Theory of the Twelfth

Today on his blog, muse malade opened up this can of worms: "the summit of any auteur's art is achieved on his or her twelfth film." muse [a.k.a. Ryan] tested this concept on first Orson Welles (reaping The Immortal Story), then Jean Renoir (La nuit de carrefour). MD'A then made a note to himself that he should take in a re-assessment of Mike Figgis' Cold Creek Manor. I, meanwhile, have decided I need to catch Girl in the News by Carol Reed, Michael Powell's Something Always Happens, Summer With Monika by Bergman, and Sandra of a Thousand Delights, Luchino Visconti's follow-up to The Leopard. (And fellow native Fellini? He peaked around the second act of Fellini Roma and up to the first of Amarcord, as long as you're counting his Toby Dammit short in Spirits of the Dead as a third.) Add Bob Clark's Rhinestone to that list as well, while I'll also have to do perform some probing re-assessment on Joel Schumacher's Batman and Robin, Spielberg's Always and Frantic, Roman Polanski's "return to form." The best part of this auteuristic breakthrough? We can expect Peter Jackson's supreme masterpiece in the form of whatever he makes right after King Kong.