Genre Blast: Beat It! It’s the Cops! – Police Genre

There is a certain mystique that swirls around those charged with our safety and well-being. Cinema tapped into it as early as 1903 when a posse overtook the bandits in The Great Train Robbery, inspired by a robbery committed by Butch Cassidy, himself a film favorite for seventy –odd years.

That film set the pattern for the genre by incorporating two key elements: 1) that realism, achieved through camera angles, crisp editing and location shooting, is key to audience involvement, and 2) conflict is most effective if the story is based on an actual event, an occurrence or situation with which the audience may already be aware.

The Great Train Robbery was 12 minutes long and cost an estimated $150 to make, setting a trend for both economy and compactness that was generally followed into the Sixties when the shine on the badge began to tarnish and stories became more complex, characters on the side of the law more conflicted. By the time the Seventies kicked-in, “rogue” cops and undercover agents became staples, adding additional layers of suspense and wiping-out the “white hat / black hat” premise of the likes of High Noon. Cops were now portrayed with the same frailties and objectives as their targets that frequently came in the form of other cops.

Whether it’s a frustrated and dedicated maverick taking on a situation alone – often against orders – or an escalated paramilitary effort launched due to the scale and sophistication of the lawbreakers, we like our law enforcement tales precise and no-nonsense. Despite the genre’s popularity and steady box office track record, only three films presented exclusively from the cops’ POV have been awarded Best Picture: (In the Heat of the Night (’67), The French Connection (’71) and The Departed (’06). The lead characters in each stepped outside the norm, for better or worse. Another, L.A. Confidential (’97) – probably the most acclaimed of the genre and one of only three films in history to win the “Big Four” critics’ awards – then, unfortunately, hit an iceberg on Oscar night.

Here are five others, chosen for their originality and long-term impact on the genre, that illustrate what’s best about the “boys – and girls – in blue”:

Bullitt   Peter Yates   (1968)

By the end of the Sixties, cops had gone from being the cavalry that saves the day to a much more questionable entity. Dirty cop scandals and the repeated aggressive behavior towards peacenik protesters threw plenty of shade on the profession, which is why Yates’ film was such an anomaly – and a huge box office hit. Steve McQueen, the king of cool himself, takes the lead as a cop facing down hit-men, politicians and public consternation while dutifully ensuring that a witness vital to a conviction is protected long enough to testify. It’s a clean and crisp, straight-forward story of little chatter or proselytizing that’s mostly famous for one key element that changed filmmaking – the car chase. There have always been chases in movies, but Yates know that a good car chase is like good sex – a little foreplay goes a long way. He takes his time setting it up, plays a bit of cat and mouse with the characters and the audience to get them involved, then…BAM! A camera bolted to the dashboard takes us on a hair-raising, stomach-flipping high speed chase over the hills of San Francisco. Audiences squealed, having never seen anything like it, and it still impresses today. The film is also notable because McQueen’s character, in spite of all the violence around him, only uses his weapon once, as a last resort. Damn fine, no-nonsense storytelling.

Infernal Affairs   Andrew Lau/Alan Muk   (2002)

Moles and double-dealing are rife in this tale of Hong Kong Police infiltrating a deadly triad while, at the same time, the said triad deploys a similar strategy against the force. The suspense resulting from such a situation is elevated to greater heights by focusing the story on the two characters tasked with living double lives, constantly on the edge of discovery. Martin Scorsese basically remade the same story with considerable success in The Departed, but, while Lau’s film is less glossy, it is more powerful in its impact, giving rise to a successful sequel and prequel. The plot is thick but involving as lines between good and bad blur to the point of invisibility by the time things untangle – sort of – at the end. The film was both a huge critical and box office success, spawning a video game and a television series, as well as remakes in Korea, Japan and India (and the aforesaid USA/Scorsese film). This is a milestone of the genre.

Tropa de Elite (Elite Squad)   José Padilha   (2007)

Padilha directs this tale of the Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais (BOPE) and the daunting task of dealing with crime in the sprawling, impenetrable favelas of Rio de Janeiro. City of God screenwriter Bráulio Mantovani penned the script and the film was a cultural phenomenon in Brazil, only to be outdone by a sequel three years later. Although the film was a domestic commercial success and won the Golden Bear at the 2008 Berlin Film Festival, foreign critics – especially North American – were appalled by the portrayal of brutal paramilitary law enforcement and questioned the film’s moral compass. A decade later, however, we see the similar domestic SWAT forces maintaining control the streets in cities from Paris to St Louis. Amidst the considerable action sequences we witness relationships on both sides of the battle lines – and sometimes across those lines – all the way to the bitter and controversial ending.

Fargo   Joel Coen   (1996)

If ever there was a “good cop”, it’s Captain Marge Gunderson. Despite being seven months pregnant and battling morning sickness, we quickly learn that she is the brains of the Brainerd Police Department, someone with a clear vision of right and wrong, tough but respectful, and altogether fearless. This is probably Frances McDormand’s signature role to date – funny, compassionate, understanding…and relentless. She’s matched with two cretinous, “kinda funny lookin’” but deadly kidnappers (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) who hired by car dealer and milquetoast loser, Jerry Lundegaard (William H Macy) who is looking for a shortcut to success – in all the wrong places. All the stars aligned for the Coens on this venture. The bizarre story of (mostly) true events and the chilly Paul Bunyanesque setting entices them with enough material to provide us with a virtual salad bar of quirkiness. Every scene is pitch perfect, beautifully executed and never what you would expect – a tough act to pull off, but one the Coens make look effortless. I vaguely remember Roger Ebert, in his televised review, saying that films like Fargo are the reason he loves movies, and I have to agree. It’s hard to remain fresh and to present something so original in such a staid and established genre like police drama.

Witness   Peter Weir   (1985)

Despite having only directed 18 features, Aussie Peter Weir has an insanely eclectic and award-laden filmography that covers the mysterious disappearance of schoolgirls on a picnic (Picnic at Hanging Rock) and a man who loses his strawberry allergy in a plane crash (Fearless) to a young guy adopted and raised within a TV show (The Truman Show) and a father/husband who moves his family into the Central American jungle, only to lose his mind (Mosquito Coast). He can also brag to the fact that he has never made a bad film, and his drama about a detective protecting a young Amish boy who was eyewitness to a murder is one of his best. It is also arguably Harrison Ford’s most proficient screen performance as John Book, the wounded detective who is entranced by the Amish community that shelters him. Weir shifts gears on us when we jump from urban grit to the secluded pastoral lifestyle, inviting us to fall in love with the simplicity as well – and we do. Book’s integration into the community culminates in a community barn-raising that is as organically inspirational as anything on film, making events that follow when the “real” world invades the story afterward all the more unsettling. Unfortunately, Weir hasn’t made a feature for the past seven years and cinema misses his humanity. Perhaps, like John Book, he has found that idyllic place far away from the dirty daily shuffle?

Those are five of my essential police dramas where being responsible for the public safety leaves one open to all forms of temptation and invites both criticism and admiration, making this genre one of the most durable.

 

 

GENRE BLAST: When Push Comes to Shove – the Genre of Disparity

One of the miraculous benefits from storytelling – especially in cinema – is its ability to teach and inform, enabling empathy by making news and history come alive. We share experiences not necessarily from historical perspective, but also as a plea to correct or change direction into the future. By recounting and reenacting acts of bravery and resistance, film can serve as both acknowledgement and inspiration.

The subject matter – that of subjugation, inequality or displacement – is seldom box office gold. You can be certain that the total box office receipts of the twenty most successful films in this genre would be hard-pressed to approach the opening weekend of a MARVEL or DC Comics movie, but these films have always been a cornerstone in the history of cinema as they balance between art and social responsibility. The stories can be fact-based or fictional, rooted in the historical data they illustrate.

Mark Twain once observed that there isn’t an acre of land on the face of the earth that’s in possession of its rightful owners. Barring those shipped over as slaves, nearly every resident of North America can trace their ancestry back to waves of immigration caused by political or religious oppression. Slavery and colonialism build walls of stigmas that are seemingly indestructible, and modern day fundamentalism threatens to swallow cultures in the remotest regions on the globe.

So what happens when the disenfranchised try and jostle themselves into a mainstream that prefers homogeneity? What hardships and prejudices did our own immigrant ancestors face in the 18^th and 19^th Centuries – and why have we chosen to forget them in the face of new waves of refugees today? And what of those old, ingrained ethnic assumptions – why do they resurface whenever we try to enforce our laws or decide between guilt or innocence?

Here are five illustrations from around the globe that take on the insanity of sameness:

Mudbound – Dee Rees (2017)

This year, Dee Rees has given us a gift we have been waiting for – a balanced and complete illustration of the challenges attached to the discarding of old, hateful ideas about race and poverty. Hearing good script is like listening to music and she has hit us with a symphony. Two families – one poor white, the other black – interact during and after the period of the Second World War. When the war is over, one would assume that all parties would have learned something from each other, but that is not the case. Stellar performances across the board (Mary J Blige – girl, you rock!) and top-notch production values deliver a story all should see. A plus for the film is that it is a Netflix production and easily accessible from home, making it unnecessary to brave the weather to sit on somebody else’s chewing gum while listening to numerous cell phone conversations. Unfortunately, AMPAS has a very old –fashioned view of the TV platform, which could hamstring the films chances at the Oscars. All I can say to that is, screw the Academy – it won’t be the first time they’ve ignored one of the best films of the year and it won’t be the last. See it!

Utvandrarna (The Emigrants)/ Nybyggarna (The New Land) – Jan Troell (1971/2)

Troell’s Swedish venture, along with the sequel, The New Land, covers in great detail the why’s and how’s of one family’s decision to emigrate to North America and the hardships they faced before, during and after the harrowing voyage. A true auteur, Troell is not only the director, but also the writer, principle photographer and editor, and he has a keen eye and ear for both the natural world and the human psyche. This epic sweeps us up and carries us away as we follow the family of Karl and Kristina (the brilliant Max von Sydow and Liv Ullman). I saw both films when they were initially released and waited…and waited..for a home video release. Finally, last year (!) Criterion came through with a fully restored version clocking in at about six hours that is a joy to behold. Set aside a couple of nights and immerse yourself, then lecture me about the “immigration problem”. I dare you.

Timbuktu – Abderrahmane Sissako (2014)

Sissako takes on the scourge of the 21^st Century, that of the incomprehensible rise of fundamentalism and its effect – not on the West and all its creature comforts, but on the indigenous population. It was the best reviewed foreign language film of its year and pulls no punches as it examines both the ridiculousness and tragedy that is oppression by way of religious intolerance of an intensity not seen since the Inquisition in medieval Europe and, later, its various empires worldwide. What begins as an argument between a cattle herder and a fisherman quickly becomes mired in the abomination that is Sharia Law as it is interpreted and executed by Jihadi thugs. Sissako juxtaposes normal Mali life with the repressive rules that even those charged with its implementation and enforcement cannot follow – except when it conveniently amps up their power and control of the population. We Westerners drag out our righteous disgust at every terrorist incident that hits Paris, London or New York, yet how many of us consider what life must be like under their oppressive thumb on a daily basis?

Hunger – Steve McQueen (2008)

The final six weeks of IRA internee, Bobby Sands, renowned nine-week hunger strike gets intense treatment in McQueen’s first feature film in which, coincidentally, Michael Fassbender’s star began its ascent with his first leading role. McQueen wisely focused his camera on the minute details of prison life, interrupted regularly by bullying guards and, in the film’s iconic scene, a riveting conversation between Bobby and his priest about his decision to proceed with the hunger strike. McQueen replaces lofty political arguments with details of daily life that result from those politics: guards checking their cars for bombs as part of the morning routine, a riot officer in tears, prison walls smeared with feces, and the regular and deliberate abuse of prisoners. By inserting televised statements by the Iron Lady herself into the midst of the ongoing struggle between prisoners and guards, McQueen gives us the opportunity to form an opinion on whether or not the punishment truly fits the crime. Master class acting by Fassbender and McQueen’s deliberate eye and timing make for an unforgettable film experience.

Tell Them Willie Boy is Here – Abraham Polonsky (1969)

Based on a true story, a Paiute Native American boy (Robert Blake) kills the father of his girlfriend (Katherine Ross) in self-defense and the two of them take off on the run. Assumptions run rampant and a posse, headed-up by Caucasian Sheriff Cooper (Robert Redford). Polonsky, once a victim of persecution during the McCarthy Era, rightly turns his tale into an indictment of the genocide as practiced against Native American culture, reflecting it off the sheriff’s character as he pursues Willie. The closer he gets, the greater his doubts become about the efficacy and fairness of his role, until the two meet at their final encounter, a predetermined conclusion by this point. This was the first film Polonsky was allowed to direct since 1948, twenty years after he was blacklisted for his unrepentant Marxism and his refusal to name names. The film airs on TCM this coming Monday. How is that for timing? Watch it.

As much as we all claim to admire individuality, there isn’t a corner of the world that guarantees successful practice without some adversity from someone whose idea of individuality differs. It’s films like these that provide us with a taste of intolerance in its many forms so that perhaps we might not repeat the sins of the past. Perhaps.

 

 

GENRE BLAST: Love and Laughter – The Romantic Comedy

Romantic comedies, aka date movies, screwball comedies, or – if the gender balance makes straight guys feel threatened – chick flicks, all belong to the genre that receives the least amount of respect. The reason being that the vast majority are formulaic, predictable boredom killers that take us over familiar ground so often that they have become the comfort food of the movie going public.

Basically, they all unfold as follows:

• Character A is in pursuit of two things: attaining a goal and filling a void in their lives
• Character B comes along, towing their own goals and exuding a personal chemistry that attracts Character A (or vice versa)
• A and B get to know each other by way of a series of humorous encounters or relatively harmless mishaps, endearing them both to the audience so that we will root for them
• A major obstacle presents itself, threatening the relationship between A and B. Is the relationship doomed?
• Of course not; there is always a happy ending. Goals are attained, voids filled, and even if A and B don’t end up together, the film’s ends with all parties – including the audience – as satisfied as if they have just scarfed down an entire chocolate cake.

So how does one determine the best of this tired old chestnut of a genre? Simply take at least one of the steps in the overused recipe and invert it, turn it upside down, inside out, or just throw it away Add some intelligent dialog relating to philosophy or metaphysics and maybe add a third party to spice-up the natural balance. Top it off with some serious social commentary and some snappy editing, perhaps even a dash of kink (critics love all three if you can swing it). Now, season with humor to taste and “Bob’s your uncle.”

The directors of the five selections that follow each used at least one of the options listed above and the results are atomic. Their films are thoughtful, relevant, and, of course, loaded with good humor. They reside somewhere up in the atmosphere, far above the moldy hamper that stores 95% of the genre. These are comedies involving romance, plus a whole lot more – like a beating heart, a thinking brain, and a functioning pair … ingenuity and imagination, that is.

Jules et Jim – Francois Truffaut (1962)

What’s most interesting here is that by the time Truffaut, not yet 30 years old, made his third film, he chose to adapt an autobiographical World War I novel written by a then 74 year old Henri-Pierre Roché. Being one of the founders of the French New Wave, cinema’s youth movement – how could he be bothered with a (now) dead man’s accounts of romantic events from 40 years prior? It was probably that Roché’s earlier bohemian lifestyle fed directly into the 60s attitude that love is fluid and won’t be constrained. Two friends, one shy (Oskar Werner) and the other an extrovert (Henri Serre), both fall for the same free-spirited woman (Jeanne Moreau) and opt to share their relationships in the best interest for all concerned. There’s a heavy element of tragedy that one might argue should exclude the film from the romantic comedy genre, but Truffaut’s non-judgmental attitude provides the film with considerable good humor and a relaxed morality, more than adequately replacing the usual guffaws so associated with romcoms. This is a gem and should be visited over and over again.

Annie Hall – Woody Allen (1977)

Allen had established a reputation as a cinematic clown over a decade before he and writer Marshal Brickman struck gold by mining Allen’s personal life, his philosophies and phobias, and, most importantly, an honest look at his relationship history with actress Diane Keaton. The result is one of the best romantic comedies ever to grace the big screen, loaded with observations about love, self-identification and, in one of the film’s funniest and most relatable scenes, Marshal McLuhan. Alvie is a crazy quilt of neuroses and Annie an endearing ditz, making the possibilities for laughter endless. Like most relationships, this one was doomed from the start, but it’s Allen’s aversion to sentimentality and his affinity for mutual respect and humble acceptance that make it all work. While we understand his conundrum, we aren’t exactly saddened by the outcome because Allen has let us down gently, accepting the idea of evolution over that of failure: “A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we got on our hands is a dead shark.”

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind – Michel Gondry (2004)

Only the mind of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman could have re-invented the romantic comedy by deconstructing the entire formula. Michel Gondry runs with the idea that even if we erase all memory of a collapsed relationship, there remains the likelihood that a chance encounter could rekindle it; we can discard memories, but we cannot reinvent who we are. Told in a fractured format, the story is a visual treat as well as a truly sweet romance that pokes fun at human assumptions that we control our destinies. Heartache and loss are as much a part of the deal as falling in love. Kate Winslet’s Crayon-haired Clementine would probably never be able to sustain a long-term relationship with the likes of Jim Carrey’s Joel, but is the final goal longevity? Or is it simply a kernel of truth to forget the time of duration over which we have no control, and to surrender to that wonderful happiness for however long it lasts.

The Lobster – Yorgos Lanthimos (2015)

Lanthimos throws our obsession with coupledom under the bus with his bizarre love story set in an institution (called a hotel) where singles are sent to wait up to 45 days to find a mate match or, failing that, to be turned into an animal of their choice. The rules within that they are required to follow seem to have been adapted from a Match.com questionnaire and are as harsh as the laws that put them there, but David (Colin Farrell), after some truly absurd attempts to hook up with anybody, encounters a nameless shortsighted woman (Rachel Wiesz). The two of them decide to forgo the socially acceptable process of finding a mate and decide to set off on their own. The film is wildly unpredictable, even unnerving in spots, but it has a romantic heart rivaled by none. True love is not only the initial attraction we feel at first and then spend the rest of our lives trying to nurture maintain, it only survives on the willingness of the partners to sacrifice for each other. And the sacrifice in this case is a solid, life-affirming heartbreaker.

¡Átame! (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!) – Pedro Almodovar (1990)

Almodovar relishes his role as provocateur almost as much as he enjoys bright colours…almost. What is his solution to is answer to the romcom originality dilemma? By incorporating bondage and the Stockholm Syndrome in the courtship, of course. All by itself, that term boldly illuminates the director’s on with the hunger for establishment coupledom. Ricky (Antonio Banderas) has just been released from a mental institution and is determined to have a normal life with Marina (Vitoria Abril), even if he has to go to great lengths to convince her. Almodovar is renowned for his playfulness, which allows him to step outside normally acceptable lines on any topic – even courtship. The clichéd character of the doggedly-determined suitor, in his hands, becomes a kidnapper, and the apple of his eye – a porn actress he once had sex with. We accept Almodovar’s boldness because we trust him, and he takes us places where – nearly 30 years later – pseudo-titilating films like 50 Shades of Grey fail embarrassingly by playing it coy. Naturally, the film was scorned by North American puritans and some feminist groups, most of whom seem to have forgotten that this little parable played within the same basic construct as other romantic concoctions, from Beauty and the Beast to Pillow Talk. The MPAA unfairly slapped an X-rating on the film (always reserved for hardcore porn), triggering a legal battle and shining a bright light on censorship and sexuality. Eventually, the MPAA created the rating of NC-17 specifically for explicit, non-porn films.

While mainstream Hollywood filmmakers continue to grind out bland, cookie-cutter romcoms, we have to thank creative minds in France, Spain, the UK, Ireland, Greece and NYC (an entity all to itself) to thank, in this case, for keeping this genre vital with their courage and originality.

 

Genre Blast: Brass Ringers – BizFlicks

How does one measure success? Well, in a consumer-based capitalist society it’s the number of widgets one accumulates, the power and influence one amasses, and the number of foes and former friends who want to drag one into court to a) take a share of the pie and b) ultimately topple a master of the universe.

Unless you’re flying under the radar as an unknown entity with a new idea, resistance can be extraordinary right at the outset. The secret? Don’t give a shit, just keep your eye on the prize as you grope for weaknesses, snatch at every possible opportunity and don’t get distracted by the ruse of friendship or the mirage of romance.

This is an extremely culture-specific genre that, unsurprisingly, has been pretty much cornered by American filmmakers, and they know too well that dramas of building and maintaining empires at all costs would be tedious without injecting some humanity along the way. How they do this varies, and it’s tricky because a false move or showing of cards too early will upend the story. Everybody loves a winner? For sure, until it’s time for them to be frozen out or brought down altogether.

At the core of every protagonist in this genre is the seed of origin, that thing, that career, that idea that they either love so much that they dare not take their attention away from it, or a past so traumatically unsatisfying that they can’t reinvent themselves quickly enough. Fortune is not necessarily the paramount goal and neither is power, although both perks generally follow – it’s the recognition of success, of being the best in the business. That acknowledgment can come in the form of a standing O, hitting a million followers or becoming an industry icon, all of which are forms of celebrity that come from blazing on the top rung of the ladder. And there is always someone coming up the road – eyeing the beacon – with a taller ladder, ready to climb over backs and between legs to get to the top.

My five films of the proverbial merry-go-round riding brass ring grabbers:

Citizen Kane – Orson Welles (1941)

Although it was officially declared a box office failure, primarily due to the efforts of newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst, this is, historically, the highest regarded effort by any American filmmaker. 25 year old Welles’ first film is essentially a mystery – a tycoon dies, muttering his final word “Rosebud”, and the balance of the story is told in flashbacks through Kane’s humble childhood and his hungry climb to the top in industry and politics, as we try and unravel the past to discover its meaning. The real story here is the wealth of narrative and technical innovations used by Welles and his creative team, including cinematographer Gregg Toland, editor Robert Wise (the same), and composer Bernard Hermann. Much has been written about this visually rich, superbly written, acted and directed milestone about megalomania, yellow journalism and all that money can (and cannot) buy, and those who stop and look closely today should find the film as relevant right now as it has ever been. Hearst – in true narcissism mode, thought the film was about him and feverishly campaigned in the extreme to prevent the film’s release or, failing that, its success. That, plus the overall pessimistic tone that explores the sacrifices made on the road to wealth and power, cost the greatest American film to flop like a dying mackerel at the Oscars (they opted for the sunnier John Ford/John Wayne bucolic, How Green Was My Valley). In this age of cross-pollination between celebrity and politics, the impact of polarized journalism, and the inevitable emptiness of short-term gains and vast acquisitions, Citizen Kane maintains a firm grasp as both an artistic achievement beyond rebuke as well as a film with considerable social importance.

The Social Network – David Fincher (2010)

Thankfully, Mark Zuckerberg has considerably more humanity and fewer delusions of grandeur than WH Hearst because David Fincher’s modern day “Kane-ish” effort is, in fact, about him, specifically, and his transformation of a cheesy college dating site into the most powerful communication tool since the printing press. Again, everything about this film is as good as it gets. Aaron Sorkin’s sharp script, Jeff Cronenworth’s startlingly beautiful cinematography, and that impeccable Reznor/Ross score have the rare ability to offer something new and deeper with each subsequent viewing. Fincher bottles all this lightning, draws stellar performances from every actor with a speaking part, and then presents us with a modern day parable of what is lost and what is gained in the making of the world’s youngest billionaire. Parallels between TSN and CK are uncanny with one exception – Zuckerberg is more interested with advancing his technology than with wealth and power incurred along the way. Social impact and the credit for its development become the new currency, replacing grandiose castles filled with works of art. One thing remains the same from 1941, however – the slightly sour – even scolding tone – cost Fincher’s film a deserved grand night at the Oscars. After the film won nearly every critical award that season, it went down in flames at the Oscars when AMPAS opted for a Harvey Weinstein sentimental wankfest about stuttering royalty. How the mighty fall.

All About Eve – Joseph L Mankiewicz (1951)

Beware the fan who lurks at the stage door. Behind those adoring eyes is a predator after your job. If only stage legend, Margot Channing (Bette Davis in her showiest role) had clued into this fact before it was too late. Mankiewicz’s acerbically luminous script is honey for the ears and one of the most sarcastic, intelligent and entertaining scripts ever written. His film is the only movie in history to garner four Oscar nominations for its female actors (where are the Joe Mankiewicz’s of today?) It takes a warts-and-all inspection of the entertainment business in general, from the interfering dresser back stage to the haughty critic in the audience, lambasting actors, producers and writers left and right along the way. The molten core of the story, however, is Eve, the doe-eyed ingénue that attends every performance given by her idol, which is nothing but shrewd ambition disguised as adoration. She knows how to maneuver her prey’s blinding ego to her advantage, and where Margot goes, her entourage follows. And, again, that glorious script….Remind me to tell you about the time I looked into the heart of an artichoke.

The Devil Wears Prada – David Frankel (2006)

When neophyte journalist (Anne Hathaway) lands an editing job at Runway Magazine, she doesn’t realize she is about to be snagged by the whirlpool that has evolved around alpha-female Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), a woman who can, with the snap of her fingers, practically create her own weather. The trick here is, despite our first impression, Priestly does have a beating heart that is slowly revealed by the end of the story. The film makes a point that, like in show business, a woman who is a magnate in industry has to do the same things a man does, only backwards and in heels. This has become one of my favorite Streep performances. “Command” does not begin to describe her character’s presence, and when she’s onscreen, we are in awe of her efficiency and attention to detail. While her abilities dazzle (and intimidate) her employees and her public, they also set her up as a target for replacement that only the loyalty of those under her can divert. There is more going on here than meets the eye in a single viewing. Frankel’s few films all have a light touch to them, and in this case, his lightness probably contributed to the film’s box office success. After all, honey draws more flies than vinegar.

Glengarry Glen Ross – James Foley (1992)

We’ve looked at the top of the mountain, so here is a tale about the climb. Foley assembled an all-star cast for his adaptation of David Mamet’s treatise on how to succeed in real estate by really, really trying. Then he had Mamet create a prelude scene in which Alec Baldwin, a corporate trainer, “motivates” the salesmen with everything from access to the best leads and steak knives to termination. It’s a brilliant scene that resonates through the film as the sales force (Al Pacino, Jack Lemmon, Ed Harris and Alan Arkin) struggle not to be last over the finish line. Mamet’s language is fresh and real, unsparingly loaded with obscenities – even the cast referred to the film as “Death of a fuckin’ salesman.” Foley moves us back and forth from the darkness outside to the fluorescent glare of closed office space, accenting the desperation of those within to succeed. The film covers events of only two days – magnify that by the length of a career and you have what is written all over Jack Lemmon’s face, that the road to the top is a minefield, grueling, exhausting and unforgiving. “Always be closing” for your entire adult life.

Success in the eye of the (be)holder is very different than the idea of success for those trying to seek it out. Those that have it miss what they have sacrificed, yet those that seek it are willing to make the same sacrifices to attain it without a second thought. Ahh, the law of the jungle and the flytrap adage bait that “one can be whatever one wants to be; one only has to apply oneself”.

 

 

GENRE BLAST: Things That Go Bump, III – Fantasy

They run the gamut, from epic film franchises, such as The Lord of the Rings trilogy or the seemingly interminable Star Wars series, to one time mind-bending hallucinations like Adaptation and Metropolis. Of all movie genres, none presents as blank a slate to the filmmaker as the fantasy genre. The best of the lot go further than dressing up a standard good guys vs. bad guys plot with otherworldly characters and settings. They fracture time and space, reference our libraries of mythology and ethics, and take us far outside – or inside – of our hopes, our dreams and nightmares.

Filmed fantasies slyly teach us about ourselves which is likely the reason so many are adapted into philosophical parables we tell our children. They imagine world’s where both affection and fear are immediate and overpowering, and where humor effortlessly shines in some of the most absurd – even the darkest – situations.

It is also the genre that arguably displays true gender parity – we are mesmerized by the the power and influence of female characters like Morgana in the Arthurian legends or Wonder Woman just as much as we are entranced by the antics of Han Solo or Pinocchio.

Fantasy represents the dreams and nightmares that we share to make sense of a difficult and dangerous world. Here are five that imagine the unimaginable:

El laberinto del fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) – Guillermo del Toro (2007)

That del Toro is the contemporary master of the fantasy genre is unquestionable –he has become the 21^st Century version of the brothers Grimm. He also produced and wrote this post Spanish Civil War tale, which is as dark, brutal and, ultimately, as magical as any classic fairy tale that has been retold for centuries. It has all the elements – the young girl and her fantasy world, the evil stepfather, mythical creatures and a set of three tasks. What makes this special is the fullness of the backstory of a world so harsh that it can only be dealt with through phantasmagorical eyes. And what eyes del Toro provides – his vision mixes the horrors of war with the imagination of a child dealing with them. The works of Goya and Picasso’s Guernica trod the same ground with their unflinching imagery of the effects of war, and this modern classic stands shoulder-to-shoulder with them.

Being John Malkovich – Spike Jonze (1999)

I wish Jonze made more features, especially when he’s paired with writer Charlie Kaufman. Together they drill into the maze of our psyches, wreaking havoc such as they do with “poor” John Malkovich here. It’s an inner mind adventure that examines, twists, pokes in ways we never see – hell, most of us can’t imagine – where a failed puppeteer discovers a portal into a movie star’s mind. That does not even begin to describe the frolics that ensue in this shock-and-awe script that is one of the most original screenplays ever written. John Cusack is the meddler, ably supported by Catherine Keener and a totally un-glam Cameron Diaz, while a good-natured and self-deprecating Malkovich plays himself as he tries to regain control of his mind. Imaginative fun that surprises at every turn.

Excalibur – John Boorman (1981)

Over 70 films based on the same Arthurian Legend that has been examined and interpreted in every medium from literature and art to musical theatre and television. Boorman gives us a very mystical (and very adult-oriented) version, full of magic, philosophy and seduction that is based primarily on Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur (written in 1485). With considerable visual assistance from cinematographer Alex Thomson, we are presented with the well-known story of idealism mixed with sorcery in stunningly bravura fashion. Helen Mirren, Nigel Terry, Nicol Williamson and Nicholas Clay play the leads, but the film was also the career launchpad for a generation of Irish actors including Liam Neeson, Patrick Stewart, Ciaran Hinds and Gabriel Byrne. Who ever said mythology can’t be lush, sexy, and inspiring?

Cloud Atlas – The Wachowskis & Tom Tywker (2012)

David Mitchell’s tale of six interwoven stories proposing that individuals’ actions are interconnected across the centuries and continents was deemed as “unfilmable,” but, thankfully, that is not a condition that either Tywker or the Wachowskis seem to recognize. Using a troop of actors playing four to six characters each across time, race and gender lines, the film has pretty much everything – romance, comedy, adventure, discovery, politics, science fiction, artistic struggles…even a hint of cannibalism, all set to a glorious score anchored in the Cloud Atlas Sextet. We leap from story to story and back again, landing into situations already in progress from 1849 to 2321. This is a Chicago-style pizza of a movie – thick, messy and totally satisfying – that polarized audiences and critics, but I believe it will stand the test of time and become regarded as one of the most ambitious and uplifting films ever made.

La belle et la bête (Beauty & the Beast) – Jean Cocteau (1946)

As good as they are, the Disney versions can’t hold a candelabra to Cocteau’s dreamily brilliant version of this 18^th Century fairy tale. Cocteau was primarily a poet, and his film is visual poetry that inventively captures both dread and magic by way of imagery that surpasses any animated or CGI-assisted contemporary retelling of the familiar story. In addition to the sumptuous production values, there is a subtle, adult layer of desire working its way through the fairytale elements that make the tale appealing to all age groups without pandering to any. Cocteau’s companion of 25 years, actor Jean Marais, does triple duty as the Beast, the Prince, and a suitor to Josette Day’s Belle. Cocteau was nearly 60 when he made his version of this “tale as old as time”, his first feature length film, and his maturity and vast experience as avant-garde poet, playwright, artist, set designer, and director imbue a simple fairytale with depth and incomparable beauty.

Things that go bump – be they monsters, phantoms or unreal worlds where we find ourselves in times of trouble – help us cope, explain and, in the final analysis, survive. They all are truly the stuff that dreams are made of.

 Happy Halloween!

Genre Blast: Things That Go Bump, Part 2 – The Paranormal

Of all the genres designed to disturb, this one is the creepiest. What makes the films so unnerving is the normalcy of the main characters and their surroundings and how that comfort zone is turned upside down and inside out by tragedy or evil. Everybody loves the tingle when we know that a protagonist is about to turn the corner and come face to face with his or her demise, when we realize that the sicko’s phone call is “coming from inside the house,” or that maybe some unsettling event is not a dream or an aberration, but reality.

These are the ghost stories we tease each other with from the time we learn to speak and that we listen to from others, wide-eyed and cringing. The more ordinary the characters and their situation might be at the beginning, the more upending the effect when the unthinkable and unexplainable take over their lives. When a great filmmaker seizes on the opportunity to present this in the imaginative and effective ways with visual clues, suspenseful editing, and a frightening score, no member of the audience stands a chance. I often wonder if the gesture of hiding our eyes behind our hands or a pillow even was a thing before movies because it certainly is a thing now.

How many times have we said aloud – eyes covered, “Don’t go down/up/out there,” “Behind you!” or “Shut the fucking door!” More times than we care to remember, I would assume, because we never tire from being both appalled and thrilled to see someone like us in peril.

Here are but five from a genre that includes thousands of choices:

The Haunting – Robert Wise (1963)

Hill House is the mother ship of haunted houses not because of anything obvious, but because of the insidious habit it has to shift from normal to frightening in a split second. Acting giants Julie Harris and Claire Bloom perfectly register events as they are doled out to them and their small group of colleagues as they try and get to the bottom of a number of deaths that occurred in the house. As with later films like Amityville Horror and Poltergeist, the house is having none of it. Perhaps it is the simplicity of the storytelling – devoid of any slam-bang FX – that makes the film so effective. Or maybe it’s because Robert Wise worked as a film editor before he became a director and knows every trick down to the millisecond about how to get the most effect with the least effort.

Don’t Look Now – Nicolas Roeg (1974)

The loss of a child is probably the most traumatic thing that can happen to a parent and the grief can be insurmountable. Although they are slowly recovering a normal life and relationship, John and Laura (Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie) are both haunted by the death of their daughter by drowning. Roeg is most definitely a visual impressionist, so the choice of Venice as the primary setting for the main portion of the film throws us off-kilter enough that we, like John, believe in the flashes of a child’s red coat as it disappears around corners and behind buildings. Grief can be crippling as it blinds us from realistic possibilities and coincidences. It also narrows our focus and we become oblivious to the fact that things are not necessarily what they seem, and we forget important details, such as the police report of there being a serial killer on the loose.

The Shining – Stanley Kubrick (1980)

Although it’s based on Stephen King’s novel, the film version is very much a Kubrick manifestation. It’s hard to believe that he received a Razzie nomination for Worst Director that year considering how the film’s legacy over the years has increased as our admiration catches up with Kubrick’s vision. I know from experience that the idea of placing a wannabe writer in a mountain lodge that is inaccessible for long periods during the winter can be a blessing or a curse, and of course for King and Kubrick, the latter works like a charm. The only wrinkle in the idyllic setup is that the previous caretaker murdered his family there. Now throw in Kubrick visuals and unusual score choices, toss references (everything from Diane Arbus photos to Ed McMahon’s opening line for Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show) around like confetti, and get Jack Nicholson pull out the stops on his peculiar type of madness. No wonder Shelley Duvall damn near quit acting when they were finally finished – after an entire year of principle photography.

Rosemary’s Baby – Roman Polanski (1968)

What could be more upsetting to a woman pregnant with her first child than to believe mounting evidence that her infant is the target of a witches’ coven. What poor Rosemary (Mia Farrow in what is probably her best role) doesn’t know is that is only a portion of the story. Polanski ramps up the paranoia interfering neighbors, a husband whose ambition knows no bounds, and an anagram sent from an old friend who has suddenly died. As usual, Polanski knows the limits of tolerance of his audience and proceeds to take things a step further anyway, all to the strains of Krzysztof Komeda’s sinister lullaby of a score. Of note – this film is rumored to be one of Stanley Kubrick’s favorite films.

Cat People – Jacques Tourneur (1942)

Horror Noir on steroids. I searched-out this landmark film only after watching the Paul Schrader’s reboot in the 80s and I wasn’t disappointed. The premise is simple, if a bit puritan – a woman of Balkan descent (where else?) believes she has inherited the curse of turning into a panther when crossed or sexually aroused. Sexual politics aside, the situation kind of limits the possibilities, and Irena (Simone Simon) must face them all when she is persuaded to marry in spite of the legendary curse. The film is beautifully shot in B&W, with lots of long shadows and double exposures, and is the origin of the “Lewton Bus” technique where a moment of tension is broken by a snap back to reality – in this case, a panther’s snarl turns into a bus pulling up to a stop.

If you haven’t watched some of these, it’s the season so go for it. Just don’t blame me for any spilled snacks or recurring nightmares.

 

 

 

 

Genre Blast: Things That Go Bump, Part One – MONSTERS!!

As we all enjoy a healthy shot of adrenaline that originates from a good scare now and then, the next three installments tip their caps to fright and its designated day, Halloween. Fear is one of our most primal and intense reactions and a huge chunk of moviemaking is dedicated to these very lucrative genres.

First up, those terrifying, non-human creatures that arrive through time or space, usually after our own species has tinkered with the natural order. Whether they are an extinct animal summoned against our better judgment or an alien creature in search of greener pastures or a fully stacked pantry, one would think that humans would be a sinewy, noisy and unsatisfying snack for these behemoths. Much of the fun must be in the hunt and inevitable confrontation with those pesky provocateurs known as people.

Regarding the Monster Genre one thing is certain – if the original film is successful in creating a clearly defined identity to the dangerous antagonist, there will be plenty more films, each one displaying the latest developments in cinematic technology. That doesn’t automatically guarantee success, but a strong, iconic beast nearly always delivers a strong opening weekend, providing the franchise hasn’t been exhausted.

For this exercise I stayed with non-human monsters and avoided, as much as I love them, the classical Frankenstein / Dracula / Wolfman triumvirate. So here are five creature-features that remind us that homo sapiens’ grip on the top rung of the food chain is tentative, at best.

Jurassic Park – Steven Spielberg (1993)

As if our dependence on petroleum and the planet-threatening carbon emissions and oil-based plastics don’t provide enough of a threat, let’s go back to the original source and resurrect a few of the jolly giants from the age of dinosaurs, just for fun. In point of fact, most (not all) of the creatures highlighted in Spielberg’s exciting adaptation of Michael Crichton’s theme park gone awry novel are primarily from the Cretaceous Period, not Jurassic, but who’s going to nitpick with a T-Rex nipping at your tail? Like most kids of a certain generation, I was obsessed with dinosaurs and never satisfied with movies that taped fins and horns on baby alligators the antagonized them to fight. Spielberg answered our dreams when, to the stately score by John Williams, we get our first look at them walking, flying and feeding. Of course, to paraphrase Jeff Goldblum/Dr Malcolm in one of the sequels, “Ooohing” and “Ahhing” gives way to running and screaming fairly quickly. This benchmark of superior CGI development made up only ½ of Spielberg’s showiest year when Jurassic Park devoured all box office records and Schindler’s List was a critical darling. Its one of the few times – perhaps the only time – a director was able to snag two brass rings in the same year with two totally diverse film experiences.

Alien – Ridley Scott (1979)

This moody, dark and painfully suspenseful space nightmare not only christened a new franchise, it presented us with that equally unique and rare being – a female protagonist in an action/sci-fi blockbuster. It also presented us with one of the most frightening (and unashamedly disgusting) creatures we can only hope we will never encounter. Following Jim Cameron’s equally exciting sequel, Aliens, the franchise continued with diminishing results. Scott’s vision deserves credit not only for reintroducing us to extraterrestrial terror; he presents his story dressed in H. R. Giger’s splendid otherworldly set and creature designs. And then there’s “that” scene which starts as indigestion and ends in something so original and horrific that audiences at the time will never be able to erase from their movie memory.

Godzilla – Gareth Edwards (2014)

The thirtieth time’s the charm for this Japanese concoction that first saw light in 1954 and that’s probably because only 21^st Century technology can do justice to this cautionary enviro-tale of the effects of nuclear “solutions” to problem situations. Edwards film also has a heart as large as Godzilla’s – the titular creature draws our compassion as much as, if not more, than the tiny, annoying human creatures who keep pestering it and threatening the world in which it lives. Edwards’ action sequences are brilliantly directed as he lets them unfold naturally and inevitably, drawing us in with anticipation instead of causing us to brace for a series of overdone explosions. I would happily accept Godzilla as steward for our environment and, I guarantee, he would take better care of it than we have ever done. Plus – imagine what he could do with the deniers, poachers and industrial miscreants!

King Kong – Merian C. Cooper & Ernest B. Schoedsack (1933)

Of the nine or ten Kong films that have hit the screen, one only needs the first pre-code/stop-action version. Its tragic Beauty and the Beast theme is simple and clear, Willis O’Brian’s animation, legendary, and matte paintings by Henry Hillinck, Mario Larrinaga and Byron C. Crabbé, deep and lush – suitable for framing. The film was a smash hit with audiences and critics alike, and was re-released directly to first-run cinemas five times before the mid-50s. It was a late night movie hit and regularly made the rounds during the 60s at Saturday kids’ matinees and was a staple at college/reparatory theatres during well through the 70s…then along came Dino Delaurentis and his World Trade Centre remake, which effectively shut down the decades-long roadshow for this classic. For all of the remakes, especially the big budget biscuits by John Guillermin (‘76), Peter Jackson (’05) and Jordan Vogt-Roberts (’17), the luxury of technology became the focus, confusing the story and ultimately draining the lifeblood that was so pure in the original. When the Hayes Code came into effect, a number of scenes were edited out due to violence and sexual content (yup), but if you are lucky, you may stumble upon a version with some of those scenes restored. It’s definitely worth searching for.

The Thing – John Carpenter (1982)

With all due respect to Carpenter’s seasonal favorite, Halloween, his remake of the 1951 film is by far his best work. Why? Because it’s terrifying, that’s why. Set in the 24hr nights in Antarctica in a remote (is anything in Antarctica NOT remote?) research station, a parasite wreaks havoc as it moves from organism to organism, not only destroying each host but causing panic and paranoia among the remaining inhabitants who are captive due to seasonal conditions. The film has achieved much acclaim in retrospect, but was panned by critics when it was released, and that release date was, unfortunately, the same day as Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. Its polar opposite, ET, enjoyed a re-release two weeks prior, so audiences were not looking to go back to the days when extraterrestrials were looked on with fear and disgust. Despite having the deck stacked against it, The Thing is now considered to be one of the scariest films ever made.

Monsters have played a key role in our mythology since the first story was shared with the tribe around the safety of a fire, and I expect they will remain the most popular way to allegorize our fears that stem from any phenomenon that has no immediate explanation. And they are great fun, to boot.

Genre Blast: By the Book – LitFlicks

Books have been the number one source for filmmakers since movies began. They come with a complete story, defined characters, dialog and, often, a built-in audience. So why, then, are many of the great books unfilmable? How many sour few versions of Moby Dick do we need to prove that point? More often than not we hear – or say – the movie wasn’t as satisfying as the book.

On the other hand, pop beach book fiction might not reap literary awards, but the blueprints they provide are responsible for some major cinema classics like The Godfather, Jaws and Gone with the Wind. I believe it has to do with simplicity – little or no subtext, uncomplicated characters, and a straight-line narrative so easy to follow that even Hansel and Gretel can skip the breadcrumbs.

Occasionally a complex literary work will connect with the right director and screenwriter who will select a point of view, edit the hell out of the details and modify the arrangement of various elements to support the change in medium from page to screen. When this happens, we, the audience, are handed a diamond that has been painfully pressed from the coal that is the written word. The flurries of words that challenge our imaginations when we read are replaced by the filmmaker’s creative interpretation that somehow maintains all the complexities of the original book.

This is no easy task. Here are five who succeed in the transition from classic literature to iconic cinema:

Fight Club – David Fincher (1999)

– based on the 1996 novel by Chuck Palahniuk

One would think that Palahniuk’s bombastic work about identity, bloodlust, mental illness and….soap(?) would not be something one would pay to watch, unless the filmmaker happens to be the unflinching master, David Fincher. The film is bookended by brilliant opening and closing sequences, head of the class performances by Brad Pitt, Edward Norton and Helena Bonham Carter, and images shot by freshly hired, now Fincher regular, Jeff Cronenworth. Audiences and critics alike initially either loved or hated the film, but as the haters wander off or die, the film has a solid legacy similar to other polarizing cultish films like A Clockwork Orange, Inception and pretty much anything by von Trier.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Philip Kaufman (1988)

– from the 1984 novel by Milan Kundera

Kundera’s novel of infidelity and revolt set during and after the Prague Spring of 1968 gets a handsome treatment in the hands of underrated auteur, Philip Kaufman. It’s an intricate literary work and Kaufman managed to capture most of the spirit and essence of the intensity of the time as well as the eroticism of Czech brain surgeon Tomas (Daniel Day Lewis) and his dalliances. The wonderful Juliette Binoche and Lena Olin could not be better as the primary paramours, Binoche as a frustrated waitress and Olin as a photographer with a penchant for derby hats. The chemistry of the actors, director, and source material melds into a stimulating, at times, exciting, and ultimately moving portrayal of people caught in the grist of change and their own natural search for direction. Shout outs to legendary cinematographer Sven Nykvist and screenwriter Jean-Claude Carriere. Mesmerizing.

Howard’s End – James Ivory (1992)

– from the 1910 novel by E.M.Forster

The Merchant/Ivory partnership, along with writer Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, is responsible for some of the best literary adaptations ever filmed, so the selection of Howard’s End over A Room with a View, Maurice, The Bostonians, and Remains of the Day was pretty much a coin toss. They could easily fill all five slots, without regret. This was the showcase that put Emma Thompson on the A-List with her Oscar-winning portrayal of Margaret Schlegel and her plate-spinning interaction with her younger sister (Helena Bonham Carter) and the aristocratic Wilcox and his ailing wife (Anthony Hopkins and Vanessa Redgrave). The film is superlative portrayal of period detail and class structure that invites us to peer at the underbelly of social conventions at the turn of the century.

Treasure of Sierra Madre – John Huston (1948)

– from the 1927 novel by B. Traven

An American classic that, I’ll bet, most people didn’t know was adapted from the novel penned by who we think could have been a German anarchist self-exiled to Mexico. That’s correct, the book’s title at first printing was Der Schatz der Sierra Madre. Both the book and Huston’s film is probably the most existential and anti-imperialism western, laser-focused on greed, that was ever made – certainly until the 1970s, at least. How this nihilistic vision was ever greenlit for Hollywood development in the early days of the McCarthy Era is nothing short of a miracle. Fred C. Dobbs is quintessential Bogart.

Il conformista (The Conformist) – Bernardo Bertolucci (1970)

– based on the 1951 novel by Alberto Moravia

Bertolucci’s expressionist masterpiece based on Moravia’s novel presents us with Marcello, a mouse of a man searching desperately for “normality”. Unfortunately, the Fascist world he lives in is anything but normal, so “conformity” replaces the “normality” he seeks as he becomes employed as a state assassin. Jean Louis Trintignant gives a strikingly aloof performance that is almost painful to watch as a man willing to surrender all sense of self and moral consciousness simply to fit in. Georges Delerue’s score and especially Vittorio Storaro’s deco cinematography were career bests for both artists, but the real star of the show is Bertolucci, who spares nothing from his visual bag of tricks while making a convincing political point. Simply put, it is not only one of the linchpins of 70s cinema, it is one of the greatest – and most taciturnly elegant – films ever made.

LitFlicks will always be a staple for cinema. I’ve been pleased with some adaptations such as Life of Pi, Requiem for a Dream, and The Grapes of Wrath, but it’s a gamble, to be sure. By all accounts, Luca Guagdagnino’s rendition of Andre Aciman’s Call Me By Your Name is the latest to strike the bull’s-eye. As this is one of my favourite books, I sincerely hope so.

 

GENRE BLAST: The Silents Are Golden

I’m on a rant, so consider yourself warned. I had a genial little chapter on LitFlicks nearly ready for submission when I read a NY Post article by way of the Guardian that cited an American poll that said only 30% of younger audiences have seen a film in black & white and that fewer than 25% had ever watched a film from the 40s or 50s to completion. The primary reason given? “They’re boring.” Now I’ve heard this firsthand before, but it reminded me of some comments I had seen from self-proclaimed “cinephiles” who also claimed they had never seen a silent film, other than a Chaplin short. Seriously?

 Not only does this completely demolish their cinema cred, in my book anyway, it’s a shame that they don’t know what they are missing, which is the evolution of cinematic language. Why? There is nothing in modern cinema that can rival the artistry or imagination of the visuals of a silent film, for one. Yes, the current technology is bigger, louder, and, well, easier, which only increases my appreciation of the accomplishments of silent artists.

 Regarding the “boring” comment, silent films addressed precisely the same themes that are lightning rods for today’s social commentary; e.g. race, morality, ethics, gender roles, romance and things that go bump in the night. Anyone who feels that the approach to societal issues in film 100 years ago is naïve or lacks a modern, pertinent point-of-view has simply been watching the wrong Silents. It’s true, a majority of product was thin and vacuous, pandering to the masses looking for a quick giggle, but remember that currently Netflix’s biggest draws include Adam Sandler’s self-indulgences, which proves we have not evolved much as a collective audience. A quick giggle remains primary aim of a majority of film goers/streamers to this day.

 I don’t like separating Silents from Talkies any more than isolating foreign language from English language films or B&W from colour, but for the sake of this exercise, here are some rewarding Silent Film experiences that weren’t included in other genres.

La roué  (The Wheel)   Abel Gance   (1923)

Gance’s camera tricks and grand appetite for creative storytelling obviously broke ground back in ’23 when the industry was still young, but you would be surprised how effective his style and changing points of view can still dazzle today. Family life, hints of incest and alcoholism, and the working life of the era are his focus. This is pre-Napoleon free falling that originally clocked in at a running time between 7 and 9 hours. Much has been lost, but in Gance’s day, a film was a living thing, open to reediting to various lengths to suit venues. Thanks to this – and the survival of five different prints – a breezy 4 ½ hour version was cobbled together as part of the restoration process.

It      Clarence Badger/Josef von Sternberg   (1927)

The only clown in this romantic comedy is the adorable Clara Bow. Shop clerk Betty Lou knows what she wants (primarily, the boss) and her methods pleased audiences of the day so much that she shot to superstardom immediately. The term, the “It Girl”, entered the public language where it remains to this day. In the original serialized novel by Elinor Glyn, the male had “It” and the female the charmed upper crust life, but moving the focus to Ms Bow was a wise move, creating a blueprint for hundreds of gender pursuit comedies over the decades. Much of the charm and outright laughs come from the current expressions and exclamations that pepper the film. “Hot socks! It’s the boss!”

City Lights     Charlie Chaplin   (1931)

Chaplin was so against sound in films that he, along with FW Murnau, actually had the balls to release silent films in the 1930s. City Lights is probably my go-to Chaplin when I need a lift or a reminder that the world does in fact house good and loving people. It’s no wonder that Chaplin was married four times – his grand affection for life would certainly burn out many spouses. He is at his grandest here as the Tramp who falls for a blind girl and I challenge anyone to watch the film to completion and not be seriously moved. A critic a decade or so after the film was released referred to the last scene as containing, “the best screen acting ever committed to celluloid,” and Chaplin, himself, claimed it as his own favorite. Even more astounding, the director/star and his leading lady didn’t even like each other very much.

Faust   FW Murnau     (1926)

Before he moved to Hollywood to direct the revered Sunrise, Murnau tackled his last German film, the story of a bet between a demon and an archangel that holds the purity of a righteous man as the lynchpin – lose the bet and the world quite literally goes to the Devil. The film is one of the most technically intricate ever made, and some of Murnau’s effects (such as the Black Plague descending onto a town) stand in the upper eschelon, equal to anything tapped from a computer today. Like Gance, Murnau like to adjust his final product and there were eventually up to nine different versions, with different scenes, costumes, and – wait for it – a bear. It is visual brilliance that cannot be contained in a single cut.

The Crowd       King Vidor   (1928)

The personal hardships of a family trying to eke out a living in the urban gristmill won Vidor a nomination for Best Director at the first Oscars. They immediately set the long-famous precedent and gave it to somebody else. His vision was too harsh and realistic for the moguls intent on entertaining the masses entering the Great Depression. The film is all kinds of brilliant. Especially in its honest and clever presentation of urbanization and its impact on one’s ability to have a simple and rewarding life. It was revolutionary filmmaking for the 20s and would be so today – if anybody had any interest in the plight of the common man.

At the minimum, anything by Murnau and Gance are must-see from the era, so don’t make me come over there. OK, rant over. Now I can complete my LitFlicks entry, so let’s see…how many millennial cinephiles still read books? Uh oh. Storm on the horizon.

Genre Blast: Period Films – It’s All in the Detail

There’s a clichéd image that immediately pops into mind when someone mentions “period” films, but there’s more to this genre than hoop skirts chandeliers and knick-knacks. Art directors and costume designers deservedly get immediate attention, but the goal of a worthy period film is to capture not only the sights and sounds of a bygone time, but to immerse one in the speech rhythms, morals and attitudes, as well as suggest the touch of a glove or the atmosphere of a room. One should be able to imagine all five senses at work, to be there, in another world, totally immersed and removed from modern life happening away from the screen.

It’s a challenge – avoiding anachronisms – including language and manners, capturing the way people might have interacted with each other. In addition, buildings that didn’t exist at the time the story takes place must be scrubbed along with making sure there are no antennas or sports cars parked in the background. The lighting has to be right, the food served epoch-appropriate, and societal hierarchy and protocol accurate.

There are some great films that translate their period perfectly simply because they were made during that period- those are not what I’m looking for here. To qualify, the creation must be of another time and place, always in the past (otherwise we’re heading into invalidated sci-fi territory), and do what films are supposed to do; that is, pluck us from our known reality and drop us into a detailed foreign era to experience life as it once was lived.

Here are five that succeed on every level, so faithful and detailed to the eras they portray that you feel that you’re there:

Age of Innocence – Martin Scorsese (1993)

Rigid does not begin to describe the traditional life of New York’s upper crust in the late 19^th Century. Scorsese envelopes us with detail, physical and moral, of all that is expected from inhabitants of the so-called Gilded Age. From the precision setting of a dining table at the opening of the film to the perceived chaos caused by an engaged lawyer’s infatuation with a divorced countess, the story unfolds through gossip, letters delivered, and social events attended. It’s an adjustment for iGen audiences who simply tweet what they think, but this was life in the pressure cooker of genteel living. It’s interesting to note that Scorsese’s Gangs of New York takes place around the same time and provides night and day contrast between the haves and have-nots. Hypnotic and surprisingly sexually charged.

Boogie Nights – Paul Thomas Anderson (1997)

Risking whiplash, we move to the Seventies where self-control went through the window, along with décor and fashion sense. PTA uses the porn industry to illustrate the hedonism that the age of peace and love morphed into, and it works perfectly. This was a period of flared pants (except at the constricting crotch), platform shoes, prolific drug use and XXX films playing in regular movie houses. Anderson captures the era perfectly in his pacing, soundtrack and “what the f**k does it look like I’m doin” attitude. Also consider the cast, mostly unknown except for “Marky Mark” in his screen lead debut as Dirk Diggler, who are now on the acting A-list. This makes viewing the film again all the more fun. By the way, Julianne Moore was robbed of a Supporting Oscar for her complex portrayal of porn queen, Amber Waves (love it).

Mon Oncle Antoine – Claude Jutra (1971)

This is rural Quebec in the throes of social change in 1949, known as the Quiet Revolution, when everything from the Church to politicians were scrutinized and summarily ignored in the attempt of cultural self-preservation. Jutra’s film portrays the event by way of a small town on the verge of a miner’s strike, and his skillful illustration of that microcosm is the reason his film consistently lands in the first position of the best of Canadian cinema. As a matter of fact, the environment onscreen is so authentic and effective, you may need to turn off the air conditioning and put on a jacket. Criterion wisely released a collector’s edition several years ago. Find it.

Barry Lyndon – Stanley Kubrick (1975)

When they told Kubrick that one could not film using just candlelight, he obviously thought, “Just watch me,” and the 18^th Century Europe never looked more authentic. Or sumptuous. His take on Thackeray’s satirical novel of an Irish hothead on the social climb for revenge is far more serious than the book, but I’m assuming Kubrick didn’t want to remake Tom Jones. What we have is visually and aurally heavenly. The film was under-appreciated during its initial release, but has since been cited increasingly as Kubrick’s most perfect film. As usual, his selections for the soundtrack, a huge hit all on its own at the time, are spot-on.

Far From Heaven – Todd Haynes (2002)

Todd Haynes scores a knockout with his Sirkian Fifties drama that addresses race, sexual orientation and gender inequality all wrapped–up in the Mid-Century Modern décor. The suburbs had just emerged as the ideal way to live and raise a family, but redesigning the clothing and furniture was an easier task than accepting more progressive and accepting ideals. Cathy Whitaker – Julianne Moore, yessir, robbed again of a Best Actress Oscar – and her husband, Frank (Dennis Quaid) have made it to the pinnacle of 50s successful living when a series of personal events shatters the local etiquette. It’s a stunning Fifties-style melodrama that seizes one like quicksand, and when we emerge at the end, we realize the matters of the heart that caused their downfall have, mostly, yet to be resolved completely to this day. Heavenly on the surface, but far from heaven, indeed.

Note to readers: I have about ten more genres upcoming, including Fantasy, Horror, LitFlicks and the Supernatural. If you have any suggestions on a topic you might want explored, please comment below. I’ll happily take on any challenge.

 

 

Genre Blast: Sports – Win or Lose, It’s All in the Game

A majority of us have never effectively played more than two or three sports and likely never go out of our way to watch them other than passively accepting what we are fed over the television. So how do films about sports accomplish the unusual task of entertaining audiences who may never have played or who may not even be interested in that particular sport? They do it by transferring the technical aspects of the sport into the lives of the characters, playing on the competitive aspect and the need to win. They throw in the business dealings of promoters and owners – often at odds with the protagonist – or examine the complications of reconciling a sporting life with a social or family life. Then you have the pressures of fans, the upstart who is panting at your heels waiting to replace you, and that other-worldly tension that freezes the outside world when the starter raises his pistol and says, “SET…”

I don’t have the stats, but I would imagine that baseball is one sport that may have been enhanced by movies that have gone a long way to romanticize the game (The Natural, Field of Dreams, Pride of the Yankees, et al), by playing heavily on the nostalgia aspect. On the other side, boxing has definitely been made to appear more brutal than is normally the case in an average match. American football in cinema isn’t so much about the game as it is about the team and the individual’s role within it, similar to basketball movies. And most other sports get short shrift – unless you search them out. There are good movies out there where a football (soccer) pitch is the backdrop, but the most popular sport in the world has yet to be the subject of a bona fide film classic. Hockey usually gets relegated to second-rate comedies and MMA – barely 20 years old – has yet to be the subject of anything particularly memorable, Fight Club and Warrior aside.

To attain a level playing field for this genre, which is SPORTS, I’m imposing a no multiple-dipping rule; that is, to include only a single entry for a specific sport (sorry baseball and boxing, just one apiece). They are about the game: the mindset, training and the adrenaline of competition, and how it plays with business aspects, players on their way up (or down) the ladder, and fans obsessed with the whole thing.

Bull Durham     Ron Shelton   (1988)

Annie Savoy (Susan Sarandon) is a devotee of the Church of Baseball; i.e. she’s a mature groupie who “adopts” a player each season and personally tutors him on the game – and life skills – she knows so well. “Nuke” and “Crash” (great names, btw) vie for her attention in Shelton’s unusual take on baseball that is very smart, indeed. Tim Robbins is appropriately goofy as Nuke, the talented up-and-comer who is quite happy to be led around by his ****. Kevin Costner plays the struggling veteran, Crash, in one of his best performances as the man who has seen it all and says as much. Shelton wrote one of the finest scripts of the 80s that encompasses game stats, the competitive spirit and, of course, sex. Interesting note: although they played rookie and veteran players, only three years of age separate Robbins and Costner.

Fat City     John Huston       (1972)

Whenever directors want to use a sport to drive home harsh realities, boxing seems to be the pounding of choice. The term “fat city” is slang for that unattainable goal, and John Huston’s dark film doesn’t spare either the has-been trying to get back in the ring (Stacey Keach) or the hopeful newbie setting-off on a career (Jeff Bridges). This is one of Huston’s most visually detailed films, much of it filmed at night or in dark bars, with an array of supporting characters headed by a mostly soused Oma, played by the amazing Susan Tyrell. This is one of those many great 70s films that isn’t afraid to tell you that the game of life, like boxing, is fixed, so enjoy the ride to nowhere. Gawd, I miss some good old-fashioned cynicism in movies these days. It’s good for the soul.

Breaking Away   Peter Yates   (1979)

As an antidote for the nourish smoky dark of Fat City we burst out into the bright sunlight and fresh air with Peter Yates enthusiastic tale of Dave (Dennis Christopher) and his infatuation with competitive cycling and, in particular, Italian racing. His dedication is so deep that he studies everything Italian, listens to Italian music and even begins to learn the language, using it on his befuddled breadbasket parents at every opportunity. In this case the sport is presented as a glamorous escape from the humdrum Midwest. Some small-town drama aside, this is a breezy, wind-in-your-hair boost that was nominated for five Oscars, winning for Steve Tesich’s good-natured screenplay, beating heavyweights Manhattan, All That Jazz, …And Justice for All, and China Syndrome.

Downhill Racer   Michael Ritchie (1969)

Director Michael Ritchie loved to go after those sacred cows like politicians (The Candidate), beauty pageants (Smile) and children’s baseball (Bad News Bears). This was his first directorial effort and it’s a doozy of a character study of a champion skier (Robert Redford) who, despite his talents, also happens to be a narcissistic prick. The thing is, whether or not he’s of sports hero caliber, his days on top are numbered. Ritchie does some brilliant things with his camera to make you feel a part of the skiing action, from the breath-holding seconds prior to the start, then shooting down the fall line racing only the clock and yourself. He also reminds us that regardless of a win and all its glory, there is always going to be someone starting down the hill behind you.

Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner    Tony Richardson   (1962)

In the 50s and early 60s, Britain latched onto a film style that was labeled “Kitchen Sink Realism” – one of my favorite periods in filmmaking and a definite precursor, along with the French New Wave, that shoved Hollywood into its 70s heyday. They were studies of, mostly, angry young men resentfully stuck in the nether class of society and, in a couple of cases, used their skills in sports to illustrate their rebelliousness. Tom Courtenay’s character is such a lad – a skilled distance runner without much else to his name who always seems to be in trouble with the authorities. Endurance and strategy are the two key components of his sport and he translates these skills during an actual race to make a point. Sometimes winning isn’t everything.

These are five sports films that successfully maneuver the themes contained within their sports to life outside of the competitive arena. Whether lightweight or heavy in tone, sports are an effective metaphor for life. You train, you compete and sometimes you win; regardless, it’s all in the game.

Genre Blast: Who’s Playing Whom? – The Biopic

Let’s start this one off on the right foot with a confession: the biopic is my least favorite genre. I know, some of film’s greatest performances are found here; no argument there. Actors climb over each other to see who will be Steve Jobs or Freddie Mercury or Margaret Thatcher. So why do I dread each casting announcement? It’s because of the hundreds of movies about politicians, heroes, villains, and entertainers, 95% of the films are cookie cutter style, concentrating on squeezing life events into a formulaic template and hoping that the audience concentrates on the usually brilliant – and sometimes ridiculous – performance that dominates nearly every scene. We are terrified of misrepresenting our public icons, so controversy is soft-lit and complexities ignored in favor straightedge(less) story telling that admirers will accept. Scan the buffet of film genre history and you will find biopics located between the gelatin salad and cottage cheese.

Another thing I wasn’t aware of until I researched for this installment – women have been given incredibly short shrift when it come to high quality, innovative ways of telling a famous person’s life story. For that reason, I’m listing five films where famous men are the subject and five where renowned women are portrayed. I had a difficult time winnowing the males down to five artistic achievements while for the ladies….Only one has the auteur style and passionate storytelling comparable to those vehicles for the dudes, and it stands out on the list like a sore thumb because it is a silent film.

 For this exercise, I’m choosing films where the tone, pace and look are intended to enhance the spirit to the person being portrayed. They have the feel of a time or place as well as convey the essence the subject, be it crazy, pathetic, heroic, or creative. Based on artistic merit of the film and NOT the person portrayed –or doing the portraying, although most of these performances are career highs – here are ten biopics worthy of acclaim. Five for him and five for her. And filmmakers – please take a chance and give us another classic biopic of a woman. 1928 was oh-so-long ago. And make certain a woman will direct it, as well. Thanks.

First up, HIS…

Raging Bull – Martin Scorsese (1980)

As far as I’m concerned, this is Scorsese’s masterpiece. Everything is right with this film. Scorsese flexes his artistic muscles with every scene, evoking precisely a specific sense of time, place and mood. At times it’s almost too raw to watch, others, as romantic as a shimmering Bronx swimming pool in high summer. Augmenting Michael Chapman’s stunning B&W cinematography and Thelma Schoonmaker’s quicksilver editing is a score handpicked from every corner of the musical lexicon – all with the common goal to convey character and mood. Even the three major boxing scenes are individually constructed and choreographed because every fight is NOT exactly like another. And, oh yes, there is that benchmark performance – DeNiro’s Jake LaMotta is the poster boy for true assholes – a borderline psychotic, jealous wife-beater, and fierce warrior in and out of the ring who steps off the precipice and plummets into reality like a meteor.

The Elephant Man – David Lynch (1980)

Ironically, 1980 gave us a second B&W classic biopic, this being David Lynch’s second feature and first major Hollywood effort. It’s based on the truly tragic John (Joseph) Merrick, whose extreme deformities confined him to a workhouses and freak shows until, towards the end of his life (at 27), he’s taken in by Dr Frederick Treves and London Hospital. For the first time, the good Victorian society begins to see the kind and intelligent human being underneath the horrific physical disorders. John Hurt somehow manages to pull at our heartstrings from underneath buckets of latex grotesquerie. Just as with Raging Bull, cinematographer Freddie Francis, editor Anne V Coates and composer John Morris – under Lynch’s nonconforming eye – conspire to provide us with a 19^th Century Whitechapel experience unlike anything we have ever seen or even imagined.

Edvard Munch – Peter Watkins (1974)

Everybody is familiar with Norwegian artist Munch’s paintings, The Scream (there are four of them), and Peter Watkins sets out to ensure that we also understand both the artist and his process. Watkins is known primarily for his controversial documentaries, so he wisely selects a docudrama style here, complete with unknown performers and modern dialog to make the biographical exercise more immediate and personal. I saw the original 3-hour version back when it was released and it was a challenge – a welcomed challenge where we get an in-depth study of the father of German Expressionism by way of late 20^th Century documentary-style.

Ed Wood – Tim Burton (1994)

As this biopic appears to mark the apex of Tim Burton’s filmography to date, as well as that of his leading man, one has to wonder how much admiration he had for the subject, considered to be the worst film director in the history of celluloid. The film is a lark because all of Ed Wood’s professional and personal proclivities are right up Burton’s alley – mohair sweaters and heels, confused and frustrated actors and technicians, no sense of logic or continuity, and a hysterical wrestling match between a horror movie legend and a rubber octopus leave us shaking our heads in disbelief. But Burton (and Depp) approach the matter with respect, replacing mockery with much affection that elevates the film to a level that is light years beyond your average biopic.

I’m Not There – Todd Haynes (2007)

Bob Dylan underwent many metamorphoses in his musical evolution and the brilliant Todd Haynes seizes on this fact and structures his film to reflect the same. Dylan is portrayed as seven entities played by six different actors (Bale, Ledger, Gere, Whishaw, Blanchett, and Marcus Franklin). The gimmick is extremely effective as it eliminates the need for tiresome transitional dialog between life phases. This is one of the century’s most enigmatic talents as reimagined by a most original artist.

Now,  HERS

Isadora – Karel Reisz (1968)

You would think that a film about the Earth Mother of the peace and love movement would have been more successful, financially. Redgrave’s positively luminous performance won the Best Actress award at Cannes as well as a couple of critics’ prizes. Isadora Duncan’s life philosophy evolved entirely about freedom – to move, love and live exactly the way you wanted. She had no problem having a spontaneous fling with an attractive poet or marrying for money to pursue her school for dance. She was also comfortable in her own body and thought nothing of popping her top during a performance, often clearing-out concert halls. Redgrave’s unique skills allow her to play the character from the naïve “Peppy Dora” dancehall gal, through her career and the tragic loss of her children, to the broken delusional recluse she became in her forties. Not many actors can convincingly play “older” while rasping broken French with an American accent thru an apparent alcohol-induced fog of desperation. The film’s original 168 minutes was hacked down by over half an hour and then the mainstream release title changed to The Loves of Isadora. But the original is out there somewhere – the UK had a complete DVD release five or six years ago, but it never made it over to the other side of the pond. Find it!

La Vie En Rose – Olivier Dahan (2007)

Another biopic told in memory recall flashbacks – seems to be the mode for films about artists – this one is the tragic tale of singer Edith Piaf. Marion Cotillard gives a skyrocket of a performance that instantly made her the sweetheart of the international film world. Dahan’s direction is fittingly moody but the true highlights are the performances recreated where his atmospheric sets and lighting underscore some of the most iconic songs ever written. Hearing the “little sparrow” sing those words in the glare of the spotlight as if she’s beseeching the dark to lighten her load. “Non, je ne regretted rien.” Chills….

Elizabeth – Shekhar Kapur (1999)

How many movies do we need about Elizabeth I? If they could all be as inventive as this one, I’ll take one every couple of years. Kapur turned a tired – really tired – biopic subject inside out with his very modern style storytelling, outrageously inventive costumes, and feminist sensibilities. And then you have the full blown emergence of Cate Blanchett taking the character from young princess to white-powdered dowager, ducking, dodging and maneuvering her way through deadly 13^th Century politics to become, arguably, the most powerful woman in history, all the while sacrificing her own happiness seemingly at every turn. The sequel was a bit of a disappointment, but this film is very much alive and a sumptuous view every time.

Silkwood – Mike Nichols (1983)

Mike Nichols does his take on the smartass, whistle-blowing nuclear plant worker who ends up dead when she begins to expose conditions. This is glow-in-the-dark Norma Rae, and la Streep finds that perfect blue collar register that is at once annoying and endearing as she takes us further into the paranoia that ends in tragic reality. Cher, as her lesbian pal, Dolly, does a great job suffering from unrequited love that soon turns to fear for her beloved Karen. Nichols effectively ramps up the tension every time one of those damn contamination sirens goes off. Strong, positive and totally focused on the determination of one woman to call out deadly dangerous practices, the devil be damned.

La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (Passion of Joan of Arc) – Carl Theodor Dreyer (1928)

Even if you, like me, don’t subscribe to the Judeo/Christian/Islamic doctrine of Paradise or Punishment, this film will hit you in parts you never knew you had. Yes, Joan of Arc was probably a little “off”, but after serving – commanding, even – for her country and her God, she did not deserve what the patriarchal hierarchy delivered to her. Wisely, Dreyer’s stark photography, inspired close-ups and naked set pieces concentrate on the woman, her mission, and her reactions to her ultimate betrayal. Maria Falconetti made only two films and a short, which is a shame. There has never been and likely will never be a more expressive face that convinces you that what she believes is as real as the chair in which you are sitting. The film is nearly 90 years old, but it plays fresh and involving to this day, cementing its place permanently in the classics.

Sorry for the ramble and extra long post, but a gender-equality dig and equal play is overdue for this genre. The films above are all presented in the spirit of their subjects, showing us that film is the most effective way to explain what inspired a historical figure and archive their legacy. That’s what all biopics should sttrive for, understanding the person, not just a scrapbook of events.

 

Genre Blast: The Play’s the Thing – From Stage to Screen

There was a time when most cinematic versions of plays were just that – plays filmed as they were performed, all the while preserving the proscenium staging with the camera planted in the first row of the audience and the action taking place statically, players entering and exiting as they would during a live performance. After all, the playwright’s words should be enough to carry the venture. Plays do not necessarily have to be seen to be enjoyed because it’s the words that wield the power and convey ideas – simply listening to a recording of a good play can be totally absorbing. But film is not the stage – there are endless possibilities to capture the spirit and intention of the original words and not be constricted by an enclosed setting. A well-imagined film of a play sets the words free and incorporates visuals that no other medium can provide.

Most of the world’s greatest plays have been filmed at least once. Shakespeare alone has over 400 filmed versions of his plays in the historical archive, more than any other writer in any language. This speaks directly to the freedom of interpretation that the director must take on – preserve the core yet reimagine the execution. Sometimes the film versions fall flat – if nothing is attempted to “open up” the play and use the opportunities cinema provides, the end product is a filmed play. Unfortunately, getting the right mix in the adaptation is not easy, as recent failures have proven. The power of the dialog is so central that it is easy to slip into that zone where it all sounds like stagey recitation combined with a bit of scenery-munching by enthusiastic actors. Not true filmmaking and nothing more than a paint-by-number record of animated words.

When a powerful play is adapted to incorporate some of the technical features possible with film, the end result can be transporting. A savvy director and crew will mine the dramatic work for opportunities to maneuver the camera in such a way as to take the audience out of their seats and place them in the middle of the action (just as one would with any other film genre). The playwright’s words should not be treated as a wall that defines the boundaries of the film, but as a door that opens into another medium of expression.

 I’ve selected versions from playwrights whose words have been re-imagined by five great directors. The end result is not simply a recorded version of another medium, but each an achievement that stands tall on its own merits, and gracing us with five cinema milestones at the same time.

A Streetcar Named Desire – Elia Kazan (1951) Play – Tennessee Williams

If anybody could translate southern angst into words, it was Tennessee Williams. His dialog brims with the desperation, flirtatiousness, and frustrations of his characters. Kazan not only captures this, but also imbues his film with a New Orleans night heat that is full with humidity, working class clutter and noise, and an abundance of pheromone-infused sweat. The highlights, of course, are the performances, especially those by Vivien Leigh as the brittle Blanche, on the path to disintegration, and Marlon Brando as Stanley, the dumb brute who’s smarter than he acts. Despite the fact that changes to the original play were required for compliance with the Motion Picture Production Code, by the time you dousethe entire proceedings with Alex North’s steamy jazz score, you have an eternal classic.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – Mike Nichols (1966) Play – Edward Albee

“George and Martha, sad, sad, sad.” Maybe so, but the battles that take place before we get to that line rival most boxing films. Taylor and Burton go at it like verbal gladiators, both turning in career-high performances as the couple entertains a younger couple (George Segal and Sandy Dennis as Nick and Honey) at their post-party party, complete with too much booze and plenty of nasty parlor games. This was Mike Nichols’ first feature and he pulls out all the stops to create a visceral experience, aided capably by his cinematographer, Haskell Wexler. This black and white drama was a critics’ darling as well as the #1 box office champion of 1966 – something that rarely happens. It is also one of two (only) films that were nominated in every Oscar category for which it was eligible. Albee creates a human train wreck like nobody else and everyone should have a look.

Long Days Journey into Night – Sidney Lumet (1962) Play – Eugene O’Neill

And a LONG day it is with the Tyrone’s, but a mesmerizing one. Eugene O’Neill won a Nobel and four Pulitzers during his career for his honestly observant writing, and this play is about as close to the bone as one can get because he unblinkingly based it on his own family, addictions and all. Father and brother were drunks and mother was a morphine addict, yet they try and function as the upper crust model family that must deal with hurdles like illness, blame and genuine affection just like everyone else. Kate Hepburn and Ralph Richardson glow as the parents, as do Jason Robards and Dean Stockwell as the sibling brothers. Lumet boldly captures the anxiety and ultimate futility of this most famous of dysfunctional families.

Much Ado About Nothing – Kenneth Branagh (1993) Play – Wm Shakespeare

Enough with the heavy stuff – plays can be fun, as well. I was never much of a fan of Much Ado… until I saw Branagh’s interpretation. It’s a complete delight, start to finish, and is probably the only Shakespeare-based film I’ve seen where the audience applauded in spots throughout – and that’s what “making Shakespeare accessible” is all about. Following a dazzling opening, Benedict and Beatrice (Branagh and Emma Thompson) lead the rest of a very diverse cast through a romp of a mating dance that is one of the most financially successful films based on the bard’s work. It’s the most fun you’ll ever have watching a Shakespeare play, I guarantee.

RAN – Akira Kurosawa (1985) Based on Wm Shakespeare’s King Lear

The most expensive Japanese film ever made, to that point, may not have an ounce of iambic pentameter present, but it remains the best – and most opulent – version of Shakespeare’s King Lear ever filmed. The Lear tragedy can be a dinghy, heavy-handed affair, but under Kurosawa’s direction, it is a vision, ultimately tragic, but a vision. Ambitious sons have replaced ungrateful daughters and Lear is now a 16^th century warlord, but the themes of honor, loyalty and nihilism remain intact. Technical credits were state-of-the-art and the film garnered international praise even though Japan, by some fluke, failed to submit the film for the foreign language film category for the Oscars. It’s a masterpiece by one of cinema’s true masters.

Those are only five, and I wish I could have included Mike Nichols’ version of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America or Peter Glenville’s take on Jean Anouilh’s Becket. When the power of the word, as spoken by our greatest actors, is fused with the imaginative and never-ending possibilities of film, all hell (or heaven) breaks loose.

Genre Blast: When Sh*t Gets Real – Science Fiction Onscreen

Here is where I get into trouble. My idea of Sci-Fi is that it’s fictionalized science (duh) that’s plausible, references existing innovation and research, and is somewhat rooted in reality, at least as we perceive it to be. It is not the same thing as fantasy. Films like Star Wars or Transformers are not science fiction; they are fantasy. If you truly believe they are based upon science, you need to find a cool place to sit down and drink plenty of fluids until visions of Ewoks and Wookies leave you in peace.

Often the two genres are combined, likely by good folk who can’t tell the difference between a chicken and a duck. A simple solution is to throw them both in the water and the one that doesn’t drown is the duck. A similar principle can be applied to Sci-fi and fantasy films: is there any possibility that what you’re watching could possibly happen? If it floats, it is science fiction. If it’s magical, exciting, full of weird and wonderful places and things, chances are it’s fantasy. Not gonna happen, though, no matter how much you might want it to.

Most films in this genre should begin with what we already know to be true or possible, then take us to a level where things start to go awry, usually due to human arrogance. It is probably the most ethical of film genres, addressing that no-mans-land where knowledge has to reconcile with morality. 90% of Sci-fi plots are based on something we have researched without considering the long-term consequences. The other 10% either try and mollify our fears of what’s out there or try to scare the bejesus out of us by suggesting that we, innocently minding our own business, can suddenly be devoured by an extraterrestrial force. The latter holds little interest to me, at least as science fiction, but one example of the former appears on my list.

And they are:

Close Encounters of the Third Kind – Steven Spielberg (1977)

Spielberg deserves much credit for going against the longstanding current that anything “out there” is only interested in harming us. He’s probably right. Any superior intelligence that is able to make its way to our planet would likely have evolved from that very human trait of shooting first, asking questions later. He also works in some interesting subliminal communications that triggers an obsession with the upcoming close encounter involving Richard Dreyfuss and a bowl of mashed potatoes. FX master Douglas Trumbull (2001: A Space Odyssey) presents some imaginative and original ways to suggest that we’re “ not in Kansas anymore.” John Williams basic five-tones score forms the heartbeat of the film, and top that off with one of the best cinematographers ever, Vilmos Zsigmond , backed up by none other than John Alonzo, Laszlo Kovacs and Douglas Slocombe. This film also marked the beginning of a successful partnership with editor Michael Kahn. It’s a wonder-filled journey that starts with darkness and a loud aural crescendo and finishes with dazzling visuals and plenty of heart, all cobbled together by the 70s Hollywood cinema hall of fame.

Ex Machina – Alex Garland (2015)

Artificial intelligence has been a popular subject for science fiction films probably since Dave wrestled for control with HAL in 1968. Now, however, they come in the form of Alicia Vikander instead of a tin box with an all-seeing red light. She is the creation of the brilliant Nathan Bateman, played by the equally brilliant Oscar Isaac. Things get complicated when Caleb, a young programmer, shows up for a free visit, gets to know Ava (Vikander), and begins to blur the line between what is human and what is not. Garland, who also wrote the script, opens up numerous questions about power and entitlement with regard to increasingly intelligent creations. Are they just dolls intended to “serve”, or do we consider the human intelligence with which they have been imbued as reason enough to treat them with the same respect as other living things? And if we take the latter route, what are the guarantees that it will not backfire; in other words, has the being been programmed with empathy and conscience as well as intelligence? Beautifully complex but simple-looking FX are a standout, as are the performances. This was Garland’s first foray at directing and I’m anxiously awaiting his sophomore effort.

Moon – Duncan Jones (2009)

Here is another directorial debut and it’s a shame more people did not see it. Cloning is the issue this time and its done as part of the general business practice by Lunar Industries, a mining company, by supplying disposable workers. But this isn’t artificial intelligence – these are human beings unaware of the plans laid for them, or even aware of the fact that they are third or fourth generation versions of their original selves. It’s a complex scenario and the lead is played to the hilt by Sam Rockwell, one of those actors who is so good at disappearing into his characters that you don’t remember what else he has done. It’s a small film – only 97 minutes – but was a major awards player in no fewer than 19 festivals and year-end honors lists. See it. It will blow your mind.

Alphaville – Jean Luc Godard (1965)

Yes, Godard made a science fiction film, a fact that makes both sci-fi and auteur fan boys on both sides foam at the mouth. The film, which explores the consequences of a technocratic dictatorship, was made over 50 years ago but…let’s just say we should all revisit it soon given the direction we humans seem to be heading. Its also considered a “Noir” venture and likely served as inspiration for more modern films like Blade Runner. No flashy sets or FX required here as following Godard’s train of thought on individualism vs a controlled society needs no distractions. His improvisational style – and the film – inspired jazz composer William Parker to write an “Alphaville Suite”, a pop group took the name, a couple other groups had songs called Alphaville, and…wait for it…there is an upper class suburb in Sao Paolo, Brazil, called Alphaville. That is called influence, and why Godard makes my list here.

Planet of the Apes (reboot trilogy) – Rupert Wyatt / Matt Reeves (2011/2014/2017)

So you’re saying to yourself, “ What the hell do monkeys on horseback brandishing automatic weapons have to do with plausible science?” The answer is a tricky combination of two very simple factors. Using animals in testing where increased intelligence is a serious byproduct is the first one; the second is the appearance of a virus that renders humans unable to converse. This is not a good combination when viewed from your place at the top of the natural hierarchy. The resulting nightmare – first realized by novelist Pierre Boule over half a century ago – is fantastically reimagined in this reboot of the Sixties camp series. I will go one step further. It is one of the very few film trilogies where all parts are equal and fit together as tightly and perfectly as grandma’s jigsaw puzzle. Rupert Wyatt directed Rise of the Planet of the Apes, then Matt Reeves took the reins for Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and War for the Planet of the Apes. Most film series fail or bore by the second or third venture, some so badly we just want them to go away. As for this series, the conclusion is, sadly, complete and final. Much well deserved admiration goes to Andy Serkis (Caesar). You can CGI a hairy face and simian body, but the capture of facial expression, especially the eyes, needs a good, expressive actor dotted-up, and nobody is better at this than Serkis. His Caesar is a complex, empathetic, fully drawn and acted character. It’s time to move into the current century and recognize these creations for the stunning achievements they are. Hey, maybe that would make a good sci-fi script: Oscar recognizes a non-human, CGI-created character and SAG goes berserk! Now send in the clones!

There you go, five riveting entries that you may or may not have been expecting. Plausible, thought provoking and based on current science that is already challenging accepted moral and ethical boundaries. What should we add (careful – no Jar Jar Binks sithiness)?

Genre Blast: Gangs & Gangsters – If You Can’t Join ‘Em, Beat ‘Em

Sometimes the trigger is poverty, other times ethnic alienation. Even boredom can play a factor is causing the coagulation of a gang. If a group of people find they cant fit into society, human nature takes over and they create a societal structure for themselves. The Italians, the Irish, and most non-white ethnic groups have had to do it States. In France, it’s the Algerians. Triads, Yakuza, Mau Mau, Tamil Tigers – pick any continent and you’ll find a disenfranchised sector that, when they are excluded from the mainstream, they set up their own structure and rules. Created for the purpose of protection, enforcement of those rules in the interest of self-defense often crosses the line with regards to what is acceptable to the mainstream. As most of the businesses run by gangs rest outside the circle of what is legal or ethical, clashes with the establishment and violence is inevitable.

Gangsters make terrific antiheroes for the simple reason that writers can make them full blown characters, complete with insecurities, drive, passion and fearlessness. Many start out as quite ordinary souls looking for the same things as the rest of us. And then they take that extra step, over the edge. Like the song says, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

This genre casts such a broad net that I’ve deliberately forced myself to be diverse in my selections, regrettably omitting greats like The Krays, City of God, the entire stream from the genre’s heyday in the 30s, and any film that crept into the POV of the law, e.g. Donnie Brasco.

Here are my five:

Bonnie and Clyde – Arthur Penn (1967)

“Hey, Boy! What you doin’ with my mama’s car?” So begins the seminal film snatched the steering wheel from Hollywood establishment control in a year (1967) that was the benchmark when “new Hollywood” announced its arrival, literally in a burst of gunfire. Fifty years ago next week August 4^th 1967, the Montreal Film Festival unspooled a small film about which Warner Bros. wasn’t particularly excited or even planning to promote. Its style and substance caught everyone, from critic to ticket buyer, by surprise. Sympathetic criminals – murderers, in fact – a style that deftly combined violence and comedy, and a huge dollop of the French New Wave set off controversies galore, arguments between critics, and, yes, put the beret back in women’s fashion. It was a view-changing moment for yours truly, too. And I can still recite the entire script by heart. “Don’t sell that cow!”

The Godfather – Francis Ford Coppola (1971)

I should probably include Parts II and III with this entry as well, but won’t because the styles are completely different. The original was adapted from a portion of Mario Puzo’s potboiler novel and it was another case of a beach book becoming a cinema classic. Gordon Willis’ dark photography added menace by the pound and Carmine Coppola’s score infused an atmosphere that turned the entire exercise into high opera. Part II (1974) leapt back and forth between the struggles of the father to make it in the New World and the struggles of the son to come to terms with his father’s choice of direction. Although Part 3 (1990) was an anemic misfire (unworthy of a Roman numeral), derivative in content and somewhat lazy in style, the entire trilogy holds a worthy place in gangster – and Hollywood – history. It’s the first film, however, that stands above them all.

Goodfellas – Martin Scorsese (1990)

Twenty years after Don Corleone collapsed in the garden with an orange section jammed in his mouth, along comes Scorsese. THIS was the penultimate gangster film of its decade and Scorsese traces the journey of an outside neophyte from his entry into the mob as well as his frantic escape from it clutches. Add to it the knockout performances, perfect adapted score, the hypnotic camera work and frenetic, cocaine-inspired pacing. This was a real dance with real wolves, so the fact that Scorsese was again denied at the Oscar race was an embarrassment. In case you’re interested, the real Henry Hill, on whom the lead character is based, continued to have problems not getting arrested and was eventually tossed out of the Witness Protection Program. His several careers as author, restaurateur, and artist didn’t particularly flourish, either, but if any human being had 9 lives, it would be Henry Hill.

Un Prophet – Jacques Audiard (2009)

There is no better microcosm to display the fertile ground that breeds gangsterism than a prison. The existing social structure is stark and extreme. The individuals in prison are generally the most alienated outsiders that life outside the walls has to offer. Plus they tend to gravitate to their own ethnic groups for protection as well as brotherhood. Malik is 19 and is of Algerian origin, now living in France. He has no outside support and has been tossed into a prison loaded with hardened – and warring – criminals for a six-year sentence, all for a relatively minor charge. Although he is Muslim, the leader of an opposing ethnic gang shows interest in him. What Audiard does with the rest of his film is to show how a relative innocent can learn, maneuver, play, ultimately rising in the criminal ranks, all simply because there is no other path for him to follow. The film is both harsh and magical, unlike any other prison (or gang) film out there. Tahar Rahim gives a ferocious, yet sympathetic performance (not an easy task) and both he and the film won several accolades from just about everywhere film is celebrated – except Oscar. One of the best films of the past two decades.

Boys N the Hood – John Singleton (1991)

With Boyz, Singleton made a splashy debut that managed to set some milestones in American cinema. Not only was he the first African American director nominated for an Oscar (two, actually – one for writing and one for directing), he did it at the age of 23 which also made him the youngest director to be nominated. The film considers the challenges of growing up in a gang-infested environment and how easily one can slip into step with a lifestyle that is outside the law and usually ends prematurely. He also examines issues like peer pressure, parental concern, and, most of all, the harsh reality responsible for perpetuating an environment where gangsterism is one of a very limited number of options for a black kid like Tre. The directing is fresh, as is the writing, and the film is wrapped in one of the finest soundtracks of the 90s. Laurence Fishburne was a well-established actor when he portrayed Tre’s father, but his performance likely cemented his landing the role of Ike Turner a couple of years later. Both Cuba Gooding Jr and Ice Cube owe their successful acting careers to Singleton and Boyz, Without Boyz, I doubt that Gooding would have gone on to say a few years later, “show me the money,” and then walk away from the Dorothy Chandler pavilion with a gold statue under his arm after bringing down the house with his acceptance speech. Like Singleton’s film purports, success – even survival – is all based on having the chance and choosing the right path.

Every society, from England to Brazil, Taiwan to South Africa, has its own gang cultures and, consequently, a healthy archive of gang-related films. I wish I could have included more here. What are some of your favorites??

Genre Blast: The Road Narrows; Aging in Cinema

[Author’s Note: I’ll preface with a half-hearted apology for my absence for the past couple of weeks: catching me indoors, typing away in a stuffy corner during high summer, is as unlikely than trying to talk sense to a climate-change denier. So as I write this, sprawled on a sandy log, I invite you to join me on a secluded Pender Harbour beach. Feel free to Google it and you will understand my truancy. Now where were we?]

Of all life’s milestones, two present psychological and physical hurdles that, as we solve them, define us – when we come of age and, again, when we pass the peak of power and productivity. Regarding the former, it’s a struggle as we come of age and face the challenges of adulthood, but we manage to find a path of least resistance and create our own system for functioning and creating, building a life that we, in our delusions of immortality, believe will go on forever. With the latter, there is no such path. What we seem to deny is the realization that life is fluid, change occurs, and that we are mortal beasts who must eventually turn over the world to a younger, fitter and sharper set of players. Sometimes it’s political change, sometimes it’s ones decaying health, but mostly it’s simply because the time has come for nature to take its course and forcibly extract the baton from and pass it to younger hands.

Like all human experience, we tell stories of the experience but, needless to say, this does not make for a barnburner genre at the box office. True, it’s tough to put a positive spin on relinquishing one’s place in society, ceding it to inexperienced players. Other than the commercial hit, On Golden Pond, most films in this genre range from cute granny flics to high concept old man against the world comedies staring actors who should have quit while their careers had some worth. Surprisingly, however, every decade in cinema does include some thoughtful, intelligent and imaginative renderings of this major life event by artists who understand the phenomenon or are actually going through it. It can be a genre one needs to grow into – fair enough – but if you haven’t done so, get on with seeing some of these films because this genre embraces some of cinemas most brilliant pieces, work that embraces both the enlightenment and the discomfort that comes with aging. And so it is….

Here are five geezer flicks that will enrich your understanding of the inevitable, told from several perspectives by directors who have gone deep to make sense of the full circle of life.

Il Gattopardo (The Leopard) – Luchino Visconti (1963)

The clashes between 19^th Century Italian monarchy and Garibaldi’s democratic movement, along with necessary compromises that chip away at a truly regal lifestyle, questionable upstarts maneuvering for power, both domestic and political, and advancing years all sit squarely on the back of Don Fabrizio Corbera, Prince of Salinas. Visconti was the numero uno master of cinematic lushness and vivacity, and there are scenes in The Leopard that will take your breath away. Naturally, the film was eviscerated by American critics when it was released, but it has weathered time not only intact, but is now considered one of cinema’s greatest achievements – or failures, depending on which side of the mountain you reside. The film is on the docket as a subject for a future Masterpiece Memo, so we’ll just leave the discussion there. Criterion has an outstanding disc set of the restored version thanks to Martin Scorsese, who lands solidly in the admirers’ camp. Watch it.

Amour – Michael Haneke (2012)

Society is so enamored and obsessed about finding one’s soul mate, falling madly and lustily in love and living happily-ever-after, crescent moon glistening over the wishing well each night, that zero attention is paid to the complete cycle of romantic life – affection may be infinite, but health (and life) is not. A shattering event such as a stroke can snap shut the jewel box instantly, leaving a life partner to face unwanted decisions alone. What does one do now? Why are these things happening to the love of one’s life? Just exactly how much do you love this person and to what lengths should you go to preserve both memory and dignity? Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva are perfection under Haneke’s baton and, on a side note – I don’t give a s**t if JLaw was BO Star Numbah One at the time, that was Emmanuelle Riva’s Oscar, Hollywood. Put that in your science oven and press start. (I know, wrong movie but I like the metaphor).

Tokyo Monogatari (Tokyo Story) – Yasujirō Ozu (1953)

We too often assume that our overall dismissal – even disregard – for the aging members of society is a recent phenom. It’s not. As much as sixty-odd years ago, our lives become busier and more cluttered with mostly mundane chores required to flourish. We forgot to slot a place in our lives for those whose life journey is closer to the end than the beginning; after all, they can’t contribute much to what we think are our needs. They speak more slowly, are not as productive, and overall generally remind us of the life that we insist needs to be improved upon. Ozu points a finger at the westernization that followed WWII, world urbanization/industrialization, and a bit of simple and natural offspring drift. The film is fascinating both for its unique, very-Japanese style as well as its message on the abandonment of tradition and misplaced responsibilities. Never a hit, the film finally, in 2012, was named as the “best film of all time” in the Sight and Sound poll. If you have something to say, present it in an artistic way and hang in there for several decades….

Smultronstället (Wild Strawberries) – Ingmar Bergman (1957)

 It’s not only changes in the outside world a senior has to face, there are also self-doubts – even regrets – stewing away within. Bergman was a master at analyzing the human psyche and how we reconcile ourselves with our own little world. He handles this in Wild Strawberries by leaping from the present into past life events and dream sequences. Bergman, for some reason, is a tougher sell these days that he was in his heyday in the late 20^th Century, but I think that says more about the audience than the artist.

Away From Her – Sarah Polley (2006)

Sarah Polley doesn’t blink. She could easily have chosen an unknown to take the lead in her deeply insightful drama about dementia/Alzheimer’s; instead, she landed all-but-retired 60s icon Julie Christie, who provided her most accomplished work in over a decade. It’s a brilliantly tuned performance that explores not only the confusion and heartbreak that accompanies the cruel evaporation of a personality, along with the lifelong connections that tie that person to their former reality. There are also tiny bursts of humor that only this particular situation can trigger. Polley’s vision is honest, objective and, most importantly, unsentimental, much like the rural Ontario winter that envelopes the story. No Hallmark “disease of the week pic” here. The path from fear to acceptance leaves no room for unnecessary melodrama. The destination has been determined and inevitable; the objective is to arrive there with grace and dignity.

Well, now I’m heading out on a hike, relieved that I have no plans on getting older. (Right) What films have you come across that best reflect the Third Act?

 

Genre Blast: On a Grand Scale – The Epic

Let’s start with the brash statement that cinema, as we know it exists because of this genre. It’s the genre that draws crowds (or used to), that quite literally creates worlds, demanding the best from every tech guild. This is one genre that no other medium can do justice – the epic. They cost millions to produce, have bankrupted studios, and are responsible for much of the advanced technology. Even when they are bad, they are fascinating to watch, preferably in a theater – not on a hand-held device.

The primary criteria are big screen, big story, a cast of thousands, massive sets and the notion that longer is better. For this exercise I have taken this to the purest sense in that only one selection relied heavily on CGI. For the rest, if you saw 400 people onscreen its because there were 400 people being directed on the set; if you saw a battle in a field, on the sea, or in the desert, its because that is where it was filmed, requiring a director with a completely different skillset than the computer effects whiz might offer.

Here are five that snagged my attention:

Lawrence of Arabia     David Lean   (1962)

No contest – this is one of the finest (and most difficult) films ever made. Lean was a master at creating epic stories that managed to include intimate details of all of his characters. His attention range must have been phenomenal, from massive set pieces involving sand, camels and horses, trains, and hundreds of extras, to the slightest wince and raised eyebrow from his leads. O’Toole’s performance sent his career into the stratosphere – most deservedly so – and the small all-star supporting cast is no less wonderful. This is a film to be seen when you’re very young, then again during adolescence, an adult, and in, my own case, as a retiree. It sends different messages to all age groups and will never lose the sense of wonder one gets during those first shots in the dessert.

Napoleon     Abel Gance   (1927)

When Gance took on the life of Napoleon, he also challenged the way films are presented as well as made. At certain points in the film, three screens are required to display the action as Gance envisioned what would become Cinemascope/wide screen. Add a full live orchestra and his silent gem was – and is – as involving for the audience as any modern day confection. The acting is silent screen emoting at full tilt, but when you get past the exaggerated glares and pensive moments, the 330-minute extravaganza is more of an experience than a movie. Since its restoration in the 80s, the film is resurrected every few years for special roadshows. I doubt it would play as effectively on any device or TV set, so when the opportunity to see it in its purest format, jump at the chance.

The Last Emperor   Bernardo Bertolucci (1987)

One of the modern era’s best and most controversial directors took a couple of steps away from his usual subject matter (i.e. Last Tango in Paris and The Conformist) and gave Hollywood what it wanted – in his own his words, a “big-titted” movie about Puyi, the last man to sit as Emperor of China. Bertolucci does manage to work in enough politics and the odd kink to remind us it’s his film, and Hollywood was so grateful it awarded him 9 Oscars, which almost made up for their previous oversights. Vittorio Storaro (cinematographer) and composers Ryuichi Sakamoto/David Byrne (Taking Heads)/Cong Su provide plenty of vision and scope for a very big story that has a surprising effective intimate finale.

The Thief of Bagdad   Raoul Walsh (1924)

Yes, another silent film. This one rides squarely on the back of Douglas Fairbanks, who wrote, produced and starred in an extremely loose adaptation of 1001 Arabian Nights. His physical flair while performing his own stunts and flashing smile are always engaging, and we enjoy the adventures in which his character, a petty thief named Ahmed, becomes entangled. The primary attraction, though, are the astonishing sets designed by William Cameron Davies and the crude special effect (flying horses, magic rope, and, of course, a flying carpet) are fun to watch all the same. Another interesting note is that United Artists produced the film – a studio founded a few years earlier by Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, D.W. Griffith, and Fairbanks, himself.

Gladiator   Ridley Scott   (2000)

I break with my “no CGI” rule for Gladiator simply because there haven’t been many true epics in recent years that were also able to give equal attention to the personal struggles of the protagonist. Scott’s film is thrilling in parts and moving in others; overall, pretty damned inspiring. Crowe, Reed, and Harris give fine-tuned and entertaining performances, but the true blood-lusty driver of the film is Joaquin Phoenix as the immoral and cruel Commodus, a man and eventual emperor. The film is pure fiction, but in actual fact, the real Emperor Commodus was eventually done in by a gladiator. Pietro Scalia’s quicksilver editing and Hans Zimmer’s glorious score magnify the action. God, I wish they made more films like this one.

Feel free to wheel-out all the Cleopatra’s, Lords of the Rings, Ben Hur’s – what have you – I’ll stand by these five as cinema’s most accomplished epics. So what did I miss? Do let me know, please.

 

Genre Blast: Dear Old Dad – Fathers on Film

Fathers’ Day calls for recognition of fatherhood as it is portrayed in the cinema, and that is as varied as the number of film writers and their respective relationships with “dear old Dad.” Relationships with the old man are directly influenced by the type of man the father happens to be. Nurturing or combative, empowering or controlling, a child’s vision of their father is a direct result of how that man approached child-rearing and, later in life, how the inevitable reconciliation that follows the rebellious childhood years progresses. The range of emotion goes from regret to pride, sometimes including both extremes in our feelings for the man who, like or not, shaped who we are and who we will become.

Here, I’ll give respectful nods to The Godfather and The Empire Strikes Back where fatherhood played important peripheral roles, but these five made dear old Dad the center of attention. Pivotal to the plot to the point of overpowering it in some cases, these are the top five fathers, imo, in cinema. If you find the essence of each and put them together, I would imagine that you would have the characteristics of 90% of typical Dads out there in the world.

So here goes…

Ladri di biciclette (Bicycle Thieves)   Vittorio De Sica   (1948)

Post-WWII Italy is the setting for De Sica’s drama of a family struggling to scrabble out a living where being able to work and provide for the family relies entirely on owning a bicycle. Antonio is a good man – the perfect role model for son, Bruno – until his precious, newly acquired bicycle is stolen. Desperation presents options that Antonio would probably not entertain under normal circumstances, the situation calls for action, and Bruno quickly gets schooled in ethics, community and, most important, just how decent a man his father really is. An un-reproachable classic that should be seen by everyone.

Field of Dreams   Phil Alden Robinson   (1989)

Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner) was a typical boomer kid who rebelled against his father most of his youth before settling down and starting a family of his own. His regrets are typical – not playing that game of catch, which is so symbolic of every young man rejecting the father’s ways to go down his own life path. Robinson’s film also features the unique concept of generational adolescent idol worship (Shoeless Joe Jackson of the 1919 baseball scandal and anti-establishment writer Terrance Mann – actually JD Salinger in the original novel). Robinson reminds us that unrealized dreams are the staple for the 90% who fail to become a more glamorous, more successful, and a more together person than our father could ever be. When Ray realizes in the cornfield just exactly for whom he built his baseball diamond, risking everything, and meets the young man face-to-face, there is not a dry eye in the house.

There Will be Blood   Paul Thomas Anderson   (2007)

Daniel Plainview likely started out focused and ambitious, but by the time his young son is able to travel with him on his quest for oil and life’s golden egg, he has become ruthless and obsessive. Considered one of the best films – if not the best – of the 21^st Century so far, the film is anchored in Daniel Day Lewis masterful performance. The hunger for wealth must have been overwhelming when it was possible for a man with a shovel and some elbow grease to locate his fortune without any cynicism to cloud his path. It’s right there; go get it, and knock whoever tries to interfere on their ass, even if it’s your own offspring trying to temper the way. I’ve always found the finale in the bowling alley a bit grand guignol. but the film is a wonder – top marks for writing, directing, and performances, as well as score and cinematography. Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the least predictable film directors working today. Let it be said that even though we have no idea where he’ll take us next, we are sure that it will be somewhere we have never gone before and we will not forget it.

To Kill a Mockingbird     Robert Mulligan   (1962)

If integrity and honor were ever to be mystically trans morphed into a human being, you can bet that human would bear a strong resemblance to Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck), the exact polar opposite of Daniel Plainview (above). Principled and moral with a strong-as-steel sense of fairness and social justice, the character of the widowed Atticus Finch and his relationship with Scout, his daughter, develops by way of a racially motivated trial where Atticus is the defense attorney. By watching her father, Scout learns that it’s more important to win the war than just the battle, especially if that war represents a threat to your own beliefs.

East of Eden    Elia Kazan (1955)

James Dean’s first film – and the only one of his three films to be released in his lifetime – is an interesting take on the Cain and Abel story from Genesis. Of course, the “Adam” figure is the fiery, bible-thumping father (Raymond Massey), who naturally favors brother Aron over Cal (Dean), no matter to what lengths Cal goes to please him and make him proud. It’s a potboiler of a father-son conflict that pulls into the action the estranged mother (Oscar winner Jo Van Fleet) and Abra (Julie Harris), whose attention both brothers are vying for. Reconciliation comes, eventually, but at a huge cost. This is a great film that represents well the ideals of the innocent 50s when one didn’t normally question lofty notions of “goodness” or unforgiving morality.

It would be difficult to come up with five stronger versions of fatherhood than these dudes, but I dare you to try.  When they are not prominently featured in the action, they are ever-present in the psyches of their offspring. That’s the power fathers have – they may not physically give birth, but they are the hands in the clay during the time we take to reach adulthood. With that, Happy Father’s Day to all dads. And I’ll touch a finger to my lips and point to the sky in memory of my own.

Genre Blast: A Murder, a Mystery & the “Who-Done-It” Game

What is it about murder mysteries that captures our imaginations, not just in cinema, but books, television – even the evening news? Is it the abominable act of killing another person that seizes our attention or is it the challenge of unraveling multiple details in search of the perpetrator. It’s a hot soup of motivation, emotion, ambition, desperation and even vanity of the part of both the hunted and the hunter. An environment where there’s nothing left to lose and everything to gain — including the all-important act of retribution — infuses both sides of the game board to the point of obsession.

What drives someone to commit such an act? What sort of person would make an occupation of chasing down these types? And why do each of us watch, scouring clues, trying to be the first to solve the puzzle?

Let it be said that Hitchcock could easily fill all five slots here without much argument from me or anyone else. Instead, I’m allowing him one position only, and filling the remainder with four very different styles. All they have in common is a victim, a murderer on a mission, and an enthusiastic gumshoe determined to expose the mystery in the name of justice, no matter how convoluted or dangerous the situation.

My five personal favorites follow:

Strangers on a Train – Alfred Hitchcock (1951)

Two guys meet on a train. Both have unbearable individuals in their lives and, through the course of their conversation, agree to a pact where each kills the other’s nemesis. I’s the perfect crime – no motive, total strangers and impossible to track. Of course, with Hitchcock at the helm nothing is as simple as it would seem. That Patricia Highsmith, the brilliant and slightly twisted writer, is the author of the source material makes the development all the more interesting. There’s a bit of under the table footsie that suggests something more than a meeting of minds, a monogrammed cigarette lighter that keeps turning up at the worst time, and a climactic confrontation on a merry-go-round gone berserk. Rear Window, Notorious and Vertigo represent Hitch at his best. I only managed to see Strangers on a Train for the first time a couple of years ago and it is equal to all of them. Of all of Hitchcock’s great films, this is the one that needs to be seen more often.

The Usual Suspects – Bryan Singer (1995)

Keyser Söze: a name that injects panic into the hearts of those familiar with him and his bloody reputation. He’s a brutal killer on a track for vengeance and, as an added uncomfortable wrinkle, nobody know what he looks like. Director Singer showed great promise with this thrilling story of a bunch of seemingly clueless thugs on a mission of self-destruction and the befuddled investigators chasing a seemingly non-existent ghost. Shining brightest is Oscar-winner Kevin Spacey, fresh from Seven, and en route to Oscar #2 for American Beauty, as the crippled and harmless “Verbal” Kint. Keep your eyes on the sets and all the props – that’s where the clues are hiding – and enjoy the ride all the way to the jaw-dropping final act.

Murder on the Orient Express – Sidney Lumet (1974)

All-star Agatha Christie adaptations were once the fashion and none are better-made or more fun than Sidney Lumet’s film. Superbly lush visually, a magnificent waltz-based score and high-camp performances elevate what could (should?) have been an extremely heavy story involving a murdered child, strikingly similar to the Charles Lindberg kidnapping case in the 1930s. Thespian legends Finney, Bergman, Gielgud, Roberts, Connery, Redgrave, Bisset, Cassel, Balsam, Perkins, Widmark, Hiller, and a very snappy Bacall are all a joy to watch. One can only hope that the 2017 remake will be as entertaining. Can it possibly match that cast?

Chinatown – Roman Polanski (1974)

“We’re in the middle of a drought and the Water Commissioner drowns,” sneers the corpulent coroner to private dick Jake Gittes. Robert Towne’s diamond hard script, Polanski’s direction and top shelf production values down the line make Chinatown the penultimate mystery of the 70s Golden Era. Power, ambition, entitlement, and incest rivet our attention as Nicholson and Dunaway deliver milestone performances, with considerable support from John Huston. “Bad for glass,” says the groundskeeper in a heavy Chinese accent. “Yeh, bad for glass,” sighs Gittes, half-listening. “Salt water. Bad for glass.” Repeats the worker. “Grass! Salt water is bad for the grass!” exclaims Jake as the pieces begin to tumble into place. Simply brilliant filmmaking.

Blow up – Michelangelo Antonioni (1966)

A fashion photographer (David Hemmings) snaps some shots in a park one blustery day that, as he develops and enlarges them, appear to reveal a murder taking place. When the femme fatale (Vanessa Redgrave) from the episode he witnessed tries to retrieve the photos from him to the point of seduction, he’s sure that his suspicions are correct. Highly stylized and sexually charged in a way only Antonioni can pull of, the film questions the source of the suspicion more than the act of murder itself. Is this lothario simply projecting his expectations or was there an actual murder? It’s a complete inversion of the murder mystery experience. How 60s can you get? Censors had a field day, by the way.

So those are five murder mysteries that are worth a revisit on a regular basis, even though the outcome is no longer a surprise. That’s the key to being a classic. What are your faves?

Want To Write About Film?

Okay, listen up. I just quickly wanted to update everyone with the upcoming events at the site in the coming months. The year in film has pockets of varying sizes at a hand’s reach when you make it your mission to provide motion picture covfefe. And I am constantly thinking / dreaming / antagonizing about what to cover on the site, when I am not actually writing like a maniac or fretting about site traffic. For example. So with the following blurbs of upcoming projects in mind, I want to also reach out to contributors, casual or demanding, to help fulfill the promises I set myself and all of you. Anyway, have a read, soak it up, and get involved however you see fit.

Another 100 Films Made By Women – That’s right, another 100 films made by women to follow the previous two huge adventures (and 200 female directed films). A fresh batch of films, then, which is easier than it may sound given the flourish of women filmmakers hitting the ground running in the last few years. Finding 100 more films from the ladies we have not covered yet should be enthralling rather than challenging. The previous 200 entries will be re-posted in the meantime in the coming weeks.

100 Essential Film Soundtracks For Your Playlist – Some rare, alternative music selections are welcome here as well as the popular favorites. And a mixture of song compilations and film scores will make up the series of 100 film soundtracks. Old stuff , new stuff, tracks you can’t stop listening to, pieces of music that inspire you, help you work, write, daydream, music that stirs memories, that are personal to you, movies you love etc. We’ll say why we picked what we did and post videos, playlists of each soundtrack. Let’s get those feet tapping.

100 Essential World Cinema Films For Your Watchlist – For this series of 100 films (outside of the English language) I want to garner a list of great / innovative / important movies from all over the world. And to that end, movies that stand outside of the mainstream or norm, movies many of us have not heard of let alone seen – but should as a matter of priority (there’ll be no Breathless, All About My Mother, Cinema Paradiso, et al in this extensive list). There are so many marvelous motion pictures from across the globe, from filmmakers we don’t know, as well as those we do, that we want to shine a bright light on.

Wanted: Film Content Contributor (Unpaid) – Looking for someone interested in film – I say interested, ideally they will be day-to-day obsessed – to write regular entries on the site regarding film related content. Primarily trailers, film news, awards announcements, and the like, the contributor will edit and publish these posts when needed. Looking for timely entries reflecting the world of film, they will also be required to embed videos, format articles, write and edit text, add images, with some social media engagement essential. An unpaid role, the demand of the role is by mutual consent. Please let me know if you or anybody you may know would be interested.

And The Rest – The rest of the site’s content will continue as normal, with a focus on expanding the range of input, the frequency of posts, the global popularity of the site – everything. As an alternative film website (it’s fine, you can call it a blog), I continue to strive publishing and publicizing corners of the film world like supporting Indie Film, displaying all my Film Honors data, revitalizing the Masterpiece Memo series, scouting for Interviews with folk from filmland, film Reviews, the usual awards coverage (like Cannes and the Oscars), as well as the continuation of regular features Listmania, the Podcast (thanks to Al Robinson), and the Genre Blast run (thanks to Steve Schweighofer). And a whole host more without filling your brains with mush. Say tuned.

Please comment below or get in touch via the Contact tab at the top of the page if you have any questions, ideas, or general chit-chat.