effects scene in which Aronofsky, in keeping with his reputation as an innovator, successfully meshes the lush, beautiful, and grotesque. Now I really won’t say more except “The Fountain” will likely anger and frustrate some, while others will find themselves moved, maybe even more appreciate of life and what they have.

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)

ROOSTER COGBURN (1975), dir. Stuart Miller

The western genre is often about the battle between freedom and civilization. In “Rooster Cogburn,” which was released in theatres after the cowboy movie had its heyday, the latter is represented by cleanliness, religion, and moral righteousness. Meanwhile, the other side, as one might expect in any film featuring six-shooters and ten-gallon hats, is personified by John Wayne.

The legend plays sheriff Rooster Cogburn as a man set in his ways, which has seen plenty and isn’t about to have his authority questioned, even by a magistrate. He meets his match, however, in a frontier woman named Eula Goodnight, who is played by the equally-great Katherine Hepburn as everything we would expect in a Hepburn character. A preacher’s daughter and schoolteacher possessed of almost innate dignity, she is put off by Cogburn’s slovenliness and other bad habits; that is, until the movie requires them to get along with each other.

As in many westerns, there is an outlaw to be pursued and caught, and this time it’s Hawk (Richard Jordan), who has stolen a wagonload of nitroglycerine in order to commit a bank robbery. An unrepentant sinner by his own words, his posse crashes the small town where Goodnight and her father are working to civilize the natives. A night of liquor-fueled mayhem and bloodshed ensues, claiming both the father and the family of Wolf (Richard Romancito), a young brave. Both end up riding with Cogburn in the pursuit of justice, as well as the chance to see two stars from Hollywood’s Golden Age together on-screen for the first time.

Wayne’s relaxed authority and drawl are perfectly contrasted by Hepburn’s uprightness and northeastern accent, but the screenplay makes their characters opposing forces in many ways: Goodnight belongs to the temperance league, while Cogburn at one point defends himself against accusations of being a souse by claiming, “I haven’t had a drink since breakfast”; in addition, she is a Bible-thumper, which Cogburn shows some aversion to.

But Goodnight does seem to subscribe to the “eye for an eye” brand of justice advertised in the good book, and as it happens, Cogburn has become something of a disgrace for killing far more outlaws than he brings in. Although the screenplay attempts to up the ante by having a judge tell him he must bring Hawk back east alive or lose his badge, that subplot eventually falls to the wayside as the three-person posse pursues the “nitro” across the wilderness.

Indeed, what’s more important is Cogburn finds out the schoolteacher is a crack shot with a rifle, while Goodnight learns that her companion has a pure heart, which excuses his occasional moral lapses. Overall, their relationship gets sentimental but never romantic, although there is occasional nagging akin to some old married couple. By midway through, when Cogburn breaks out his flask, Goodnight makes the remark, “Have you ever an alcoholic’s liver up close?” or words to that effect at him, which seems downright affectionate rather than chiding.

As one might expect, there’s lots of pretty scenery, including forests, mountains, and one dangerous-looking river given the circumstances the characters find themselves in. Director Stuart Miller deserves credit for all that, and for neither interfering with the verbal sparring between Wayne and Hepburn or letting either make a fool of him or herself. Although Wayne does have a scene in which he stumbles about intoxicated, shooting at objects hurled into the air by Wolf, these moments actually lend a certain gravitas to his character. Sporting a considerable paunch and puffy-looking visage, Wayne the screen legend never seemed so interestingly human.

Hepburn, meanwhile, comes across as passionate about her religion but not overly shrill. But clearly, she’s hardcore; at one point, she holds her ground as a ruffian fires at her feet, quoting scripture as he unsuccessfully attempts to make her shut up. Like Rooster, Eula is set in her ways and her independent mind is not easily swayed. We are tempted to nod when he, after they’ve had a particularly-grueling debate, remarks aloud, “If they ever give ’em the vote, God help us!”

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)

WELCOME TO DONGMAKGOL (2005), dir. Kwang-Hyun Park

If former enemies could somehow learn to work together, there’s no limit to what could be accomplished. That’s the lesson to be learned from “Welcome to Dongmakgol,” a charming and warm South Korean movie that not only opposes war, but strongly supports reunifying North and South Korea.

Thanks to a village secluded by mountainous terrain, men sworn to kill each other find they are not so different after all. Five soldiers, three representing the north, two from the south, intend to pass through Dongmakgol when an armed standoff breaks out. After accidentally destroying the village’s food supply, they seek to make amends by working the fields alongside the locals, who to the soldiers’ initial bafflement, appear to be living in a kind of time warp, ignorant to both the Korean Conflict and modern war itself.

“What is that? It looks like some kind of potato,” one Dongmakgol-ian remarks when seeing a grenade for the first time.

It turns out, although the villagers are hardly country bumpkins, they are too preoccupied with the minutiae of daily life to be bothered with anything else, even the arrival of a crash-landed U.N. pilot. But this disregard of geopolitics and nationalism slowly wins over the soldiers, some of whom have become disenchanted by war. They trade in their uniforms, start making friends, and ponder whether to leave behind “modern” civilization for good.

When the war machine inevitably arrives at Dongmakgol’s doorstep, the outsiders – even the English-speaking pilot – decide to stand up for something more important than international borders. Scenes of intense, war-related violence follow, but on the whole, Kwang-Hyun Park directs with a sure sense of whimsy, and there are such memorable touches as a downed plane sitting alone amidst green hills, a wild boar attack as Alfred Hitchcock would have directed it, and a slow-motion rain of popcorn when a food shed gets blown up.

These are all magical moments for sure, but sometimes the movie tries too hard to make us feel something, and frequently the score is downright obtrusive. Meanwhile, perhaps it’s because I am viewing “Welcome to Dongmakgol” from a westerner’s point-of-view, but I couldn’t help wondering whether the depiction of rustic village life was a little too idyllic, whether in reality the white man would not have been viewed with more fear, the crazy girl treated with less kindly.

But that would have resulted in a different kind of movie, and the point of this one is convincing people across the world to look past their differences, including North and South Koreans. I don’t pretend to be an expert in the Korean Conflict, and the how’s and why’s are virtually ignored by the film, only touched upon when two soldiers are arguing whether the north invaded the south. Ultimately, the commanding officer of the North Koreans confirms it. “We did?” the other soldier says with some surprise. After a beat, he says, “I only went because I was ordered to.”

If so many Koreans can’t even remember why they fought, all the more reason, the movie seems to argue, for a fresh start.

Overall rating: *** (out of ****)