FREEDOM FOR US (1931)

A.K.A.: A Nous la Liberte

Country: France

Genre(s): Comedy / Musical

Director: Rene Clair

Cast: Raymond Cordy / Henri Marchand / Rolla France

Plot

Two prison cellmates, Emile and Louis, attempt an escape, but only Emile makes his way out.  Emile hides his past and, over the next several years, becomes a wealthy industrialist. Once Louis finally gets out, the pair are reunited and Emile must find a way to help his destitute friend without revealing his own true identity.

What I Liked

Few comedies that I am aware of have dared display as much political and social satire so blatantly as does “Freedom For Us.”  With an obviously Leftist bent, director Rene Clair manages to parody or lampoon pretty much the entirety of capitalist society in ways that can still have meaning for a twenty-first century viewer.  Many hot button topics of today, such as a for-profit prison system or the detachment of politicians from the problems of everyday people, have analogs within this film made more than eighty years ago.

Made at the dawn of the sound era, “Freedom For Us” also has an distinctive feel that originated from director Clair’s experimenting with what audiences wanted from – and what was possible in - “talkies.”  For example, where today natural sounds would be used in a film for things like the blowing of wind or the buzzing of a factory assembly line, Clair chose to use sound effects created from musical instruments as part of Georges Auric’s almost constant musical score.

Speaking of the music, there is so much of it in this film that one could conceivably label it a musical.  Typically, the musical isn’t my favorite film genre, but this one gets bonus points for Clair and Auric’s choice to use the music to add the satire.  For example, in the very opening scene, we’re treated to images of flowers and, in the background the voices of men singing about the virtues and pleasures of liberty.  It’s only when the camera pulls back that we realize that we’re watching those same men assemble fake flowers in a prison workshop.  They all wear the same convict’s uniform and sing their song as armed guards patrol around them.  Musical made ironic social commentary.

What I Didn’t Like

For the most part, the physical comedy of the movie falls flat today, which is a shame since it makes up most of the film’s plot and because in truth the film was far ahead of its time and highly influential for its heavily choreographed physical comedy sequences.  Members of the crew would later go on to sue Charlie Chaplin for cribbing from this film for his film “The Great Dictator.”  Fans of “I Love Lucy” and the “Benny Hill Show” will also recognize familiar elements of those shows in some of the movie’s moments.  The problem is, most of us have already gotten our belly laughs for these scenes from the latter rip-off versions, and thus “Freedom For Us” – the originator of so much of that comedy – seems like the tired, derivative knock off.  Factual or not, that’s how it feels and thus I never did let out an actual laugh through the entire course of the hour-and-a-half film.  To the film’s credit though, it remains entertaining and interesting throughout, even without the laughs.

Most Memorable Scene

One of the most obvious moments of social criticism from the film comes when the long-suffering Louis finally makes it out of the meaningless work, conformity, and oppression of the prison to fall right into the meaningless work, conformity, and oppression of the capitalist factory in the same very day.  It was a powerful, risky statement to make in an era before big corporations got their hands on the film industry and made an effort to shut out any controversy in an attempt to make products more palatable for the public.

The scene also works because it’s one of the genuinely funniest moments from the film as Louis, with the most simplistic training possible, is given a seat on an assembly line where he is expected to put a single piece into each phonograph that passes by.  When a supervisor distracts him and a phonograph gets by him, we are able to witness the birth of a classic comedy scenario that will be familiar to fans of both Charlie Chaplin and Lucile Ball.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

BLACK SUNDAY (1960)

A.K.A.: La Maschera Del Domonio / The Mask of Satan / Revenge of the Vampire

Country: Italy

Genre(s): Horror

Director: Mario Bava

Cast: Barbara Steele / John Richardson / Andrea Checchi

Plot

Executed as a witch in the seventeenth century, the female vampire Asa returns to life two hundred years later to wreak vengeance on her royal descendants.

What I Liked

“Black Sunday” is in many ways a triumph of style over substance.  The story itself isn’t particularly creative, the script even less so, and the acting is mediocre at best.  Yet this movie is regarded today as a landmark of the horror genre.  That reputation is in large part due to the talents of director Mario Bava, who made his official directorial debut on “Black Sunday” (though he had in fact done some uncredited directorial work on a couple of films in 1959).  Prior to this project, Bava had made his reputation as a respected cinematographer and it is eye for visual flair that truly allows “Black Sunday” to triumph over its other faults.  The camera is often floating and prowling through a scene like an unseen ghost, the movement keeping the viewer’s eyes entertained while also adding an eeriness to the mood of several scenes.  The movie’s gothic setting may not be anything original, but the filmmakers overcame a modest budget to bring a sumptuous darkness to the film, particularly on the exterior landscapes and forest scenes.

Speaking of sumptuous, Bava’s accomplishments are nearly overshadowed by strange eroticism of lead actress Barbara Steele.  With her raven hair, cat-like eyes, and curvaceous physique, the twenty-two-year-old Steele is easily the most memorable aspect of the film.  She makes the most of her first starring role (really dual roles) by turning the relatively one-dimensional villainous Asa into the focal point of the film’s sex appeal, even if she less convincing as the vampire’s virginal descendant Katia.

Though traditional in plot, “Black Sunday” proved influential on the changes to come in the horror genre.  First of all, Steele’s presence made the film about as sexy as horror got in those days, a dynamic that would be increasingly explore in the years to come.  Also, the films emphasis on gothic themes harkened back to the classic Universal pictures of the 1930s and 1940s, such as “Dracula” and “The Wolf Man.”  Though hardly new ground, one imagines the film's success at mining these classic elements paved the way for the plethora of B-movies to come over the next decade from filmmakers like Roger Corman (“The Pit and the Pendulum” and “The Raven, for example). Most importantly, the film’s explicit gore led it to become one of the most censored movies of the era.  The torture devices, shooting blood, and melting faces will seem quaint to the twenty-first century viewer, but in 1960, were deemed too much for audiences in America to handle; the production company voluntarily cut out its more gruesome scenes.  In Britain the film was completely banned for years.  In hindsight, “Black Sunday” can be seen as paving the way for the more violent horror to come in the 1960s and beyond, for better or worse.

What I Didn’t Like

Despite what I said above about Bava’s making the most of a modest budget through production values, there are several moments where a limited budget was clearly a detriment.  Early in the film, a man is attacked by a giant bat, which we see mostly as a shadow on the wall, presumably because the filmmaker’s couldn’t afford a convincing effect.  As the attack is meant as a gratuitous thrill and has no bearing on the plot itself, one wonders why the filmmakers chose to keep the scene in or didn’t chose to go with a different, more affordable scare.

Most disappointing of course are the limitations of the story and script, also mentioned above.  There is really nothing about the plot or dialogue that is the least bit compelling.  Without Bava and Steele as participants, “Black Sunday” would have been forgotten years ago.

Most Memorable Scene

The film’s notoriously graphic opening scene, where Asa is condemned to death by her brother back in the 1600s is without a doubt the most infamous moment of the film.  Not just the film’s director, but the screenwriter as well, Bava mixes shock value, real suspense, and a little bit of sexualized torture into an opening that doubtless sent some of the more sensitive filmgoers of the 1960s running for the doors.

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (1974)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Horror

Director: Tobe Hooper

Cast: Marilyn Burns / Gunnar Hansen / Paul Partain

Plot

Five young people take a road trip to Texas to visit family and wind up running from a family of deranged cannibals.

What I Liked

"Who will survive and what will be left of them?"  Absolutely one of my all-time favorite movie taglines.  It captures this unhinged exploitation classic perfectly.

One of the prototypical slasher films made before the subgenre really existed yet, “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” remains notorious forty years after its initial release, and for good reason.  In fact, it is still more unsettling and gruesome than most of the horror films I’ve seen in recent years.

Ironically, part of what makes the original such a visceral experience is its low budget.  With a budget of less than $300,000, producer and director Tobe Hooper turned his limitations into advantages.  The grainy quality of the footage, the lack of slick production and effects, and the instability of the camera suggests to the audience the impression of watching a documentary, a feeling heightened by the movie’s oft-imitated introduction.

More than anything, though, it’s just the savagery of it all that continues to make “Texas Chainsaw” a disturbing experience nearly a half century later.  The killers do their chilling deeds without comprehensible explanation.  Leatherface in particular is beyond reasoning.  Everything about this film breaks the rules of how a movie is supposed to unfold and what a movie is supposed to show you.  So as we watch a group of lost hippies get butchered, we the viewers become disoriented by our scattered expectations and scarred by our butchered senses.

In Leatherface, the hulking, chainsaw-wielding man-child who relentlessly pursues his defenseless victims, Hooper created the first iconic killer of the slasher genre.  What makes him, in some ways, more frightening than a Michael Myers or Jason Vorhees, though, is that he is more believable.  He has neither the ghostly silence of Myers nor the superhuman abilities of Vorhees.  He comes across as a human being – albeit a homicidal maniac of a man – and not a larger-than-life figure.  That Leatherface is also a family man makes him all the more frightening, especially considering his family.  Throw in the fact that he’s (very loosely) based on an actual guy (Ed Gein), and Leatherface is downright terrifying.

It ranks, without a doubt, among the handful of the most disturbing fictional films I have ever seen.

What I Didn’t Like

Hey, Marilyn Burns.  We get it.   You’re scared.  But really, stop screaming for just a second.  Take a breath.  After about a solid hour of hearing you scream, I can’t blame Leatherface for wanting to string you up and gut you.  I mean, I get it.  If I were in your position, I’d be screaming just as high-pitched and louder (actually, I’d probably just pass right out).  But I’m trying to be entertained here and your voice makes me long for the gentle melodies of fingernails on a chalkboard.  Just shut up.

Please also be forewarned that, though this film influenced a whole generation or two of scary movies to follow, it does not have the precise pacing, scripting, and production values of its more mainstream followers.  An independent film in the truest sense, “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” lacks almost all professional polish.  Some viewers might find sections of the film confusing, bizarre, or maybe even boring.  But, as mentioned above, it’s the unhinged, unpredictable nature of the film that contributes to the overall terror that is this movie.

Most Memorable Scene

Like a lot of the films in my list, there are several moments of this movie that will carve out their own little spots in your brain.  For “Texas Chainsaw” this rings all the more true because of how unusual, both technically and thematically, this movie is.  Still, I am fairly certain that there is little in the world of movies that will prepare a viewer for the family dinner.  Of course, we’ve got good old Marilyn Burns screaming her head off the whole time, but the truth is, you’ll either want to do exactly the same thing or you’ll be laughing your ass off at how damn insane this movie is.  Either way, you’ll probably only be able to take watching this movie once every few years.  I've seen the movie several times.  Hell, I own it.  But, if you’re someone who likes to watch that scene more than once a year, you scare me a little.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

THE ELEPHANT MAN (1980)

Country: U.K. / U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: David Lynch

Cast: John Hurt / Anthony Hopkins / Freddie Jones

Plot

Based on the life of Joseph (called John in the movie) Merrick, this is the story of a severely deformed man’s struggle to find respect and love in Victorian Society and of the hospital physician who helped him.

What I Liked

The obvious centerpiece of “The Elephant Man” is the relationship between Doctor Treves and his patient, John Merrick, played by Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt respectively.  Hopkins seems a natural as the sometimes arrogant but ultimately caring intellectual Treves.  Meanwhile, Hurt manages to give a heart-wrenching performance despite the fact that his face his almost completely covered with pounds of makeup that took up to eight hours a day to apply.  The script then allows each character to develop interestingly, each learning as much about himself as the other as their personal relationship develops.  Hopkins and Hurt are also supported by a veteran supporting cast that includes Anne Bancroft, Freddie Jones, and John Gielgud, none of whom disappoint.

Even in black and white, the Victorian London (and indeed the world in general) portrayed by director David Lynch and cinematographer Freddie Francis is as convincingly gritty, grimy, and repulsive as one would imagine the real place was in that time.  It seems like a brick-walled Hell, which is very much what the city has become for the protagonist at the film’s start.  The streets teem with wandering animals and skulking people; a cacophony of bawdy shouts and drunken laughter echoes off the narrow alley walls; a putrid smelling (somehow, we can smell it) mist coats the buildings in a glistening film; and all seems oppressed by an interminable night.  Thus the setting becomes effectively a character unto itself, subtly influencing our experience of the world through Merrick’s eyes.

Accentuating the above setting is a purposeful restraint used in the film’s musical score.  Where music is usually a powerful tool in setting the mood of a scene or film, it’s the lack of music here that contributes to the disturbing reality of everything on screen.  Though music is present at times, most notably when Samuel Barber’s “Adagio for Strings” is played to lead us into the film’s understated but moving conclusion.

What I Didn’t Like

Really, I don’t have much to write here.  The writers and filmmakers did take liberty with the facts in telling the story, but their poetic license was simply used to better illustrate the meaning the audience is to draw from Joseph/John Merrick’s story.

I’ll also say that there is one scene toward the film’s end that I felt did not work.  It takes place in a theater, where Merrick is brought to watch his first play.  At the film’s conclusion, it is Merrick who is given a standing ovation from the audience.  I take it this was meant to seem as a kind of triumph from Merrick and one is convinced that the character regards it as such.  However, I felt like the crowd’s applause was disingenuous, which ruined the moment for me.

Most Memorable Scene

Throughout this film, Merrick’s physical deformity and gentle soul is constantly played against the grotesque behavior of so-called “normal” people.  This, of course, is meant to illustrate the part of mankind that can be truly ugly and disgusting.  Nowhere is this more apparent than in the drunken hospital guard who bullies Merrick and sells tickets at a local pub and sneaks in inebriated onlookers to laugh at and recoil from him.  He is more of a foil for the kind and sensitive Merrick than any other.

One of these confrontations results in a full-on invasion of Merrick’s living quarters, and in his being teased, abused, and accosted by a whole team of London lowlifes.  Timed to happen at a point in the film where Merrick is at long last beginning to feel cared for and gaining confidence, it is a heart-breaking return for Merrick to the painful realities of the outside world.  For the audience, it is a reminder from Lynch that he is not about to let this movie become a simple, sentimental tale, but one that squarely acknowledges the tragedies and ugliness of the world.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

JACOB'S LADDER (1990)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama / Horror / War

Director: Adrian Lyne

Cast: Tim Robbins / Elizabeth Pena / Danny Aiello

Plot

Vietnam veteran Jacob Singer sees demons everywhere.  His girlfriend thinks he’s losing his mind, but Jacob is sure that these creatures are out to get him.  As his life becomes a nightmarish realm of phantoms and paranoia, Jacob can’t tell if he’s mad or sane, awake or dreaming, living or dead.

What I Liked

One of my very greatest fears is losing my mind, not knowing what’s real and what isn’t, not being in control of my own consciousness.  One of my all-time favorite horror films, “Jacob’s Ladder” taps directly into that fear.  One of the ways the filmmakers accomplished this so effectively was to avoid the use of CGI, animation, blue screens, and the like.  Everything one sees in this movie, lead actor Tim Robbins is really seeing as well.  Thus, the filmmakers avoid losing their audience with over-the-top effects and instead ground the film in visuals so real that they’re all the more frightening for it.  Outside of a few tricks of the camera and makeup, everything was filmed natural.  To further immerse us in the nightmare, screenwriter Bruce Rubin grounds his Hell in real life settings: the Vietnam jungle, an operating room, city streets, or an abandoned subway.  Robbins helps the filmmakers by giving my favorite of all of his performances that I have seen, with his thoroughly relatable Jacob Singer drawing us right in to reluctantly explore that Hell through his eyes.

The multi-layered depth of “Jacob’s Ladder” helps make it just as compelling on the tenth viewing as is it was one the first, maybe even more so.  The horror elements of the film are just the surface of one of the most thematically complex films I’ve ever seen.  The movie can be read in so many ways.  Straight up horror film.  Conspiracy movie.  Or, as I see it, a moving and thought-provoking chronicle of the battle for a man’s very soul.  Indeed, one prominent character in the film can be read as Satan while another is an angel, if not God himself.  There are elements of literature, religion, mythology, and philosophy woven into the film’s plot and script that at first seem to contribute to the film’s barrage of confusion, but ultimately boil down to a cohesive theme: “The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won’t let go of life, your memories, your attachments.  They burn them all away.”  That’s what happens to Jacob Singer in this, one of the most disturbing and astonishing films I have ever seen.

It’s also a credit to this film that everyone I know of who has seen this film remembers it vividly and loves it.

What I Didn’t Like

Personally, I did not go in much for the whole conspiracy angle of the film.  Whether it’s meant as a slight of hand by the filmmakers to momentarily distract us from the film’s inevitable direction or as a way to entertain audiences who wouldn't be entertained by the metaphysical elements of the film, I found it to be ultimately inconsequential to the film’s outcome and greatness.  Perhaps, also, the filmmakers meant to use it as an illustration of Jacob’s paranoia, another element of his descent into insanity.  However, if that were so, they didn’t need to validate his paranoia with the big twist reveal toward end.  I much prefer the more philosophical themes that otherwise predominate in this movie.

Most Memorable Scene

Wow.  What single moment can I pick in a film that is so effective that virtually every scene is traumatic?  To be honest the part that always has me wanting to look away (though I never can) is when Jacob is brought into what seems to be an innocuous hospital, only to be wheeled through a dark and caged hallway populated with characters that look like they were rejected from Tod Browning’s “Freaks” for being too… freaky.  He winds up helplessly strapped to an operating table, surrounded by eyeless surgeons with huge needles that insist that he is dead.  Unfortunately, my description doesn’t do it justice.  I can only say it is one of the most frightening moments ever captured on film.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

ORPHEUS (1950)

A.K.A.: Orphée

Country: France

Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy

Director: Jean Cocteau

Cast: Jean Marais / Maria Casares / Marie Déa

Plot

*spoiler alert*

In this update of the Ancient Greek legend, the well-known poet Orpheus meets Death personified in the form of a beautiful, mysterious Princess.  Obsessed with her and the messages he believes she is communicating to him through his car radio, he is oblivious when his wife Eurydice is killed.  Distraught, he ventures into the Underworld, unsure which woman, Eurydice or the Princess, he hopes to find.

What I Liked

Despite its age, the first thing anyone will notice about this movie is its visual effects.  Yes, they are mostly dated techniques that are easy to figure out for a viewer today; some of them were even dated back in 1950.  However, that doesn’t mean they aren’t entertaining or even convincing.  Director Jean Cocteau really made use of a whole menagerie of tricks to create some striking illusions and effects, giving his film the surreal quality the story calls for.  People walk through mirrors.  They fall sideways along walls.  They pass through passageways without walking.  They rise from the dead.  Many of these striking visuals happen at unexpected times, a strategy that keeps the eye intrigued from beginning to end.

A couple of entries ago, I wrote about “Pan’s Labyrinth,” a magnificent 2006 film to which “Orpheus” now feels like a revered ancestor both in style and in theme.  I wrote that “Pan’s Labyrinth” was a “tribute to the childhood imagination” and a “treatise on the power of belief.”  The same could be said of “Orpheus.”  Indeed, Cocteau himself nearly declares this to be true with the narrated introduction to the film, which translates to, “A legend is entitled to be beyond time and place.”  Like another of Cocteau's adaptations from legend, "Beauty and the Beast," this is a mesmerizing piece of fantasy, full of symbols and magic.

What I Didn’t Like

Thank god for the visual effects too, because without them “Orpheus” would be a dreadful bore.  The film moves at a deliberate pace.  Many scenes feel repetitious.  None of the characters are particularly likeable or even interesting, except perhaps the unknowable Princess Death.  The story is about as old as old stories can get and the filmmaker’s add little new to it, except to modernize the settings and a few details for the twentieth century.

Most Memorable Scene

There is a lot of blatant use of visual effects, but one of the more subtle scenes occurs once Orpheus and his guide Heurtebise arrive at their destination in the Underworld, the trial of Princess Death.  There are some nifty tricks of the camera here to make the otherworldliness of the setting convincing.  This is also one of the more interesting moments of the plot, where a love triangle turns in a love square and each character receives his or her sentence.  Their crime: bending the laws of life and death for love.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

HIGH SIERRA (1941)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Crime / Drama

Director: Raoul Walsh

Cast: Humphrey Bogart / Ida Lupino / Joan Leslie

Plot

Freed from prison, infamous Chicago bank robber “Mad Dog” Earle heads to California to lead a volatile crew of younger crooks on one last job.

What I Liked

The gangster film came into its own in the 1930s, as claustrophobic urban dramas usually constructed around the bloody rise and equally bloody fall of an energetic young psychopath amid a backdrop of alleyways, nightclubs, and gambling dens.  The cities in which these films take place seem trapped in perpetual night and populated only with depraved souls.  I admit, I love films like that.

That said, I also love a film that can break a mold and “High Sierra” did just that, dragging the gangster film out into the California sunlight and turning it into a road movie of sorts, if not a full on western.  In a way, it makes sense.  Westerns of a certain type have a lot in common with gangster films, in that they both can focus on ill-fated anti-heroes and have us rooting for the bad guy over the straight-laced lawmen in pursuit.  “High Sierra” brings out those similarities and effectively blurs the lines between the two classic American film genres, particularly with its iconic climax.

Also defying convention is the character of Roy Earle, played by Humphrey Bogart.  Yes, Earl is a compelling anti-hero much like the film gangsters who preceded him.  However, Earle differs from the crime bosses of “Public Enemy,” “Little Caesar,” or “Scarface,” in that he’s not a young hothead looking to take on the world.  Earle is a world-weary, cynical crook who wants nothing to do with the world at all, a ground-breaking character for the era.  For a guy like Roy Earle, there's no rise and fall; life is just a series of falls.  It’s a role that helped make Bogart a household name.  Ironically, for this film, the relative unknown received second billing to the then bigger name of Ida Lupino, who is convincing as Marie, one of the first genuine femme fatales of American film.  Today, Lupino is criminally forgotten by the general public.  Meanwhile, Bogart would become the world’s most famous movie star off of perfecting the Roy Earle persona in other films.

What I Didn’t Like

Well-acted, unconventional, and character driven, “High Sierra” will be a treat for those looking for more than shoot ‘em up action in their gangster movies.  However, that also means that, of all the classic gangster pictures I’ve seen thus far, this is undoubtedly the slowest.  I have to admit that I yawned many-a-yawn as I watched first hour or so of this movie.  Its plot relies more upon the suspense of whether or not the heist will come off as planned or fall apart due to the squabbling of Earle’s inexperienced cohorts than it does upon tommy gun fire and fist fights.

There’s also a rather contrived love triangle involving Earle, Marie, and unattainable good girl Velma (played by Joan Leslie).  Though both good actors, Bogart and Leslie have very little on screen chemistry and some of the romantic lines written for them are too sappy to stomach.  Thus, one never feels that doe eyed Velma is really a threat to steal Earle away from the worldly wiles of Marie.

Most Memorable Scene

*spoiler alert*

Thankfully, the movie picks up considerably in the third act.  We’re treated to a dramatic heist, an eye-catching chase scene, and finally a classic, you’ll-never-take-me-alive western-style showdown when Earle is cornered in the mountains by the police.  The inevitability of the end is never in doubt – indeed, it’s a foregone conclusion almost from the film's outset.  But that’s not the point, the point is we can’t take our eyes away from the screen as one of filmdom’s most compelling gangsters fights tragically on, alone against an army of coppers.


My Rating: 3.5 out of 5

PAN'S LABYRINTH (2006)

A.K.A.: El Laberinto Del Fauno

Country: Spain / Mexico / U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy / Horror / War

Director: Guillermo del Toro

Cast: Ivana Baquero / Sergi Lopez / Maribel Verdu

Plot

Traveling into the Spanish wilderness to stay with her step-father (A fascist Army officer who uses brutal methods to hunt down rebels), young Ophelia discovers a vast labyrinth, in which lives Pan, a mystical creature who tells her she is actually a magical princess.  Pan gives her three tasks to complete, which lead to fantastical, often horrifying, adventures that have equally frightening repercussions in the “real” world.

What I Liked

Director Guillermo del Toro has turned out some of the best (if not the very best) dark fantasy films of the past fifteen-or-so years and “Pan’s Labyrinth” is probably his masterpiece.  The quintessential del Toro film, it is at various times quirky, terrifying, awe-inspiring, opulent, and stark, sometimes all at once.  Thematically, the film is a tribute to the childhood imagination, which, if one cares to remember their childhood imaginings honestly, were colorful and inspiring, but also frightening and creepy.  But there is a philosophical complexity in the story, about how the imagination can affect reality and about the power of mythology.  It is both a sumptuous escapist fantasy and a Jungian treatise on the power of belief.

The whole film is an exercise in attention to detail.  The visuals are darkly sumptuous, saturated with layers upon layers of colors and textures.  The costume, makeup, and CGI are all awe-inspiring, making one want to rewind and pause scenes just to take a longer look at how intricately executed they are.  Even the intense focus on the sound of the film mesmerizes, using minutiae like footsteps and the wind to add to the film’s mysterious beauty.  I've truly seen nothing else quite like this movie.

Even looking past the film’s astounding fantastic elements, the more down-to-Earth war drama that operates almost as a frame story has some seriously suspenseful drama.  Actor Sergi Lopez is the greatest asset to these scenes as an absolutely despicable villain, Captain Vidal.

What I Didn’t Like

“Pan’s Labyrinth” truly does have a little something for everybody: fantasy, romance, war, comedy, action, and drama.  I’m not typically one for fantasy films, but there really is nothing to complain about.  This truly is a movie I’ll remember as long as I’m able to remember anything.  Which brings us to…

Most Memorable Scene

For all of its stunningly inventive renderings of fantastical creatures (the Pale Man in particular is a nightmarish treat) the most horrible of its monsters is the human one, Lopez’s Captain Vidal.  His brutality is shocking from the first moment it appears and only escalates from there, culminating in a couple of scenes of imprisonment and torture inside a barn that solidify his deserving status as one of the most effective movie villains of the twenty-first century thus far.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

EARTH (1930)

A.K.A.: Zemlya

Country: U.S.S.R.

Genre(s): Drama / Propaganda

Director: Aleksandr Dovzhenko

Cast: Semen Svashenko / Stepan Shkurat / Yulia Solntseva

Plot

The arrival of a tractor in a close-knit farming community promises prosperity for the peasants, prompting retaliation from the land owners.

What I Liked

Considered one of the earliest classics in the Soviet style, “Earth” does have the same bold symbolism present in a lot of communist propaganda.  Even the composition of the figures in the frame evokes memories of Soviet flags, posters, and other media.  I suppose one shouldn’t praise propaganda.  However, there’s no denying the power of certain images and Aleksandr Dovzhenko’s “Earth” finds much of its strength in presenting the strength and dignity in what others might find common or boring.  Most noticeable are the farmers themselves, dressed in the dingy, plain clothes of their profession, but imbued by the filmmakers with nobility obviously lacking in the capitalist landowners.  The same nobility is present in the livestock as well; even cows are presented as possessing a certain pastoral pride.

Dovzhenko uses a broad palette of creative choices and technical approaches to convey emotions and messages inside a deceptively simple story.  Initially, the changes in style might make the film feel stylistically uneven, but the different cinematic and editing techniques were blended together in a way that was both intentional and influential.  From long close-ups of the burdened faces of the farmers, to swift-cutting montages displaying the manufacture of bread following the arrival of modern technology, he and cinematographer Danylo Demutsky established much about the language of future filmmaking in the U.S.S.R. and elsewhere.

What I Didn’t Like

Taking place in what is modern day Ukraine, the film’s plot and message were steeped in the politics of its day, as Joseph Stalin was throwing governmental and military support behind communal farming in the region, ousting the private landowners who had controlled the farms for generations, even after the 1917 Russian Revolution.  On the surface, Dovzhenko’s message seems to be in line with Stalin’s.  He shows the communists as hard-working and sincere while the capitalists are lazy and deceitful.  However, by the film’s conclusion, there is the very veiled hint of subversive criticism present in the actions of the farmers.  The film was funded by the Soviet government, who intended it to be propaganda for their cause.  Dovzhenko presented his completed film to them as such, but even the government felt uneasy about what they saw.  Today, the mixed messages feel even more vague and, thanks to nearly a century of time in between then and now, also trivial.

Then again, as a 1930 film about Russian intervention in Ukrainian politics, maybe the film is more poignant today than I give it credit for.

A silent film with few title cards to tell us what’s being said, and one that uses a great deal of shots of livestock and crops, a great deal of “Earth” seemed incomprehensible and interminably long.  Yes, the images can still evoke some compelling emotions, but the basic plot, outdated political background, and unconventional execution made the film a chore to watch for this modern viewer.  I recommend it only for those avidly interested in Soviet history or film history.

Most Memorable Scene

The arrival of a tractor, likely the first piece of modern machinery many of these people have laid eyes on, is given a prominent place in the film’s story and overall length.  The ecstatic faces of the farmers, their families, and even their livestock are shown repeatedly in ever quickening succession as the tractor slowly makes its way down a dirt road to greet them, effectively passing along the sense of suspense to the viewer.  It is one of the few sequences that managed to keep this modern viewer’s attention from start to finish and is immediately followed by one of the film’s most iconic moments, when a group of the men symbolically urinate into the tractor’s radiator before setting it to work in their fields.

My Rating: 2 out of 5

BREATHLESS (1960)

A.K.A.: A bout de souffle

Country: France

Genre(s): Art Film / Crime

Director: Jean-Luc Godard

Cast: Jean-Paul Belmondo / Jean Seberg / Daniel Boulanger

Plot

Pulled over by a cop while driving to Paris in a stolen car, Michel shoots and kills the officer.  In Paris, he reunites with Patricia, an American woman with whom he previously enjoyed a brief fling, and tries to convince her to flee to Italy with him.

What I Liked

Paying homage to American noir films of the 1940s, yet with a lighter, inspiring mood that any self-respecting noir filmmakers vehemently avoid, “Breathless” still entertains more than fifty years after its debut.  Benefiting from director Jean-Luc Godard’s insistence upon demonstrating his knowledge of filmmaking tradition and then refuting that tradition at every opportunity, the film has a detached coolness reminiscent of a Miles Davis album, which makes the jazzy soundtrack all the more appropriate.  Using a variety of in-your-face techniques to completely fly in the face of the Hollywood studio methods of motion picture storytelling, Godard , along with his cast and crew, clearly had fun finding ways to reintroduce their audience to watching movies all over again.  It’s a film that, while representative of its director’s passion, never takes itself too seriously.  The influence of "Breathless" on Quentin Tarrantino's writing and directorial style is evident in nearly every line of dialogue and every shot.

Lead characters Michel and Patricia were the epitome of hipsters in the early 1960s,  They are stylish, young people trying ever so hard to live care-free lives, but are truthfully far too narcissistic to avoid getting into trouble.  This of course predicts the generational and social issues that would arise in the coming decade, in Europe as well as the United States as youth culture would play such an increasingly vital role in the shaping the times.

Jean-Paul Belmondo seems born to play Michel, bottom-feeder criminal bouncing from one scam to the next, a cigarette constantly dangling from between his smirking lips in imitation of his idol, Humphrey Bogart.  Meanwhile, Jean Seberg fascinates as Patricia, the self-obsessed American beauty who enjoys Michel’s attention until things get too serious. Michel and Patricia, never sans sunglasses, share the screen for almost the entire last two-thirds of the film.  As a couple, they make for a great representation of youth culture in its time and also a clever portrait of the timeless and tragic problems between the sexes.

What I Didn’t Like

Personally, I enjoyed it, but this film does have a meager plot that progresses at a seemingly improvised pace.  Director Godard characteristically makes frequent cuts in unconventional places.  The actors improvise much of their dialogue and their characters spend a great deal of time talking about things not obviously connected to the film’s plot.  These are not filmmaking choices that will endear “Breathless” to those who approach it with expectations rooted in films from the Hollywood assembly lines.  Then again, those who approach it with an open mind coupled with a love for Hollywood motion pictures, might find the movie an enjoyably fresh, even five decades after its initial release.

Most Memorable Scene

Ironically, it’s the scene in which the least amount of physical action or plot development takes place.  A large part of the middle section of “Breathless” takes place in Patricia’s apartment, to which she arrives to find the uninvited Michel in her bed.  The pair, a brief sexual fling in their fairly recent past, then set about talking to one another in a conversation that goes absolutely nowhere.  As Michel ruminates on his half-assed philosophies about life and tries to convince Patricia to take her clothes off, Patricia has a great time ignoring, rejecting, and insulting him.  Despite their pseudo-romantic past, the pair clearly don’t know a thing about each other and don’t care to do so.  Each is obsessed with his or her own image of themselves, and obviously care nothing for each other.  Yet both of them are completely oblivious to this problem and the whole conversation just collapses into a cold, decidedly unromantic failure.  Again, it’s Godard’s defiance of the Hollywood romance conventions that really mark the scene as unique and (grotesquely) beautiful.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

TRISTANA (1970)

Country: Spain / Italy / France

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Luis Bunuel

Cast: Catherine Deneuve / Fernando Rey / Lola Gaos

Plot

Following her mother’s death, Tristana is sent to live with the aging Don Lope, who falls in love with her.  Feeling trapped by Lope’s overprotection, Tristana sneaks out to meet another man.  As time passes, the realities of life force Tristana and Lope to confront the consequences of obeying their passions.

What I Liked

Tristana is the most stylistically conventional of the Luis Bunuel films that I’ve seen thus far and yet the most thematically inscrutable.  Almost a half century after producing his groundbreaking surrealist films, the director produced this more formalist production, making use of more conventional plot elements and story structure.  Still, even if the film is more easily understood on the surface, symbolism, psychology, and philosophy are seething beneath that surface.  By the end of the movie, any viewer with any kind of sensitivity toward good art will find that ruminating on the nature of human relationships, emotion, gender, and even the meaning of life itself is impossible to avoid.  Bunuel does this all while shunning the more obvious imagery of his earlier work in favor of the power of suggestion.  And the power of suggestion is at the heart of his surrealist roots.

Bunuel is obsessed with the intricacies of daily life in this movie, much of which revolves around the actions of Lola Gaos in the role of Saturna, Lope’s housekeeper and Tristana’s confidant.  Saturna’s turning down of the covers on Lope’s bed or her preparing a cup of tea, all things that would be ignored by other filmmakers, are given ample screen time.  At first these moments don’t stand out, but taken as a whole, it is clear Bunuel was intentionally bringing a special significance to Saturna’s role as a kind of pacifist in the ever-changing battle of emotions between Lope and Tristana.

The three lead actors, Catherine Deneuve (as Tristana), Fernando Rey (as Lope), and Gaos are all well cast in their roles, which they all perform well.  They are convincing as an ensemble, never trying to outdo one another and instead contributing to the film as a whole.  Perhaps this too is something for which Bunuel, as their director, also deserves credit.

What I Didn’t Like

“Tristana” is a slow burn to say the least.  There are only a few moments of outright confrontation or suspense in the movie, and these moments are relatively tame when compared with similar moments in other films.  It is obvious Bunuel wanted his film to reflect a more subtle drama reflected in the changing relationships and emotions of his main characters.  By the time the film ends, it is evident that this approach is clearly part of the film’s power.  However, one must have the abundant attention span required to make it to the end, in order to experience that reward.

Incidentally, Deneuve’s French is overdubbed throughout the film by a Spanish actress.  The process itself is technically well-done in that its hardly noticeable unless one looks closely.  Still, it is silly to cast a French woman as the lead in a Spanish film just to record over her lines.

Most Memorable Scene

*spoiler alert*

In one of the film’s later scenes, Tristana, having lost her leg to disease, tells a priest that she has needs that are no longer met.  A short time later, she walks out onto a balcony and exposes herself to Saturna’s son.  The camera focuses on Deneuve’s face, the most striking close up of the entire film.  We see nothing of her body; we only watch a very carnal smirk turn from tempting to disturbing as it spreads across her face.  Even the boy, who had asked Tristana to do this, retreats into the trees, apparently confused and horrified.  It is easily Deneuve’s best moment in the picture and also possibly a tip of the hat by Bunuel to the more nightmarish imagery of his earlier films.

Rating: 4 out of 5

GHOSTBUSTERS (1984)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Comedy

Director: Ivan Reitman

Cast: Bill Murray/ Dan Aykroyd / Sigourney Weaver

Plot

After investigating a ghost sighting, three out-of-work scientists go into business as Ghostbusters.  Initially dismissed by the public as quacks, they soon become heroes when an ancient deity attacks their native New York City.

What I Liked

As was the case for so many people of my generation, this movie was one of the cinematic cornerstones (along with, for me anyway, “Superman,” “Batman,” “UHF,” and the Indiana Jones films) of my childhood.  I spent countless afternoons watching this movie, watching its cartoon spin off, running around in my best friend's backyard dressed as a Ghostbuster, or playing in my room with my Ghostbuster action figures.  So maybe nostalgia has got me somewhat biased here, but I can't imagine few people of any generation could dispute that this movie is still thoroughly enjoyable thirty years after its initial release in theaters.

Bill Murray was my favorite part about this movie as a kid and today he still is.  Screenwriters and co-stars Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis left plenty of room in the script for Bill to adlib, which turned out to be a genius decision.  The guy is the undisputed world champion of deadpan and his Dr. Peter Venkman easily steals the show from the others.  Back in the 1980s I admired his cocky attitude and funny lines; today it is his straight-faced delivery that kills me.

Bill’s poker-faced approach is made even more funny by the outrageous antics happening all around him.  Like no other film that I know of, “Ghostbusters” successfully blends goofball comedy with blockbuster special effects.  Explosions, ray guns, earthquakes, demons, a wonderfully dated soundtrack, and one towering Stay Puft Marshmallow Man (definitely the best movie set piece of the decade, right?); it’s all done with such bombastic drama and cheeky gusto that laughing is simply unavoidable.  To put it simply, “Ghostbusters” is still more fun than almost any other movie you will ever see.

What I Didn’t Like

If there is anything at all that you don’t like about this movie, you have no soul.

Most Memorable Scene

Oh wow, I’ve given myself a tough dilemma here.  Of all the movie’s I’ve reviewed thus far, this is probably the toughest to pick just one scene, but I’m going to force myself.

Obviously the rooftop/Stay Puft climax pulled out all the stops on the “Wow” factor, but really the scene that always pops up in my head first whenever “Ghostbusters” is mentioned, is the one where Peter, Ray, and Egon all visit the library in the beginning.  It’s a hilarious introduction to the characters in a suspenseful setting and ends with the most frightening ghost in the whole movie.  An unforgettable gag and also a terrific primer for the type of hijinks that are about to ensue.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

BROKEN BLOSSOMS (1919)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama / Romance

Director: D.W. Griffith

Cast: Lillian Gish / Richard Barthelmess / Donald Crisp

Plot

In London, Chinese immigrant Cheng meets and falls for Lucy Burrows, an impoverished white girl who has suffered repeated abuse at the hands of her prizefighting father.  When Lucy escapes, she finds refuge in the room above Cheng’s shop.

What I Liked 

Well, in the spirit of my past reviews, I suppose I’ll have to type something here, despite my reserves about doing so.  The movie had some boxing in it.  So there’s that.  I also have to admit Richard Barthelmess delivered a thoughtful, subtle acting performance as Cheng, even if the fact that casting white men to play stereotyped Chinese men was abysmally racist.  I also suppose I should note that, for a 1919 film, it was commendably brave of director D.W. Griffith to make a Chinese character the male romantic lead in an era so xenophobic, especially as Griffith had previously directed one of the most notoriously racist films of all time, “Birth of a Nation.”

What I Didn’t Like 

Let me put it this way.  If you look at my last entry, it's been months since it was posted.  That's because it really took me that long to convince myself to finish watching this 90 minute bore.

Much has been made of the fact that this was the most reserved and downbeat film from Griffith, the first great epic film director.  The problem is, by stripping the film of the historic setting of “Birth of a Nation” and the grand sets of “Intolerance,” Griffith essentially robbed the film of any aesthetic value that would make it appeal for someone watching the movie a century into the future.  The rest is all histrionic melodrama from lead actress Lillian Gish, appalling stereotypes of Chinese people, and goofy faces from the villain, all piled up on a plot that’s far too bare-bones to be interesting today.

All that remains is its historic value as a touchstone in the development of the Hollywood filmmaking style (and also its place as the first film produced by United Artists).  The language of motion picture storytelling was still in its infancy in 1919 and this film helped push the art forward a few steps, but that fact doesn’t make it any more bearable to watch today.

Most Memorable Scene

The most famous scene is that of Lillian Gish’s spastic writhing and cringing as she hides from her abusive father in a closet.  Apparently her performance was so convincing in that time that it frightened even Griffith himself.  The truth is that this scene is far too melodramatic to hold up today.  For me, the best moment was of course the boxing match, which plays out shortly before the aforementioned confrontation.  The fighting is laughably amateurish but if you’ve ever seen motion picture footage of prizefights from the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century you’ll find the boxing match in “Broken Blossoms” actually looks fairly authentic, even if it is choreographed.  More importantly, it represents the only sustained action in a film that otherwise feels interminable.

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5

THREE COLORS: RED (1994)

A.K.A.: Trois Couleurs: Rouge

Country: France / Poland / Switzerland

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Krzysztof Kieslowski

Cast: Irene Jacob / Jean-Louis Trintignant / Frederique Feder

Plot

After accidentally hitting his dog with her car, a young woman meets a former judge who spies on his neighbor’s phone conversations.  The pair begin an unlikely friendship that changes both of them.

What I Liked

Fraternity.  That’s what the third color, red, stands for in the French flag, and that is the theme behind Krzysztof Kieslowski’s third film in a series loosely based on those colors.  It seems like a simple enough task to create a film showing how all of us are connected, especially through a medium that is in itself an example of that theme.  However, Kieslowski does so in a way that transcends any Oprah Book Club notion of togetherness and brotherhood.  This is a comprehensive portrait of how human beings are together in this world, both to our benefit and to our detriment.  We are shown how some people find togetherness in the most undesired places while others try to force togetherness in situations where it will not and cannot work.  Fraternity, we find, is both elusive and unavoidable.  It is desperately sought out by some and taken for granted by others.  The most mundane actions of our daily lives can have a profound impact on those of people we may never meet.  I’m rambling now, but all of the above is illustrated in the 99 minutes of this film.

“Three Colors: Red” has the depth and pacing of a novel.  In fact, had it been a novel, I suspect it would be considered among the best of the twentieth century, a musing on postmodern life in the technology age.  Each of the main characters is a stand-in for themes greater than themselves.  In fact, I believe one of them, the reclusive old judge spying on his neighbors, can easily be read as a stand-in for the Christian God, among other things.  Full of all of the complexity of human nature, emotion, morality, and even fate, this is not only an excellent movie; it is a terrific piece of literature, as well.  It is clear that the death of Kieslowski in 1996 robbed the world of a significant artist.

What I Didn’t Like

I haven’t seen the second film in the series (“Blue” is the first; “White” the second, “Red” the third), because it wasn’t included in the book I use as my source.  Based on how good the other two are, I’m sure I’ll be watching it sooner, rather than later.  However, “Red” can be said to be guilty of the same point of criticism that which some might find in “Blue.”  That is, watching it can be seen as too intellectual of an enterprise; the pure entertainment value is limited.  To quote my entry on “Blue,” “It is possible to spend too much of the film trying to recognize all that the filmmakers are trying to convey through their art, as opposed to sitting back and enjoying a moving film.”  Some may say the same thing about this film.

“Red” also has the added drawback of not starring Juliette Binoche, who turned in an outstanding performance in “Blue.”  Because the films are only loosely linked to one another, they are primarily about different characters and thus have different actors (Though Binoche makes a brief appearance towards the conclusion).  Irene Jacob has the lead in this film and she is good.  She has a beautiful and expressive face that immediately makes her character sympathetic, if not terribly interesting.  Perhaps her character was meant to be a blank slate, someone in whom the viewer can see his or herself during the journey of discovery that is “Red.”  In which case, Jacob does the job required of her.

Most Memorable Scene

The bizarre relationship between the main characters in this film begins with the woman’s invasion of the man’s home while he is sleeping.  Not much later she is shocked to learn that he too has been invading the homes of others (if only with his ears), and with far less praiseworthy intentions.  Yet she is clearly interested in joining him in his voyeurism, despite her professions of being disgusted with his actions and philosophy.  The scene where she stays in the man’s room as he switches his radio signal from house to house, listening on the affairs of his neighbors, and finds she has more in common with this lonely, strange man and his victims than she wants to admit is the crux of the film and its message.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

THREE COLORS: BLUE (1993)

A.K.A.: Trois Couleurs: Bleu

Country: France / Poland / Switzerland

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Krzysztof Kieslowski

Cast: Juliette Binoche / Benoit Regent / Charlotte Very

Plot

A woman tries to start a new life after losing her husband and daughter in a car accident.

What I Liked

The previous movie I reviewed here, “Now, Voyager,” was a drama built around the intensity of human passion and pain, a high quality melodrama.  “Three Colors: Blue” deals with similar themes, but in a way that is much more personal.  Juliette Binoche is nothing short of devastating in her portrayal of a widow of a famous composer, seeking to escape all memories of her past and build a new life for herself as though the previous never existed.  The success of the movie’s plot and meaning rests almost entirely on Binoche’s shoulders and she carries that weight with aplomb.  The strength of her performance is in her silence, her looks, gestures, and silent tears.  Her character does not moan and sob like those in “Now, Voyager,” but rather shows her pain through her efforts to ignore the hurt.  It is a performance deftly crafted out of subtlety, empathy, and self-assurance.

Binoche’s performance is exactly what is needed for “Three Colors: Blue,” a perfect fit for the puzzle that is the overall film.  Director Krysztof Kieslowski gives poetic meaning to the minutiae of everyday existence that would normally be dismissed as most trivial.  Moments like a droplet of coffee sitting on a saucer or a close-up of an eyeball moving about in its socket are interlaced between moments of recognizable tragedy and anguish within the narrative of the plot.  Binoche and Kieslowski show us that the tragic beauty (and sometimes even the heroism) of being human can be found in every fleeting instant of our lives.

What I Didn’t Like

This movie does exactly what it clearly set out to do, all of which I’ve gone over above.  In terms of accomplishing its goals, “Three Colors: Blue” is flawless.  However, there will be those, who will not appreciate those goals.  It could certainly be argued that watching the movie is too much of an intellectual enterprise than an emotional experience.  It is possible to spend too much of the film trying to recognize all that the filmmakers are trying to convey through their art, as opposed to sitting back and enjoying a moving film.  For me, though, I found the film a perfect balance, the intellectual strengths coming from Kieslowski’s eye for detail and the emotional catharsis from Binoche’s performance.

Most Memorable Scene

In case we miss the point of the film’s more subtle moments, there is particularly fascinating moment about half way through the film where Binoche’s character is sitting on a park bench and closes her eyes.  Doing so, she misses the sight of a decrepit, bent-backed, old woman hobbling down the sidewalk from who knows how far away to come to a recycle container.  The hole in which she is to insert her glass bottle is at least three feet over the woman’s head, yet somehow she manages to wrench, stretch, and contort herself over an agonizing period of just a few seconds just to get that bottle where it needs to go.  By the time Binoche opens her eyes, the old woman has hobbled out of view and our main character has missed a truly remarkable moment in her own life.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5