Friday, May 27, 2016
Monday, May 16, 2016
Week of May 8-May 14: Wuthering Heights (1939) & Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
BCATSK has a lot of fun moments, and with the easy buddy chemistry between Redford and Newman, it's totally understandable as to why this one was a hit. It's violent, though, and dark, with that gang of faceless horsemen in constant pursuit of our heroes--an interesting, if somewhat obvious, metaphor for the fast-approaching future. Not as dark as its 1967 outlaw predecessor, Bonnie and Clyde, though. The (mostly) peppy Bacharach soundtrack contemporizes this Western, too, making the turn of the century setting feel a little like the late 1960's. I like this film. As I think about it, it's a film of transition. Technology overtaking the old west. The sixties ushering in the seventies. Newman cresting his peak of popularity while Redford is just climbing towards his. Maybe dark is the wrong word for this film. Maybe melancholy? Change can be exciting. But also scary. And sometimes sad.
Wuthering Heights is just one long, depressing slog towards its inevitable conclusion. Probably sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm not. The film is very effective. It looks amazing.Wyler masterfully sets the tone.
Week 18
Duck Soup (1933): I can handle the Marx Brothers in small
doses. But Duck Soup, coming in at
just 68 minutes, was waaaaaaaay too much. In joke-a-second delivery, I feel
like you need to hit as least as much as you miss, and that’s not the case
here. The puns and double-entendres are sometimes amusing, but the volume of
them is tiresome, and a lot of them fall flat. Additional complaints: the plot
is extremely thin (which would be fine, if the other elements played out
favorably), the musical numbers (likely used as filler to pad the short running
time) are unremarkable, and much of the comedy is downright cruel. I’ll have to
revisit some other Marx Brothers films when I have time to explore whether or
not I’m a fan of theirs at all. Perhaps I’ve just outgrown them.
Some Like it Hot (1959): I like Billy Wilder. And I like this film. Given contemporary sensibilities about presentation of gender, Some Like it Hot does pose some problems. But overall, I appreciated that its approach was much like the one later taken by Tootsie: the film sometimes delivers jokes at the expense of women, but it as (or more) frequently uses its conceit to criticize the boorish behavior of men. And it’s funny. Very funny. And it kept me guessing. It’d been long enough since the last time I saw it, that I couldn’t quite remember who ultimately paired off together from the love triangle until well past the halfway point of the film (much like my experience this time around with The Philadelphia Story). Curtis, Lemon, and Monroe work well together. And Billy Wilder, as always, has a great sense of pace. In the end, this isn’t a particularly important film, but it is a pretty fun one. By far my favorite comedy this week.
Some Like it Hot (1959): I like Billy Wilder. And I like this film. Given contemporary sensibilities about presentation of gender, Some Like it Hot does pose some problems. But overall, I appreciated that its approach was much like the one later taken by Tootsie: the film sometimes delivers jokes at the expense of women, but it as (or more) frequently uses its conceit to criticize the boorish behavior of men. And it’s funny. Very funny. And it kept me guessing. It’d been long enough since the last time I saw it, that I couldn’t quite remember who ultimately paired off together from the love triangle until well past the halfway point of the film (much like my experience this time around with The Philadelphia Story). Curtis, Lemon, and Monroe work well together. And Billy Wilder, as always, has a great sense of pace. In the end, this isn’t a particularly important film, but it is a pretty fun one. By far my favorite comedy this week.
Week 17
Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964):
I was in college the last time I saw this, and I then found it mildly
amusing. This time I laughed out loud. A lot. The laughter came from discomfort
and fear, sure—but it manifested in full-fledged guffaws. Kubrick was way ahead
of his time with this one. Sellers is fantastic in three very different roles; I
especially enjoy his phone conversations (as President) with the Russian
Premier Dmitri (of which we, of course, only hear one side). They’re so familiar
with each other, which is made all the more hilarious by the fact that they’re
talking about the possible (and accidental) annihilation of the entire planet. And
George C. Scott (who was apparently “tricked” into his performance by Kubrick,
who asked him to be extra zany during “rehearsal” takes, which were ultimately
used in the film) is hilarious—something you don’t see from him in pretty much
every other film he’s done.
It looks good, too. It was wisely shot in black and white. And some of the green screen effects still hold up quite well. It works as a race-the-clock type thriller, but it’s difficult to guess how well it would have been received had it not been for the satirical element, given how dark the story is (and that it was released during the heart of the Cold War—just three years after The Bay of Pigs). But I’ve read that the jokes kept bubbling to the surface of the script, and Kubrick felt he had no choice but to make the film a cold war satire. And I think it’s the satirical aspect that’s given the film its long life and made it possible to be released when it was released in the first place. So grab some popcorn. Watch for a pre-Star Wars James Earl Jones to pop up. Practice your duck and cover. And enjoy the film.
The Grapes of Wrath (1940): So let’s be honest. This one’s a downer. One long downer. But so is its source material. The film is actually more optimistic than the book. And one could probably argue that the film (released within a year of the book) helped solidify the novel’s place in the American literary canon. (I would argue that the film is better-paced and more coherent than the novel.) What’s most remarkable to me is both the book and film were released while the country was still in the midst (if at the tail-end) of both the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression, making The Grapes of Wrath a pretty remarkable piece of art that manages to capture a significant moment in American History really well (without much or any benefit of hindsight). The plight of the migrant workers is rawly depicted (at least by 1930’s and 40’s standards) and felt. What’s more, the film is still relevant. There are still—and will always be—greedy people at the “top,” exploiting those at the bottom. Well-acted, well-directed, well-photographed, and perpetually relevant, The Grapes of Wrath deservedly made this list.
It looks good, too. It was wisely shot in black and white. And some of the green screen effects still hold up quite well. It works as a race-the-clock type thriller, but it’s difficult to guess how well it would have been received had it not been for the satirical element, given how dark the story is (and that it was released during the heart of the Cold War—just three years after The Bay of Pigs). But I’ve read that the jokes kept bubbling to the surface of the script, and Kubrick felt he had no choice but to make the film a cold war satire. And I think it’s the satirical aspect that’s given the film its long life and made it possible to be released when it was released in the first place. So grab some popcorn. Watch for a pre-Star Wars James Earl Jones to pop up. Practice your duck and cover. And enjoy the film.
The Grapes of Wrath (1940): So let’s be honest. This one’s a downer. One long downer. But so is its source material. The film is actually more optimistic than the book. And one could probably argue that the film (released within a year of the book) helped solidify the novel’s place in the American literary canon. (I would argue that the film is better-paced and more coherent than the novel.) What’s most remarkable to me is both the book and film were released while the country was still in the midst (if at the tail-end) of both the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression, making The Grapes of Wrath a pretty remarkable piece of art that manages to capture a significant moment in American History really well (without much or any benefit of hindsight). The plight of the migrant workers is rawly depicted (at least by 1930’s and 40’s standards) and felt. What’s more, the film is still relevant. There are still—and will always be—greedy people at the “top,” exploiting those at the bottom. Well-acted, well-directed, well-photographed, and perpetually relevant, The Grapes of Wrath deservedly made this list.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Weeks 15-16
High Noon (1952): Yeah, it has something of a macho “man’s gotta do…”
mentality and it’s not shy about ] shaming a young Quaker woman into a “stand
by your man” situation, but it’s also an interesting exploration of duty and
honor and what it means to be brave (or, conversely, cowardly). I like
how everything is tied together by Tex Ritter’s “Don’t Forsake Me, My Darling
(High Noon),” which does a great job of setting the film’s tone in the opening.
Plus snippets of the song frequently turn up throughout the film, and the
rhythm of the tune is suggestive of both the chug of a train and the tick-tock
of a clock—quite appropriate as the film (more or less) unfolds in real time as
the marshal awaits the arrival of the noon train, which will bring an
exonerated enemy out for revenge. The film is “slow”—at least by western
standards and not particularly action-packed, with the exception of two
fights/battles. But it’s never dull. What makes the film compelling is watching
these characters’ interact as we navigate their loyalties. Every person in
town, one after the other, for one reason or another, refuses to stand with the
marshal. Everyone in town (friend and enemy alike) forsakes him in the
end—except for his new wife. So the only one to stand and “fight” with him is
his pacifist bride.
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951): This is more or less a straight screen adaptation of the play—even in its casting, as Brando (Stanley), Hunter (Stella), and Malden (Mitch) all reprise their stage roles. The performances are fantastic. I especially like Brando. Almost everyone else’s performances are heightened, melodramatic, but his feels very natural—it’s a nuanced counterpoint to the others. Interestingly, he’s the only member of the principal cast who didn’t win an Oscar for the film. A friend (and fellow film lover) posited that the character of Stanley might have been too unlikeable for Academy voters, and he suggested that probably few actors portraying “unlikeable” protagonists have walked away with Oscars, especially before the 1970s. I think he’s right. It didn’t help Brando, though, that he happened to be up against Bogie and his “legacy” Oscar for The African Queen.
Streetcar is set primarily in and around Stanley’s and Stella’s apartment in a slummy part of the French Quarter in New Orleans. The sultry air is palpable. We sweat with the characters. At times, witnessing Blanche’s descent into madness is almost unbearable. She’s a well-drawn character, who simultaneously perturbs and saddens us. We want to dismiss her. We want to root for her. Stanley, at times, seems reasonable, if hot-headed, in his suspicion of her, especially as Blanche seems to take pleasure in antagonizing him. At other times, Stanley is downright cruel. In the end, he destroys her. When Stanley returns home from the hospital to rest, Blanche is decked out in her southern-belle finest, and she spins a yarn about a suitor coming to take her away. She’s nips at Stanley, letting him know in no uncertain terms how high above him she believes she and her sister are in social standing, how far she feels Stella has fallen by marrying this “Polack.” Then he bites back. Horrifically. And the thing we feared might happen the whole film happens.
On the Waterfront (1954): Damned if you do; damned if you don’t…
Brando is reunited with Streetcar
director Alia Kazan and costar Karl Malden in a nearly perfect film about
labor violence and racketeering in New Jersey. Probably my favorite Brando
role. And one of the best stories on
the AFI list. I don’t even know where to start. The compelling family drama (between
Terry and his brother)? The fact that Terry’s love interest is the sister of a
man he helped kill? The fact that he didn’t even know he was aiding in a
murder? The priest who (at least, at first) single-handedly takes on the mob?
The revelation that Terry essential ended his boxing career on a fight his
brother asked him to throw (for money)? The internal turmoil Terry experiences
weighing whether or not to stand up, to fight, to “rat”? The lovely, if
obvious, irony that Terry is a gentle soul who looks after rooftop pigeons (his
own, plus the pigeons of the man he—accidentally—helped kill), all while
weighing whether or not he should himself become a pigeon? The heartbreaking
moment when the neighborhood boys, who’ve always looked up to him, turn their
backs on him (and slaughter aforementioned pigeons) when he talks to the police?
Just stop reading this blog now and go watch the movie.
The Third Man (1949): This is another one that will likely be at the top of my rankings for this list at the end of the year. It’s got a lot of great “filmy” stuff for geeks, but it’s a solid mystery flick.
The Third Man (1949): This is another one that will likely be at the top of my rankings for this list at the end of the year. It’s got a lot of great “filmy” stuff for geeks, but it’s a solid mystery flick.
The story—a lopsided love-triangle filled with intrigue and delightful
characters (even their names are wonderful—Harry Lime, Baron, Callaway, Holly
Martins)—is great. The action is well-paced. And the music is fun. I even like
the unique opening credit sequence: a static shot of zither strings plucked by
an unseen musician.
From a filmmaking perspective, The Third Man is
stunning. The copy I have is a 15+ year-old DVD that was either scanned from a
really poor print of the film or copied from an old VHS tape. I probably
plucked it out of a $2 bin at a discount store. I plan now to upgrade to
Blu-Ray (unfortunately the Criterion is out of print!). But even with this poor
transfer, I could appreciate the meticulous use of light, shadow, and framing.
There are several unique and arresting camera angles, too, and the film manages
to feel fresh after more than six decades.
The story was penned by Graham Greene, but from what I’ve read, Greene himself didn’t realize just how great the story was. Apparently he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about director Carol Reed’s ending, either, which has become one of the most iconic scenes in classic film: Anna’s long, slow walk towards Holly--a continuous one minute take with beautifully framed symmetry. The film is symmetrical in structure, too, both beginning and ending with a funeral, and a shot of Anna walking away from it.
The story was penned by Graham Greene, but from what I’ve read, Greene himself didn’t realize just how great the story was. Apparently he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about director Carol Reed’s ending, either, which has become one of the most iconic scenes in classic film: Anna’s long, slow walk towards Holly--a continuous one minute take with beautifully framed symmetry. The film is symmetrical in structure, too, both beginning and ending with a funeral, and a shot of Anna walking away from it.
It’s dark, but it’s fun. Joseph Cotton’s Holly Martins is
brash and antagonistic towards the authorities in Vienna, often calling Major Callaway
“Callaghan” (maybe deliberately, maybe not). Callaway dishes it back just as
well, telling Holly, “I don’t want another murder in this case, and you were
born to be murdered.”
What makes the movie most memorable for me, though, is the climactic chase scene through the sewers of Vienna. It’s thrilling, intriguingly staged and shot, and it concludes in a poignant confrontation between old friends. Wells’ (Lime’s) pleading face is almost boyish, harkening back to his and Holly’s childhood friendship.
What makes the movie most memorable for me, though, is the climactic chase scene through the sewers of Vienna. It’s thrilling, intriguingly staged and shot, and it concludes in a poignant confrontation between old friends. Wells’ (Lime’s) pleading face is almost boyish, harkening back to his and Holly’s childhood friendship.
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