No End

No End is an important film in the canon of Polish director, Krysztof Kieslowski. It marks the beginning of two collaborations that would continue for the remainder of his films. The first is with lawyer turned screenwriter, Krzysztof Piesiewicz (who apparently helped to provide much of the structure of his films) and the second was with the amazing composer, Zbigniew Preisner. To watch this film is to watch a master filmmaker in development. Many themes and ideas from this film would later be echoed in his masterpiece, Three Colors: Blue. The film opens with a dead man speaking directly to the camera. His wife is left widowed with their young child. Much of the film follows her as she deals with the grief of her loss. The husband was a lawyer in life, and he died during an important political case. This takes place during the period of Communist martial law in Poland during the early-1980's, and a young man is put in prison for going on strike. The wife of the prisoner must get a new lawyer, so she turns to the aging mentor of the dead lawyer. He agrees to take the case and sees it as his final strong case, knowing that soon he may well be forced to retire. This subplot is interesting because the new lawyer advises the political prisoner to keep quiet since the state has little evidence against him. He sees that as being the best chance of getting him out of prison. However, the prisoner believes in the strike and wants to improve working conditions in a country that is slowly being devastated by a system doomed to fail. So, either he keeps quiet and gets out to be with his family, or he sticks to his principles and stays in prison for something less than a crime. A classic dilemma. However, for better or for worse, that is not the main focus of the film. As I mentioned before, the main focus is on the grieving widow and how she copes with the death of her husband. Kieslowski is profoundly insightful and probing into human nature, but, conditions being what they were at the time, a very bleak outlook on life. The stories come together almost clumsily at times, and this doesn't reflect the maturity of his later works, but I'd rather watch a movie like this than almost anything coming out these days. Stylistically, this film is more reflective of The Decalogue than his Three Colors Trilogy. He started out as a documentary filmmaker, and it shows in his early works. He shoots his subjects like a documentarian who desperately wants to get to the truth of these people. It's really rather remarkable. I mentioned the film's similarities to Blue, but not only in terms of the story and themes, but the score to this film is used as the "death theme" or "funeral song" in the latter film. It's a hauntingly beautiful piece of music from an incredibly talented composer.

Chariots of Fire

Every time I watch this 1981 film, it gets better and better; or, rather, I appreciate it more and more. I often find myself moved by stories that tell about things that were. The film opens in 1979 at the funeral of Harold Abrahams. Now only two of the friends are alive from those glorious days in 1924, "when we had hope in our hearts and wings on our heels." It then transitions to the title sequence where the four main friends are singled out as they run along the beach with Vangelis' music ringing true to the feelings of hope and nostalgia. Over this past summer, I held a film discussion group for members of my church where we would watch a movie and discuss it, primarily for its spiritual themes. When I was discussing which films to show, invariably, this one came up. I balked at the idea because, now, nearly 25 years later, it is one of the few regarded icons of "Christian" filmmaking. There was no challenge to it to stretch my audience. My pastor likened it to him constantly teaching a sermon on John 3:16. A strong analogy. The popularity of both doesn't make either any less profound, merely more difficult to gain new insight. This time, however, realizing that the writer of the (magnificent) screenplay was not a Christian, he was able to tackle religious themes and Christian ideals with more dignity, respect, and fairness than, I think, even I, as a Christian, would be able. This is the kind of film that exudes the kind of dignity that only a British film could. This is an era where honor and sportsmanship were more important than the win. As a runner myself, I recognize the crudity of some of their training, their methods, and their tracks, but to runners like Eric Liddell, that's not the point, because "when I run, I feel His pleasure." It's unfortunate that director, Hugh Hudson hasn't gone on to a more illustrious career, because at times I was in awe of how well directed this film was. Some of the aspects that stood out to me were the scene transitions, the use of sound, the the De Palma-esque use of slow motion. Nothing is hokey, and the film is far from riddled with the cliches of sports movies that we have come to expect, because the film cares about its character and makes the human. In the mind of the audience, the victory has already come before the final race even begins because Liddell stands up for his principles and Abrahams proved himself by learning who he is. The performances are all strong. I am particularly fond of Ian Charlson as Liddell, and Ian Holm as Abraham's trainer, Sam Mussabini. As I mention before, we musn't forget Vangelis' evocative, synthesized score which captures the mood and the memory so beautifully. The main theme is a legend of pop culture, but listen to the other pieces. The quiet pieces that reflect the anticipation of the race or evoke the pains of defeat. The synthesized hymn as Liddell runs one of his first races. And the emotional piece as he runs his final race. Years from now, when I am sitting at the funeral of one of my friends and I look back on these years, I would like to say that I ran a race with passionate zeal for the glory of God, but I fear, at best, I will only be able to say that I watched a lot of movies and maybe even made a handful of half-way decent movies. For some reason, it doesn't seem as significant or dignified as running along a beach with hope in my heart and wings on my heels.

(I'd rather not be) Eaten Alive

Eaten Alive is a low-budget, independent 70's horror film, and it looks like it. Understand, I don't necessarily mean that as a criticism, rather just an observation. Director Tobe Hooper tells a story that is part Psycho, part Suspiria, part Jaws, and a lot of his own Texas Chaninsaw Massacre. It tells the story of a creepy, backwoods, motel owner who has a pet crocodile (from Africa). Apparently these beasts don't die, they have to be killed. They also have voracious appetites, so the creepy motel owner, ocasionally feels obligated to feed the croc one of his unsuspecting guests. But when one person goes missing, others immediately begin to wonder what happened, and when people start asking questions and the heat comes on the creepy motel owner, well, the croc gets more and more satisfied. The film is shot with a lighting scheme that Dario Argento would be proud of, consisting of rich, unnatural reds to the point that you are wondering how the sky could ever possibly be that color; but it's okay, because when confronted with such bold, unusual lighting choices, I can't help but smile and nod with admiration. However, Hooper doesn't have the visual flair of a director like Argento, so the visuals remain unimpressive in every other aspect. It's an unpleasant film because of it's total lack of humor. Most films of this type are enjoyable because you know that they can't be taking themselves seriously, but Hooper's film takes itself deadly serious, creating some very unpleasant murders and torture. It's horrifying, ocasionally suspenseful, and generally well-directed, but I would have trouble recommending the film due to its nature. One thing that Hooper does very well are scenes of total chaos. He uses people moving frenetically, with overlapping, almost unintelligible speech, with either an avante-garde score or a gentle country song playing on the phonograph downstairs. He so effectively combines these elements, that you get to the point of feeling as frightened and disoriented as the characters and want nothing more than to scream out loud for it to all stop. He manages to get a visceral reaction from his audience, which is good, but I would have trouble saying that I would like to see this film again, which is bad, despite the fact that, to a certain point, I enjoyed it. Also an interesting point is that it has an early performance by Robert (Freddy Krueger) Englund who looks like a child molestor. And if you've seen Kill Bill vol. 1, then you will quickly learn where the scene, "My name is Buck, and I'm here to #@$%" comes from. One other thing, the crocodile is pretty corny looking, and fortunately, not the focus of the suspense, despite the title.

Before Sunrise/Before Sunset

Richard Linklater is something of a phenomenon within American filmmaking. He is one of the one of the few truly independent minded filmmakers. In fact, two of his films (Tape and Waking Life) were shot on DV, I'm not even talking XL-1 here, but your ordinary Sony Handicam, and they are both outstanding movies. But before those, came Before Sunrise. A young American (Ethan Hawke) meets a French grad student (Julie Delpy) on the train from Budapest to Vienna (which I have taken) where they strike up a conversation. He is getting off, but she is supposed to continue on to Paris. He has this crazy idea, because he's enjoyed talking to her so much, she should get off with him and wander the streets of Vienna for the night and then he can go to the airport and she back to the train station. She agrees. The movie follows them through the streets of Vienna (many of which I recognized from my own travels). There is no dramatic conflict to speak of, it is the two of them talking about assorted topics. At the end they agree to meet 6 months from then at that train station without exchanging addresses or telephone numbers. That's where Before Sunset comes in. It is nearly 10 years later and Hawke's character is in Paris for a book tour -- he wrote a book about their one night together. She shows up. They haven't seen each other for the entire time, but their one night was unforgetable and has shaped their lives since. It turns out that Hawke showed up that 6 months later, but she was unable to because of her grandmother's funeral. And they hadn't exchanged information. As in the first film, it is spent with the two of them talking, gradually revealing important pieces of their lives and how they have grown up. Richard Linklater could be described as the American Eric Rohmer. His characters sit (or walk) around talking about frankly about life and the various issues worth discussing. It often comes across so naturally (both the dialogue and especially the performances) that you have to wonder how one could write such natural dialogue. You don't feel like you're watching a movie at all, but rather viewing a true slice of life. It has that kind of poetry to it.

Blind Chance

Over the past few years, Polish director, Krysztof Kieslowski, has quickly become one of my favorite directors of all time. I have finally had the opportunity to venture into his pre-Decalogue films. Blind Chance, completed in 1982, was not released until 1987, due to its generally negative portrayal of communism. This tells the story of a man who is running for a train and explores how his life would turn out differently depending on whether or not he made it to the train on time. Stories like this have become more commonplace in recent years (Sliding Doors and Run, Lola Run among others). This is different because you're not hoping for a particular outcome and wondering how it will acheive that outcome, in this case, you have no idea where these choices will lead him. All three options are radically different and lead him to making some very different choices. That is what the film is about, the choices we make. Kieslowski does not shy away from exploring the spiritual and philosophic ramifications of the choices and how he may end up with a new spiritual understanding based on his previous decisions. In each case, he ends up in a promiscuous relationship with a different woman that usually leads to negative consequences. It's a profoundly moral film, as all of Kieslowski's films are, and I feel in order to truly do this justice, I would need to see this one a few more times. He also explores some of his favorite themes of how lives are interconnected often in ways that we are unaware of. It's not as refined as his later films, and to a certain degree, suffers from that. After this, I look forward to exploring more of his early works.

Robert Wise has a great Set-Up

Robert Wise's The Set-Up is one of those perfect, little, low budget, 72 minute movies. During the film's first half, we discover that the manager of a boxer played by Robert Ryan has agreed to have Ryan's character throw the fight for the sake of a gangster who doesn't like to lose his bets. However, the manager decides not to tell Ryan's character that he is to throw the fight. Why should he, Ryan is 35 (over the hill for a boxer) and he's fighting and up and coming young boxer. He's past his prime, so need to worry him over rigged fights, right? Well, it turns out, Ryan's got something to prove. He's still got a few good fights left in him. Much of the first half takes place in the locker room as the fighters prepare for their four rounds of glory. Fighters get nervous in preparation, some are saying that this may be their last. Others are brought back, bruised, bloodied and incoherent, while others return victorious. Because nobody's counting on Ryan's character to do anything, his fight is relegated to the end, after the main event. He's been around a time or two. He knows most of the fighters in the locker room, and they know and respect him. Some confide in him as he just smiles and realizes how he probably coulda been a contender, once upon a time. Time for his fight arrives and he is brought into the ring. At this point, I became very surprised at the direction. The four rounds of boxing are probably the greatest pre-Rocky/Raging Bull boxing scenes. Interestingly, the camera never enters the ring with the fighters. It always stays outside the ropes, but it is surprisingly realistic. I felt like I was watching a boxing match. As I was watching it, I didn't think they'd be able to sustain the intensity for a full four rounds without moving in closer, but I was wrong. The fight had me engaged the whole time. Occassionally it would cut to various people in the crowd including the gangster who wants the fight rigged, a blind man who is having the fight narrated by a friend, and fat man who eats hot dogs, and other such fight aficianados. Martin Scorsese must have endlessly rewatched this one before preparing for Raging Bull. It is filmed in a film noir style, but only has the vaguest of film noir plots. The closest film of the era I could compare it to would be Body and Soul. I won't say what happens in the end, and I half to admit that the resolution drags on a bit longer than it needs to, but all in all, I found this to be a very satisfying film.

X doesn't always mark the spot

I have to admit, I'm not a huge Spike Lee aficianado, and have only seen a handfull of his films. In that context, Malcolm X is second only to Do the Right Thing in the Lee cannon. I would describe Spike Lee as the black man's Oliver Stone. He's generally not afraid to be big, bold, and in your face about the issues that matter to him, and the issues that matter to him are those of race relations. I have to admit, it's not an effective dialogue when the protagonist is saying for the middle half of the film, that the bane of the human race are the white devils. Now, I can't just end it here, because love him or hate him, no other filmmaker confronts racial issues with the maturity and passion of Spike Lee (not necessarily the impartiality, however). In the beginning, Malcolm was just a 2-bit street hood that was stealing, doing drugs, sleeping with white women, and straightening his hair in order to partially hide his blackness. Then one day, he lands in jail with a 10 year sentence. There, he meets a man who teaches him that everything he learned about race up to now was wrong. God is not white, Jesus was not white, white does not equal pure and holy, and black does not equal stained and evil. There's a bit more to it than that, but suffice it to say that he is converted to Islam and earns his masters degree while in prison. When he gets out, he quickly rises through the ranks of the Islamic institution and become second only to the honorable Elijah Mohammed, a man who claims to be the final prophet of Allah. He is intelligent, sincere, honest, and preaches complete separation of the races. One day he takes a journey to Mecca (this is the only non-documentary that has been allowed to film in Mecca) where he discovers Muslims of all races living in harmony with each other. When he returns, he begins to preach the possibilities of racial integration, though before they are integrated, the black community must come to terms with itself and respect itself. These new teachings, among other things, make Malcolm some enemies within the very Islamic group that he once preached from. Denzel Washington is a fine actor, and for the second half, when Malcolm is cleaned up and educated, he is truly within his depth (he seems a little bit out of place for the first half as the street hood). It's interesting to note that the budget on this film was $37 million and the film is 3hrs. 20min. long. That's a pretty impressive feat of economic and efficient filmmaking. As for the films ideas, I am of the opinion that (for the most part) this generation is not particularly guilty of racial offenses. Our fathers might have been and their fathers may have been the victims, but don't ask me to pay for the slaves of my ancestors. Malcolm even preaches that blacks cannot be guilty of racism because 400 years of oppression by the white man justifies anything a black man may do. Wrong! We are each responsible for our own actions, and in a capitalist democracy, our inactions as well. Not having a job is not the fault of the white man, and I had nothing to do with slavery. As the film progresses, however, and particularly after Mecca, Malcolm's ideas begin to change and become more reasonable. It's too bad that he was assassinated when he was. I admit, walking into this film I knew little of the man, and what I did know, did not endear me to him. Walking away from the film, I feel I understand the man, and while I may never agree with all of his ideas, I can respect him.

The Big Sleep

Along with horror and Westerns, film noir is one of my very favorite genres (if you can truly describe it as a genre). It has been a number of years since I last watched this classic, and at that time I probably couldn't see past The Maltese Falcon. But as I rewatched the film, I realized that this may actually be a superior film. Humphrey Bogart plays Philip Marlowe, the tough guy PI from the Raymond Chandler novel. There would be no point in trying to give a plot synopsis because it is complex and unscrutable. So much so, in fact, that by the time it was all said and done, even Bogart, director, Howard Hawks, and Chandler himself were left scratching their heads. But that's not the point. In fact, Bogart plays Marlowe with such assurance, that even when I'm not entirely sure how A led to B, I'm always convinced that he does. William Faulkner and Leigh Brackett contributed to the script (among others) which is one of the genres finest. The dialogue crackling, witty, and delivered at break-neck pace (as Hawks was fond of doing). Dialogue in a Howard Hawks film is like David Mament today. There are all sorts of shady characters in this seedy world, blackmailers, murderers, theives, pornographers, nymphomaniacs and the like. The screenplay is filled with innuendo that makes you want to laugh outloud because it's so clever and well delivered. The conversation about race horses between Bogart and his love interest, Lauren Bacall is classic. Hawks was never afraid of a dark story, but he always gave it a sense of respectablility.

Brian De Palma and the Phantom of the Paradise

Phantom of the Paradise is one of the few films that belongs to the lost and lonely genre of the rock opera. Other such entries into the genre include, Tommy and Pink Floyd's The Wall, the latter of which I have seen. This is the kind of film that probably would have been just awful had it been directed by anyone other than Brian De Palma. It's kind of an uneven mess as it is, but with De Palma at the helm, at least it's a fun, visually radical uneven mess. Here he combines elements of primarily Phantom of the Opera and Faust with touches of Psycho and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari among others. An evil record producer who sold his soul for eternal youth and worldly success takes advantage of an upcoming composer by stealing his work and then having him framed for drug possession. The composer gets out of prison and in the process of attempting revenge, disfigures his face. You see where this is going. Plus, there is a girl, and only she is worthy of singing this composers lyrics. De Palma certainly knows how to keep things interesting with a dark sense of humor and some biting satire at musicals, rock culture, and horror films. You may need to be in the right mood (or on drugs) for this movie, but I have no idea what mood that is. But when you're in it, you'll know, and then hurry up and watch this movie.

2001: A Space Odyssey

Wow! Seeing this on the big screen with a remastered 70mm print is one of the great viewing experiences of my life. If you know me, then you probably know that I swear by this film (I rank it the third greatest ever made), but on the big screen and even after having seen it a dozen times, I noticed things that I had not noticed before and the genius of its director, Stanley Kubrick, became more apparent to me than ever before. Despite the fact that there is no dialogue in the first half hour and the last half hour of the 2hr. 20min. film (and not just a whole lot in the middle either), my eyes were glued to the screen. I spent most of the time staring in awe with my jaw gaping at the imagery in front of me. Kubrick takes it upon himself to tell the entire history of man and even into his future. While I can't subrscribe to the films godless worldview, I can appreciate its entreatment for man to take the next step in our "evolution". Not biological, mind you, but mental, whether that be the recognition of our dangerous dependence on technology, or our unhealthy tendency to kill each other. I won't even attempt to give a synopsis of the story, because there isn't one to speak of. I won't tell of it's complex, three-dimensional characters, because there aren't any. It's not a film about a story or even about characters, but about mankind and some bold ideas. It's ambitious to be sure, but also one of the very few films that seems to transcend its medium.

I never before noticed, or paid attention to how beautifully Kubrick handles the world of gravity in this film. Take for instance, towards the beginning, when the shuttle is landing in the circular space station, a shot pulls back through the center of spinning, circular space station, and through windows in the structure, you can see people on the bottom, the two sides, and on the top, all apparently standing upright, though from our perspective, some are standing upside down, or seem to be walking up walls. There are numerous instances of such concepts throughout the film and Kubrick always manages to capture them in a way that allows you to rediscover the reality of gravity for the first time (for me anyway). I also noticed a pervasive dark humor throughout the film that I had not noticed before. An obvious (though not the only)example of this is when HAL is begging to Dave, "to sit down, take a stress pill, and calmly think things out," right after kill the crew and denying Dave entrance back into the ship.

Even his technical mastery has never been so clear to me. When I think of the images in the film, I usually think of sterile whites and pales, but I began to notice his use of color. No one uses color in both lighting and production design as well as Kubrick. Notice the reflection of the display panel on Dave's face as he navigates the pod or the red light of one of the shuttles. His craftsmanship is superior. Each of his shots displays his legendary perfectionism in lighting, design, composition, and framing. I wish I could do a shot by shot analysis just bring out specific and understand it better myself, but all I can do is sit back in awe and wonder how he ever thought of doing it that way. Seeing this on the big screen and on 70mm is the only way to go. You notice all the minutae throughout the frame that may be lost when brought to a television.
To some this may be boring, confusing, ambiguous, cold, and bleak, but rarely have I felt more awake and alive as while watching 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Goldfinger revisited

The best way to see a movie like Goldfinger is on a big screen with an audience. This is probably the quintessential James Bond film in which the formula was cemented and probably never sinced matched. What struck me watching it this time was how, despite the obvious differences between the culture of 1964 and today's culture, is that in many ways, this Bond film is more risque and bold than even today's more modern and slightly more graphic Bond. Take for instance the gleeful masogyinism that has always been present in the character, but more hysterically effective in this outing. It helps, of course, when Bond is the great Sean Connery. Take for instance while Bond is getting a poolside massage (by a beautiful woman, of course) in Miami beach, a CIA agent approach him with business. He gets up and tells the woman, "Run along now. Man talk," and slaps her on the butt. Today, something like that would probably not make it into a film, even a Bond film. The interesting thing though, is that it has been my experience that probably as many women love Bond movies and men, despite the fact that he is the ultimate male character. Then, of course, there is the Bond girl, Pussy Galore ("I must be dreaming"). How much more blatant a name can you have than that! (Other than maybe Hallotta Fagina in Austin Powers). How taboo would a name like that be in a movie today except for comedies. Then again, the best of Bond has never quite taken itself seriously. That's part of its charm and fascination. When a secret agent can come out of the ocean in a wet suit, blow up an oil factory, and then take off his wet suit to reveal a perfectly pressed, white tuxedo underneath, you can't help but let out a smile and think this guy is cool. And then there is the villain, Auric Goldfinger, and his bowler hat-wearing, Korean sidekick, Oddjob who both provide menacing presences. While I watched the movie I could help but notice how utterly corny and outlandish it is, but who the hell cares! Goldfinger is one of the great examples of cinematic entertainment and James Bond one of its ultimate heroes.

Ben-Hur revisited

Yesterday, I had the great opportunity to see Ben-Hur on the big screen, not only that, but in its original 70mm glory. That alone was quite an experience, but add in the fact that Ben-Hur is a truly great movie, and it becomes all the better. If you consider Ben-Hur to be a film about Jesus (Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ), then this is the greatest films ever made about Jesus. It tells the story of Judah Ben-Hur, played admirably by Charlton Heston, and his 4-year vendetta against his childhood friend, Messala who is now a Roman tribune. This all leads up to a spectacular chariot race in which the two adversaries duke it out. The chariot race is perhaps the greatest action scene ever filmed, and the fact that it is all real makes it all the more amazing. At nearly four hours in length, it never becomes boring.

My dad has a particular affection for one scene. Aften Messala has falsely sentenced Judah to the galley's, we see him haggared in appearance after years of rowing. One day, the Roman Consul, Arius boards the ships and takes notice of Judah. He tells the rowers, "We keep you alive to serve this ship. Row well and live." After a while, Arius senses something about Judah and his faith in God, and when a battle is about to erupt, he orders Judah's chains to be unlocked. During the battle, the ship begins to sink, so Judah frees the other oarsmen and escapes to above deck. There, he sees Arius, in full armor, knocked overboard. He jumps in and pulls Arius up and onto a piece of floating driftwood just in time to see their ship sink. At this defeat, Arius repeatedly attempts to commit suicide, but Judah will not allow it, "We keep you alive to serve this ship. Row well and live," he repeats to Arius. Soon a Roman ship discovers them and brings them aboard. To his surprise, Arius is informed that the battle was won. It was a great victory. He then turns to Judah and says, "In his eagerness to save you, your God has also saved the Roman fleet." That line has some unexpected depth. At times, God is willing to change the course of the world just to get the attention of one person. In this case, God was attempting to save Judah, but to do that, he saved the entire Roman fleet. It's an amazing concept.

In the end, however, Ben-Hur is a story of redemption and how a man is transformed from bitterness and hatred to love and forgiveness. Despite its length and scope, this film never manages to lose sight of its heroes journey. It's one of those films that represents everything I love about classic Hollywood: action, adventure, drama, amazing sets, cast of thousands, and all around good storytelling. You will probably never see a film like this ever made again. Now, it's just too impractical, expensive, and unfortunately no one wants to show a four hour movie anymore.

They Live... or do they?

John Carpenter's They Live is one of his best films of the 15 years, and one of his better films in general. It tells the story of a man who drifts from town to town picking up whatever jobs he can find. One day he comes across a pair of sunglasses that essentially allows him to see the world and people the way they truly are. With the glasses on he see on every billboard and on every magazine and newspaper cover, subliminal messages such as, "OBEY" "SUBMIT" "CONSUME "DO NOT QUESTION AUTHORITY" "DO NOT THINK" and other such mantras. He also notices that not everyone is who they appear to be. In fact, there are those among us who are not even humans at all, but an alien race intent on consuming the earth's resources. These aliens are most the successful people in business and the media. They are the jerks who get the promotions instead of you. He then becomes involved in an underground movement of people who have been awakened to the reality of the world. This film works on a couple of different levels. First, it is an effecitive suspense/paranoia/they're-out-to-get-you film and it works as a (fairly simplistic) social commentary. As typical in Carpenter's films, the villains are mindless and zombie-like, but this time, they're the ones in the positions of power. As a social commentary it seems to be taking a stab at America's consumer driven culture of conformity. I'm not, however, about to say that capitalism is an oppressive system meant to hold people in line and that its creators are aliens. It is a good film however, and is not afraid of its ideas, which may be overly simplified, but refreshing to see coming out of a horror movie. In many ways this reminds me of George Romero's classic, Dawn of the Dead, despite the two films obvious differences, they approach their subject matter in a similar way.

Westworld

Westworld is an interesting, fun little film that is Jurassic Park with robotic gunslingers rather than dinosaurs. It's not surprising then that the films writer and director was Michael Crighton. The interesting thing though, is that this film was made 15 years before he ever wrote the novel, Jurassic Park. Yul Brynner gets top billing as the robotic gunslinger of few words despite the fact that his role is only slightly more than a glorified cameo. Westworld is a theme park for adults where they are transported into a different era and are free to live out all of their hedonistic desire. Westworld is populated by lifelike robots and the guests, all dressed in 19th century garb and sporting Western phrases learned from far too many movies, are free to live out their wildest fantasies. They can kill, become sheriff, and even have intercourse with these robots without fear of consequence, because, after all, they're only robots. But as you can imagine, something goes wrong and soon the robots are playing for keeps. It's mostly all good fun and Yul is always fun to watch, but I think the potential outlives the reality of the film. It's partially held back by its television-like set design. It's mostly just fun, but my guess is that it was intended to make more of a statement about technology rebelling against man and perhaps even the dangers of hedonism, but, for the most part, that is all overshadowed by Yul Brynner's glowing eyes.

Kirk Douglas' Lust for Life

A couple of days ago I noticed a film in the library that I was not familiar with called, Lust for Life. It starred Kirk Douglas as Vincent Van Gough and was directed by Vincente Minnelli. I like both of those individuals, but just the same, I approached it with low expectations. I was expecting another romanticized Hollywood biopic with little substance and beautiful technicolor photography. I was half right. The technicolor images of the south of France were rather beautiful, but what surprised me was the fact that the film took its ideas and the man seriously. I thought that Douglas' performance ranks among his very best. He plays Van Gough as a man who wants nothing more than to be useful. The church rejects his attempts to help the needy when he fails to live "like a clergyman is expected" and later, the public rejects his unusual artistic style. He is a desperately lonely man, mostly only kept company by his corespondance to his brother, Theo, who also supports him financially by sending a monthly allowance. Douglas effectively manages to avoid his tough guy image with this intense portrayl of a tortured, lonely genius. Not to mention his occasionaly bouts with madness that ultimately leads to his suicide. The downside to the fim is the fact that it focuses too much on the man and not enough on a unified story. I felt like I understood the man at the end of the film, but the story itself left me unmoved. I also find the title to be worth of contemplation.

how I was pissed off yesterday....

Yesterday, I watched what may be the most offensive movie that I have ever seen, Inherit the Wind. I have to admit it's a kind of a surprising choice considering it was directed by Stanley Kramer and stars Spencer Tracy, Frederic March, and Gene Kelly. For those of you who know me, you realize that I have sat through many of the most graphic, depressing, and abstract films ever made and not batted an eye. No, it had nothing to do with anything like that. What upset me was how painfully simple-minded the film was. It is basically a recreation of the Scopes trial in the 1920's when a school teacher was put on trial for teaching evolution in the class room. The citizens of the rural Southern town and the prosecuting attorney (Frederic March doing a hollow, piss-poor imitation of William Jennings Bryan) and caricatured to the point of hilarity. Apparently, the only thinking people within the city limits are the poor teacher and his noble attorney (Spencer Tracy). I am not offended by the mere fact that a movie takes jabs at the Christian community, I don't get offended when a movie is single-mindedly left wing, and I don't always even get offended when good, Southern folk (of which I am one) are portrayed as ignorant, Bible-thumping bigots. What I do get offended by is when a movie claims to be a movie about ideas, about getting to the truth of an issue, about portraying an accurate history so that we can see what progress we've made in recent years, and ends up bashing the audience over the head with ideas and arguments that are so blatently simple-minded a five-year-old could deconstruct them. I was put off during scenes in which the (ridiculously one-dimensional) towns folk march by the jail rewording such songs as "Old Time Religion" and "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" to condemn the teacher and his attorney to the hellfires. Everyone is portrayed as being so bigotted and ignorant, that Tracy's quiet dignity must mean that he is intellectually superior to these simpletons because he believes "ideas" and "the advancement of the human mind". That's all great except the reasoning he offers is so flawed I wanted to vomit. Oh, and one of the best parts is when, in a bold and daring move, Tracy's character puts March's character on the witness stand as an expert on the Bible. He starts talking about "begetin'" and then asks what March's character thinks about sex. "Sex is original sin," March's character confidently replies. I found myself laughing with disbelief at many such scenes. And before I wrap this up, here's the best part. In the end, when the jury finds the teacher guilty (sorry I spoiled it), we are supposed to feel that justice has been perverted on this dark day, when no one seems to realize that the reality of the trial is that he is being tried for teaching evolution in the classroom. Did he, or did he not teach evolution in the classroom? Yes, he did. Therefore, he is in violation of the law and therefore, guilty. The entire argument of the defense was that it is an unjust law. Well, that may be, but does anyone else see the problem with this scenario. They are trying to legislate through the courts. When the verdict was guilty, they said that they would appeal it to the state supreme court. The state supreme court! Never once did they attempt to go to the state legislature to get the law changed, no, they wanted to legislate through the courts. Courts interpret law, they don't make it. The teacher was guilty as charged and it is not the role of the court to change what may well be an unjust law. Alright, I'm finished. As you can see, it got me going, and that alone is quite an accomplishment.