Ricks Reel Recommendations #1

RICKS REEL RECOMMENDATIONS | COLUMN \ WHAKAKĀINGA / HOME

Column by Ricky Lai (he/him) | @rickylaitheokperson | CONTRIBUTING COLUMNIST

Social Media Coordinators note:

These films are in a Letterboxd list here: https://boxd.it/EF2XC

Follow Ricky Lai on Letterboxd here: https://boxd.it/lOR3

Stress Positions (Theda Hammel, 2024)

Not enough films – let alone left-field comedies – are about the follies of sharing a flat, in my opinion. It gives me bittersweet butterflies to champion the bleakly funny Stress Positions, even at this late date, as the best movie of its kind; a uniquely millennial drift of boundary discomforts, frustrating habits, passive-aggressive communication, unwelcome crushes and strained friendships that could only come from flatting; let alone in the self-quarantining stages of the COVID-19 pandemic. Let’s call it a paranoid take on the screwball comedy, where Terry Goon — yes, that is his name — brings his injured (and handsome) nephew into care, to the immediate romantic interest of his flatmates. It cleverly frames the proximity and surveillance of this ‘party house’ as an analogy for the self-actualisations that emerge in a queer space. Hammel’s script has a stagey, surreal effect that some will call ‘quirky’ and esoteric, but I find it weirdly true to life: a lot of the time, for better or worse, you’ll be forced to read between the lines.

The Taste of Tea (Katsuhito Ishii, 2004)

When thinking about My Neighbor Totoro, the Catbus scene typically comes to mind. (A multi-legged feline in the shape of a bus screeches through a forest in the rain.) The last time I saw this scene, though, I was caught off-guard by the utter lack of music accompanying it; just the sound effects and the silence around them. Of course, music is a powerful nostalgic trigger, but to me, no sounds spark the tranquil ambience of growing up quite like trickling water, or chirping cicadas, or swishing leaves — sitting idly outside is what I remember most about growing up. I struggle to name a film that romanticises this feeling as funnily as Ishii’s The Taste of Tea — a slow, peaceful, surrealist web of mysterious childhood experiences that, while presented by members of this Japanese household, could’ve also been something an old friend told you in reminiscence.

One Week (Buster Keaton & Edward Cline, 1920)

Oh, this one’s a classic piece of comfort cinema — which is a funny result from such dangerous stunts. A 25-minute silent-era short about a couple trying again and again to build their house with a pre-arranged kit and a set of instructions. If you haven’t seen this, watch it on YouTube; if you’ve already seen it, watch it again. While I love the melodramatic Charlie Chaplin and the personable Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton is my favourite of the three silent-comedy pretty-boys because his blankly confused face and mechanical stuntwork gets right down to the irritating, day-ruining obstacles of trying, again and again, to get things done. Making a home life should be bare-bones and simple, but the instructions have never been easy to follow. I also like the part when the piano falls on his face.