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waxwingslain77
Reviews
The Birth of a Nation (1915)
Mediocre. Does provide one howler!
My favorite part of this film? Before the opening credits roll, there is a typically Griffith-like disclaimer about how "we" (Griffith) do not fear censorship, because "we seek not to offend." This is one of the most unintentionally hilarious moments in cinematic history. We don't care to offend, so let us offer high praise to the Ku Klux Klan, have the majority of black characters actually be whites in blackface (including one scene with "blacks" shoving bananas into their mouths like pigs in a trough) and use as our source Dixon's asinine "The Clansman."
Of famous American films I remember a quote, "The worse the book, the better the film."
I loathe Political Correctness as much as the next white man, but come on! The majority of Americans in 1915 were NOT supporters of the KKK, "Like history written by lightning," Wilson's famous quote, actually was in reference to the huge spectacle of the film in general more than a political comment, (and indicates the President's lack of historical knowledge) and sure, racism did abound at the time. Racism still exists, it is not nice, but is also not as important as pushers of Political Correctness will try to force us to believe.
My hatred of this film is that the film attempts to constantly shove every racist image or idea down our throats. THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN STEPINFETCHIT OR WILLIE BEST AND A TRUE DESIRE TO PORTRAY FORCEFULLY BLACKS AS NEAR-ANIMALS.
Griffith was a sick, incredibly overrated director--even when the importance of "Birth Of A Nation" is acknowledged, and I certainly acknowledge this film's importance in its use of narrative structure, but little else. Griffith's film was from a book called "The Clansman," and his "Broken Blossoms" was from a book called "The Chink and the Child." Griffith was an early visionary, a friend of the oppressed? Sell it to someone else.
Greed (1924)
The Best American silent film.
* SPOILER ALERT. Don't read this if you've not seen either version (1925)of "Greed."
I must first apologize to Chaplin and Keaton fans, even perhaps Harold L fans. Ditto D.W. Griffith fans, since "Birth Of A Nation" is still so widely discussed and defended. I am not trying to make light of the above names; rather, as I know there are far many more fans of the above than there are Von Stroheim fans, I merely wish to express my thoughts about my favorite silent, which I also consider the best silent film I have ever seen, "Greed."
The four hour version is the one to obtain for the simple reason that it is more representative of Stroheim's original ideas than the earlier version, even if the earlier version has a better background score, which it does.
Frank Norris's "McTeague" is no "American Classic" as the introductory part of "Greed" claims. Still, without the book there would have been no "Greed." (And if "Greed" had never been made, "McTeague" would be long forgotten.)
The film is certainly about what avarice can and has done, and that universal truth helps "Greed," the guts of the film, be perpetually fresh. And remember that the four hour version is still only half of the original. That this grotesque, disturbing and utterly brilliant film can still be as potent as rattlesnake venom after being halved (let alone quartered!) is indeed awe-inspiring.
A few favorite moments from the film I cherish rather than a plot rehash:
The scene on the actual VHS box the four hour version of "Greed" uses. McTeague and Trina sit atop a sewer and are surrounded by filth. Mac produces his concertina (excellent foreshadowing; Trina is murdered by Mac largely because of the concertina, much later in the film) and asks Trina what she might like him to play. "Hearts and Flowers?" she asks. "No but.." And McTeague begins playing "Nearer My God To Thee" (more foreshadowing) as the scene slowly dissolves, the concertina the last visible object before the screen goes black and on to another
scene. I lack the writing ability to describe faithfully how mesmerizing this cinematic bazooka of a scene is. It's simply magnificent.
A drunken Marcus throws a knife at McTeague while both are in a saloon. This after much name-calling by Marcus. The knife misses, hits and sticks into the wall -- right next to a small ad which reads "Smile, Darn Ya!"
One, that's a "meticulous attention to detail" which Hitchcock never came close to (Hitchcock's alleged "meticulous attention to detail" is highly overrated) and the result of the jackknife bothers McTeague not in the least, even though the flying bodkin might have caused serious injury. However, in the aftermath, McTeague notices that Marcus's action has destroyed his pipe. Mac then becomes a murderous, raging man; not because of the knife but because of a broken pipe! This scene is pure Stroheim.
A wrestling match: Marcus bites through McTeague's ear. McTeague promptly breaks Marcus's arm. The still photo of Marcus, one arm dangling uselessly since it is broken, is harrowing and unforgettable.
Zerkow and Maria Miranda Macapa. In the two hour version of "Greed," Zerkow is never even shown and Maria only shown sparingly. Zerkow is already insane with greed, Trina is on her way, Marcus is more angry at this point than greedy but he, too, succumbs to greed, as does McTeague.
Nothing comic here, but the one-legged boy on crutches, trying his best to keep up with a marching funeral is a touch I think only Von Stroheim
would try. It works.
There is so much more. If you are looking for traditional beauty, try a film other than "Greed;" even though there is plenty of metaphorical beauty in "Greed," truly the cinema's Holy Grail.
Brief Encounter (1945)
Implicitly
SPOILER ALERT: DON'T READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE FILM.
If reading this, you've seen the film and know the plot. I should like to comment on two lines of dialogue and perhaps address young Americans right at the start.
I am an American, thirty-eight year-old man living in Maryland and to any American under the age of forty a brief note: I am tired of hearing, "what's the big deal?" Now, you have as much right to your opinions as I have mine. Still, what you may have missed was the warmth of each significant character; even Beryl pours a drink for a visibly shaken Laura. The impeccable tact of the major characters, the discretion evinced, or the unpredictable nature of timing (a major theme in "Brief Encounter")and perhaps you didn't quite soak in enough of the warmth which pervades the film. View "Brief Encounter" twenty years from now and see if your opinion has changed.
"It's awfully easy to lie when you're trusted implicitly" says Laura in voice-over. That line is a bodkin to the soul. ALL of us know what the line means, ALL of us know how shatteringly true the line is. And thank God the line is not spoken by Laura in a didactic way.
Much has been made about the cast selection. Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard, both inspired choices, are credible as soon as we see them. They are not Madeline Carroll and Errol Flynn. Big deal. (Of course, Flynn and Carroll would have failed in these roles).
Here are the boldest pieces of the film; the fact that Laura was going to willingly make love with Alec and was thwarted by the return of Alec's room mate; Laura in voice-over, "I'd like to say it was the thought of you and the children that stopped me (from jumping in front of a rapidly moving express train) but it wasn't!" and a few others. "I felt like a criminal," says Laura in voice-over. She's no criminal but we know what she means.
The film, intended or not, is about Laura. Whether she's tipping the barrel organist for playing, "Let the Great Big World Keep Turning," or telling Alec "Self-respect matters and decency matters..." this is Laura's film.
"Thank you for coming back to me." Laura's husband ends the film. As far as tears go, that line does me in every time. Did he somehow know about Laura and Alec? Many say he did. I say, "does it really make any difference?"
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
Wonderful! But two problems
** SPOILER ALERT ** Do not read this review unless you have already seen the film, AND don't read this if you haven't seen any other Coen Brothers film.
"O Brother Where Art There?" proves what the Coen's can do. Resourceful to an extreme, this probable homage to Preston Sturges's "Sullivans Travels" is a pure delight. The film IS of "Best Picture" quality but I knew it hadn't a prayer. Instead of listing the film's strengths, which many others have done, let me mention a couple of pet peeves. Before I go further let me also say I'd rate "O Brother" a solid nine on a scale of ten. I am going to bash a Coen Brothers trend rather than
detail the brilliance of the film point by point. The two complaints:
1) WHEN is a mainstream film set in the American south not going to be stereotyped? When will characters in such films not be presented as buffoons and imbued with ignorance? Sadly, never. That's my opinion. Because the film was rated PG-13, the KKK needed to be humiliated, and I salute the gesture. It's a good scene which could have and should have been much better than it was. Why did the Coens force Wayne Duvall (candidate Homer Stokes) to give a hate speech at the Klan gathering? His presence there is enough, why must he speak of "Darkies," (nice truckle to political correctness, Joel and Ethan) "Jews," (ditto) "Papists" (many non-Catholics won't know what 'Papist' means, good scheme) "and all those smart-assed folks who say we come descended from monkeys." A lessening of rancor, may the saints be praised. Until, "So tonight, we're going to hang us a Negro!" Nice touch, change "lynch" to "hang" and the big N to "Negro." Everybody knows that the Klan always used the word "Negro." Disingenuous and lends credence to a few things I have heard but will not repeat here. Fellas, this is supposed to be a comedy! Stick to "R" rated films, you are better with them anyway.
2) This is in a strange way more bothersome than the above, or perhaps my ears are oversensitive. Most Coen brothers films have at least one character scream at the top of his or her (usually his) lungs, often for no apparent reason. Here are Coen films which contain screams, the likes of which may burst an eardrum: "O Brother Where Art There," "Barton Fink," "Fargo" (to a lesser degree), "Raising Arizona," and the worst of all (although I love the film,) "Millers Crossing." (Remember the scene near the end, the brutal one? The character named Drop Johnson puts out a series of fire alarm level screams but with a simple facial gesture, omnipotent Gabriel Byrne shuts the guy up. This scene is unbearable and I hit the mute button until the screaming stops).
On the other hand, most great directors had not merely mean streaks but outright cruel ones. John Ford, Hitchcock, Billy Wilder, William Wyler, I could go on for a while, I think you get my drift. It seems as though Joel and Ethan want to continue the great tradition. Maybe that's just the way it is. A couple more "O Brother's" and the Oscars will start pouring in and the power of the very talented duo will grow--exponentially. The Coen Brother's are America's best movie making team and I hope that they keep it up!
For the most part, these are minor complaints. Back to "O Brother." I highly recommend the film, there is much great dialogue and the ending is beautiful. See this film.
The Music of Chance (1993)
I see an Edgar Allen Poe connection
SPOILER ALERT! Do not read this if you haven't seen the film!
"Music Of Chance"
The Poe reference is at the end of the review.
Spader, with hair dyed black is a card sharp who is broke and is literally found in the street by Mandy Patinkin who ends up encouraging and then even staking Spader in a very high dollar poker game with a couple of quiet psychopaths who are also filthy rich. A note on Spader's hair color: If done to give Spader a more slick, "experienced" appearance, dying his hair black was very unnecessary; his impressively accurate accent takes care of any questions about Spader being a "professional card player," to quote Spader himself. (Spader is an incredibly underrated actor.)
Spader predictably loses to the two, but not before he wins many hands. This basic trick, used on suckers, makes Spader the sucker of the two older men; they have beaten the smart-ass at his own game. "We took lessons," says the Joel Gray character before the game begins. Lessons from Satan, I submit.
And one brief aside: This film is completely existential and poses many unspoken questions which could have a variety of answers. I suspect paid movie critics went to extremes in their initial reviews of the film; loved it or despised it.
Spader and Putinkin, now in great debt (ostensibly financial debt but they are there to be punished) must spend many weeks to build and complete a wall on the property of the old men. This wall corresponds to the greatest symbol in the film, a miniaturized model of "the world." The model lacks a wall, and in its place is a barren stretch of pale green (a graveyard I would say) upon which the old men want to place a wall.
Spader and Putinkin are carefully watched by an employee of the two millionaires, to make sure there is no escape and that the wall is built. In the only other scene in the film which I could see coming, Spader and Putinkin are told that the money they spent on liquor, a prostitute and a few other things have added to the debt and the two will have to stay on a couple more weeks. This is too much for Spader, who then escapes easily (too easily) only to turn up near death not forty feet from the trailer he had been living in. This is more evidence of a satanic connection 'twixt the old men and Old Nick. I also think that Spader's slugging of M. Emmett Walsh was something which would not go unpunished; Walsh represents both old men, echoes statements by both men, especially the Charles Durning character. The older men wanted a serious revenge against Spader for Spader's having beaten them in poker the first time. Remember, there is surprise when Spader does not show up alone at the house.
Oh, the film pretty much wants it questioned if Spader died or is recovering. I think it obvious that Spader is not among the living after his escape attempt, although an ambulance is called.
Back to that disturbing model of the old men's. I think the people in it are all deceased, killed in some fashion by the old men. The two little figures of the two old men don't resemble the old men and the reason is simple: they aren't the old men. They may be the old men when the duo were younger. Might they represent Spader and Pitikin?
Pitinkin steals these two small figures, which is inexplicable, at least on the surface. This theft is HUGE. Two scenarios:
Scenario 1: Pitinkin, pretty much an automaton for the entire film, doesn't care what happens. He is passionate about nothing. He is even chastised by Spader for stealing the two pieces in the first place. He spouts reason, apologizes when necessary (Spader doesn't) and, indeed, "puts out fires."
"Oh, you're a troubleshooter" says Spader very early in the film, after Pitinkin says he "puts out fires" for a living. He corrects Spader's (perfectly accurate) definition and remarks that no, he's a traditional fireman. I don't buy the "traditional fireman" remark, although Pitinkin does wear a firefighters tee shirt later in the film. This means very little. Pitinkin steals the two little figures on a vague hunch.
Scenario two: Be it vibes, or the possibility that Pitinkin somehow knows the older men, or Divine Intervention, Pitinkin steals the two figures and this angers but also scares the older men. That model of theirs, that view of a perverse world, is now missing two pieces--and the two most important at that. By stealing the little symbols, Pitinkin has vouchsafed himself life, and he knows it or strongly believes it. "You'd better be glad HE's here!" shouts Charles Durning twice at Spader while pointing to Pitinkin.
The film ends with Pitinkin, like Spader before him, hitching a ride. This indicates a never-ending cycle of things unseen and unpredicted -- the very core of existentialism.
The film is largely original even if one can sense a little "The Most Dangerous Game," Stephen King's short story "The Ledge," Poe's "The Cask Of Amontillado," the best revenge story I've ever read--in fact, "Cask Of Amontillado," has many parallels with this film, not the least of which is building a stone wall. A possible Poe connection: "Music Of Chance" and "Cask of Amontillado" share these aspects:
1) Revenge for reasons of personal honor as opposed to money. 2) Baiting the one to be killed with false pretenses and a happy demeanor. 3) No sympathetic characters (It could be argued that Pitinkin is a sympathetic character in "Music." I disagree.) 4) Building a wall. In "Music," it is the news that two more weeks of work on the wall which forces Spader to escape and more importantly to die. "Amontillado" has Fortunato bricked and mortared in a huge underground wine cellar by Montressor.
Amontillado is a rare form of sherry, it is the promise of a bottle (or "cask") of the cherished Amontillado sherry which draws Fortunato into the wine cave as well as into his demise.
I recommend "The Music Of Chance."
Lolita (1997)
Not a good one to film but there are factors..
SPOILER ALERT: Do not read the below unless you have seen this film AND the 1962 version, too.
I've seen both versions of "Lolita;" 1962 and 1997 are of course two different eras, yet there are too many similarities in each film which prove why Nabokov's book was never meant for celluloid.
Quickly, I must state that I'm a Nabokovian and I've read his entire oeuvre. My grandmother gave me a copy of the book when I was eighteen. I had never heard of the masterpiece, but it is "Lolita," the novel, which ignited my passion for brilliant prose and "Lolita" remains my favorite book.
Why can't the book be filmed? Let's see.
In the Kubrick version from 1962, Lolita is sixteen; in Lyne's (this) version, she is fourteen. In the novel, she is twelve. 1997 and Lolita is still two years older than she was in the novel. The real-life difference between twelve and fourteen is enormous. About the last thing I want to see is a twelve year-old girl and a middle aged man making out on screen. I don't suggest that a fourteen year-old girl and a middle aged man is acceptable. Nor sixteen and middle aged. The point is that this literary masterpiece simply needs to be read to be appreciated; if a faithful rendition of the novel is to be made, it would be kiddie porn. It would also have to be ten or twelve hours long. And really, the sickness of Humbert, his blighted lust and love for small girls, isn't even what the book is about. The book was written with venom, yet venom so rich and esoteric that it only makes us hate Humbert more than we already do, yet a measure of sympathy does emerge, and more so in the two films than the novel. Nabokov wrote the book, knew it was a gamble, knew it would be censored and above all, knew it would be talked about by EVERYBODY. He wrote the book in order to achieve financial independence and to say that he succeeded is a masterpiece of understatement. The anger I refer to is Nabokov's contempt for cruelty (yes, contempt) in any form. Dolores Haze is ruined by a depraved animal; America is roasted slowly over fire on a spit. And never has America been ravaged so exquisitely! Okay, I needed to mention all that.
The actual film is wonderfully photographed and Frank Languella, as Quilty, deserved a Best Supporting Oscar. Jeremy Iron's narration is hypnotic and outstanding; Domonique Swain is quite good given the circumstances. Sue Lyon had far more censorship problems in 1962 than did Swain in 1997, and Swain is thoroughly believable. However, the pedophile aspect can never be overcome, neither can the richness of Nabokov's prose be transmitted visually to the screen with consistency--and THIS, even more than the kiddie angle, is the primary reason why a GREAT "Lolita" will never appear on a silver screen. I can think of two brief exceptions to this, no more. In my favorite scene, where Quilty uses word-play to terrorize Humbert, the zapping of the insect killer, the purple sparks, the tone of Quilty's voice, his expressions ("sleep is a rose, the Persians say") are pure Nabokov, and this scene is superb. The other "Lolita" book-like part of the film, and a close second to the above scene, is Humbert's murder of Quilty. Quilty eats cigarettes, he spouts richly literate nonsense, a piano covered with blood keeps playing--it is also superb, this scene.
But the rest of it, and honestly the film is about as good as one could make of the novel, is hit or miss. In the Kubrick version, Shelly Winters, of whom I tend to be no fan, is impeccable. Melanie Griffith, in this one, is flat-out AWFUL! I wanted her dispatched long before she had been. Of course she is supposed to be vapid, but shrieking literally half of her dialogue isn't necessary to achieve this end.
Lyne did a good job and I would recommend this film. But with serious reservations. A six.
The Blair Witch Project (1999)
One of the best horror movies ever; here's why:
SPOILER ALERT. Don't read this unless you have seen the film.
"Blair Witch," very original but shot on a very low budget, with no star names, no standard glitter or spectacle is still an excellent film. In fact that is WHY it is excellent; it is original, it is completely non-Hollywood, the dialogue is so good that I felt drawn into the film as I watched it, something which rarely happens with me. In other words, because the three were saying EXACTLY the sort of things I would say in a similar situation, I "felt" this film potently.
I love the constantly moving camera, said camera being the chief complaint from those who "hated" the film, I think the acting is flawless and the direction and photography make this movie REAL. And what a pleasure to see a horror movie without the cliche-ridden often stupid shock music most horror films have!
I personally relate most to Mike. He is skeptical from the start, and I get the feeling he agreed with Heather and Josh out of boredom more than anything else. "Thank you for the opportunity," Mike says to Heather and I hear a faint blend of reluctance and sarcasm almost at the film's start. Mike is the first to say "we're lost," something I believe Heather and Josh also know, but don't want to admit.
I would not have kicked the map into the creek, (even though the map really was worthless if you think about it,) but otherwise I would have been a near clone of the Mike character. Mike doesn't like the camera on him, and makes no bones about it. "Shoot some ambiance!" he says to Heather after she has yet again stuck her camera in his face. My reply would have been more curt than was Mike's. Mike is the most down-to-earth character in the film and I don't think it coincidence that Josh, not Mike or Heather, disappears first.
But I like the other two as well. Heather is an archetypal film student know-it-all, right down to her arrogance. She is completely self-absorbed, ("I'd like to mark this occasion,") she says acidly when Josh and Mike are complaining about moving on, and she lives to regret her stance. Josh later turns the camera on Heather, who, VERY SIGNIFICANTLY, says "Are you expecting me to say something?" She whines to Josh, even though she has practically rammed the camera into both Josh's and Mike's souls. When Josh really starts yelling at Heather, the bitter sarcasm he uses is most understandable. (I personally love it!)
Josh is the first to entirely break down. This is completely unexpected, I was sure it would have been Mike. Josh puts on a convincing laid back facade but when things get bad, he's the first to crack. This was a brilliant stroke.
"Blair Witch" is a character study, if you'll pardon the expression. I was only scared once. (Those straw and twine symbols of hell in the trees, you know the scene.) Otherwise I was fascinated, and I have seen this rather short film several times. The dialogue, the characters, the moving camera; We KNOW something is going to happen. Indeed something does happen, in fact several things happen, one of them being an extremely well crafted film which contains MUCH more than meets the eye.
I give "Blair Witch" a ten.
Notorious (1946)
Ingrid Bergman and that Ben Hecht script!
Spoiler alert: this review is only for those who have seen "Notorious."
The name Hitchcock needs to be mentioned first, of course, but really, it's Ingrid Bergman and Ben Hecht's script which make this rather dated film a delight. This is Ingrid Bergman's best performance, apologies to "Casablanca" fans, and Ben Hecht's screenplay is masterful.(He didn't just dip his pen in rattlesnake venom, his pen was immersed in MAMBA venom and the result is deliciously vicious).
Hitchcock's camerawork is among his best and the swooping camera scene with the key is a feat of genius and deserves the praise which it has garnished. The wine cellar scene is as suspenseful as Hitchcock EVER got. He was a brilliant director, now on to what I really love about the film.
Cary Grant was a passable dramatic actor. He is passable in this film, and in some scenes he's quite good. He wasn't miscast but his real strength--genius in my opinion--was comedy and lighthearted comedy dramas. His best comedies are his early ones but since this is a Hitchcock film, allow me one title: "North By Northwest." Need I say more?
Ingrid Bergman is flat out superb in her best role (she deserved an Oscar) as the daughter-of-a-Nazi-who-makes-good-by-helping-Uncle-Sam and infiltrates Rains's ring in Rio. (Rains is marvelous, as always, in his role as a Mama's Boy who somehow heads an organization of much tougher Germans). In fact, I have more than once read that the relationship between Rains and his mother go to unholy extremes. That notion makes some sense, as this film was released less than a year after World War Two and Germans were then fair game.
But from the opening scene to the closing one, it's Ingrid who bedazzles. She is completely believable in a somewhat unbelievable role, and the early scene where Grant puts a handkerchief around her bare midriff, "better wear this, you might catch cold," (as if in South Florida a hanky around the waist would make some kind of difference) is brief but very erotic and renders absurd the belief that "less is more" is untrue. Be it learning of the death of her father, her badinage with Grant, her wonderful English which she worked very hard to improve (and succeeded) her remorse, her liveliness; anything else one can imagine, this is Ingrid's film. Period. My favorite aspect of "Notorious:" Ben Hecht's script.
Allow me a few quotes. Please remember the justifiable fury Hecht had for the Germans; the dialogue is still shocking and saturates the film. Just a few, beginning with the best and most famous one:
"We are protected by the enormity of your stupidity." Mother to Rains, and THAT one is worthy of Bartlet's!
"Look, I'll make it easy for you; the time has come when you must tell me that you have a wife and two adorable children and this madness between us can't go on." Ingrid. "I'll bet you've heard that line often enough." Grant. Ouch!
"I'm terrified!" Ingrid in the wine cellar. "Pretend you're a janitor, janitors are never terrified." Grant.
"I'll have to be more careful, I turned my ankle the last time." The most brutal of the German gang saying (while wolfing a chicken leg) to the others that when he kills Emil via car, he'll need to jump farther than he previously had when he murdered by car an earlier person. Pure ice. And I love it!
"Dry your eyes baby it's out of character." Grant to Bergman at the race track.
"I miss Emil. [Doctor Anderson, sounding contrite but then, after one second] He [Emil] was a first class metallurgist." Cuts to the bone.
I love "Notorious" because of Hecht's script, and because Ingrid Bergman was never better. On a scale of ten, a 9.5.
The Scarlet Empress (1934)
Unforgettable! What a visual feast!
I am a hypocrite; I only like movies which have great dialogue. My hypocritical exception is "The Scarlet Empress." You won't find great dialogue here, but don't fret; to ME, the dialogue is insignificant. This one must be SEEN to be appreciated.
Director Josef Van Sternberg, dubbed (correctly) "A lyricist of light and shadow" by one critic, proves this point in "Scarlet Empress" more than in any other of his films. Sternberg also knew he was losing Dietrich, and I like one scene where an actor is made up (from a side view) to resemble Sternberg. This actor is essentially the only one Marlene refuses her bed to, despite having no qualms about bedroom antics with half the Russian court. Sternberg projected himself into the role of Count Alexi, a character who has more screen time than anyone other than Dietrich. Alexi is teased by Dietrich and in the end he, um "doesn't get the girl." Sternberg knew he was no longer getting Dietrich and put this knowledge on celluloid with an awe-inspiring, even malicious fire. There are two things in this film which I really LOVE. The grotesque replicas which saturate the film are of course indicative of how the film will play out. The replicas, I suspect, were not easy or inexpensive to make--which makes them all the more fascinating, horrifying and MESMERIZING!
The background score. I have never seen a drama from the 1930s which used music more brilliantly than "Scarlet Empress." In a scene in a stable, when there is a chance that the two principals may make love, they are interrupted by the braying of a horse, which had been out of sight of the two. (According to many historians, this scene has much, MUCH deeper significance than it seems.) I cannot write what the historians have told to me on this board. It would be inappropriate. But before the horse neighs in that scene, Dietrich is twirling from a rope, and the music in the background lends immense eroticism to the scene, as does a straw which keeps going into and out of Marlene's mouth. The music combined with the beautiful lighting is stunning! There is also an opening torture scene which features a man swinging to and fro inside a huge bell, his head causing the bell to peal. Then, a quick dissolve to an innocent young lady who is flying high on her swing. THAT is a feat of genius!
If you can ignore some historical inaccuracies, which I suggest you do, and allow yourself to gorge on the beautiful lighting, music, as well as most scenes, I dare you to tell me that the film didn't MESMERIZE you! A TEN!
This pre-Production code film is a treasure throughout
All About Eve (1950)
Like this one, all great movies have one thing in common
All great movies have one thing in commom: it can be said of them that they "only get better with each viewing." There is no higher praise and "All About Eve" is one such film. The directing is good, not great, but that is in part by design; the reason the film looks "stagey" is because it's a movie about the theater, the "stage." Apart from the acting, of course, the most brilliant aspect of this marvel is the dialogue. I am not exaggerating when I say I could reel off three hundred lines of that film at a crack! I also like that director Mankiewicz took on some then-controversial mores. It is obvious that premarital sex is happening, the George Sanders character is so venomous that I think Mankiewicz STUDIED George Gene Nathan or something. Ignore those who call this film cynical; this is a slice of life in the theater of the late 1940s to 1950, and Broadway reviewers are known to be some of the harshest critics in the world; if you can't handle this, avoid the film. My own favorite strategem employed by Mankiewicz is during the party scene, when they are all sitting on a staircase. Some question if all the hard work is worth it, the business is a charade, and so forth, and the Ann Baxter stops them and equates applause with an orgasm! Brilliant! Says she in this scene, "Why if there's nothing else, there's applause. <i>It's like waves of love flooding up over the footlights and enfolding you</i>." Ha! If you have ever complained about a modern film having a poor script, SEE "All About Eve." You won't be disappointed!
L.A. Confidential (1997)
Most overrated films of the 1990s
This film, with it's attitude of "style-at-all-costs and never-mind-the-story-we'll-cover-it-with-'style,'" is perhaps one notch above average. Kim Basinger doesn't resemble Veronica Lake and how she won an Oscar is still a question for the ages. I found myself tolerating the film more than enjoying it, although there are a few scenes which do deliver some memorable images and dialogue. I suppose the biggest disappointment for me was the unnecessary, even offensive Political Correctness which this film uses when referring to groups of people and certain human behavior; bowdlerizing Ellroy's GREAT novel is not the way to do it. FIVE STARS out of ten; read the book instead, unless you prefer wallowing in flashy vapidity.
A Place in the Sun (1951)
Perfunctory drivel.
Elizabeth Taylor was never better on the eyes than she was in this incredibly overrated film. Monty Clift, like Taylor, doesn't act too well; he was better in (and personally more suited for) "Suddenly, Last Summer." If a film is truly classic then it does not age like Dorian Gray's painting, it's "controversial" scenes are not embarrassing and unintentionally hilarious today, (Raymond Burr's courtroom antics had me laughing as if I were watching "Duck Soup,") the background score is not overdone and deafening at times and above all, the story doesn't just pep right along at a clip akin to "The Sorrow And The Pity." Sorry, this is shallow tripe from a very good director. I said "very good," George Stevens was NOT "great!" This director's much earlier "Alice Adams," despite aging horribly as most Stevens films do, is superior to this later, much more expensive waste of celluloid. One star.
Ace in the Hole (1951)
Brilliantly jaundiced, deadly accurate.
I don't know when Billy Wilder said this one was the "runt" of his cinematic oeuvre but I'd bet it was not too long ago. With age, Mr. Wilder has mellowed and he may have made this remark because he knew how merciless this 1951 film is. In any event, this overlooked gem is just about perfect. It is still powerful, (very powerful) and the acting is superb. So is the dialogue, so is the premise. Based on the Floyd Collins case in 1920s Kentucky, Wilder re-shoots that real event in New Mexico, with reporter Douglas milking a tragedy for everything it's worth. That the film flopped surprises me not at all; it was and still is an atypical Hollywood film. No "sympathetic" characters, no one to "care about." That, I believe, was and is the point. Remember that Wilder was a reporter in 1920s Berlin, so he knew the print medium inside out, and when Kirk Douglas spews the barb "Bad news sells best. Because good news is no news," it is as accurate now as it was half a century ago. Every character in this film is corrupt to some degree, which almost makes this a noir shot in desert light. Don't see this one on a date, don't see it if you're depressed, but do see it if you'd care to witness the best excoriation of journalism's mean side that ever has been filmed. A ten!
Nothing Sacred (1937)
I finally undertstand "rolling in the aisles!"
I enjoy laughing but I have never been much of a howler, a knee-slapper; one who laughs so hard he falls over or loses his breath. All of that and more occurred to me when I saw the 1937 version (the only one worth seeing) of "Nothing Sacred." I knew it'd be memorable, since I've yet to meet a Ben Hect script I didn't love, I am very fond of Carole Lombard and Frederic March is one of the most under-appreciated actors of all time. Walter Connolly has some of the films best lines, certainly many of the most excoriating lines and certainly my favorite lines of the picture. Simple plot, you know it: Reporter March fakes a big city exclusive with "dying" Carole Lombard, a girl from a small Vermont town. They arrive in New York and the high jinks ensue. I say "high jinks ensue" deliberately, as my triteness has a purpose: ENJOY the dialogue and the comedic posturing and timing of some real pros, and I don't see how you won't burst three guts while watching this one. Oh, you need to put Political Correctness aside--the only serious point I make--since there is insensitivity, racial and otherwise. If this sort of thing, even though MEANT to show hypocricy, bothers you, skip this one, I mean it. Otherwise, just relax as the barbs fly like frenzied lightning and don't be ashamed to "rattle the walls" with your laughter. (During my initial viewing I was for the only time in my life accused of "rattling walls" with my guffaws.) If, as it is with old musicals, you can accept that this is a series of vignettes rather than a tightly bound story, you're home free and you'll know ecstasy. This is a screwball, not a drama or "comedy/drama." (I'd love to quote a few lines but I don't know if that is spoiler behavior or not). "Nothing Sacred" is mandatory viewing for anybody who loves old Hollywood comedies, screwball or otherwise and I rate it a solid TEN.
Sullivan's Travels (1941)
The most beautiful ode to the human spirit I've seen
"Sullivan's Travels" is a masterpiece. Everybody has several, at least one, selection which didn't make that big Top 100 list of American films, and how this gem eluded the grouping flabbergasts me. No matter. "Sullivan's Travels" is Preston Sturges' best film, and one of the very greatest American films ever made. Only Ben Hecht wrote overlapping dialogue as well as did Sturges, and to me, this is where this films blazes; it's dialogue. Anybody who could have a character say "..the bitter dregs of vicissitude.." and have it WORK has done something! This film is brilliant throughout, the best scenes being the opening ones in the producers office, the heart-wrenching scene in a black church, and the final resolution that maybe "just making a comedy" isn't such a bad thing after all. Like all great director's, Sturges has his followers, and it's interesting that most choose to take pot shots at "Sullivan's Travels" over any other Sturges title. This may be due to most critics (correctly) writing that "Sullivan's Travels" is Sturge's best film. Someone once dared to call the dialogue in this film "over-ripe." Excuse me? You'd prefer the usual illiteracy's found in any other film of the era? How about a cheer for someone using the language brilliantly and with great effect? Sturges deserves that, as this masterpiece has dialogue as good as any American film ever made. If you see "Sullivan's Travels" and you are not fascinated, moved and haven't split a stitch laughing, I humbly submit that you have no heart. This is as good as it gets and "Sullivan's Travels" is a radiant TEN!
Vertigo (1958)
Very Good but overrated
The best things about "Vertigo" are Bernard Herrmann's score, Kim Novak's acting and the beautiful photography. This movie is a must-see for any serious film student. Having said that, there are a few other things which I would like to mention, and this is with the understanding the anybody who may read this has already seen "Vertigo." I'm not going to "give anything away" but the following may not make too much sense unless you have seen the film. Okay. SPOILER ALERT 1) Jimmy Stewart is miscast. Because he was a great actor, he is adequate in this film but just passable. He seems uncomfortable at times, and not during the situations where he is supposed to feel uncomfortable; having made films earlier with Hitchcock ("Rear Window" was Stewart's favorite, and I consider it a better film than "Vertigo.") Stewart may have agreed to do the picture out of respect as much as anything else. I find him unimpressive when he is supposed to be suffering from "acute melancholia" (depression) and I think he disliked doing those scenes; as I say, he appears very ill at ease. 2) The murder plot is ABSURD! Here is a millionaire who could dial a phone number and have the one he wants dispatched killed within a few hours. But no. Instead, he dreams up a story which would have sent Freud to the rubber room, HIRES a woman to portray his wife, then pays her off. He could have called Murder, Incorporated and paid them what he paid Kim Novak and he would have gotten away with it. I realize that Gavin Ulster's incredibly elaborate scheme is necessary, so we may see San Francisco in all its glory, but really! Credulity is stretched beyond reason. 3) I'm sorry, but Hitchcock's misogyny begins to reach the "sick" level with this film. (It only got worse with successive films.) Women dying spectacular deaths, women insane, women being reinvented, the old man at the bookstore saying PROUDLY "You know, a man could do that in those days," [after saying that Carlotta Valdez was taken in by a man, but the man then "threw her away."] Nice.
I give "Vertigo" a SEVEN. Very nice on the eyes and ears, but not the all-time masterpiece so many demand it is.