STAR WARS (1977)

Country: U.S.A.

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.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

REBECCA (1940)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Alfred Hitchcock

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.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

MEMENTO (2000)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Crime / Drama

Director: Christopher Nolan

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.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

M (1931)

Country: Germany

Genre(s): Crime / Drama

Director: Fritz Lang

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.

My Rating: 4 out of 5    

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971)

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

Genre(s): Comedy / Crime / Sci-Fi

Director: Stanley Kubrick

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.

My Rating: 3 out of 5

TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (1962)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Robert Mulligan

Cast: Gregory Peck / Mary Badham / Phillip Alford

Plot

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.”

My Rating: 5 out of 5

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Action / Adventure

Director: Steve Spielberg

Cast: Harrison Ford / Karen Allen / Paul Freeman

Plot

In 1936, the U.S. Army gives archaeologist Indiana Jones the mission of recovering the Ark of the Covenant before a Nazi-sponsored expedition does, kicking off a quest that will take Jones from the mountains of Asia to the deserts of Africa to the high seas aboard a German U-Boat.

What I Liked

I should begin this review by stating that very few films have as much sentimental value for me as “Raiders.”  I spent countless afternoons watching this movie (or “The Last Crusade)” or imagining myself as Indiana Jones as I ran around in the woods or played in a friends backyard.

The thing about sentimental favorites from childhood, however, is that many of them disappoint once you get to be an adult.  Time passes, you see better movies, the standards for effects change, the youthful belief in magic fades, the adult mind criticizes too much.  The great thing about watching “Raiders” is that it was nearly as much fun to watch it this time around as it was back when I was a kid.  That’s because most of the fun of “Raiders of the Lost Ark” is based on quality of craft, which is always timeless.

Let’s start with the performances.  Harrison Ford is perfectly cast as Indy.  In many ways, he reminded me of everything that great about a Humphrey Bogart performance: masculine, ballsy, smart, flawed, and vulnerable.  To this mix, Ford adds a level of self-effacing humor that Bogart’s characters always lacked, making Jones one of the most well-rounded action heroes in cinema.  Jones is cool enough to be envied and relatable enough to fool you into imagining yourself in his shoes.  Despite being a beloved action hero, Jones is no John Rambo or even James Bond; unlike those characters, he doesn’t always get it right and usually pays for his mistakes by taking hellacious beating.

Karen Allen reinvents the action movie girlfriend role as Marion, a tough-talking, hard-drinking spitfire who rescues herself from distress at least as much as our hero does.  Though Marion does wind up in a few classic “tied to the railroad track” type scenarios, in Allen’s hand the character is more heroine than victim.  She is utterly convincing in the role, making Marion in many ways the female version of Indiana.  The screwball comedy style of banter between Indiana and Marion, who is almost always shown to be Indiana’s emotional and mental superior, has a large amount to do with the film’s endearing comedic elements.

Combine those two performances with some of the most thrilling stunts ever caught on camera, exotic locations, a cacophony of gunfire and explosions, plenty of fist-fights, tasteful use of shocks and gore, and some of cinema’s most memorable one-liners and you’ve got arguably the greatest action film every made.

What I Didn’t Like

Indiana Jones is such an terrific movie action hero, it’s a shame that the filmmakers never truly came up with a villain to match him.  In “Raiders” he was usually pitted against his professional rival Rene Belloq, a French egotist who fancies himself the yin to Indy’s yang.  It isn’t that Paul Freeman didn’t play the role right, but just that the part wasn’t written to be very interesting.  Most of the villains in the series, Belloq included, are cribbed directly out of older movies, with nothing about them that makes them the least bit interesting.  In some ways, this allows room for the on screen action to become Indy’s most compelling adversary in the form of one death-defying trap after another.  In other ways, it’s a disappointment that Jones never got the Moriarty, Joker, or Darth Vader.

Most Memorable Scene

The who film is almost one unforgettable scene after another, accompanied by equally memorable dialogue.  Still, when “Raiders” is mentioned, the very first scenes that come to my mind is the opening sequence as Indy and one lone surviving assistant explore an booby-trapped jungle ruin and try to make off with a golden idol.  The whole thing is a fun homage to the old 1930s movie serials, a wonderful series of creepy gags, and a perfect introduction to what is to follow in the next two and a half hours.  I’m pretty sure anyone else who has seen the movie (Is there anyone who hasn’t?) would agree that that opening twenty minutes or so are the most classic in a classic film series.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama / Horror

Director: Jonathan Demme

Cast: Jodie Foster / Anthony Hopkins / Scott Glenn

Plot

FBI trainee Clarice Starling is assigned to interview imprisoned serial killer Dr. Hannibal Lecter regarding his knowledge of fellow psychopath “Buffalo Bill.”  Can Starling get the information she needs from the clever Lecter before Bill claims another victim.

What I Liked

Back in the 1990s, it seemed like there was always some serial killer-based psychological thriller in the theater.  “Seven,” “Kiss the Girls,” “The Bone Collector,” “Fallen,” “Copycat,” the list goes on.  With its clever script, riveting performances, and genre-transcending production, “The Silence of the Lambs” is the film that kicked off the trend, making it one of the most influential films of the era.

His performance as Hannibal Lecter allowed Anthony Hopkins to go from highly regarded actor to full-fledged acting legend.  He also established the character as one of the great film villains and a classic movie monster on the level of a Dracula, Norman Bates, or Freddy Kreuger.   His Lecter is irresistibly manipulative, darkly amusing, and absolutely creepy in equal measure.  Hopkins (and through him, Lecter) is without a doubt the prime reason this film is regarded as a classic.

However, one cannot ignore the importance of Jodie Foster, who is equally capable in her performance of Starling, even if her character is not as juicy as the chilling, demented Lecter.  Starling is the foil against whom Lecter is allowed to shine, as well as the relatable character can be used by the audience as a conduit into Lecter’s demented perspectives.  Starling’s verbal jousting with Lecter is what separates this film’s unique power and timelessness.  Later thrillers tried to piece together similar confrontations, but is the way that Lecter and Hopkins deliver these scenes that truly set s this one apart.

Incidentally, Ted Levine is also pretty damn frightening as the skin coveting Buffalo Bill.

What I Didn’t Like

The character of Catherine Martin, while admirably resourceful and brave, is not very convincing to me as a person who has been trapped for days in a dungeon pit by a man who is clearly bent on murdering her.

Most Memorable Scene

As mentioned previously, the scenes of verbal sparring between Lecter and Starling are the most iconic moments of this film.  Nonetheless, like any good climax, the most emotionally powerful moment of the film to me is when Clarice unwittingly stumbles upon the killer and is drawn into his home.  When he initially escapes her attempted arrest and leads her on a terrifying pursuit through his dungeon-like basement, that the anxiety really starts.  Even watching this for the I-don’t-know-how-many time, I was still on the edge of my seat, gritting my teeth, my muscles reflexively tightened.  That’s because the terror on Jodie Foster’s face is completely believable and relatable.  Her entire body appears stricken with adrenaline, and understandably so.  It’s Foster’s change to show that she is every bit the actor that Hopkins is and has an equal mastery over her audience, and succeeds at both.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Billy Wilder

Cast: William Holden / Gloria Swanson / Nancy Olson

Plot:

Out of work writer Joe Gillis recounts his final days as the reluctant writing partner and companion of Norma Desmond, who was once one of Hollywood’s great beauties of the silent era.  With her stardom long behind her, Desmond is now a delusional recluse fixated upon the younger writer, whom she clings to as her last hope of recapturing her former glory.

What I Liked

Like any halfway decent noir film, “Sunset Boulevard” is narrated by a dead man.  We know Joe Gillis is dead about one minute in.  That’s not to say that the film is a pure representation of the noir subgenre; it transcends the limitations of categorization.  It has many of the stock characters, gimmicks, and themes of noir: the hard-luck cynic for a protagonist responsible the aforementioned narration, a grim murder, the Los Angeles backdrop, the obsessive use of shadow and sharp angles, and the snuffing out of all things naïve.  However, there are also strong elements of showbiz drama, psychological thriller, and cultural satire.  There is even the faint trace of the horror in the sense of decay and hopelessness that persists throughout its two hour length.  In one of the film’s many famous moments, faded movie star Norma Desmond describes herself as bigger than the movies (“I am big; it’s the pictures that got small.”). In similar fashion, “Sunset Boulevard” refuses the limited confines of simpler film-making.

Though Gillis is technically the film’s main character, it is Desmond who serves as the crux of the film’s intrigue.  In a masterstroke of casting, she is played with magnificence by Gloria Swanson, who, like the character herself, was a largely forgotten star from Hollywood’s silent era.  She lurks about her empty palace of a home with a purposeless grandiloquence that would be downright hilarious if it weren’t absolutely tragic.  Her every gesture and word is a performance for an audience that exists nowhere for her but in her own imagination.  The character is one part Charles Dickens’s Miss Havisham (who is referenced early in the film), one part Orson Welles’s Charles Foster Kane, and one part Swanson herself; she is as compelling to witness as all three put together.  Swanson is exactly as over-the-top as she needs to be while portraying a psychopath who knows of no other way to hide her shattered self-esteem than with pretension and egomania.  When watching her, one wonders where Desmond ends and Swanson begins, and vice versa; that’s what acting is supposed to be.

Incidentally, Swanson isn’t the only major figure of the silent cinema to show up.  Cecil B. DeMille and Buster Keaton actually play themselves while Erich von Stroheim is chilling as Max, Desmond’s former director and ex-husband, who has been reduced to a doting manservant.

What I Didn’t Like

Where the character of Desmond completely destroys and rebuilds the cliché evil dame of noir film, main character Joe Gillis (played by William Holden) is the noir cliché incarnate.  Granted, he does famously start our film as a corpse floating in face-down in a pool and that’s a pretty good jumping off point for any movie, but beyond that the guy is pretty much a bore.  Perhaps he was written so blank so that the audience can easily insert themselves into Gillis in order to properly experience Desmond in all her pathetic glory through his eyes.  Either way, as the dead man told his tale, I found myself impatient for the part where he goes for that final, bullet-riddled swim.

Most Memorable Scene

As the film was drawing to its close, I began thinking of several key moments that had the potential to stick with me the most and be recognized in this part of my entry.  Then came the closing minute, which not only features what is easily the most famous line of the film but also gives us the inevitable completion to Desmond’s psychological collapse.  She looks straight at us – that audience she and only she has been aware of all along – as horrifically mesmerizing as Medusa.  She leers at us, lures us, and scoffs at us in a matter of seconds and we’re reminded of an earlier line in the film, “We didn’t need dialogue.  We had faces!”  Then, stepping even closer until we have nothing to look at but her, she utters those final, unsettling words, “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.”  With that, we know now there is no escape from the madness; not for Desmond and not for ourselves.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

HIS GIRL FRIDAY (1940)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Comedy

Director: Howard Hawks

Cast: Rosalind Russell / Cary Grant / Ralph Bellamy

Plot

After months abroad, star reporter Hildy Johnson returns to the Morning Post office and editor Walter Burns, who also happens to be her ex-husband, to announce her engagement and intent to live as a suburban housewife.  Walter subsequently uses all of his considerable connections and guile to lure Johnson back into the newspaper game.

What I Liked

“His Girl Friday” is a mainstream screwball comedy with a subversive tinge that adds to its continued appeal.  Typewriter-like rat-a-tat-tat banter between tough-talking urbanites of the opposing sexes is, above all else, the trademark of screwball comedy and there is perhaps more of that here than in any other example of the subgenre that I’ve ever seen.  Reporters Johnson (Rosalind Russell) and Burns (Cary Grant), along with the rest of their hard-boiled ilk, fire off one liners as fast as is humanly possible.  However, if one is able to concentrate hard enough to get beyond the tough talking dialogue, one finds comedy of a different kind: satire. 

The filmmakers did a decent job of constructing a not-so-thinly veiled send-up of the rampant political corruption in local New York politics, with virtually every civic authority presented as a combination of bumbling, pompous, and crooked in varying degrees, depending on the character.  Reference to political figures and problems of the era from the local (ward politicians) to the international (Hitler) are peppered through the dialogue and are strongly present in the sub-plot of a condemned man about to hang in order to serve the aspirations of a political machine as election day draws near.

There is also a much subtler twinge of sexual politics in the film.  “His Girl Friday” has been referred to by some as a feminist film; this exaggerates the case a bit.  Hildy Johnson, despite being a career woman, has clearly never been more than the titular “Girl Friday” to her boss, who also happens to have been her husband until recently.  Though she does spends much of the film operating on her own, in her life overall she seems unable to function without a man guiding her ambitions.  Still, compared to most female film characters of the day, Hildy is certainly a progressive woman.  Temporarily lured by the social pressure to conform to society’s dictation that she must be a married mother serving a dull husband in a safe career, she eventually realizes this is not who she is, nor who she wants to be, and returns to her true passion, being a “newspaper man.”  There are also a few jokes referring to the liberal-minded woman enjoying pre-marital romps with men.  They're uttered so quickly that they pass almost without notice.  But if you pay attention they're there.

What I Didn’t Like

Despite these leanings to social commentary, all in all “His Girl Friday” is a disappointingly typical comedy for its period.  There is nothing original nor dazzlingly entertaining here.  The plot and dialogue trudge out many of the same old comedy-of-the-sexes clichés we’re used to from other films of the era and does very little new with those dynamics.  Many have praised Russell and Grant for their performances but honestly, while a certain comradery did come across, I felt no sexual tension between the pair and really felt like both just phoned in their performances.  They memorized their lines and shouted them out over each other as fast as they could.  Grant makes a few funny faces, Russell rolls her eyes.  That’s about the extent of it.

Most Memorable Scene

The best scene of the film had neither the film’s leading man or leading lady in it at all.  It actually opens with the Sheriff and Mayor plotting their next move with an impending scandal about to hit just before the election.  Veteran character actor Billy Gilbert enters through a door steals the scene while playing a dim-witted runner for the Governor.  The efforts of the Mayor to subsequently corrupt the unwitting Gilbert’s character, Mr. Pettibone, into betraying the Governor and aiding the local political machine are hilariously futile as Pettibone is simply too oblivious to be anything but honest.  The satire is poignant, the absurdity hilarious, and Gilbert gets the more laughs than everyone else in the film combined.

My Rating: 3.5 out 5