THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE (1962)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Western

Director: John Ford

Cast: James Stewart / John Wayne / Lee Marvin

Plot

A U.S. Senator returns to the Western town where he made his reputation and reveals the long-hidden secret behind his legendary rivalry with the dangerous killer Liberty Valance.

What I Liked

Much has been made about the moral complexity of “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” and with good reason.  Much like “The Searchers” (also directed by John Ford) this film pulls back at least some of the curtain of myth and simplicity presented in the Hollywood Westerns that preceded it.  In fact, it is sort of a precursor to the more mature Westerns to come, such as “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” and “The Assassination of Jesse James,” in which the heroes of the films are incapable of living up to the legends surrounding them.  Also like in those other two films, this one represents the American West at a bittersweet moment in history, when the Old West (represented by John Wayne’s Tom Doniphan) was beginning to give way to the coming of law and order (represented by Jimmy Stewart’s Ransom Stoddard).  Wayne’s mythological cowboy hero, as a man who is his own law, is on the fast track to obsolete and realizes it.  Yet the entire film, from start to finish, laments the loss of the old ways, even as it recognizes the necessity of the new.  In short, thanks to Ford’s ever-maturing approach to the Western, there’s more underlying complexity in “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” than in the vast majority of the Hollywood Westerns that preceded it.

What I Didn’t Like

For all that it challenged, the movie still needed to remain viable box office entertainment for the masses.  That meant adhering to certain preconceived notions held by the film-going audience of its era.  The big name actors all stick pretty much to the types we’re used to seeing from them.  Stewart is the wide-eyed crusader who is honest to a fault.  Wayne is the brawny man of action.  Lee Marvin is a tough-talking, violent badass.  And Andy Devine is the comic relief, a well-meaning buffoon.  One could see all that as perfect casting, but in a film that questions so much about American myth-making, it would have been nice to see these major stars break from their own myths.  Visually, the film still exhibits much of the silliness that was commonplace in Westerns of the period.  The streets and people are all too clean; the clothing and sets too new looking.  “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend” says a character in the film.  It’s the most famous line of the movie and the sentiment informs the entire film, thematically.  In the case of “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” there’s still much more legend than fact; and, in the early 1960's, audiences were absolutely fine with that.

Most Memorable Scene

Jimmy Stewart’s character gets a not-so-warm welcome from Liberty Valance and his gang early in the film.  It’s a rude awakening for Stewart as to what he’s up against with his arrival in the West and introduces the conflict that will define his character’s arc through the rest of the film.  It’s all surprisingly violent and sadistic for a film of the period.  It is a nice grab for the viewer’s attention after a fairly drawn-out and dull prologue.

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5

ORDINARY PEOPLE (1980)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Robert Redford

Cast: Timothy Hutton / Donald Sutherland / Mary Tyler Moore

Plot

Troubled by a tragedy from the past, the members of an otherwise normal suburban family struggle to cope with their loss and relate to one another.

What I Liked

So apparently there’s still anger among certain cinephiles that “Ordinary People” beat out “Raging Bull” for the Best Picture Oscar.  While Scorsese is my favorite director and “Raging Bull” is regarded as one of his undisputed masterpieces, I have to say, I do kind of get why “Ordinary People” was picked.  As a fan of Marty, DeNiro and boxing, the visual character study of Jake LaMotta will always be more entertaining for me, but “Raging Bull” relies so much on shock value and style that it can at times feel as overbearing and brutish as its subject.  Meanwhile, “Ordinary People” is a much more subtle film that is strongest in its moments of silence and simplicity.

To put it another way, “Ordinary People” was far less flashy than “Raging Bull” and dealt with some truths that many viewers might have still feel hit unnervingly close to home.  It is a film that deals largely with what goes unsaid, the conflict played out in frightened stares, nervous gestures, and uncomfortable silences.  That description might make it seem boring, but I personally could not stop watching the movie, thanks to a perfectly paced script with well-rendered, relatable characters.

The fact that every actor with a speaking part is perfectly cast and plays their role flawlessly certainly helps the film retain its intense emotional impact more than thirty years after its release.  In fact, to me, the great Oscar travesty that year was not that this movie beat out “Raging Bull” for Best Picture, but that Timothy Hutton was forced to settle for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar.  Hutton’s character, the anxiety-ridden and depressed teenager Conrad Jarrett is absolutely the main character of the story and Hutton gets far more screen time than either of the more famous people who got top billing in the film (Mary Tyler Moore and Donald Sutherland).  So how exactly did Hutton get demoted to being a supporting actor in the eyes of the Academy?  It is really his career-making performance that is the crux of the film’s plot, conflict, and emotional resonance.

What I Didn’t Like

Particularly when viewed all these years later, with psychology and dysfunctional families very familiar themes in American pop culture, “Ordinary People” never feels particularly original, at least not on the surface.  Even with its title, the filmmakers rely on a movie convention that was already cliché by 1980: the secrets haunting a seemingly perfect suburban neighborhood/household and the myth of “normalcy.”  Charles Laughton, Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kramer, Mike Nichols, and John Carpenter had all mined similar themes in various ways previously.  But none did so with the touching realism and absence of ego that director Robert Redford accomplishes here.  His movie is the epitome of substance over style.

Some of the scenes involving Conrad meeting his psychiatrist (played by Judd Hirsch) also now feel a bit silly, full of overacting and cliché confrontations that might have very well felt poignant back in 1980.  The prevalence of therapy as a plot device in film means that these scenes don’t feel as special today as they might have then.

Most Memorable Scene

Hutton’s lunch meeting with an old friend from the hospital has much of that unspoken conflict I mentioned earlier.  There’s a great deal that is revealed here about Conrad here without much being said.  Here are two old friends meeting one another again, separated by time and distance from where they had first come to know one another.  The circumstances of their pasts and their own personal problems prove too strong for either one of them to break through so that they can once again communicate with one another the way they used to.  This movie if filled with tragic failures to communicate, but this one will prove the most tragic of all.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

CARRIE (1976)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Horror

Director: Brian De Palma

Cast: Sissy Spacek / Piper Laurie / Betty Buckley

Plot

Shy social outcast Carrie White struggles to understand and control her telekinetic abilities as the high school prom approaches.

What I Liked

*spoiler alert*

My above plot description doesn’t really do justice to the complexity and uniqueness of “Carrie.”  Loaded with underlying commentary about everything from religion, puberty and conformity to parenthood, sexuality, and suburbia, this is one of those movies that can be too easily overlooked as cheap shock value when it is in fact one of the most mature and multi-faceted horror films I have ever seen.

One of the best things about “Carrie” is that the film breaks so many conventions of the horror genre and yet its status as a supreme example of that genre is undeniable.  Take a look at other top horror films of the 1970s (for example, “The Exorcist,” “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” and “Halloween”) and you’ll find some elements in common.  The killer is the villain.  The protagonist is pursued by, but ultimately escapes from, evil. Frights, shocks, and deaths abound, from start to finish.  None of these apply to “Carrie.”  Here the title character is the only killer, and yet the true villains are her shallow, bullying classmates, who become her victims.  Likewise, our protagonist is the one, ultimately, from whom everyone else must run.  And, most interestingly, the film is almost devoid of the standard horror shock value until its infamous climax (which certainly makes up for lost time).  Until then, we are simply watching a suburban (if supernatural) teen drama.  This isn’t to say there aren’t many hallmarks of horror still present.  The ignorant but well-meaning adults; the religious themes; the focus on sex and sexuality; they’re all very familiar elements (clichés, even) of horror.

Despite its lack of obvious shock elements, “Carrie” is nonetheless haunting from start to finish in large part thanks to Sissy Spacek’s devastating performance.  She conjures up so much feeling from and for her character through the eerie combination of vulnerability and rage that she brings to Carrie, that the movie feels like horror the whole time, without much scary taking place on screen but one actor’s total mastery of her character.  Mentions should also be made of Piper Laurie who is plenty scary as Carrie’s religious zealot mother.

What I Didn’t Like
*spoiler alert*

There’s not much to complain about.  Perhaps one could say the movie is a little slow compared to what a modern horror viewer might expect, but I didn’t feel that slowness at all.  This is just one of those movies which can hypnotize the viewer through its mood and characters.

The only part of the movie that bothers me when watching it is the ending.  Not the whole high-school-gym-bloodbath part.  Love that.  It’s most of what follows.  Mom being stabbed in a position to look like she’s Christ crucified.  The Fall of the House of Usher collapse.  The silly rise-from-the-grave dream sequence at the conclusion.  In a matter of the few closing minutes, director Brian De Palma and screenwriter Lawrence Cohen cave to silliness and cliché, cheapening an otherwise flawless film.

Most Memorable Scene

No contest here.  Even if you haven’t seen the movie, I’m sure you already know what scene in Carrie stands out from all the others.  So why bother saying it.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

MURIEL'S WEDDING (1994)

Country: Australia

Genre(s): Comedy

Director: P.J. Hogan

Cast: Toni Collette / Rachel Griffiths / Bill Hunter

Plot

Insecure and socially awkward Muriel, who is obsessed with ABBA music and planning an imaginary wedding for herself, steals money from her father to go on a dream vacation.  There she befriends adventurous and confident Rhonda, who helps her learn to believe in herself.

What I Liked

The best films coming out of New Zealand and Australia in the late 1980s and early 1990s all have a unique quality in common.  They may all have different plots, characters, and even completely different genres.  Still, whether we’re talking about the movies of Peter Jackson, Baz Luhrmann, or P.J. Hogan, the films all have a stylish in-your-face quirkiness that sets them apart from films from other parts of the world or other eras.  The movies made by all three directors feature loud, almost cartoonish characters presented in extreme close-up.  The dress, behavior, and even language of these characters are garish to the extreme and the filmmaking at times matches that gaudiness.  The benefit of this is that the films fascinate the eye, sometimes even during more mundane scenes.  Hardly a minute passes without something off-kilter or downright bizarre flashing across the screen.

In the case of writer-director P.J. Hogan’s “Muriel’s Wedding,” the plot is certainly more down-to-Earth and mainstream than what was typical of early output from Jackson or Luhrmann.  Not that the story lacks for off-the-wall encounters and twists, but it always comes back to the relatable struggles of everyday living and Muriel’s charming quest to discover happiness. Personally, I rather enjoy the gross-out-effects and comic book intensity of Peter Jackson’s early cult classics, but that said, it’s no wonder that “Muriel’s Wedding” had a broader international appeal upon release than something like Jackson’s “Bad Taste.”  The filmmakers mine the awkward and quirky moments of life in a none-too-subtle way, but always maintain a high level of sentimentality in order to maintain an emotional hold over their audience.

Of course without the enchanting performance of Toni Collette in the title role, this film would almost certainly have been forgotten long before it had the chance to leave Australian cinemas.  Collette’s well rounded performance brings a depth to a character who, in the hands of another actor, might have been a one-dimensional bore.  She gives us a Muriel we can feel sorry for, relate to, root for, wonder about, and laugh at.  Really most of the main roles are filled by talented actors, but it is Collette who makes the film memorable.

And any movie with a town in it called Porpoise Spit gets an automatic extra half point from me.

What I Didn’t Like

I. Hate. ABBA's music.  Ok, enough on that.

Also, while the frenetic, hyper-bold filmmaking of Australian/New Zealand films that I referenced earlier, while admittedly dazzling to the eye, can be somewhat off-putting too.  At times it felt like Hogan wasn’t sure what kind of movie he was making.  The emotions swing from pure comedy to gaudy trash cinema to heart-rending family drama without any smooth transition at all, which is again common to films of its place and era.  At times these swerves in direction feel a bit too raucous to endure.

Most Memorable Scene

Collette killed me in the scene where she meets her future husband, a handsome athlete.  I couldn’t help but be embarrassed for both characters as Muriel’s excitement and awkwardness just goes into overdrive and turns into a horror-show for her panicked groom-to-be.  Definitely one of the funniest moments I’ve witnessed so far on this project.

My Rating: 3.5 out 5

THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE (1946)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Crime / Drama / Romance

Director: Tay Garnett

Cast: John Garfield / Lana Turner / Cecil Kellaway

Plot

Drifter Frank Chambers takes a job at a roadside diner, only to fall for his boss’s beautiful young wife.  When an affair begins between them, the two lovers plot to kill her husband.

What I Liked

Though it features many of the hallmarks of film noir (flashback narration, the drifter protagonist, a femme fatale, and tragic fate), “The Postman Always Rings Twice” has some unique qualities that have helped it endure the test of time while many other films of the era have been forgotten.  Of the noir films I’ve seen, “Postman” stands out for its encroachment upon the traditions of domesticity.  Where most noir films involve low life criminals, shysters, and con-men milling about urban environs, “Postman” has none of these characters and takes place mostly in a home/diner outside of the city.  We watch the same darkness that inhabits those other noirs invade a marriage.  The only other noir I know of that treads in similar territory is “Double Indemnity,” but even so, there are important differences here.  In “Postman,” Lana Turner is a young woman who in a moment of weakness married a much older man for money and now feels trapped.  Cecil Kellaway is that older man, a drunkard who is more concerned with his account books than his wife’s desires or dreams.  Into this warped dynamic comes John Garfield’s character, his youth and attentiveness proving the forbidden fruit that transforms Lana Turner from a domesticated (if bored) housewife to a conniving murderess.  That’s another interesting twist on the cliché; Garfield’s character is as much responsible for perverting Turner’s as hers is of his.  In a typical noir, like the genre-defining “Double Indemnity,” the woman is always the corruptor.  Not so here.  Turner is indeed flirtatious and manipulative, but it is her desire for Garfield which drives her to kill, rather than the pure cynicism that drives most femme fatales.

One of the best parts about watching old movies like this, even the darker-themed ones, is the Americana.  The big, shiny 1940s cars; roadside diner; the jukebox; the clothing and uniforms; from the perspective of a person born more than thirty years after this film was made, it is hard to believe this world existed anywhere but in the movies.  And certainly a great deal of it was invented by Hollywood.  Still, it was a reflection, albeit a glamorized one, of a version of America that has long since died.  Thus the film has taken on a nostalgic beauty in the years since its release that only compliments the poetic tragedy of its story.

What I Didn’t Like

As can be inferred from the paragraph above, “Postman” is very much a film of its time.  It’s all too made-up to be believable.  Lana Turner is virtually flawless in appearance from start to finish, both in make-up and wardrobe and in lighting and cinematography; the supporting characters are one-dimensional; some of the acting is shamelessly predictable.

Most Memorable Scene

Lana Turner’s radiance dominates the screen any time she’s on it.  There are some classic, top-lit, soft-lens, close-ups interspersed through the film that play up her iconic beauty.  However, it’s her debut in the film, when she first comes down the stairs into the diner and encounters John Garfield’s character that her seductive allure is at its most powerful.  Instead of her immaculate face, it’s the movement of her body that plays games with both Garfield and the audience.

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5

A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE (1951)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Elia Kazan

Cast : Vivien Leigh / Marlon Brando / Kim Hunter

Plot

Impoverished and homeless, eccentric Southern belle Blanche DuBois comes to stay with her sister Stella and her husband Stanley in their New Orleans apartment.  Blanche, disturbed and manipulative, and Stanley, fiery and violent, despise one another, competing in a personal power struggle for control over Stella.

What I Liked

Although I have seen the young Brando in other movies (“On the Waterfront,” for example), it wasn’t until I sat and watched “A Streetcar Named Desire” that I could truly witness what made him such a sensation upon his arrival on the American film scene.  One needs only to compare his performance with that of star Vivien Leigh to understand the one-man revolution (and revelation) he was to film acting.  Leigh, one of the legends of the old style of acting is a study in preposterous facial expressions and exaggerated gesticulations which always seem like leftovers from the silent era.  This all made her perfect to play the ruined neurotic that is Blanche DuBois and thus is no hindrance to the film’s success as a drama.  However, in Brando we have a man who is utterly believable and wholly natural in the skin of his character.  His performance is rounded out by both seething passion and subtle complexity.

Of course, there was more to Brando than simply his acting.  Karl Malden, another method actor, plays a meaty supporting role with just as much artistry as Brando.  Yet Malden, while a greatly admired actor of the era, never achieved Brando’s legendary status.  Certainly a great deal of that had to do with the young Marlon’s sensual good looks.  Particularly in the first several scenes he and the filmmakers do a great deal to play up his sexual attractiveness.  I never truly understood why Brando was considered a sex symbol in his youth until I saw this movie.  Lots of times I hear women talking about how handsome and actor is and I look at the guy and think, “Really?  He just looks like a normal dude to me.”  Watching “Streetcar,” I get why women fell for Brando.  I’m a straight male, but I can admit the man was definitely gorgeous.  But there was even still more than looks.  Lots of people are good looking, but never magnetize audiences the way Brando could.  Some performers, whatever their medium, just have that undefinable “It” element.  ‘Charisma’ is a word often thrown around to describe it, or ‘screen presence.’  Both descriptions fall short of capturing those who are truly great at that unnamable quality.  Brando is one of those greats.  Vivien Leigh was one of the biggest stars of her generation, with loads of her own on-screen charisma, and she gives one of the most iconic performance of her career.  On paper, her character is also more interesting than Stanley.  Yet Brando absolutely outshines her in each and every moment they share the same frame.

What I Didn’t Like

Elia Kazan is one of the great directors of American films, though he is undeservedly left out of the first names to roll off of the typical movie fan’s lips.  Coppola, Chaplin, Hitchcock, Scorsese, Spielberg, and Ford almost always get mentioned long before Kazan on any list, yet his filmography (“Streetcar,” “On the Waterfront,” and “East of Eden,” among others) can compare rather favorably against most of those other men.  Yet Kazan’s talent was in his ability to get the most out of his actors to tell the stories, not in cinematographic technique, style, or innovation.  “Streetcar” in particular is shot with a matter-of-fact, straight-ahead simplicity that was obviously intended but nonetheless dry.  I imagine Kazan’s unembellished approach was a way for him to focus on the stark reality he intended to present.  He did not want flourish and dazzle to rob his films of their authenticity.  His films are about the characters and their relationships, not style.  Good for him.  But would it have hurt to give us an interesting camera angle just once?

Part of the problem with watching this movie now is the influence it had on later cinema and television.  So much of “Streetcar” is now evident in lesser films and cheap soap operas that the clichés of its imitators have dampened the impact of the drama in the original.  I first started watching this film with my wife, but about halfway through we were both falling asleep.  When it came time to finish, my wife declined to watch the rest, saying she just wasn’t “into it.”  I can’t blame her.  “Streetcar” is now an intellectual treat, a document of the development of cinema as an art.

Most Memorable Scene

The sensuality of “Streetcar” reaches an early climax when Stella and Stanley make up following a row shortly after Blanche’s arrival.  In the steamy rain of a humid New Orleans night, Stanley lures Stella out of hiding with his desperate cries.  She is drawn hopelessly down to him until they clasp against each other in an impassioned embrace, the muscles of Brando’s glistening in the lamplight as Stella’s hands cling to his flesh with unbridled desire.  Even today the sexual charge of the scene is impressive, considering how jaded we are today with flesh and sex on TV.  Kazan and his actors achieve a highly erotic scene that stands the test of time without resorting to nudity, sex, or shock value.

My Rating: 4 out of 5

CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON (2000)

A.K.A.: Wo Hu Cang Long

Country: Taiwan / Hong Kong / China

Genre(s): Action / Adventure / Epic / Romance

Director: Ang Lee

Cast: Chow Yun-Fat / Michelle Yeoh / Zhang Ziyi

Plot

Master warriors Li Mu Bai and Yu Shi Lien embark on a quest to recover the stolen Green Destiny sword.

What I Liked

“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” really is one of those rare films that truly has something for everyone.  Whether you’re a fan of well-acted drama, gorgeous cinematography, epic adventure, star-crossed romance, period costumes, dazzling special effects, or martial arts action, this film delivers top flight entertainment, whatever your pleasure.  It’s sumptuous, sensuous, radiant, intriguing, and mystifying escapism delivered with consummate artistry.  In short, if you can think of a positive adjective for a movie, chances are “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” fits the definition.

I’m overdoing it, you say?  Well, for those of you who have seen it, go back, watch it again, and then come back and tell me if it did not fit any of the descriptive words I applied in the paragraph above.  For those who haven’t seen it, all I can say is you’re missing out on one of the real treasures of epic film-making.

If I remember right, this was one of the first three DVDs I ever bought, knowing that its impressive imagery was the perfect match for digital technology.  DVD, Blu-Ray, CGI, 3-D, and all kinds of other technology have provided us with some dazzling visuals in movie-making since this movie’s release over a decade ago, but “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” has not lost one iota of its spectacle.  If anything, with the film industry now overloaded with CGI and gimmicks, this movie’s minimal use of computer-aided effects and reliance on real landscape, stunts, and actors emphasizes the specialness of the experience.

What I Disliked

There are times where the movie suffers from the cheesy, none-too-subtle acting common to lower budget Kung Fu movies.  I sometimes wonder if the actors in those films realize that the silent era, with its over-zealous gestures and silly faces, is over.  However, the actors who play the five-or-so primary characters definitely have the chops and subtlety to bring empathetic, heartfelt emotion to a story that requires deserves it; which actually allows the goofier acting of the supporting cast to be somewhat endearing.

Most Memorable Scene

Wow, now this is a tough call.  Let me think a minute.  Okay.  It would have to be the best fight scene, of course.  There are plenty of excellent fights to choose from, but, for me, the standout is when Yu Shu Lien and Jen Yu actually go head-to-head inside a large room.  Jen Yu has the Green Destiny and Yu Shu Lien switches from weapon to weapon.  The whole fight is done with thrilling speed and precision, accented by such satisfying effects, fraught with such personal drama, and shot with such technical flair that it just leaves me in cinematic nirvana no matter how many times I watch it.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

LITTLE CAESAR (1931)

Country: U.S.A.

Genre(s): Crime

Director: Mervyn LeRoy

Cast: Edward G. Robinson / Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. / Stanley Fields

Plot

Charismatic tough guy Rico Bandello rises from stickup gunman to crime lord of Chicago’s North Side on ambition and intimidation, as the police and his rivals work to bring him down.

What I Liked

Perfect casting doesn’t get any more perfect than Edward G. Robinson’s getting picked from near obscurity to play the quintessential gangster movie anti-hero, Rico “Little Caesar” Bandello.  From his facial resemblance to the reigning Chicago crime kingpin Al Capone, to his trademark sneer, to the machine-gun-fire pace of his streetwise banter and gestures, Robinson created the blueprint for virtually every gangster lead to appear in American films for multiple generations to come.  Sure, eventually the persona became an oft-parodied cliché, but that was years down the road and had less to do with Robinson’s performance than it did with later actors imitating it and failing.  In 1931, Robinson’s Bandello was regarded as fresh, captivating, and frighteningly authentic.  Even all these years later, the ferocity he gives Rico lends the movie a dazzling excitement that is lacking in even the best films of the same period.  Robinson is one of my favorite actors of the 1930s to the 1950s and this is his most iconic performance.

The character of Little Caesar wasn’t the only element of the movie that was so definitive.  “Little Caesar” is far from the first gangster picture to be made, but it was the first to put all of the elements we now recognize as defining the genre into a single package.  Aside from the charismatic-if-demented anti-hero lead, “Little Caesar” explores the hierarchical nature of organized crime, it’s perversion of liassez-faire capitalism, and also presents the police (typically hero figures in other films) as being almost as unscrupulous as the so-called bad guys.  Perhaps more important than all of that, it marked the debut of the Thompson Sub-Machine gun in motion pictures.  Not really used as often in urban gangsterism as Hollywood would have us believe (they were too damned expensive), the gun was nonetheless a wonderfully loud and destructive weapon that electrified audiences at the dawn of the sound era.  Kicking off a spate of gangster pictures that would thrill Depression-era moviegoers (“Public Enemy,” “Scarface,” “Angels with Dirty Faces,” “The Roaring Twenties”), “Little Caesar” remained the undisputed benchmark against all gangster films would be measured until the release of “The Godfather” more than forty years later, and for good reason.

What I Didn’t Like

As compelling as Robinson’s performance was, he was bogged down by some less than dynamic co-stars.  Particularly hard to endure is Thomas Jackson as police Sgt. Flaherty, Rico’s ultimate nemesis.  The character of Flaherty is clearly designed to be a foil for Rico, as obsessive and maniacal as the crime boss, but without his charisma.  Apparently Jackson took this to mean he should play the role as the cop were a robot.  His lifeless performance and his awkwardly phrased dialogue might have been intended to give Flaherty some kind of Depression-era grittiness, but just falls horribly flat.  Several other characters are dismally cliché (handsome and dashing Joe Massera and Igor-like Otero, for example) but one gets the sense this had less to do with the performances of the actors, who do the best they can with the material, than it does with the lack of imagination in scriptwriters.  Not so with Thomas Jackson.

Most Memorable Scene

*spoiler alert!*

“Mother of mercy, is this the end of Rico?!?”  It’s a bullet-riddled and somewhat puzzling final scene that remains the most quoted and referenced moment of the movie.  But I think there’s another that probably has more to do with the film’s impact and continued resonance.  As the film reaches its climax, a now wealthy and successful Rico confronts his old friend Joe, who rebuffs his offer to join his gang and flees the scene.  The camera then zooms in from a low vantage point on sneering gangster chewing his cigar and standing resplendent in a dapper suit at the top of the steps in his extravagant penthouse, alone but clearly wrapped in the trappings of power.  He is silent but murderous thoughts are aflame in his eyes.  It’s the perfect image of the Hollywood gangster, the image to which every filmmaker and actor who has ever made a gangster movie since has aspired.  One can’t help but think that even a few real life gangsters have used that very image as a blueprint, or at least, a goal.

My Rating: 5 out of 5

SHOOT THE PIANO PLAYER (1960)

A.K.A.: Tirez Sur le Pianiste

Country: France

Genre(s): Comedy / Crime / Drama

Director: Francois Truffaut

Cast: Charles Aznavour / Marie Dubois / Albert Remy

Plot

Restaurant pianist Charlie is pursued by two thugs who are looking for his low-life brothers.  Meanwhile, Charlie begins a relationship with waitress Lena, with whom he hopes to escape.

What I Liked

Sports fans might be familiar with the term ‘intangibles’ as it refers to those qualities in an athlete beyond the immediately measurable physical traits, the psychological and personality elements of an athlete that allow him or her to succeed where others with similar physical traits might fail.  Intangibles can exist in a movie, too.  A carefree mood runs throughout “Shoot the Piano Player.”  There’s not one single element or moment one can point to that is the source of that mood, but it is nonetheless ever-present and makes the film undeniably enjoyable.  Taken individually, the various facets of the film might seem run of the mill.  The plot is simple and derivative.  Character development is used only sparingly.  Everyday dress and locales are used.  In short, no single thing about the movie is special.  Except that coolness that inhabits every scene.

While it is not the sole source of the film’s unnamable entertainment value, certainly lead actor Charles Aznavour, who is also a very accomplished professional musician, deserves tremendous kudos for his performance of Charlie.  Thanks to Aznavour, Charlie constantly exhibits that same casual approach to life that permeates the film as a whole.  Surrounded by a supporting cast of characters that are intentional rip-offs from B-movies and film noir, Charlie’s laid-back strangeness makes him a compelling post-modern hero.

That intangible quality in “Shoot the Piano Player” has clearly had an influence on the work of many important filmmakers to follow director Truffaut.  The film’s underlying cleverness informs everything from the coolness and spontaneity of Jean-Luc Goddard, to the found soundtracks and streetwise neurotic-ism of Martin Scorsese, to the  self-referential wildness of Quentin Tarrantino.

What I Didn’t Like

Probably because of the ways in which later filmmakers built upon what Truffaut pioneered, the film does not feel quite so revolutionary on first viewing as it certainly would have in 1960.  Some of Truffaut’s groundbreaking innovations in his approach to filmmaker (improvised plot, for example) have been explored by later directors whose films I watched before “Shoot the Piano Player.”  But this movie was indeed one of the first to push those boundaries and it remains a pleasure to watch, so it wouldn’t be fair for me to harp on this too much.

Most Memorable Scene

I most enjoyed the cinematography of a montage detailing Charlie and Lena’s trip out of the city and into the countryside.  Gorgeous use of light, camera angles, setting, and soundtrack made me long for the beautiful freedom of a road trip.

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5

CRIES AND WHISPERS (1972)

A.K.A.: Viskningar och Rop

Country: Sweden

Genre(s): Drama

Director: Ingmar Bergman

Cast: Kari Sylwan / Harriet Andersson / Ingrid Thulin

Plot

Three estranged sisters, Agnes, Karin, and Maria are reunited as Agnes battles cancer.  As death draws closer, the sisters struggle with their inability to emotionally connect with one another.  Instead, Agnes finds comfort and compassion in Anna, her devoted maid.

What I Liked

The first element that will strike any viewer of “Cries and Whispers” is Sven Nykvist’s Academy Award winning cinematography.  Right away, we’re treated to the gorgeous melancholia of a country estate in the cascading light of the dewy early morning.  These images are then contrasted with intensely close studies of a dozen or so ornate clocks, the camera peering deeply into every crevice and swirl of their designs.  As the drama itself begins to actually play out, the visual design fills our eyes with two colors so frequently that they feel almost in competition with one another: deep, bloody reds and pure, angelic whites.

The only break we get from those colors are the faces that often completely fill the screen.  Each of the four main characters are shown in such extreme close-up that the viewer almost feels as though the character’s personal space is being invaded.  We are made the uncomfortable witnesses to every twitch of the mouth, furrow of the brow or flutter of the eyelash, pointing out the emotional intensity of truly becoming close to a person physically and emotionally.  Nykvist and director Ingmar Bergman certainly chose the perfect approach to shooting a movie about the lack of true closeness between human beings and the agony experienced in trying to mend that rift.

Of course, if you’re going to repeatedly fill your screen with the faces of your characters you better have some interesting characters and some capable actors to play them.  Thankfully, both are present in “Cries and Whispers.”  Each sister, and Anna too, has a complex psychology augmented by flashback and fantasy scenes that illuminate her individual struggles, faults, and perspectives.  The characters are so wonderfully developed over the full length of the film that at times it really feels more like a novel more than a film.  Most importantly, the performances are absolutely above criticism.  Each actress seems to truly understand her character and successfully uses that character to illustrate the frail line between passion and restraint that is the crux of the entire film, including its title.  The cinematography and performances combine to make the film almost painful to watch at times for how honestly and palpably it displays the dilemma of humanity.

What I Didn’t Like

*spoiler alert!*

Symbolism pervades nearly every moment of “Cries and Whispers,” to the point where it eventually feels heavy handed.  A film cannot be interesting on symbolism alone.  There needs to be some kind of emotional investment, as well as intellectual.  That emotional investment is slow to develop through the early portion of the movie.  Bergman seems so intent on getting across the dysfunction at the heart of the sisters’ relationships and their shortcomings as individuals, we have very little chance to get to like them before the conflict gets going.  We certainly feels sympathy for cancer-stricken Agnes, of course, but never get to truly feel for her sisters until she passes away about half way through.   Now Bergman does a great job of making up for lost time by doing a great deal to explore the two living sisters and exploring their psychologies, but it would have been nice to have had this happen earlier.  It certainly would have made the first half of the film more engaging.  As it is, you don’t really have an action packed plot; more sympathy for the characters might have made the film less dull.

Most Memorable Scene

Toward the film’s end Bergman gives us what is probably a dream sequence, but whether or not the events on screen were truly part of a dream or not is never explicitly explained.  Instead we are left to wonder if the nightmarish tragedy we witness is the figment of Anna’s imagination or is actually some supernatural happening that the women choose to never speak of again.  Either way, the scene is a heartbreaking illustration of the horrors of mankind’s failure to embrace love.

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5