Week 3

Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Many remember this film for its violence. And while it’s tame by today’s standards, it was intensely violent for the late 1960’s—especially in its last scene. Some even suggest it glorifies violence.

But I (mostly) disagree with that.

I don’t know enough about the real Bonnie Parker or Clyde Barrow to discuss the historical accuracy of the film (although I suspect it's not particularly accurate), but the characters as they're presented in the film are sympathetic. They’re young, adventure-seeking, foolish, and rash. But they don’t seem to mean any real harm—or, at least they don’t understand that they’re causing any. Anyone they kill “made” them do it. They believe that the Law is the villain. And by the end of the whole mess, the audience might feel that way, too.

So violence is not what sticks with me from this picture--it’s sadness. In the film, Bonnie and Clyde are tragic figures. Faye Dunaway’s Bonnie (especially) is absolutely devastated about what she’s left behind, about the hopelessness of the future she’s dived headfirst into. The film even looks sad, as we move from one depressed locale to another (it does take place during the Depression, after all). Even as criminals, the gang wasn't living very large. And the majority of people they encountered along their way were even worse off than they were.

Unsurprisingly, Warner Brothers didn’t like the film. The studio wanted to bury it. They even gave Beatty (the producer) a deal granting him about 40% of the gross, because they were so sure it would be (and so wanted it to be) a flop. 

But he laughed all the way to the bank (which he, incidentally, did not need to rob).

This is another film that I last saw more than a decade ago, and viewing it this week, I was surprised by how few actual robberies are shown in the film—and the ones they do show are kind of funny. The “gang” fumbles through them. None of the characters are particularly competent criminals, aside from their ability to get out of a handful of sticky situations. Even the iconic (historical) photo of Bonnie holding a gun, with a cigar in her mouth and her leg up on a car, is depicted in the film as a photo taken at least somewhat in jest (or simply on a whim). Arthur Penn (the director) and Beatty seem to want the pair to come across as folk heroes. Or at least that the Bonnie and Clyde in the picture thought they were folk heroes.

The film swings wildly (and jarringly, but deliberately) between romantic and sexy to funny to brutally violent. And it works. I didn't love the film. The pacing is inconsistent. The process shots in some of the car scenes are distracting in an otherwise organic-looking film. And the movie certainly doesn't pack the same wallop it did when it was released nearly 50 years ago. But I still liked it. Even if it made me sad. Maybe because it made me sad. Killing kills. Actions have consequences. And justice isn't always just.

Wizard of Oz (1939)
I apologize, because I keep returning to this, and I suspect it will continue to pop up throughout this list, but the creativity that went into developing special effects before the dawn of CG amazes me. The tornado sequence in this film is both thrilling and visually stunning. The image of the cyclone in the background as Dorothy desperately seeks her family is dazzling. Even the sequence of objects flying by the window while the house spins within the vortex holds up pretty well. The effects, quite simply, are magical.

The whole movie is magical. Admittedly, it has a nostalgic effect on me. Aside from it being a childhood favorite, I had the chance in fifth grade to appear in the local high school's production of The Wizard of Oz, when they cast several upper elementary aged students as munchkins. I even got to say the line, “You killed her so completely that we thank you very sweetly” one night when one of the kids was out sick. At least, I think that was the line. It was almost 25 years ago.

But back to the film. The sets, makeup, effects, music—everything. It's just so much fun. There are so many iconic moments, but they mostly still ring true, diluted very little (at least for me) by their cultural ubiquity. I still think the Tin Man’s dance is a delight. I’m still a little freaked out about the flying monkeys. And I still think Judy Garland had some tremendous pipes.

This is also one of the few films on the list I can watch with my son. And he asked me to watch it. Some of the characters popped up in the Lego Dimensions video game that he’s been playing. And every time we fired up the Charlie Brown Christmas DVD this past year, it opened with a decade-old anti-piracy campaign that prominently features the Wizard of Oz. So he knew the gist of it and wanted to see the real thing for himself.

And he loved it. He was bouncing on the couch, cheering, dancing, singing—even cuddling into me a bit during the scarier parts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so animated during a film—not even during an animated film. Wizard of Oz is nearly 80 years old, and it still has the power to thrill a kindergartner (who otherwise currently thinks that farts and toilets are about the funniest things this side of the rainbow and beyond). 

Your thoughts on either? Both?