So I bought this book "1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die" and I've made it my goal to waste my life seeing them all. And, dork that I am, I've been keeping a little journal. At my wife's suggestion, I'm turning that journal into a blog.
Hounded by creditors,
a poor artist wins the lottery, the ticket to which is in his jacket
pocket. Great news, until he finds out
that his jealous girlfriend has given his jacket away, an act that sets in
motion a wild hunt across Paris.
Thoughts
Though “Le Million”
may not illicit full-on belly laughs, the film retains an irresistible charm
and remains highly entertaining more than 80 years after its release. An early sound film shot and set in France,
doubtless much of the film’s humor is either lost in translation or has
dissipated with the changing of public tastes.
Prat falls and pompous buffoonery have not aged well. Nonetheless, the story and pacing, combined with
some terrific performances still provide constant amusement, even for today’s
viewer.
“Le Million” still
displays the hallmarks of the silent film era: the styles of dress and makeup,
frequent chase scenes, exaggerated physical gestures by the actors. Yet, instead of making “Le Million” seem
dated, these elements bring a certain elegance to the film. There are almost as many scenes without
dialogue as there are with dialogue, allowing the talents of the actors and
director Rene Clair for physical comedy to shine. Rene Lefevre in particular is fantastic,
whether talking or not, as the leading man Michel. When I did chuckle, it was always because of
Lefevre’s performance.
Most Memorable Scene
***spoiler alert***
There is a
magnificent scene at the opera house, one of the places the Michel and many
others have gone to try and track down the missing jacket. Lefevre and the lovely Annabella, who plays
his love interest, wind up hiding behind some set pieces on stage during a
performance. Forced to wait out the love
song duet being performed, the pair reconcile.
As they do so, the lyrics of the song play out the feelings of the
lovers. Using no dialogue of their own, Lefevre
and Annabella are both terrific here and it is this scene which takes the movie
from amusing musical to absolute classic.
When a young woman
goes missing during a yachting trip with her wealthy friends, her fiancé and
best friend begin a search to find out what became of her. However, the pair quickly become distracted
by their attraction to one another and the search becomes less important to
them than their affair.
Thoughts
Director Michelangelo
Antonioni clearly knew he had something special in lead actress Monica
Vitti. Of course, he cast her in the
lead, but he also spent plenty of his movie on close ups of her face - as emotive as it is easy on the eyes - and he went on to use her in multiple subsequent films. She is indeed something special, and does a
terrific job portraying Claudia, a young woman conflicted by her growing
romantic relationship with the fiancé of her missing best friend Anna. Lea Massari, who plays Anna, a more mysterious
character even before she disappears, steals the initial scenes from
Vitti. However, once Anna is gone,
Claudia’s character is allowed to develop into the film’s most interesting
facet overall. Most of that development plays
out over Vitti’s face and body, rather than through dialogue. Claudia is the only central character who is
not wealthy and perhaps because of that she allows herself to feel guilt and
devotion on a deeper level than the rest of her circle, making her the perfect
character on whom to center a movie such as this. As the film’s conflict is primarily inner
turmoil within Claudia, Vitti had to not only embody the character of Claudia,
she had to embody the story of “L’Avventura” as well, and she did so
impressively.
Outside of the
performances (most of which convincingly capture the jaded self-obsession of
the well-to-do, which is the crux of the emotional turmoil between Claudia and
Sandro), the setting, and cinematography, all of which are a pleasure to
witness, there is no real reason to watch “L’Avventura” from an entertainment
perspective. The plot narrative plot is
overly simple. In terms of story, the
description I gave above is literally everything that actually happens in the
movie. The rest of the film’s story is
all internal within the characters. It’s
impressive to watch masters (actors, director, photographers) excelling at
their craft, but the traditional thrills and catharsis one might associate with
the cinema experience are mostly if not completely absent here. In the beginning, one gets the sense that we
might be entering into a mystery film, what with the search for the
inexplicably disappeared Anna; however, the film quickly moves away from
traditional mystery elements in favor of more philosophical and social themes. If you’re looking for escapist cinema, with
the exception of the beautiful people and settings, you won’t find much of it
in “L’Avventura.”
Most Memorable Scene
As
stated in the prior paragraph, following Anna’s disappearance, Antonioni does
dabble a bit in elements of traditional mystery thriller films, and he does so
effectively enough to make the viewer feel as though they are present in the
scene. As the central characters search
a craggy volcanic island in the ocean for their missing friend, the viewer’s
eyes can’t help but desperately prowl the surf, the cliffs, and the hills for
any sign of Anna as though we were one of her friends. Camera work works fluidly with the nature of
the location and the event to create a real sense of urgency and drama, even on
multiple viewings. Also as stated
before, the filmmakers intentionally move away from this approach as the movie
progresses, but these scenes resonate in the memory as terrific examples of
just how effective of a mainstream director Antonioni could have been, had he
any interest in mainstream success. My Rating: 3.5 out of 5
Convicted of the attempted murder of his socialite wife, Claus von Bulow
hires attorney Alan Dershowitz to handle his appeal. Based on the infamous, real-life legal case.
Thoughts
It is the performances here that really make this film work above all
else. Jeremy Irons is at his chilling
best as Claus von Bulow, a universally despised man convicted of causing his
wife Sunny’s coma with insulin injections.
It’s difficult to think of a better instance of casting, and Irons won
the Best Actor Oscar that year for the performance. Irons allows viewers to easily understand why
so many found von Bulow guilty simply for his icy demeanor, effete pretentions,
and repulsive ego. Even when he tries to
cast himself as the victim and conjure up some kind of human sympathy, the
character fails miserably, an unusual character trait in film, which Irons
handles magnificently. Where many actors
and filmmakers would try to show a main character, criminal or not, as somehow
sympathetic once you peel away the cold, hard exterior, Irons, along with director
Barbet Schroeder and screenwriter Nicholas Kazan, show that no matter how many
layers one peels back on von Bulow one just finds a deeper moral vacuum. However, being completely self-centered and
incapable of remorse does not necessarily mean that von Bulow is guilty of the
crime. It is this aspect of the von Bulow
case which makes the task before his attorney, Allen Dershowitz, all the more
challenging. Ron Silver and Glenn Close
are also terrific as Dershowitz and Sunny von Bulow respectively, which should
be no surprise as both actors are typically excellent in any role they take on.
Beyond some interesting choices in storytelling and scripting, and aside from
the previously mentioned actors, “Reversal of Fortune” is really standard baby
boomer American drama of the 1980s and early 1990s from a filmmaking
perspective. There’s little in the way
of style or flash, which is surprising since Schroeder was a central figure in
the very stylized French “New Wave” cinema of prior decades. For this film, though, the conventional
cinematography and editing works, allowing the story and characters to take
center stage, rather than any artistic pretentions of the filmmaker.
Most Memorable Scene
When the middle-aged snob von Bulow sits on a wooden chair in Dershowitz’s
cluttered and noisy suburban home, surrounded by a team of mostly young law students,
one gets a portrait of just how detached von Bulow and his class are from the
rest of the world and of just how disgusted they are by it. His back comically straight, his legs crossed
effeminately, his clothing pressed and his hair immaculate, von Bulow’s face
practically twitches with repulsion at virtually everything he sees, touches,
or hears. Meanwhile, to the others, and
to the viewer, von Bulow comes off as nearly extraterrestrial, some comically bizarre
creature crash-landed on a world from which he wants nothing more than escape
and forced to endure the primitive ways of the natives.
An extraterrestrial
being named Klaatu lands in Washington D.C., his mission to along an
important message intended to save all of mankind. He finds himself
the object of paranoia and investigation instead.
Thoughts
“Klaatu barada nikto.” One of the original sci-fi cult classics, 1951’s
“The Day the Earth Stood Still” helped establish the 1950s as the decade for
alien invasion science fiction movies. “Invasion
of the Body Snatchers,” “Forbidden Planet,” “The Thing from Another World,” and
“Them!” are just a few of the best examples of the onslaught of films from this
sub-genre which really hit its stride in early Cold War era. Ironically, “The Day the Earth Stood Still”
stands apart from the films it helped inspire simply because it is not truly an
alien invasion film. There is no
invasion. Indeed, its extraterrestrial
figure, Klaatu, essentially comes to Earth with a message intended to be the
planet’s salvation. Whereas the aliens
in most sci-fi films of the era are killers or monsters, Klaatu is actually the
closest thing to a hero that the film has.
As far as human
heroes go, “The Day the Earth Stood Still” is also unique for a film of its
time because it’s primary human protagonist is a woman, Helen Benson (played by
Patricia Neal), whose assistance Klaatu enlists in his effort to get his
message to the world. Helen is braver
and smarter than any human male in the entire film, an unusual characterization
for the era that the domestic housewife ideal was about the only positive image
of adult women in film.
Granted, while the
movie is ahead of its time in terms of themes and plot, it still has many of
the shortcomings common to all sci-fi in this period. Though most of the performances are
acceptable, some of the acting, particularly among supporting cast members, is
pathetic. Logically, some of the details
of the plot make no practical sense (Just two soldiers are assigned to guard an
advanced spacecraft that has landed in the middle of our nation’s capital? Aliens have the same physical features and
haircuts as Caucasian Americans?). Nonetheless,
the film rises above its shortcomings because its script is more
thought-provoking than any sci-fi film up to that time, at least since the
1930s.
Though the movie’s
effects are almost entirely outdated by today’s standards, one can still
respect the production techniques and camera tricks necessary to pull off some
of the film’s famous visuals. I actually
had a difficult time figuring out how a few of the special effects were pulled
off considering the limited means available to the filmmakers in 1951. If the effects are no longer as stunning as
they once were, they remain impressive for anyone willing to pay close attention
and give them any thought.
Better yet, because
the plot is kept relatively simple and the script keeps the story moving along
at a brisk pace, the move remains an entertaining and enjoyable viewing more
than sixty years after its release.
Most Memorable Scene
The arrival of the
spacecraft in Washington D.C., a scene which has been imitated quite frequently
since, is still vibrant with both drama and spectacle. As the world scrambles to both understand and
defend itself against what has happened, the viewer can’t help but be drawn in
by the Cold War influenced paranoia, especially once the spaceship finally
opens up to reveal its two passengers. That
a sense of drama remains steady throughout the film following this stunning
opening is a tribute to the skills of the writers and director Robert Wise, as
a tension-laden introduction such as this could stand to ruin the pacing of the
rest of the film in lesser hands.
Learning of the
construction of a new Death Star, the rebels mount a new offensive strike,
while Luke Skywalker prepares for a final confrontation with his father.
Thoughts
*So I am done separating these entries into “What I Liked”
and “What I Didn’t Like” sections and will be changing it to a more inclusive,
cohesive section concerning my overall thoughts about the film.*
When I was a kid,
“Return of the Jedi” was my favorite of the “Star Wars” trilogy, for several
reasons. First was the Rancor, one of
the most frighteningly cool creatures in the George Lucas/Jim Henson
menagerie. I liked all the forest fun
(ropes, bows and arrows, slings, and speeder bikes) on Endor. Also, Jabba the Hut and the Emperor made nice
additions as repulsive baddies. For the
most part, though, it just seemed that I watched “Return of the Jedi” much more
often than the other two entrants in the series that were out at the time. I was never the “Star Wars” nut that a lot of
other kids of my generation were, but I liked all three movies, this one the
most; back then, anyway.
Many say that the
ewoks ruined this film. I enjoyed them
as a kid and even remember watching the Saturday morning cartoon (I still have
the first issue of the “Ewoks” comic book series). Now, I understand why some die-hard fans find
them annoying or childish. Nonetheless,
they are an important reminder not to take these movies too damn seriously, a
reminder many people could use.
Setting the ewoks
issue aside, “Jedi” has a lot going for it.
The effects are improved even over the already impressive “Empire
Strikes Back,” allowing the sets to get more elaborate and detailed. The characters, machines, and space ships
move more fluidly and with more thrilling variety and speed through these sets. Thus the action in this film is much more
dense, fun, and impressive than in either of its predecessors. Of course, the visuals aren’t quite
comparable with the breakthroughs CGI would give us in the following two
decades, but they were nonetheless stunning and convincing for viewers in the
early 1980s.
The improved look and
action thankfully helps distract the viewer for musing too long on just how
horrendous the films dialogue can be.
One cliché or trite line follows another in almost every scene where
anyone does any talking. At least many
of the comedic lines are given to Han Solo, which allows Harrison Ford’s acting
ability to soften the blow of some of the movie’s more cringe-worthy
moments. But Mark Hamill is still an
absolute hack who should’ve have never been cast as the lead in the first
film. Any shot meant to capture Luke’s
emotional turmoil in this movie is almost as unbearable as Chewbacca’s
incessant whining was in “Empire.”
I know that many
consider “Jedi” to be the worst of the original trilogy. But if I’m being honest, I can’t really pick
my favorite or least favorite among the original trilogy. Despite Hamill, they all accomplish what they
set out to do pretty impressively. “Jedi”
may not end on the down note that so many admire about “Empire,” but the
closing entry in a trilogy like this simply can’t end that way. And “Jedi” is every bit the escapist popcorn
flick, if not moreso, that its predecessors was.
In hiding from the
vengeful Empire, Luke Skywalker continues his Jedi training, this time under
Master Yoda. Meanwhile, Han Solo,
Princess Leia, and Chewbacca try to outrun the Empire’s fleet in the Millennium
Falcon.
What I Liked
It’s pretty easy to
understand why cinephiles and Star Wars fanatics usually consider “Empire” to
be the best of the “Star Wars” franchise.
From an entertainment perspective, when compared with the original, it’s
got more of everything. More stars, more
war, more budget, more “far, far away” worlds, and more characters. It’s also got more depth of emotion. The cinematography is more striking. The characters, having already been introduced
to us, are also allowed to develop slightly beyond the bounds of
one-dimensional stereotypes. There is
also the famous twist of the truth about Luke’s father, which adds an extra
dimension to the overall arc of the entire “Star Wars” mythology, elevating the
scope of the series from lovable space opera to Sophocles in space. That the film ends on the down-note of this
big reveal was also something that set it apart from most action/adventure fare
and effectively set up the sequel, not to mention set up the pattern for most
successful film trilogies to follow.
What I Didn’t Like
When I was a kid,
“Empire” was my least favorite of the three films out at the time. This was because it was, taken as a whole,
the least action-packed of the three. Luke’s
training and the period meeting Lando in Cloud City are both pretty tame. As an adult, I can look past the lull in
action and enjoy other facets of these scenes.
On an entirely
different note, this movie makes me hate Chewbacca. The whiny wookie makes that terrible sound
way too much.
Most Memorable Scene
As with the first film,
nearly every moment of this film is about as iconic as it gets. Certainly the “I am your father” moment has
endured the most in popular culture. However,
watching the movie this time, what struck me the most was the moments just
prior to this, when Luke and Vader square off for the first time. It’s not necessarily the fight itself that
impresses, but the set design, lighting, and cinematography. Gorgeous, suspenseful, and moody, the scene
is the most visually stunning aspect of a movie that has plenty of amazing
stuff to look at.
Genre(s): Action /
Adventures / Epic / Fantasy / Sci-Fi
Director: George
Lucas
Cast: Mark Hamill /
Harrison Ford / Carrie Fisher
Plot
Long, long ago in a galaxy
far, far away, farm boy Luke Skywalker is swept up in a plot to free the imprisoned
Princess Leia from the clutches of the evil Darth Vader and his imperial
forces, which includes a planet-obliterating Death Star.
What I Liked
What is there
possibly to be written in praise of “Star Wars” that hasn’t been written or
said before? I’m not even going to make
the effort to come up with anything original and just detail what I love about
this move, which is probably what anyone bothering to read this loves about it
as well.
“Star Wars” was not
the first Hollywood summer blockbuster; that honor belongs to “Jaws,” released
two years earlier. “Jaws” was the first
film to put together an outrageous plot and eye-catching special effects to
create unprecedented pandemonium at the box office and get virtually the entire
world talking. However, “Star Wars” does
deserve credit as being the prototype for summer blockbusters in nearly every
other since. “Jaws” could be said to
have a quest in its plot, but not the way that “Star Wars” does. Writer-director George Lucas essentially gave
us a tale full of the same sense of adventure one finds in epic poetry and ancient
myths, filtered through twentieth-century escapist science fiction influenced
by comic books, pulp novels, and cinema featuring characters like Flash Gordon
and John Carter. Familiar with the work
of writer and historian Joseph Campbell, he took well-known (to the point of cliché)
archetypes from myth, legend, religion, and fiction and rendered them relevant
for a post-war, post-Watergate generation.
With these components, George Lucas reintroduced idealism and
romanticism to audiences who had long since abandoned them as hopeless
nonsense.
“Star Wars” is a
testament to belief, not only in its plot (the all-encompasing “Force,” Luke’s
rise from farm boy to savior, and Han Solo’s transformation from cynical pirate
to hero) but in its very creation. Watching “Star Wars,” one can feel Lucas’
excitement for bringing the fantasies of his childhood to life. The detail and creativity he demanded in
creating convincing costumes, special effects, and settings is evidence of his
passion for making the most of this opportunity to complete his dream project,
despite next to no support from his production company and a relatively meager
budget.
Let’s not forget all
of the unforgettable and fun characters, creatures, and beings he gave us with
just this single film. Darth Vader,
arguably cinema’s most memorable villain.
Han Solo, a role that transformed unknown Harrison Ford into a movie
star. R2D2 and C3PO, the robotic Odd Couple of outer
space. Chewbacca. The cantina.
The Millennium Falcon. The Death
Star. The list goes on. Western popular culture has been transformed
by “Star Wars” in a way that no other work of fiction from the past forty years
can match.
On top of all that,
it’s still so much fun to watch. No
matter how many times I’ve seen it.
What I Didn’t Like
Despite all the
praise above, and despite what so many of its obsessive fans might proclaim, “Star
Wars” is not a perfect film. For
starters, Mark Hamill, the least talented actor in the entire production, is
somehow given the lead role as Luke Skywalker.
The amazing effects, characters, and design do a good job of hiding its
one-dimensional characters and disappointingly simple plot, great for a popcorn
summer flick, but ultimately without much originality or depth. It wasn’t until the film’s tremendous success
demanded sequels and prequels and the like that Lucas was able to bring his
complete epic vision, with its much more intellectually satisfying themes, to
fruition. “Star Wars” did everything it
needed to revolutionize filmmaking and create an unofficial nation of obsessive
fans. It is an entirely satisfying
viewing experience for anyone who loves escapist cinema, but it has its
weaknesses.
Most Memorable Scene
Sometimes I regret
creating this category for my write-ups.
For the most part, I end up picking the film’s climax, which is almost
by definition the most memorable scene of the film. There are a few exceptions, but this isn’t
one of them. The X-Wing assault on the
Death Star, with Darth Vader and his pilots in pursuit, is the most
edge-of-your seat moment in the film (and maybe in any sci-fi film I've ever seen), not only for its completely convincing
special effects and the drama inherent in what is at stake, but for the
photography and pacing of the scene. It’s
terrific action filmmaking, one of Lucas’s finest moments as a director.
Cast: Joan Fontaine
/ Laurence Olivier / Judith Anderson
Plot
Having married Maxim
de Winter, a wealthy widower and owner of England’s Manderly estate, a shy
young woman finds the idyllic life she imagined for herself overshadowed by the
memory of Maxim’s late wife and the mysteries surrounding her demise.
What I Liked
Famous for the being
the product of an unlikely combination of producer David O. Selznick and
director Alfred Hitchcock, “Rebecca” benefits from the combination of two very
different approaches to filmmaking.
Selznick, the primary mastermind behind the previous year’s hugely
successful “Gone with the Wind,” was noted for favorite big budget Hollywood
epics, complete with massive sets, lavish costumes, and melodramatic
performances. Meanwhile, Hitchcock, who
had to this point only done work in Europe, was known for his masterful use of
simple settings, unnerving plots, and psychologically complex characters. Both men were control freaks, Selznick being
notorious for micro-managing every aspect of his productions, and Hitchcock insistent
upon total creative control (and manipulation of his cast members).
So how did this clash
between two powerful egotists with very different visions end up in anything
other than disaster, much less in creating the 1940 winner for the Best Picture
Oscar? They had the right story to start
with. Daphne Du Maurier’s novel of the
same name provided enough space for both men to work their magic to the
satisfaction of themselves and their audience.
The majority of the film is set in the staggeringly massive Manderly
mansion, a house with fireplaces bigger than some bedrooms I’ve lived in. Here the Selznick eye for opulence and
grandeur satisfies the Hollywood requisites of escapism and splendor. Meanwhile, the plot gives us the tale of a
fairy tale turned nightmare, a theme for which Hitchcock’s style of filmmaking
was perfectly suited. This remarkable
combination makes Manderly itself feel like a living, breathing, and very
ominous presence in the film, in much the same way the late Rebecca’s memory
looms over all who reside there.
The casting for “Rebecca”
was magnificent. Laurence Olivier is
equal parts charm and angst as Maixim de Winter, a man torn between his love
for his new bride and the unforgiving secrets of his past. Joan Fontaine, once of the most underrated
leading ladies of the era, is sympathetic as a woman hopelessly trying to live
up to everyone else’s the idealized memories of Rebecca. Then there is Judith Anderson, looking for
all the world like Bela Lugosi’s long lost sister, who is nothing short of
perfect as the villainous Mrs. Danvers, the scheming housekeeper obsessed with
Rebecca’s memory.
What I Didn’t Like
While the plot and
underlying mood bear Hitchcock’s fascination with the perverse and the creepy,
I still consider this film more of a Selznick production than a Hitchcock
picture. That is to say that the physical
scope of the sets and costumes, combined with the inherent melodrama of the
conflict, often overpower the subtler tones Hitchcock brought to the movie. Granted, for a story like DeMaurier’s,
Selznick’s is a benefit overall.
However, I’m much more of a Hitchcock fan than I am a Selznick fan, so
my general feeling is that Selznick’s approach waters down Hitchcock’s, while
Hitchcock’s talents strengthens those of Selznick.
Most Memorable Scene
***spoiler alert***
The staircase scene
for the costume ball, without a doubt, is the most heart-wrenching and
suspenseful moment of the film. Long
before the scene even takes place, any observant viewer will be aware that Mrs.
de Winter, so intent on impressing her husband and his friends, is about to unwittingly
perform social suicide with the costume she has selected. As she reaches the stairs expecting her
greatest triumph, her costume produces outrage and humiliation instead. We can only watch helplessly as the poor
woman descends to her own marital and social doom, cringing at the tragedy to
come.
Cast: Guy Pearce /
Carrie-Ann Moss / Joe Pantoliano
Plot
Leonard Shelby is
unable to form new memories, the result of brain damage incurred while trying
to save his wife from the hands of a killer.
Despite his condition, Leonard pursues the
criminal, unsure of who to trust and what to believe.
What I Liked
“Memento” is easily
one of my favorite films of the 2000s, a grim tale that is all about turning
the most basic assumptions about storytelling and filmmaking upside down. It is a film all about the power of
perspective and self-deceit to affect reality.
Essentially, the story is told backward, opening with a killing that
would normally serve as the conclusion to any other revenge film. For “Memento,” though, the solution is the
beginning of the mystery, not its conclusion.
Each subsequent scene takes place prior to the last chronologically and,
as the film progresses, our suspicion that something is not right with appeared
to be Leonard Shelby’s triumph deepens.
As soon as we figure out that something’s off, the fun becomes trying to
break apart the puzzle that has already assembled. By using this inverted and subjective approach
in what is ultimately a mystery story, screenwriter and director Christopher
Nolan puts the viewer in Leonard’s shoes.
As each scene begins, we are constantly wondering how Leonard got
himself there and what the new facts we’ve learned tell us about the truth
behind that opening killing. The next
scene then gives us the answer as to how Leonard physically got there, but only
leaves us as to more questions as to the truth behind Leonard’s quest.
“Memento” is also
steeped in film traditions. On the surface
it is a revenge story in crime thriller packaging. However, it is also a clear homage to the
film noir movies of the 1940s, complete with subjective filmmaking, black-and-white
photography, seedy supporting characters, voice-over narration by the
protagonist, and femme fatale. Some of
the fun of watching the movie is seeing these time-worn elements filtered
through a fresh twenty-first century filter.
Kudos Nolan and his cast for reinterpreting film noir, rather than
simply imitating it to the point of unintended parody, like so many other of
today’s crime films do.
What I Didn’t Like
Despite so much of
what is unique about “Memento,” the basic elements of the film are all-too
predictable. Since it is a crime
thriller, it should be no surprise that the movie ends with a twist. It doesn’t take but a few minutes of watching
to realize that ultimately we are going to be thrown some kind of mind-blowing
revelation at the film’s conclusion. The
rest of the film is spent trying to figure it out before the filmmakers reveal
it, like we do with so many other such movies.
I’m not a big fan of twists in movies.
They’re ultimately just gimmicks mistaken by too many people for good
writing. In the case of “Memento,” the
film didn’t really need any more gimmicks, as the movie ultimately could be
written off as one giant gimmick. Once
the story is revealed as w hole, we realize that, had the movie been told in
the conventional manner, the story would be boring as hell. Therefore, it’s the gimmick of revealing
everything to us through backward storytelling that is actually the crux of the
film’s entertainment value. Yes, there’s
a lot more to be read into what the film and its story structure has to say
about people and the lives we lead. But
when it comes down to it, “Memento” is a triumph of style over story.
Most Memorable Scene
I’ve seen this movie
several times. I own it. But this time, I picked up on a line uttered
by Leonard early on which stuck out to me.
“Just because there are things I don’t remember doesn’t make my actions
meaningless.” Knowing everything that
the story ultimately reveals to us, I realized that this is really the whole
crux of Leonard’s existence, a mantra which he will repeat at various points
throughout the film, just in different words (“I have to believe that my
actions have meaning, even if I can’t remember them.”). This becomes the theme of the whole film, calling
into question the value we place on memory, or even actions for that matter.
For more emotional
resonance, the flashback scenes outlining the struggle and fate of a character from
Leonard’s past named Sammy Jankis probably have the most lasting impact.
Cast: Peter Lorre /
Gustaf Grundgents / Otto Wernicke
Plot
A serial child killer
is on the loose in Berlin, taunting the police through the press. Repulsed by his crimes and frustrated by
increased police presence on the streets, the local underworld determines to
hunt down and punish the killer on their own terms.
What I Liked
We’ve all heard of
certain artists being described as being ahead of their time. Movie director Fritz Lang was at least a
generation, if not two, ahead of his contemporaries in so many ways, the
epitome of a visionary. All of the films
of his which I have thus far seen reflect his uncanny talent for predicting the
future of filmmaking, but for the purposes of length I’ll stick to my main
topic here, “M,” an unsettling thriller that paved the way for so much to
follow. This was the first time that I’d
ever seen this film, yet there was so much that was familiar about it. This is not because the film is derivative;
quite the opposite. So many later films
cribbed so much of what made them great from this movie. To keep things brief, I’ll point out a couple
of examples.
Visually, Lang makes
such emphatic and original use of shadow that darkness becomes something of a
character all its own, and a fascinating character at that. Shadows stretch guiltily behind creeping
figures, they form bars and crosses across horrified faces, they loom over the
streets of a terrorized city, they provide sanctuary for both the predatory and
the frightened, and at times they frame entire scenes. In this unprecedented use of shadow,
particularly within the environment of an labyrinthine urban environment, Lang
predates Carol Reed’s influential mystery thriller “The Third Man” by a full
eighteen years, and the entire noir subgenre in America by roughly two decades.
Then there is the
character of the killer, Hans Beckert, portrayed so powerfully in a
career-making performance by that most magnificent of character actors, Peter
Lorre. Lang, co-scripter Thea von
Harbou, and Lorre himself created a new kind of film monster in Beckert. This monster is no vampire, beast, or walking
dead. It is a man, a man who would
appear harmless, even friendly to the average passerby; yet a man who is a
slave to his compulsion to commit reprehensible acts. These type of characters are so prevalent in
television, books, and film today that it is easy to forget how new this
concept was to filmgoers of 1931. Nearly
30 years later, when Alfred Hitchcock (a director who arguably took a lot of
his signature style from this film) introduced American movie audiences to
Norman Bates, the film “Psycho” caused an uproar over its unsettling depiction
of a psychopath and his shocking crimes.
At a time that Hollywood was producing monsters in the form of
“Frankenstein” and “Dracula,” Fritz Lang had already stumbled onto a monster
far more vicious, one that the Hollywood studios wouldn’t dare expose for
decades to come, the human mind.
I could go on about
the films which owe a debt to “M,” either technically or thematically, from
“Frankenstein” to “A Clockwork Orange.”
After all, I haven’t really touched on the film’s exploration of crime
and punishment, the individual and society, or law versus justice, there just
isn’t room. Suffice it to say that “M”
is far more complex than a description of its comparatively simple plot would
convey.
What I Didn’t Like
The film does get off
to something of a slow start. Outside of
the creepiness of watching the killer at his work, most of the early portion of
the film is composed of an extended montage of the social fall-out from his
crimes and the ineptitude of the local authorities in catching him. Though necessary to explain how it is that
the gangster elements in Berlin decide to go after the Beckert, these scenes
are almost entirely devoid of any interesting dialogue, action, or
characterization. Thus the third or so
of the film was a real let down from what I had expected based on the film’s
reputation. However, those who are
patient will be amply rewarded for sticking around, as things get considerably
more intense once the gangsters begin their pursuit.
Most Memorable Scene
For the first two
thirds of the film, Peter Lorre speaks maybe a half dozen lines, if that. He is sufficiently creepy in his scenes as
Beckert, but in the film’s final act he is given opportunity to show off his
acting talents. Hauled before a kangaroo
court composed of the denizens of Berlin’s underworld, Beckert frantically
cycles through a series of emotions in a matter of just a few minutes. Lorre delivers a terrific performance from
out of the shadowy corner in which Beckert cowers, one that wound up leading to
a long career as one of Hollywood’s most famous character actors. The performance only helps the impact of the
scene, where somehow Beckert, a child killer and (it is implied) child
molester, somehow comes off as a bit sympathetic, if only slightly, as he faces
the horror of a vigilante mob. Here the
film’s more complex themes, which have until this point only been implied, are
explicitly brought to the forefront. “M”
winds up asking a lot of questions about the nature of crime, punishment,
society, and the human psyche. Most
importantly, it leaves the answers to those questions up to the audience.
Cast: Malcolm
McDowell / Michael Bates / Patrick Magee
Plot
Sometime in the
not-too-distant future, all-around hoodlum Alex is selected by the British
government to undergo an experimental treatment intended to eliminate his
immoral impulses.
What I Liked
The novel “A
Clockwork Orange” by Anthony Burgess is one of my very favorite novels. Apparently Burgess was none too impressed
with director Stanley Kubrick’s interpretation of his most famous work. Speaking for myself, outside of a few
exceptions, I found the film to be a pretty dead-on interpretation of the book,
capturing everything that I admire about Burgess’ text. It’s also a satisfactory blend of political
satire and science fiction, two genres at which Kubrick had already proven
himself to be a master by 1971.
One of the novel’s
most obvious and impressive features is the invented language – called Nadsat -
which the author gives to main character Alex and the other young delinquents
with him he spends his time. By using
this language for Alex as he tells the story in first person, Burgess allows
the reader to unintentionally sympathize with a set of characters one would
otherwise find repulsive; by the time I got toward the end of it, I found
myself occasionally even thinking in Nadsat.
Kubrick too allows Alex to narrate the movie in Nadsat. However, since the need for narration is much
less frequent in a visual medium like film, the language has less opportunity
to induce the same effect on the viewer as it does on the reader. Nonetheless, the use of the invented language
still allows the viewer to feel as if he has a special insider’s knowledge of
Alex’s mind which is unavailable to other characters in the movie. It is almost as if one can feel Alex nudging
us with his elbow at some inside joke each time he whispers his thoughts to us.
As Alex, Malcolm
McDowell is perfectly cast. There is a constant
and murderous delight in Alex’s eyes throughout, which became something of a
signature of McDowell’s performances after this film. Thanks to McDowell and Kubrick, the character
is convincingly maniacal, sarcastic, and intelligent all at once, exactly as he
should be. Though Alex is surrounded by
supposedly educated authorities and institutions, virtually all of these are
bumbling, cartoonish, or completely impotent.
Alex is easily the most aware and intelligent character we come across
in the film.
Incidentally, my
personal favorite character is that of the head prison guard played by Michael
Bates. He’s basically a uniformed imbecile
who loves for nothing else but stomping his boots and speaking in terse, staccato
barks.
What I Didn’t Like
As much as Kubrick
successfully captured the novel’s themes and satirical nature, in the end this
movie lacks one of the components essential to any first rate film: emotional
impact. The dark humor is there, yes;
but outside of that, as a viewer I’ve never felt any real emotional investment
in or connection to what is happening on screen. Perhaps that’s why I’ve only bothered to
watch the movie twice, when I love the novel so much. I just kind of watch it and think about, smirking occasionally, while waiting for it to end.
Most Memorable Scene
Maybe the most iconic
scene of torture in all of cinema history, the scenes where Alex is in a
theater, forced to watch films of violence and Nazism, are easily the most imitated
and influential images from the movie.
That said, the home invasion followed by a gang rape, incredibly graphic
for 1971, is a close second for sheer memorable impression.
Life in the Jim Crow
South is experienced through the eyes of a young white girl whose lawyer
father, Atticus Finch, accepts a case in defense of a black man unjustly
accused of raping a white woman.
What I Liked
“To Kill a
Mockingbird” is almost universally regarded as one of the finest motion
pictures America has ever produced for many reasons, but it mainly comes down
to this: like most timeless works, it works as popular entertainment, social
commentary, and universal art all at once.
Like the novel it is
based on, the film tells its tale almost exclusively through the eyes of a
child, that of the restless and curious tomboy Scout. This is the key to the film’s depth and
power. From an entertainment perspective,
we are able to experience that sense of wonder and adventure adults lose
somewhere during the growing up process.
By bringing the camera down to a child’s height, everything about the
world seems bigger, more fun, and at times more frightening. Most importantly, these scenes are never
overly sentimental; they are full of truth and meaning, setting the film apart
from films concerned only with nostalgia.
For Scout, her brother Jem, and their friend Dill, every question or
dilemma becomes an excuse for investigation, exploration, and discovery, a
universal truth that magically resurrects the best part of being a kid.
The social commentary
is probably the most praised aspect of “Mockingbird.” In 1962, concepts like rape and interracial
sex were still fairly taboo for mass consumption. So was open discource about race and racism,
at least in mainstream film. Author
Harper Lee and the filmmakers of this movie forced America to take a hard look
a shameful piece of its history that was not so far in its past. The courtroom scene is the most obvious
example of this, with the segregation of the white and black audiences (notably,
Scout, Jem, and Dill sit with the black people), with the testimony and
examinations, and with Atticus Finch’s unforgettable closing argument. When Atticus stands up in that courtroom, most
of the time we watch him from the jury’s perspective; he is speaking to us
about America, about our history when he says “The defendant is not guilty –
but somebody in this courtroom is.” The
film may have its enjoyable innocent nostalgia, but Harper Lee’s novel was
mostly autobiographical and contains many unsettling truths. It is the effect those truths have on Scout’s
and Jem’s image of the world that is among the most memorable aspects of the
film. Also interesting, in many cases
the unruly and fanciful children are more honest and rational than the adults
and their society.
Even going deeper
than the obvious tackling of race and justice in America, or even the inevitable
loss of innocence children endure, there is an even deeper universality to this
film, one that is harder to pinpoint. It
is simply an overall sense that, in these characters, particularly the
children, we are looking at a portrait of humanity, still wondering at the
mysteries of life, it’s meaning, and the world in which it takes place. Still trying to understand each other and why
we do the things we do. Still longing
for belief in that strong moral compass represented by Atticus
Atticus. He is one of the most iconic characters in
all of film history, embodied so immaculately by Gregory Peck, who won an Oscar for his performance. Through the eyes of his
daughter, Atticus is a walking ideal, to the point that he could be called a
stand-in for God Himself: creator, teacher, protector, comforter, moral guide,
and idol. Rarely is a character so
morally and personally infallible also interesting. Thanks to Lee, Peck, and the filmmakers,
Atticus is the benchmark for the infallible hero against which all such
characters will be forever measured.
All of the above gives
“To Kill a Mockingbird” an combined emotional and intellectual impact that
remains palpable today. It will make the
viewer want to play, to laugh, to cry, and to fight for those things worth
fighting for.
What I Didn’t Like
The only possible
criticism is that, while making a film obviously meant to criticize racism in
America, the filmmakers relied on quite a lot of stereotypes, most notably in
the sneering, drunken white trash bigot that is Bob Ewell, who if not a
stereotype, is certainly a cliché.
Someone concerned with finding racial stereotypes could even argue that Tom
Robinson, black man martyred by American racism, is a character representative
of some racial misconceptions. Robinson
comes across as almost a frightened, simple-minded fool who needs an confident
and intelligent white man to come to his aid; not exactly a flattering
portrayal of African Americans in a film that is supposed to condemn racial
stereotypes. Anyway, most of this can be
explained away as being told through the simple observations of a young girl,
but it is nonetheless there.
It could also be
argued that Lee never intended Ewell or Robinson to be stand-ins for an entire
group of people. However, that argument
would then strip the film of some of its power, as it is the way in which the
film puts the whole of American history and society on trial that has helped “To
Kill a Mockingbird” become one of cinema’s enduring classics.
Most Memorable Scene
Much of what
impressed me about this movie was in the production values. Recreating a small town in Depression-era
America doesn’t necessarily call for a huge budget, but the attention to detail
in this film was phenomenal. There is a
moment early in the film when the children venture into Boo Radley’s yard and
are frightened into fleeing in terror. A
short time later, a gunshot is heard. In
that moment, we hear maybe a half dozen dogs begin barking, seemingly form
varying distances. In several more
sedated scenes after this, I also noticed details like distant dog barks and
bird chirps that are subtly mixed in behind the dialogue as part of the setting. It’s little details like this that which
heighten the sense of place that lends the weight of truth to “To Kill a
Mockingbird.”
