French thriller. Original title: Original title: L’Ours en Peluche

Johnny Moronic’s comments:

Another 90s movie, this time the 1994 French drama/thriller L’Ours en Peluche (The Teddy Bear) starring the effortlessly cool Alain Delon as a doctor/professor who is being accused of murdering one of his temp nurses who he briefly had an affair with. Feels more Italian than French and is strangely made in Belgium, but is very much in that 90s genre of French movie where an older guy becomes obsessed with a younger girl. Delon totally owns this movie as he sashays around trying to find who’s after him. The final standoff with the accuser is something that wouldn’t have been out-of-place in Le Samouraï. Not perfect by any stretch (that sex scene is absolutely laughable) but never not interesting and made better by Delon’s presence.

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French erotic dramedy. Original title: Les Rencontres d’après minuit (Literally: Encounters after midnight.)

Around midnight, a young couple and their transvestite maid prepare for an orgy. Their guests will be The Slut, The Star, The Stud and The Teen.

I haven’t seen it.

Hard pass.

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Italian erotic thriller. Original title: Gli occhi degli altri

In the island owned by a wealthy Marquis, Elena’s arrival marks the beginning of a passionate love affair. Soon erotic play unfolds into obsession.

Jasmine was 44 here, and showing no sign of slowing down.

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We have seen her here before

Feast of Love is an unabashedly romantic look at the contribution of love to human existence. Set entirely in a beautifully photographed Portland, it’s an ensemble drama about the romantic interludes of connected lives – sort of a stateside version of Love Actually.

Acting as a character but also sometimes seeming omniscient, Morgan Freeman plays an elder statesman who dispenses wisdom tempered with grandfatherly love. He’s sort of a combination of the Oracle of Delphi, Socrates and Jesus: all knowing, all-loving, yet always speaking just indirectly enough and leaving just enough wiggle room in his perfectly modulated pronouncements that those who seek his counsel ultimately have to make up their own minds.

You know, the same role Freeman plays in every movie.

Greg Kinnear is a sweet-hearted schmuck who is clueless about women. His first wife leaves him for another woman. His second wife never even bothered to give up her boyfriend when she married Kinnear. Greg seems to miss the little clues. For example, when his first wife is in a bar after a softball game and the opposing shortstop rubs her thighs and tells her that the song on the jukebox is now “their song,” Greg takes no notice. When his second wife has to think before, “I do.” Greg doesn’t think it’s all that bad.

You know, the same role Kinnear plays in every movie.

Jane Alexander plays the meddling, yet compassionate, old busybody who discusses all the other characters with her wise husband.

You know, the same role Alexander plays in Tell Me You Love Me.

Well, one certainly has to offer a tip o’ the hat to the casting director.

The other key relationships involve the chemistry between Kinnear’s second wife (Radha Mitchell) and the guy she really loves behind Kinnear’s back, and a couple of idealistic youngsters who are desperate for money.

The attitude of the people who loved the movie can be summed up by Time’s capsule summary

Sexy, funny, sad and defiantly romantic, Feast of Love is the rare movie to cuddle up to.

The attitude of the people who hated this movie can be summed up by the Guardian’s one-star review, written by Peter Bradshaw.

Syrupy, drivelly, snivelly nonsense, which stars Morgan Freeman as a wise, humorous, rumbly-voiced wearer of reading glasses – great to see Morgan challenging himself as an actor, isn’t it? Squeaky-clean Greg Kinnear plays his friend, a lovelorn romantic guy who runs a coffee shop yuckily called Jitters,

It is a supposedly heartwarming emotional drama in what I call the life-affirming-laughter-and-tears genre – ie, the genre that makes me want to spray the nearest shopping mall with bullets before turning the gun on myself. Kinnear’s wife runs out on him with another woman, like an episode from TV’s The L Word, but this faintly interesting storyline is supplanted by others far more boring and unreal, reeking with phoney empathy and creepy lite-eroticism. If it’s a choice between cleaning out the shed and seeing this – opt for the shed.

Those two reviews, and all of their subtext, probably tell you everything you need to know about the film.

Bradshaw does have a point. You’ll have to keep your hankies nearby, because this is a classic chick-flick in the sub-division of weep-fest. Furthermore, there is nothing new here in terms of the characters, and the plot is so transparent that every single event in the film, without exception, is telegraphed about five scenes in advance. Don’t expect any surprises.

But Bradshaw’s point is not just about the movie. It’s also about him, and his own disdain for this kind of unhip film. Yes, it is so predictable and unhip that it seems Frank Capra must have returned from the grave to create it, but it is a competent film with a warm heart. The way I see it is that the film’s failures in depth and originality must be balanced against a generosity of spirit that will inspire you to feel better about the human race when you leave the theater.

And some people actually like a movie to cuddle up to.

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This was one of our top nude scenes of 2007

Filipino erotica. Putahe means “dish” in the Philippines.

The so-called plot is as follows:

When Euka arrives on the island, Jenny, a young barrio lass aspires to be like her. When Euka teaches her everything, Jenny realizes she has taken a dose of her own medicine.

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Alice almost always wears a see-thru top. You will find nearly a dozen such appearances in previous posts.

Low-budget indie crime procedural from the USA

In an attempt to rectify their criminal past, a once successful Hollywood starlet, turned prostitute, and a petty, misogynistic thief, set out together to solve a high profile child abduction case in San Francisco.

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You can watch the entire film free on TUBI.

So in the same sense that Chris Reeve was sometimes identified as Christopher “Superman” Reeve, she’s Rachel “Rachel” Rachel. How did they miss her for “The Rachel Papers”?

The film is an obscure French drama. Original title: Faux Fuyants

After coming out of a cinema, car driver Serge accidentally hits a man. Panic forces him to escape. Later, due to a guilty consciences, he decides to hang around the victim’s family.

This is her only IMDb credit, but she had a tiny taste of fame as a singer.

Birth name: Rachel Ortas. She was the lead singer of an indie French 80s pop group called Luna Parker that hit the charts with the single “Tes Etats d’âme Eric”. After the split of the group, Ms. Ortas released a couple of singles under the name Rachel Rachel and moved to London.

According to the Gogglenets:

Rachel Ortas is an illustrator, graphic artist, and artist in residence at Central St. Martins, London. She is also one of the creators and founders of Okido, a children’s art and science magazine that blends education with fun.

That’s the same Rachel Ortas, because her Instagram page includes a few ancient pics from her singing days.

Filipino erotica. Original title: Lamas

Does the plot really matter?

Mona, a baker’s daughter, feels trapped by her controlling father Adon. New employee Lina ignites Mona’s desires. Adon has contrasting plans for Mona. Torn between duty and passion, Mona must decide her future path.

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We have seen Christy here before

Fausto 5.0 is a surreal, avant-garde Spanish psychological thriller and horror film.

The story follows Dr. Fausto, an oncologist surrounded by terminally ill patients, who is on the edge of a breakdown. While traveling, he crosses paths with Santos Vella, a boisterous man who claims Fausto miraculously saved his life years earlier. Santos offers to grant Fausto any wish, spiraling the doctor into a dark world where his desires and darkest impulse manifest instantly causing reality to dissolve.

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Irene Montala, Rakel Gonzalez-Huedo, Najwa Nimri – Fausto 5.0 (2001)