Week of February 21-February 27: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1957) & To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

Week 7

Double Indemnity (1944) and Sunset Boulevard (1950) 

While I’m not that well versed in it, I do love film noir. And these have long been two of my favorites. And they share several significant features. For example, they both start at the “end.” They’re both—more or less—narrated by their doomed protagonists. And they’re both directed by Billy Wilder. 

That said, Sunset Boulevard feels more modern, even though it was made just a half-decade or so after Double Indemnity. It opens on a shot of a curb with the words “Sunset Boulevard” printed on it. The camera then points down at the street and dollies backward while the credits roll and dramatic music plays. This is a far cry from the typical title cards used for the credit sequences in most films to this point. When the camera finally stops, it tilts up to reveal police cars racing down the street. We then see them arrive at a mansion on Sunset Boulevard to find a man floating face-down, dead in the pool. And then we get the startling and unforgettable image of the man from a low angle, underwater, looking up at him.

The female roles in the two films are quite different, too. Barbara Stanwyck’s character in Double Indemnity could be properly classified as a femme fatale, as she lures Fred MacMurray’s unsuspecting insurance man into a plot to kill her husband. Swanson’s Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard is more of a tragic figure. I also watched Hail, Caeser! this week (fitting, I know), and I loved it. Partly because Brolin as studio fixer Eddie Mannix is excellent, but mostly because I’m a sucker for post-war Hollywood. And that’s probably part of why I like Sunset Boulevard so much. Some consider Hollywood too self-congratulatory (I’m one of them), but this film manages to both celebrate and criticize Tinseltown—or at least offer an exploration of the darker side of Hollywood stardom. 

Swanson’s performance is over-the-top, but in all the right ways. Almost every one of her lines is thrilling. And I think her performance is made even more thrilling when you consider the many ways Swanson’s career (and life) mirror that of the fictional Norma Desmond. That’s one of the great ways this film plays out meta-fictionally. The peek into the Paramount back lot is another. And the fact that several actors and directors, including Cecil B. DeMille (who actually directed Gloria Swanson in several pictures during her silent film days) play themselves in this film…

If you couldn’t already tell, I’d probably say that Sunset Boulevard is my favorite of these two. But, as I noted in the second line of this reflection, they are both among my favorite film noir. And I enjoyed them both more during these viewings than I have during any previous. I’d even actually forgotten how poignant the relationship between Neff (MacMurray) and the claims manager Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) is in Double Indemnity. Sort of casts the whole film in a different light. The conclusion now feels pretty heartbreaking. 

Any fellow noir-ers out there this week? Thoughts on these two?

Week of February 14-February 20: Sunset Boulevard (1950) and Double Indemnity (1944)

Some noir this week.

Week 6

The French Connection (1971) & Network (1976)

Wow. I was going for a seventies theme last week. Didn’t think about both films being such downers. Makes me glad I was born right after this decade.

The French Connection opens dramatically with loud music and simple white credits on a black screen. Then we follow a shady-looking character for several minutes—until he’s abruptly shot and killed. This sets the stage pretty well for the sort of startling, abrupt film that’s to follow. I like a lot of the filming techniques, and I suspect several of them were pretty pioneering, considering this film was released in 1971. There’s a lot of handheld cam, which further intensifies action and chase sequences. And to some it might not seem like much, but I remember a scene in a restaurant where the “bad guys” are dining, and through the window, way in the background (across the street even), we can seen Hackman’s “Popeye” character watching them, drinking a cup of coffee and eating a slice of pizza, out in the cold. I love 1) how all this action is framed in the same shot, and 2) how simply and clearly we’re given a contrast between these two worlds: warm, wealthy, European dining in a French restaurant and cold, cheap, Chicago street cuisine. 

The film also has two stellar chase sequences. The first is a chase on foot, where we see a pretty athletic Hackman (or excellent stunt double) in a clever cat and mouse pursuit. The second is one of the best “car” chase scenes I’ve ever seen in film (I’ve yet to see one that tops McQueen’s in Bullitt, though). After French “muscle” opens fire on him sniper-style in a courtyard, Popeye chases the assailant to an L-Train station. The guy hops on the train, and Popeye can’t, so Popeye commandeers a vehicle and rushes along (and underneath) the tracks, trying to beat the train to the next stop. I won’t go into any further detail about what happens, but it is pretty exciting.

Another aspect of the film I like is how natural it feels—both in the casual (if raunchy) banter between Hackman’s and Scheider’s characters and also in their (mostly) silent stakeouts.

The ending is abrupt but appropriate, given Popeye’s growing obsession throughout the film. It’s very modern in its hazy morality. The “bad guys” are certainly bad, but what about the “good guys?” An interesting thing that I read about this film is that it was too violent for Hackman’s taste, and he (for the most part) stayed away from violent and/or gritty film roles for most of the rest of his career.

Less hazy in its morality is Network, which serves as a pretty uncompromising indictment of the television industry (and multinational corporations in general). I like this film for a lot of reasons. It does melodrama well. It’s got a great, sort of hokey narration. And the characterizations (especially of the executives) is fantastic. Because now, in retrospect, it doesn’t so much feel like the filmmakers were “heightening” the ridiculousness of it all (even though that was likely their aim at the time); now it just feels like it was pretty darn prescient—especially Ned Beatty’s “The World is a business” speech, about how there are no nations, only corporations. I suspect this is one of Bernie Sanders favorite films.

It’s an even bigger downer than The French Connection—again, I’m sorry! But it’s fascinating. In the middle of the “big picture” is the smaller story of Max and Diana (William Holden and Faye Dunaway). It’s melodrama, but it’s very self-aware. The characters themselves even analyze the ascent and decline of their affair in terms of a television script.

Any one else seen these? Thoughts?

Week 5

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) & Fantasia (1940)

We’re back from Disney World! We had a great trip, but it was too short. And the return to single-digit and below-zero temps has been tough. I imagine I’ll be revisiting a few more Disney animated films in the coming weeks as I transition back into the real (and chilly) world. For now, though, let’s talk about these two.

Snow White and Fantasia were released just three years apart. They were Disney’s first and third full-length animated features (although Fantasia isn’t entirely animated, as there are live-action sequences, too). They rank as numbers 49 and 58 on the AFI list, which feels about right—but more on that in a minute. Both are stunning achievements from a technical standpoint. The art and animation is top notch and rich in detail. The sequence in which Snow White flees the huntsmen is thrilling and complex. And Fantasia is filled with striking elements, not just in the animation. Even the conductor/orchestra footage is creatively lighted and filmed. These films are over 70 years old, but they hold up visually. 

I’d forgotten that most of Snow White takes place in about a day. I’d also forgotten how silly some of it was (in a good way) once the Dwarfs show up. It’s darker than I remember, too—with the huntsman who is sent not only to kill Snow White, but to cut out her heart, and the vain queen who not only tries to kill her stepdaughter (repeatedly) but dies her own violent death while trying to crush the Dwarfs under a bolder. Disney films certainly aren’t as grim as their Grimm source material, but the earliest entirely aren’t sunny, either.

Fantasia, too, can be quite dark. I’d forgotten about the final sequence, which includes Night on Bald Mountain. If you didn’t watch the whole film this week, at least check out this scene. Quite frightening. Fortunately it’s followed immediately by the finale, which (I think) is the most beautiful sequence in the film: a candlelight processional drifting through a tall-treed forest, transforming it into a sort of grand cathedral, while Stokowski leads the orchestra in Ave Maria. Look that one up, too!
 

As much as I enjoy them, I think both films suffer a bit when it comes to pacing—at least by contemporary standards. With Snow White, I feel the first half of the film (except for the huntsmen-fleeing sequence) drags on, but it picks up when the Drawfs enter (and the queen re-enters) the story. Fantasia starts and ends strong, but loses me some in the middle.

I understand why Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Fantasia are on this list, and I’m glad they are. They’re excellent, ground-breaking films. But perhaps my true qualm with both of them has less to do with the films themselves and more to do with the AFI list—namely, which Disney film didn’t make the cut.

Pinocchio, which is Disney’s second animated film (released between these two films, also in 1940) is quite possibly Disney’s greatest animated film—certainly during Walt Disney’s lifetime, but perhaps even beyond. And I think what Pinocchio has that Snow White and Fantasia lack is a strong emotional center. It’s a fantastic story told on a grand scale, but the characters are intimately drawn and the stakes are palpable. It’s a moving film that happens to also be imaginative, visually striking, and consistently entertaining. 

And this is the problem with lists like these (and any other number of subjective rankings or awards)--consensus often means removing the lowest lows as well as the highest highs from consideration and awarding films that are perceived as being deserving (for some technical achievement, etc.). Again, I want to stress that Snow White and Fantasia deserve to be on this list, but I suspect other (perhaps even more) deserving films (like Pinocchio) are left off, since the obligatory Disney films were already represented.

What do you think of Snow White and Fantasia? Do you have another favorite Disney film you’d like to make a case for? Chime in!

Week of February 7-February 13: Network (1976) & The French Connection (1971)

Note about Week 5: Still in progress! I watched Fantasia and Snow White while on vacation, but I haven't had a chance to write anything about them yet--just got back from Florida yesterday, and I'm still recovering. Will post soon. I promise.