I Vitelloni

Federico Fellini's films often feel more autobiographical than the average bear. He's clearly one of the most distinct auteurs of all cinema. This was his third film (second that he directed solo), and often regarded as his first major step into directoral maturity. It concerns a group of 20-something men who don't have jobs and live off of their families middle-class income. One is a womanizer, a writer who dreams of stardom, a simple-minded man, and one who seems more constant than the others and even has a job. They spend their time in the small town dreaming of greatness and adventure, but never getting up and doing anything. It's the cinematic ancestor of films like Slacker and Clerks. This is probably my favorite of his pre-8 1/2 films, featuring simple, poetic black and white photography and a comedic tone that doesn't overpower the pathos of the characters. I've always tended to appreciate (most of) Fellini's films more than I like them, and it's probably no different with this film, but dammit, I can't deny the greatness of his filmmaking. Martin Scorsese claims to have been heavily influenced by this film as he was making Mean Streets. I see the connection.

Jesus' Son

The title, incidentally, comes from the Velvet Underground song, Heroin, as isn't intended to be taken as the offspring of Christ. To be honest, when I began this film I was hoping for something that might be spiritually substantive, but instead I got a reasonably stylish, post-Pulp Fiction indie film about a nice guy with a drug problem. Actually, it's probably not fair to compare this to Tarantino's film because those who liked Pulp Fiction, won't necessarily like this and those who didn't, may like this. It feels exactly like what it is, a film whittled together from a collection of short stories. Name actors appear for a scene or two and then disappear or die, leaving our hero (well played by Billy Crudup) as the constant. He has an on-off relationship with Samantha Morton who is miscast, then he has a friend played by Denis Leary, and in one of the most unusually funny scenes in recent memory, works along side Jack Black in an Emergency Room. Later in rehab he shaves Dennis Hopper, and falls in love with Holly Hunter at an AA-like gathering. The films has some amusing scenes, but that's because it thinks in increments and not as a whole film. There are some interesting characters, but we never get to know them. Oh, well.

Italian For Beginners

Lone Scherfig, one of the lesser known directors of Denmark's "Dogma 95" collective, directed this interesting romantic comedy. But before I reflect on the film, here are the official rules of the dogma filmmakers:

"I swear to submit to the following set of rules drawn up and confirmed by DOGME 95:

1. Shooting must be done on location. Props and sets must not be brought in (if a particular prop is necessary for the story, a location must be chosen where this prop is to be found).
2. The sound must never be produced apart from the images or vice versa. (Music must not be used unless it occurs where the scene is being shot).
3. The camera must be hand-held. Any movement or immobility attainable in the hand is permitted. (The film must not take place where the camera is standing; shooting must take place where the film takes place).
4. The film must be in colour. Special lighting is not acceptable. (If there is too little light for exposure the scene must be cut or a single lamp be attached to the camera).
5. Optical work and filters are forbidden.
6. The film must not contain superficial action. (Murders, weapons, etc. must not occur.)
7. Temporal and geographical alienation are forbidden. (That is to say that the film takes place here and now.)
8. Genre movies are not acceptable.
9. The film format must be Academy 35 mm.
10. The director must not be credited.

Furthermore I swear as a director to refrain from personal taste! I am no longer an artist. I swear to refrain from creating a "work", as I regard the instant as more important than the whole. My supreme goal is to force the truth out of my characters and settings. I swear to do so by all the means available and at the cost of any good taste and any aesthetic considerations.Thus I make my VOW OF CHASTITY."
Copenhagen, Monday 13 March 1995

As a clarification, the films are no longer required to be shot on 35mm, but, like this one, are primarily shot on HD or DV. This may be the lightest of the dogma films that I have seen, though it's still heavy as compared to a typical romantic comedy. The characters look and act like real people. They are all desperately lonely and searching for love. If they were musicians, then they would be the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. There's a hotel manager, an female Italian chef, a hairdresser whose mother recently died (and as a result realizes that she has a younger sister), a pastor whose wife recently died, and a womanizing Italian tutor. They are all lonely, and ultmately meet at a small class in Italian. Not only are they lonely, but they are romantics and passionate. Some touching relationships form and some poignant truths are revealed. Thematically, it's similar to the other dogma films, but it lacks the power and resonance of its cinematic bretheren. It's not as emotional wracking as the films of Lars von Trier, but it's not as powerful and mature either. It's dogma-lite, and as a result may be the dogma film for those who don't like dogma films.

Kandahar

This film out of Afghanistan was made prior to the U.S.'s removal of the Taliban during the early stages of the war on terror. It's about an Afghani woman, named Nafas, who was raised in Canada and became a reporter. Her sister, who still lives in Afghanistan, is planning to commit suicide, so Nafas sets out to rejoin her, however the it is very difficult to get across the border from Iran into Afghanistan. This is a farily amateurish film that feels absolutely authentic -- that's probably because it is, though it might work better as a documentary. Nafas has the advantage (and disadvantage) of being a woman, which means she must be veiled from head to toe to prevent anyone from seeing her which comes in handy when not wanting to be found. However, we get to see just how poorly Muslim women are treated. (At the doctor's, a curtain must be in between the woman and the doctor and they can only be examined through a small hole cut in the curtain.) The actor's, no doubt, are not professional actor's. If you're interested in Muslim cultures or Taliban-era Afghanistan and Iran, then this would be a good film for you. While I won't remember this as a great film, I will remember an image of a bunch of men on crutches (whose arms and legs have been blown off by land mines) hobbling through the desert to get a few sets of artificial limbs that have been dropped off by airplane. This film captures the culture and the people with startling realism.

The Ladykillers (1955)

I haven't seen the Coen brothers' remake of this British classic, but I know it can't be as charming as this. In fact, this may be my favorite of this particular kind of British comedy. It's a dark comedy about a group of thieves led by an amusingly menacing Alec Guinness whose teeth might make Austin Powers squirm. The robbers also include an underused Peter Sellers and Herbert Lom. They masqerade as musicians as they rent a room in a house belonging to the quintessential kind, old British lady played charmingly by Katie Johnson. Her politeness, not to mention her pet birds, inadvertently begins getting in the way of their plans. The comedy turns dark, however, after the robbery and the old lady discovers the truth about them. There's an amusing scene in which she asks them to return the stolen money, and Alec Guinness, in his ever so civil way, points out that to return the money would actually inconvenience everyone involved -- they don't want it back. This leads to a very funny concluding scene. I wish I could explain it better, but it works so well because the lady lives in her own little world and it inadvertantly destroys the robbers. Well directed by Alexander Mackendrick who would go on to direct the great, Sweet Smell of Success.

Arsenal

I think this film easily ranks among the greatest of early Soviet cinema. Alexandre Dovzhenko retains the kind of poetic and lyrical imagery that sustained his earlier film Earth, but I think that this a more mature work that utilizes the tools of cinema. This film plays out like a Soviet version of All Quiet on the Western Front, though I would argue that this a greater film. It involves Russians fighting in WWI as the impending revolution starts coming to fruition. It's Soviet propoganda, to be sure, but rises above the propoganda of say, Pudovkin, in it's use of imagery combined with a humanitarianism, whereas Pudovkin only has imagery. The final image of the film is surely one of the great ending images of all cinema.

At the Circus

This concludes my series of films with those loveable Marx brothers. It's too bad that this is one of their duller, more routine films. Oh, but I do love it when Harpo plays the harp. Actually, the bulk of the film is redeemed by a wildly hilarious ending involving a circus, an angry gorilla on the trapeze, and Margaret Dumon in a cannon. Inspired.

The Beast Must Die

This 70's horror film plays out kind of like William Castle meets Hammer horror. It's a whodunit in which the audience is the detective assigned to discover which of the eight characters is a murderous werewolf. It takes places at an isolated mansion owned by an eccentric millionaire who is determined to destroy the werewolf's reign of terror. The premises are wired with microphones and closed-circuit T.V. cameras so as to track everyone's movements. The best scene in the film involves the hunting of the werewolf through a dark forrest at night while being guided by a man watching the security cameras -- it's a scene that reminds me of the great air-shaft scene in Alien. It's not a great film, and it's not really even a good one, but it is enjoyable and has some reasonably suspenseful moments. It's primarily held up by its premise and the cast which includes Charles Gray, a young Michael Gambon, and Peter Cushing who brings class to a fairly dull role where he is required to use a hokey German accent. Mostly good fun though.

Noises Off

Peter Bogdanovich, for the last thirty years, has been the reigning expert on 1930's screwball comedies (particularly those of Howard Hawks). In this modern screwball farce, he is clearly calling forth the spirits of old to create one of the zaniest films of the 90's. It's primarily a satire of the theater (a London smash hit called, "Nothing On") consisting of basically three scenes -- the rehearsal, a performance in Miami, and a performance in Cleveland. The rehearsal scene is a bit slow and gets fewer laughs than the following two, but it establishes the audience with the material so that in the next two scenes when all hell breaks loose we know how it should go and just how bad it is actually going. The last 2/3 of the film is a master lesson on timing and choreography. The cast includes Michael Caine, Carol Burnett, Christopher Reeve, John Ritter, Julie Hagerty, Nicollette Sheridan, and Denholm Elliott who stands out above the rest as a partially deaf/senile/drunkard old stage veteran. It was his final performance. A very funny film about what goes on behind the scenes of your typical stage play.

He Knows You're Alone

I admit, that if ever there was a sucker for bad slasher movies, I'd be it. I have an irrational fondness for them dating back to the first time I saw Halloween. Actually this 1980 film borrows more than a little from John Carpenter's classic, which even some minor hints of Friday the 13th (in staging, not mood). It's about a psyhopathic killer who murders girls a few days before they are to be married. It attempts an intersting technique by sort of showing the killer early on (it's not a mystery or a masked menace), though mostly in half-shadow or reflection and rarely straight on, like Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now. I doesn't really work, but I admire it for trying something. There are a handful of competently successful suspense sequences, including the opener in a movie theater where some chick gets killed while watching a, y'know, horror film. If nothing else it may be remembered as Tom Hanks' debut film.

The Lavender Hill Mob

Alec Guinness was in a number of successful and well-respected British comedies during the 50's and 60's and this is probably one of the most high regarded. I enjoyed it, but perhaps less so than some of the others. Guinness and Stanley Holloway play a couple of classy, unappologetic bank robbers who want to make the next score. It's got some laughs, but mostly it's the kind of British humor that works for some and not for others. It had some excellent scenes -- for instance, the scene in which they are running down the stairs of the Eiffel Tower chasing a troupe of Brithish school-girls is a minor classic in and of itself. Also, the concluding car chase reminded me of the end car chase in The Pink Panther. Guinness is a fine actor and incredibly versatile as he shows by bringing strong performances to so many genre's.

Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

For the last six years I seem to have been one of the few vocal champions of George Lucas' Star Wars prequels, and now that the saga is complete, we can stand back and marvel and just how impressive an accomplishment it truly is. The prequels have made the original trilogy a richer, more complete experience, and likewise, the original trilogy provides the emotional framework and mythology which enriches the prequels. Revenge of the Sith is the best of the latest, and while to some, that may not be much of an accomplishment, I would be willing to say that it is the best in the series since The Empire Strikes Back. Lucas proves that he is one of the few true innovators of cinema. Granted his innovativeness is mostly in the technical areas -- he invents the technology that is now commonplace and pushes it to its limits -- but I maintain that there is still a level of artistry to his work. With these films he has managed to use digital techology and computer animation better than any of his contemporaries by creating an expansive world from the depths of his imagination, and characters that we know and care about even if it takes more than one film to discover.

This is probably the most action packed film of the series, which, as we all know, leads up to the fall of Anakin Skywalker to the dark side and Darth Vader. The performances are more alive and expressive than they have been in the other prequels. Hayden Christensen proves that he is a substantive actor as we watch him wracked with moral conflict. Unfortunately, while I greatly admire Natalie Portman as an actress, I am forced to reckon with the fact that she is just not designed for this kind of role. Some actors are capable of pulling off the kind of cornball dialogue that the series has specialized in, but she is not one of them. The standout, however, is Ian McDiarmid as Emperor Palpatine. It was nice to finally get to see him show what he's got, because he gives a very strong performance. He effectively manages to convey the essence of temptation by expressing what is ultimately a lie with just enough truth to make it reasonable. As such, the scene in which Anakin ultimately turns has an unexpected poignancy. He didn't become Darth Vader just because he wanted to be evil, he wanted to save people. He was trying to do the right thing the wrong way.

Anyway, I could probably go on and on about the specifics, but I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed it. Now with everything tied up, I am able to watch the other films from a whole new perspective -- the perspective I am supposed to watch it with, because I know what happens and I also know how it happens, or at least what I need to know. I thank George Lucas for creating a world and characters that have become an indelible part of me. I was raised on the original trilogy and awed by the prequels, and now that the circuit is complete, I can only admire him for what is certainly one of the great accomplishments and contributions to the movies.

The Cinema of Perversion: Roman Polanski and David Lynch

The following the final paper from my 70's cinema class in which we were assigned to compare a director from the 1970's to a modern director. I am pleased with the result, and I hope you enjoy it....



When I speak of the cinema of perversion, I am not necessarily referring to a kind of abject moral state (though that may be part of it), instead I am referring to the kinds of perversion that are so beautifully uncovered and revealed through the works of these two masters of the macabre. It also refers to a similar, underlying dark sense of humor that runs throughout their works. They are, in fact, films about abject moral states, but to call them immoral in and of themselves would be to miss the point. I will attempt to expose the common links of corruption and perversity through Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, Chinatown, and The Tenant, and the influence these works played on David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. In the 1970's, Roman Polanski, and more recently, David Lynch, have taken great joy in revealing the darker side of everyday lift, though often with a big smile on their faces.

Before I begin, I feel the need to set up some basic background information in order to more fully understand his sensibilities. Roman Polanski was one of most acclaimed filmmakers to come out of Poland in the 1960's along with giants Andrej Wajda and later Krzysztof Kieslowski, and the only one to find mainstream success in the United States. Born half-Jewish, he spent some of his youth escaping from a Polish ghetto. In fact, his mother died in a concentration camp – experiences which would, no doubt, play a major role in his cinematic sensibilities. He burst onto the scene with his debut feature, Knife in the Water in 1962, a tense Ingmar Bergman meets the French New Wave psychological thriller set on a small sail boat with three characters, which won him an Academy Award nomination for best foreign film. He later went on to make another slyly perverse psychological thriller, Repulsion, the magnificent, though underseen, Cul-de-Sac, and the unfunny horror comedy, The Fearless Vampire Killers or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck – a film whose title is the best thing about it. At that point, Paramount guru Robert Evans brought him to the United States in order to adapt Ira Levin’s novel, Rosemary’s Baby which became a hit and led to his directing what many define as the quintessential 1970's film, Chinatown, again under Evans’ supervision. He later returned to Europe where he made the often misunderstood, English language thriller, The Tenant. Since then, he has gone on to make a number of other varyingly successful films including multi-Academy Award nominated film, Tess and the award winning film, The Pianist, which is arguably the finest film ever made about life in the Jewish ghettos and Nazi’s concentration camps, due to its undoubtedly personal nature.

I am of the opinion that Rosemary’s Baby is Roman Polanski’s masterpiece, and perhaps the finest horror/psychological thriller ever made. Now that’s not to say that he doesn’t still develop as a filmmaker in his later works, but this is my personal favorite of his films. I admit that I am cheating in order to use this film considering it was made in 1968, however, I would contend that its style and sensibilities are those that we have come to associate with the 1970's. It is one of those transitional films of the late 60's like, Bonnie and Clyde, The Graduate, Easy Rider, Midnight Cowboy and The Rain People that ushered in the 1970's. It tells the story of a young married couple played my Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes, who move into an elegantly creepy Manhattan apartment complex that may house more than they bargained for. Soon, she becomes pregnant and begins to suspect that her perhaps too friendly, geriatric neighbors played wonderfully by Ruth Gordon and Sidney Backer, are part of a coven and conspiring against her to sacrifice her baby. "There are conspiracies against people, aren’t there?" she asks at one point. Yes, I suppose there are. Pauline Kael, as always, succinctly puts it that, "Rosemary’s actor-husband conspires with a coven, drugs her, and mates her with Satan, in exchange for a Broadway hit." When you put it that way, one can see the truly dark sense of humor that pervades the film. The film evokes some obvious stylistic and even thematic comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock – the paranoid housewife, the sinister neighbors/husband, the dark sense of humor, and the commonplace made terrifying; however, as Roger Ebert points out in his review, "The characters and the story transcend the plot. In most horror films, and indeed in most suspense films of the Alfred Hitchcock tradition, the characters are at the mercy of the plot. In this one, they emerge as human beings actually doing these things." His unbound camera suggests a kind of freedom – though a restrained freedom over which Polanski exhibits masterful control. Behind the luxurious gothic walls of this apartment building lurks an almost unbelievable kind of evil – a satanic cult bent on raising forth the child of Satan to rule the world. It’s funny, it’s terrifying, it’s perverse, and Polanski takes glee in unmasking the corruption and evil found behind the most pleasing doors of American society.

Of all the films that I have chosen to examine, Chinatown is probably the most universally lauded and simultaneously, the most humorless. That’s not to say it doesn’t have its share of laughs – private eye Jake Gittes delivers some pointed one-liners thanks to Jack Nicholson’s delivery and Robert Towne’s brilliant script, but the humor is very snide, sarcastic, and cynical, not as joyously perverse as Rosemary’s Baby. It then becomes important to realize that a significant event occurred during the six years between the two films – Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate was brutally murdered in Beverly Hills by Charles Manson. This seminal event seemed to stain (for better or for worse) his films of the next few years. This is most apparent in his curiously brutal version of Macbeth made in 1971. Chinatown is a detective story – neo-noir, some might say – involving the ironic drowning death of the Los Angeles water commissioner during a drought in the 1930's, and his widow played by Faye Dunaway, her father played by John Huston, and the seemingly worthless desert land of the San Fernando Valley. Roger Ebert makes an important point about its style and genre conventions:

Roman Polanski’s Chinatown is not only a great entertainment, but something more, something I would have thought almost impossible: It’s a 1940's private eye movie that doesn’t depend on nostalgia or camp for its effect, but works because of the enduring strength of the genre itself. In some respects, this movie actually could have been made in the 1940's. It accepts its conventions and categories at face value and doesn’t make them the objects of satire or filter them through a modern sensibility, as Robert Altman did with The Long Goodbye. Here’s a private eye movie in which all of the traditions, romantic as they may seem, are left in tact.

This is one of the most successful films at deconstructing the popularly held myths of Los Angeles. Sure it may have a sunny, family-friendly persona, but the deeper one tries to dig the more twisted and tangled things become, into a web of conspiracies and corruption involving rape, incest, and murder that all lead to John Huston’s wealthy madman, Noah Cross. When Gittes finally reaches him, he asks Cross, "Why are you doing it? How much better can you eat? What can you buy that you can’t already afford?" Cross answers him by saying, "The future, Mr. Gitts, the future."

Polanski’s masterful visual style seems to have remained consistent through Rosemary’s Baby and Chinatown, but the tone is different – more cynical, more hopeless. In the end, Faye Dunaway’s character, the only good person in the film, has been killed and her daughter/sister is now in the hands of Noah Cross, the father/grandfather. The villain wins and Jake Gittes loses the woman he loves, "Forget it Jake, it’s Chinatown." Polanski says that Los Angeles was founded on corruption, and then proceeds to unravel it in all of its forms. The facade of respectability is described best by Cross himself when he says, "Of course I’m respectable. I’m old. Politicians, public buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough." It’s cynical even by 1970's standards. One must ask if this change in tone is due to the culture at large, and I believe that at least to some degree it could be a reaction to the loss of innocence of the 1960's and the hardened realities of the 1970's, but I think there’s more to it. Screenwriter, Robert Towne originally wrote a more optimistic ending in which Dunaway’s character survives, but Polanski insisted that she die. This seems to me to be more of a reaction to the tragic loss of the women in his life – first his mother and later his wife. Nevertheless, as an artist, he was able to use the tragedy of his life in order to create one of the finest examples of American filmmaking, and what may be the most revealing expose on the corruption and perversity lurking beneath the surface of Los Angeles to date.

The Tenant, made in 1976, may be Roman Polanski’s last (to this point) great psychological thriller, though not his last great film. It is the concluding entry into what is loosely referred to as his "apartment trilogy" which began with Repulsion and continued with Rosemary’s Baby. The story bears more than a few obvious similarities to Rosemary’s Baby, but he takes the idea a step farther. The Tenant tells the story of a mild-mannered Polish bachelor living in Paris, named Trelkovsky (played by Polanski, himself), who rents an apartment filled with American character actors. Shelley Winters is the concierge and Melvyn Douglas is the landlord who demands peace and quiet in his building. There’s a spectacular opening shot which cranes across numerous upper-floor windows and finally down to the street level as Trelkovsky enters the building – an unusually bold movement of the camera from master cinematographer Sven Nykvist, though a typical Polanski opener. It seems that the apartment that he is renting belonged to a woman who committed suicide by jumping out of the window. Soon, he meets a beautiful stranger played by Isabelle Adjani, who was a friend of the former tenant. It’s not long before Trelkovsky begins noticing some creepy individuals staring menacingly at him in his apartment from across the courtyard. Then the paranoia begins. He believes that the other apartment dwellers are attempting, with witchcraft, to turn him into the former tenant in order to get him to commit suicide. The scenes in which his paranoia begins running amuck and he actually starts dressing like the former (female) tenant, are among the most disturbingly funny sequences in any of Polanski’s work. The ending may be my favorite in his repertoire because it is just so boldly and perversely funny, weird, and terrifying in equal doses. The Tenant is bolder and probably takes more risks than Rosemary’s Baby, though it may or may not be an overall superior film. This is one of the dividing films of Polanski’s career – some swear by it and others (even Polanski admirers) despise it. In some ways this is the best of the three films I have chosen to analyze, and in others it is the worst; and so it goes with The Tenant because, like the best of Brian De Palma, there is very little middle ground. The strengths of the film lie in the boldness of the material he begins with as well as his continuously maturing visual and psychological techniques. And once again, as with Rosemary’s Baby and Chinatown, the deeper one penetrates the calm, quiet exteriors of this ordinary Paris apartment building, the more sinister its inhabitants become. It’s not the blatant satanism of Rosemary’s Baby, nor is it the endless political corruption of Chinatown, it’s just a bunch of people who want peace and quiet and may be willing to take some unusual measure in order to ensure that. While watching this film, one can almost catch a glimpse of David Lynch and what was to come with cinema, just around the corner.

I consider myself one of those people who believes that David Lynch may be America’s premiere film artist working today, and specifically, Mulholland Dr. may be the finest film of the last five years. Like Fight Club and Memento, Mulholland Dr. has had fan-boy’s across the country pillaging it’s depths and trying to uncover the many mysteries and symbols of the film. However, Mulholland Dr. reveals something more sinister and with greater artistry than either of the former films. I could attempt to summarize the story (I do, after all, have my theories), but that may be beside the point. It’s a dream of a film, quite literally, and, in some ways, gets to the essence of cinema itself. Naomi Watts is simply stunning as Betty, the perky blonde who just arrived in Los Angeles with stars in her eyes and dreams of becoming a star. Laura Elena Harring is Rita, or at least that’s the name she gives (she has amnesia), a woman with a mysterious past that Betty is determined to help. The film joyfully defies narrative logic as it jumps through scenes and situations; characters change; conspiracies are revealed; fantasy, dreams, and reality blend seamlessly; and who is that creepy guy living by the dumpster. Jessica Winter points out his resemblance to the brief Satan figure of Rosemary’s Baby. "Is Rosemary’s baby living behind Winky’s?" she asks. In David Lynch’s world, you never can tell. Jim Hoberman makes the observation:

Mulholland Drive's most frighteningly self-reflexive scene comes when Betty and Rita attend a 2 a.m. performance——part séance, part underground art ritual——in a decrepit, near deserted old movie palace called Club Silencio. The mystery being celebrated is that of sound-image synchronization, which is to say cinema, and the illusion throws Betty into convulsions. At the show's climax, Rebekah Del Rio sings an a capella Spanish-language version of "Crying." She collapses onstage, but the song continues——just like the movie. For its remaining three-quarters of an hour, Mulholland Drive turns as perverse and withholding in its narrative as anything in Buñuel. Similarly surreal is the gusto with which Lynch orchestrates his particular fetishes. In Mulholland Drive, the filmmaker has the conviction to push self-indulgence past the point of no return.

But behind all of the narrative hoopla rests a scathing indictment of Los Angeles. Hoberman also points out, "It is a poisonous valentine to Hollywood. (This is the most carefully crafted L.A. period film since Chinatown – except that the period is ours.)... The ominously rumbling city is malign and seductive; the movie industry, or should we say dream factory, is an obscure conspiracy." Betty’s inane cheeriness and optimism is slowly destroyed, perverted, and corrupted as Hollywood proves not to be the dream place of its reputation. In Lynch’s world, evil is not a thing reserved for large cities, it is also hostilely active behind the placid veneers of Small Town, U.S.A. (see Blue Velvet). But for all its omnipresent corruption and perversion, Mulholland Dr., like Polanski’s films, has an underlying pitch black humor – take for instance, the scene in which an assassin makes a mistake when killing his intended victim and is then forced to kill two other people and then sets off the smoke detector, or the way in which the young movie director (Justin Theroux) finds his wife in bed with another man (Billy Ray Cyrus), and we can’t forget the Cowboy. It’s been said that the world of David Lynch is not a world which we’d like to live in, yet somehow, we suspect we do.

If I were to guess which of Roman Polanski’s film played the biggest influence on Mulholland Dr. stylistically, I would say The Tenant, but thematically I would say, Chinatown. Polanski takes his macabre subject matter and turns it into a dreamlike fascination, but Lynch takes it and makes it into the essence of a dream itself (or nightmare) by skewing the narrative – a technique Polanski rarely uses. Polanski’s films feel nightmarish, but Lynch’s films are nightmares. Where Polanski prefers to work with a foot firmly planted in the real world, Lynch prefers to create his own. I have mentioned the running similarities in their films through a similar use of dark humor, perhaps to offset the unsettling material or perhaps to intensify it. The ending of The Tenant seems to be the kind of cinematic sequence that Lynch would get off on. It has the kind of absurdity that Lynch manages to make legitimately effective. They also share a similar fascination with the perversely erotic. The "dream sequence" in Rosemary’s Baby where Satan impregnates Rosemary is one of the more unusually erotic scenes in film history. Lynch’s erotic sensibilities are similarly unusual as can be seen in Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, Lost Highway, Mulholland Dr., and dare I say it, even, The Elephant Man. While the eroticism of Mulholland Dr. is certainly more tender than in Rosemary’s Baby, there is still something disquieting about it. In both of their cases, though, much of it is established by the rhythm of their films – it may be a distinctly cinematic phenomenon. The most obvious comparison between Polanski and Lynch is in the handling of Los Angeles in Chinatown and Mulholland Dr. Both directors play on the audience’s perception of Los Angeles as being sunny, friendly, and the place where dreams come true, but as in the opening scene of Lynch’s Blue Velvet, you can have a beautiful, green lawn, but below the surface an insect war is raging. If Chinatown isn’t the most vitriolic Los Angeles film ever made, then Mulholland Dr. is.

In the 1970's, Roman Polanski peeled away the layers of society to the evil that lurked below, and in recent years, David Lynch has proved a master of that very subversion. The influence of Polanski can be seen, sometimes more clearly than others, throughout the body of Lynch’s work, yet the two remain fiercely individual artists. While it may be strange to say, I feel that the perversion of their films is what makes them a joy to watch. They are masters of providing the subversive pleasures of the thriller and the unconscious. They make us laugh when we should be horrified, and they make us laugh when we are horrified. They play with our knowledge and reconstruct our perceptions. In short, they are filmmakers of a rare breed and exercise their art with unusual skill.

Chess Fever

After the propoganda has settled, it's nice to know that the Russian's could also makes some amusing non-political comedies. Pudovkin also made this film that at just over a half-hour in length, doesn't outstay its welcome. It's about a man who is obsessed with chess and a woman who can't seem to get away from it. It has some pretty funny moments that remind you of America's great silent comedians.

The End of St. Petersberg

Vsevolod Pudovkin's take on the Russian revolution and the overthrow of St. Petersburg and the tsars is sheer Marxist propoganda. Fortunately, it is also liberally endowed with the traits of early Soviet cinema's finest craftsmen. It may not be as good as Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin, but it did have a handfull of moments that almost made me want to raise my pitchfork and join the workers' revolution. It has a very simple-minded, Tarzan-like mentality in which worker=good/honorable/noble and capitalist=evil/sneering/ugly. It would almost be funny if it weren't so well crafted. One scene in particular stands out -- when the white army is persuaded by a revolutionary hero to turn on their officers and joint the proletariat. It's brilliantly photographed and edited -- in fact, most of the film is. It's a mastery of cinematic technique with no real heart, and the end shows a Lenin-like heroic figure standing triumphantly over the fallen city of St. Petersburg.

Earth (aka Soil)

In the 1950's, a group of film critics voted this early Soviet film as one of the 10 greatest ever made, unfortunately, since then, it has mostly disappeared into obscurity. Director Alexander Dovzhenko is less cinematically mature than his bretheren, Eisenstein, Vertov, and Pudovkin, but the has the heart that Pudovkin and Vertov lack. This is like the neo-realist film of Soviet propoganda. It tells of an idyllic farming community and their love for life even during the hard times. The farmers take pride in their work and rejoice when they join together to form a collective and buy a tractor. It enjoy expressing its theme through juxtaposing images of dying with images of birth and life. It's distinctly and naively Marxist, but boldly reaffirms the human spirit, though in a non-God, pro-worker sort of way. Dovzhenko shows moments of slight visual poetry, but his editing rhythms are not as well defined as the other Soviet masters. This is a film worth remembering, but I hesitate to call it a great one.

The Long Riders

This is one of those rare Westerns to come out of the 1980's, and one of the least remembered. It takes place not long after the Civil War when a handfull of Rebels, pissed that they lost the war, join forces to rob banks and create one of the most mythologized gangs of the period -- the James/Younger gang. It's not a spectacular film, but aided greatly by an inspired bit of casting: three Carradine's (David, Robert, Keith) as the Younger brothers (Cole, Bob, and Jim), two Keach's (Stacy and James) as the James brothers (Frank and Jesse), two Quaid's (Dennis and Randy) as the Miller brothers (Ed and Clell), and two Guest's (Christopher and Nicholas) as the Ford brothers (Charlie and Bob). It's too bad I can't watch Christopher Guest as a tough cowboy type because I keep seeing the six-fingered man from The Princess Bride or the gay dog trainer in Best in Show. Walter Hill directed the film with more than a little inspiration from The Wild Bunch, but let's fact it, Hill is no Sam Peckinpah. The cast has good chemistry (it should), and there's a spectacular climactic sequence involving a bank robbery the subsequent escape, but ultimately it will be remembered as the kind of film that inspired Young Guns, than the kind of film that was inspired by actually great Westerns.

Maborosi

This film by director Hirokazu Koreeda, is probably one of the more quietly beautiful films to come out of Japan in many years. It's about a young woman whose husband, seemingly out of nowhere, commits suicide/is killed, and the journey that tradgedy takes her on. It has scenese of astonishing lyrical beauty. It's part Yasujiro Ozu and part Terence Malick, and while probably not as good as either, it acheives its own brand of ethereality. There is very little dialogue throughout and the lighting is very natural. It's primarily shot in long-shots, with few close-up's, and very little camera movement. The camera sits and we watch (Ozu was the master of this). The final half-hour has a rare kind of visual poetry to it, as the woman quietly, but desperately asks why her husband would have done such a thing. One shot in particular stands out invovling a very long, static shot watching a slow moving procession move from one edge of the frame to the other.

The New York Ripper

This is the final film in my Lucio Fulci series for quite some time. With this film he strays from his horror roots and into the world of a murder mystery invovling a psychopathic killer of young (sexually active) women. Despite some rather inventive and elaborately staged murder sequences, you just can't make a killer who sounds like a duck very frightening. I suppose the concept itself might have it's appeal, after all there are evil clowns, but the duck-voiced murderer just didn't do it for me. What it did do well (or at least better than average), is establish its victims as characters well before they were to die so that we would have at least some familiarity with them. One thing I dislike is establishing a character only to kill him/her in that very same scene. This film doesn't fall into that trap. Overall though, don't waste your time unless you want to see some chick get her breast slit open by a razor blade.

Layer Cake

These days, it seems that no one does these kind of gangster/action/crime-drama's like the Asians. The British will make an occasional strong entry into the genre, but this isn't one of them. It's got that cross between Snatch and Sexy Beast, though I wasn't a huge fan of those films either. It's about "businessmen" and of course their business is drugs. Apparently somebody liked it because on the strength of this film, director Matthew Vaughan (his debut), has been offered the reigns to X-Men 3. He shows some promise and has flair, but so does Guy Ritchie. Fortunately, it has the lovely Sienna Miller, and the always watchable Michael Gambon as the guy at the top of the ladder. Then there's Daniel Craig who has a kind of cool to him, but most of that is probably because he bears an unusual resemblance to Steve McQueen which can't hurt.

Love on the Run

Fraincois Truffaut concluded his memorable Antoine Doinel series with this this film. Unfortunately I broke an unwritten rule by watching these out of order, and I have yet to see two of them. It began with his masterpiece (The 400 Blows) and then I saw the third entry (Stolen Kisses), and now the fifth entry. Throughout the series we watch Doinel grow from a mere lad in the first film, to now a 30-something who just got divorced. Doinel is always played by the excellent French actor, Jean-Pierre Leaud who kind of reminds me of Christian Bale. He has the advantage of never seeming to age and being an incredibly likeable, complex, and charismatic presence. It's too bad, though, that this is the least of the three in the series that I've seen. Even Truffaut was disappointed with it. However, it's thoroughly entertaining. Remember that scene in Jerry Maguire at Tom Cruise's bachelor party they are playing that video of all his ex-girlfriends telling about him and his insecurities? Well, that kind of what this entire film is -- a collection of characters from the previous films learning about the man (there are repeated "flashbacks" to scenes from the earlier films). It's memorable in that it has Truffaut's warm-heartedness and for the fact that viewers of the series have watched Doinel grow up. For those of you who have seen The 400 Blows, you know that Doinel is probably one of cinema's most memorable characters because he is so personal and real to Truffaut, and it continues. But ultimately, this one doesn't do that character and its director justice. Probably the best example of a series in which a character grows from childhood to adulthood is Satyajit Ray's Apu Trilogy. See The World of Apu, that does what this film could have done.

A Night in Casablanca

And so it goes, I wasn't expecting much from this later, lesser-known Marx Brothers film, but darned if it didn't turn out to be one of their funniest films. I understand that it was originally intended to be a parody of Casablanca, but it gradually developed into its in own film. It's about a hotel, a hidden treasure, and an the Nazi that wants it. Of course when the Marx's show up, mayhem ensues, and that just the way I like it. There's an inspired scene when the Nazi tries to pack his luggage but is unaware that the brother's are hidding in his closet and trunk -- must be seen to be understood. It also features what may be their most action-packed climax when they are charsing down an airplaine (about to take off) in a truck. Comedy at its finest.

Crash

No, not the David Cronenberg film about people who have a fetish for sexual intercourse during car accidents (obligatory disclaimer). This Paul Haggis' film about racism in Los Angeles. Watching this film, one might get the impression that the only topic of conversation amongst Los Angelino's is about race, because that's about all these characters talk about. I suppose the issue is hyperbolized in order to make his point that racism still exists despite the fact that we would prefer to sweep it under the carpet, but still. It's actually a very humane film despite it's occasionally overbearingly preachy tone. Fortunately, it doesn't make the mistake of singling out any one group, everyone is this film is guilty of racism/stereotyping/misconceptions -- whites, blacks, latinos, Iranian, Asian etc. It certainly has a strong cast, however at just under two-hours, I didn't feel that we got to spend adequate time with any of them as say in a three-hour film like Magnolia or Short Cuts. I must mention Matt Dillon, who is an actor that I feel has never gotten the recognition he deserves. In my opinion, he is the standout as a racist cop who, we later find out, is actually a human being with motivations. The film has a few unusually poignant moments that are a testament to strong filmmaking, but I don't think that the film is ultimately as successful in doing what it wants to do. It got me thinking about humanity in general, but not about racism. It's a good film that didn't leave me with what I was hoping it would leave me with. Actually the review that I most agree with is from The Village Voice Michael Atkinson who I usually despise.

The Beyond

Many have described this as Lucio Fulci's masterpiece, but it's not. Poor Mr. Fulci seems to have a disturbing obsession with sado-masochism and grisly human suffering, though few know how to create a zombie like he did. You might be asking yourself why I have been watching so many Fulci films recently, and that's an appropriate question. This film is about a woman who inherits a Louisiana hotel that was built over one of the seven gateways to hell, and it's about to be opened, unleashing all of it's fury on humanity. If hell is anything like this film, then I have been effectively convinced away from its torments.

Hi, Mom!

In some ways, Brian De Palma's first feature film sums up his entire career. It's been said that to see one DePalma film is to see them all, yet I would also point out that you need to see all of them in order to understand one, and I mean that as a compliment. This may be his zaniest and most self-conscious film to date, filled with improvisations galore, and it's easily his most openly funny film -- and it is funny. Robert De Niro gives the Clark Kent performance of his career, seeing as how this was made before he exploded in Mean Streets. It's wildly disjointed and something tells me that I wouldn't have liked it as much if it had been more straightforward. The centerpiece of the film is shot like a black and white documentary involving a group of bold white people who attend an audience participation play about what it's like to be black in America at the time. In it, they are painted black and the black actors are painted white and they then proceed to rob, insult, rape, and injure their "black" audience. It's a difficult sequence to watch for a number of reasons (one of which being the light-hearted nature of the film makes it seem out of place), but if nothing else, it's some of the boldest filmmaking even of the era. The first half of the film involving De Niro voyeuristically filming apartment dwellers across from his apartment in various sexual acts for a producer of porn films, is vintage De Palma. And the scenes in which he attempts to seduce Jennifer Salt are priceless. It's, for the most part, a joyful film that throws everything out onto the table, including the kitchen sink and leaves it's audience wondering, "what the hell did I just watch?!"

A Man Escaped

Paul Schrader called Robert Bresson one of the "transcendental" directors (along with Ozu and Dreyer, though I would go farther and add Bergman and Tarkovsky to the list). He was a master a minimilist style that was deceptively simple and often utilized profoundly spiritual metaphors or direct subject matter. This film is about a Frenchman who is imprisoned by the Nazi's in France during WWII. His single minded focus is escaping the prison -- a feat that all of the other prisoners point out is impossible. In fact, there isn't much more to the story than that, but as I said, he is deceptively simple. The preparation for the escape and the escape itself are magnficent to watch -- some have compared the sequences to Hitchcock, though I think that is unfair because Bresson worked on a plane that was distinctly his own. It isn't as overtly religious as some of his other films such as, Diary of a Country Priest or Au Hasard Balthazar, but the idea of being imprisoned and escaping is rife with metaphoric possibilites. It isn't an exciting film, but it is suspenseful and beutifully assembled. The New Wave directors found their share of inspiration from Bresson due to his minimilist style and use of non-actors, but even in the 60's when most French filmmakers where made irrelevant by the New Wave, Bresson continued making films his own way and I thank him for it.

Dune

In some ways, this is probably one of the most fascinating and visionary works of science fiction ever put to screen. In fact, David Lynch turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi in order to adapt Frank Herbert's novel. To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure the specifics of the plot (it was a bit confusing, though not in a Mulholland Dr. sort of way), and I was never really sure who most of the characters were, but by that point I didn't really care because I was immersed in Lynch's visuals and imagery. What I do know is that it's about this rare spice that is only found on the desert planet, Dune, and this spice apparently holds the universe together (or something like that), anyway it's important. So everyone is fighting over the spice, but it is guarded by these giant worms. Then comes along a Messiah figure who was prophesied to restore order. Along with films like Blade Runner and Tron of the same period, this was radically innovative in the use of special effects. It is a visionary work, but I wonder how much of the vision was Lynch's own and how much is Herbert's novel. It's ecclectic cast includes: Kyle MacLachlan, Brad Douriff, Jose Ferrer, Linda Hunt, Virginia Madsen, Jurgen Prochnow, Patrick Stewart, Sting, Dean Stockwell, Sean Young, and Max von Sydow.

The Leopard

All I can say is, wow! I haven't seen a truly great movie in quite some time, and this is a masterpiece. Director Luchino Visconti has created the kind of epic whose influence can be seen in films such as all three Godfather films, The Deerhunter, Bernardo Bertolucci's epic masterpiece of a failure 1900, and well, any film that has a significant wedding scene. It stars Burt Lancaster in what may be the finest performance of his career, as well as Alain Delon, and Claudia Cardinale at her most sensual, but make no mistake, the film belongs to Lancaster and Visconti. Lancaster is an Italian prince in the late 1800's when Italy is on the brink of eliminating the monarchy. He is a man who is straddling the line to two ways of life, and doesn't feel at home in either. It's about the passing of an era (always a great themes for such personal epics). Visconti was, himself, born into the Italian nobility, and he clearly knows and understands his subjects (though he later renounced his upbringing to become a dedicated Marxist). All of Visconti's films are directed with a kind of regal elegance -- it's the kind of film a king would make. In fact, it's one of the most visually stunning color films I have ever seen -- from Mario Garbuglia's masterful production design, to Giuseppe Rotunno's absolutely brilliant cinematography (every shot looks like a royal painting). Stunning. Not to mention Nino Rota's score. Fortunately Visconti's politics are more subtle than in many of his other films -- it's not bogged down in visual orgy's of the exploited working class, or the decadence of the aristocracy. It respects it's characters, as do we. I can't go without mentioning the concluding 45 minute wedding sequence which so many critics have correctly called one of the greatest sequences in film history (Pauling Kael says, "It's one of the greatest of all passages in movies."). So much is said with so little dialogue and Lancaster is magnificent as we are watching him and see what he sees. I love Italian cinema, and this is probably the greatest Italian film I have ever seen.

Animal Crackers

Back to the Marx Brothers, I've only got a couple more to go. This was their second film and based on their hit Broadway play of the same name. It's not as good as their next film, Monkey Business, but it's not as bad as their previous film, The Cocoanuts. It still suffers from a poorly used kind of theatrical direction (though not the extent of their previous film). Groucho is the renowned African big-game hunter, Captain Spaulding. From this film comes one his most famous lines, "I once shot an elephant in my pajama's, how it got in my pajama's I'll never know." Though as Pauline Kael correctly points out, the funniest line in the film may be, "Signor Ravelli's first selection will be Somewhere My Love Lies Sleeping with a male chorus." That one had me laughing on and off for quite some time. It's always joyful, even when it's not that good.

Un Flic

This was director, Jean-Pierre Melville's final film, and what a way to go out. The title translates to, "A Cop", though I though it would be some self-conscious film about movies (I should have know better). It has one of those great Melvillian (or Melvillain?) openings involving a silent bank robbery on a rainy, foggy day in a sea side town. Alain Delon plays the effective, though borderline ruthless cop who stops at nothing to catch the crooks. Richard Crenna (oh, yeah) is the ringleader of the thieves. And Catherine Deneuve is the love interest, and you don't hear me arguing. The film also features a second spectacular robbery scene involving a train and a helicopter. It's shot in icy blue tones and directed with that kind of restrained flair that has influcenced such diverse directors as Quentin Tarantino, Jim Jarmusch, and John Woo. Though it may not be as great as his Le Samorai, it's still the epitome of cool, and absolutely no one makes these kind of crime-drama, gangster films like Melville.

Night Train Murders

To be honest, I only rented this for a few reasons: it's Italian, it's mostly set on a train, and the music was done by Ennio Morricone. I was expecting a Terror Train like Italian, horror film, but I got something different. Basically it borrows heavily from Wes Craven's brutally unwatchable, The Last House on the Left (which, in turn, borrowed heavily from Bergman's great, The Virgin Spring). However, director, Aldo Lado claims he hadn't seen Craven's film, the producer had and wanted something structurally similar. It's less brutal than it's American companion, though equally effective. It's a film about violence and revenge, and by the end, had me yearning for some display of compassion (which is a good thing). Lado isn't as stylized as Argento, nor as atmospheric as Bava, nor as gory as Fulci, but there is an honesty and a kind of artistry to be found in his film. Morricone sparsely used score is effective, and the opening credits is one of the most unusual sequences you're likely to find in a "horror" film (though horrifying, it's not really a horror film -- more of a thriller). Watching this, however, makes me want to remake the story yet again, only end it with a display of forgiveness and grace.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Delivers all one could really ask for from a Star Trek film. Many consider this to be the finest film in the series, and it may be, at least from the original series. I, however, am a bigger fan of The Next Generation. But when Kirk, Spock, and Bones team up it makes science fiction fan boy history. Ricardo Montalban is the memorable villain, Khan, and he reminds us of the old Klingon proverb, "Revenge is a dish best served cold," the same quote that begins Kill Bill. I actually thought it was too short, not that I thoroughly enjoyed it (though I did enjoy it), but I didn't feel that the conflict was developed as much as it should have been. But, hey, it's fun.

Monkey Business

After watching a number of sub-par Marx Brothers films, this one was a relief. It's no Duck Soup or A Night at the Opera, but it's probably comparable to A Day at the Races or Room Service. The four brothers are stowaways on an ocean liner (always a good start) and get caught in between two rival gangsters. Chico and Harpo are hired as bodyguards for one of them, while Groucho and Zeppo are hired by the other. I guess all you really need to know is that it's funny and competently directed.

Kingdom of Heaven

Ridley Scott joins the few and the proud of those who have made films about the crusades. In fact, I can't actually even think of another film about the crusades. For some reason I have little desire to write about it, so I probably won't. Suffice it to say it's a good movie, but not great and certainly not profound. Don't take it's idea of religion very seriously, because it's tackled with a typical Hollywood superficiality and then boiled into some mildly truth version of political correctness. Orlando Bloom turns in a strong, if slightly stoic, performance in his first leading role, and I respected his character. Its traditional, though always welcome period cast includes: Jeremy Irons (under-used), David Thewlis (under-used), Brendan Gleeson (who bears an uncanny resemblance to the Ghost of Christmas Present in The Muppet Christmas Carol), Eva Green (displaying that same exotic beauty she had in The Dreamers when she had her clothes on), Edward Norton (who wore a mask the entire time and kept making me think that it would be an ideal role for Marlon Brando) and Liam Neeson rounding out his roles as an important father who dies off early as in Gangs of New York.

The Cocoanuts

The Marx Brothers made this their first feature film in 1929, just as sound was becoming the mainstream. Unfortunately the film was directed like a bad silent film and suffers from an annoying sense of theatricality. I don't even feel that I could call it poorly directed, it just wasn't. Fortunately, no one cares about sophisticated directed when watching the Marx Brothers, they're just waiting for the next joke. In that sense, it holds up despite its primitive technique. It's worth it just to hear Groucho say to Margaret Dumont (who, of course, he is trying to woo for her money) "I can just see you right now bending over a hot stove... but I can't see the stove." It's also one of the rare few films with the lost brother, Zeppo, who suffers from being an incredibly forgetable character even when he's on screen. Features some classic routines that generally keeps it worth watching.

City of the Living Dead

Following his success with the film Zombie, director Lucio Fulci decided to take another stab at the genre (no pun intended). In fact, in many ways, this may be the superior film. If nothing else, he creates and sustains a constant sense of dread -- one can almost feel the impending apocalypse. A priest hangs himself in a cemetery in an appropriately creepy small town, which sets in motion event that will soon lead to the opening of the gates of hell, where the dead shall walk the earth. Fortunately, a young psychic saw the priest's suicide and, along with a reporter, sets out to stop it. The touch of Fulci doesn't become apparent until about the half-hour point when a girl literally throws up her internal organs and then rips her boyfriend's brain out. By that point, there can be no mistaking the director of this film. Fortunately, besides the gore, the intensely creepy atmosphere holds the film together, and the cinematography has a dream-like quality to it that I would think was a fluke and unintentional if I hadn't been aware of it in the directors' other films. It also features a beautifully eerie synth score by Fabio Frizzi. I don't care what anyone says, I love an effective use of the synthesizer despite the fact that it's obviously... synthesized.

Medium Cool

The revolutionary spirit is alive and well. At least it was in 1969, and probably still is in the person of Haskell Wexler, the great cinematographer who also decided to write and direct this film. I admit it's certainly a bold piece of leftist filmmaking especially considering it was distributed by a major studio. A film like this would never be widely distributed today whether it was left or right leaning. It's about an arrogant TV reporter/cameraman, played by the underrated Robert Forster (who would later go on to be "rediscovered" by Tarantino in Jackie Brown) who finds it increasingly difficult to distance himself from his subjects. The film opens on the aftermath of a car wreck, no one is around except two cameramen who are casually photographing the wreckage as we hear the muffled cries of the crash victims. Once they get their shots, the walk back to their car, call 911, and drive off. But as the times grow more politically aware, so does he (racial tensions, riots). The climax involves the riots at Democratic National Convention. I find a beautifully ironic when anti-war protestors begin to riot, but apparently Wexler misses the joke. He fills the film with potent imagery and a social consciousness, but lacks the profound philosophy of cinema and aesthetic sense of his inspirations (Godard, in particular). Bold, yes. Passionately crafted, certainly. But ultimately too heavy-handed and "serious" to affect any real change.

Go West

I was expecting more from this Marx brothers farce about the old West. As it is, however, I probably found myself laughing less frequently than in any of their other films with the possible exception of Love Happy. At one point in the film, the brothers high-jack a train and tie up the engineer, and when the the train begins to go out of control, Groucho goes over to the tied up engieer, removes the gag from his mouth, looks into the camera and says, "This is the best gag in the whole picture." He may be right. Unfortunately, not even a decent musical number could rescue this one. However, I will admit that no film with the line, "There's something corrupt going on around my pants, but I just can't seem to locate it," can be all bad.

Midnight Express

"Joey, have you ever been to a Turkish prison?"
-Captain Oveur, Airplane!

From the very beginning of Alan Parker's film, we are thrust into the middle of a situation. A young man seems nervous as he carefully tapes a number of concealed objects to his body. In my post 9/11 mentality, my first reaction was to think bomb -- he's a suicide bomber. But no, he's a college kid in Turkey trying to smuggle hashish back to America. Of course he gets caught and sent to a hellishly inhuman Turkish prision. For being such a flaming liberal, screenwriter Oliver Stone sure does have an almost pornographic fixation with brutality. The prison has one of those great, barbaric wardens (is there any other kind?) who seems to get his jollies by torturing the inmates. In fact, in the world of Oliver Stone (and movies in general), the real dregs of society aren't in prisons, they're running them. That asides, it's a generally well crafted film with a strong performance by Brad Davis who would go on to play Jackson Sholz in Charitos of Fire. Speaking of, this film was produced by David Puttnam who would later go on to produce Chariots of Fire. John Hurt is always a welcome presence in films, and it also features an interesting score by Giorgio Moroder.

The Big Store

Here is another of the lesser films in the Marx Brothers cannon. It has Margaret Dumont and the typical Marx Brothers villain, which is always a welcome familiarity. It also features some decent laughs and a manically inspired climactic chase scene through the department store. Many critics criticize their films for having obligatory musical numers in which the brothers show off their world-class musical abilities (Harpo - harp and Chico - piano). I always look forward to those scenes because they really are amazing musicians and it provides a calm interlude for the insuing madness. In some ways the musical numbers save this otherwise lackluster film.

Do You Remember Dolly Bell?

This Czech film from director Emir Kusturica gives a distinctly European (third-world European, for that matter) look at a young man's sexual awakening. Before you roll your eyes and say "Oh, just what we need another one of those kind of films", realize that when Americans tell this kind of story it inevitably turns out like American Pie. It is trivialized and made the brunt of some juvenile gross-out humor. In Europe, however, it is taken more seriously and treated with respect. Don't misunderstand me, it's not a great a film, but it is similar in feel to some great films such as the Czech classic, Closely Watched Trains or Nikita Mikhalkov's Burnt By the Sun. It has a distinctly Slavic feel, everything from the visuals, to the dreary environment, and the father who spends most of the film proclaiming the virtues of Marx, though I get the feeling that it's because of Marx that he's sufferring. Dolly Bell is the actress/entertainer that our young hero falls in love with, and it's a kind of touching romance.

The Night Strangler

Darren McGavin returns as Kolchak in the sequel to The Night Stalker. It's basically the same as its predecessor, but this time he's in Seattle and dealing with a mad, zombified doctor. So, everything I wrote in my review below, also applies here. Overall, however, I think this is the superior of the two. It's more suspenseful all around, and the thought of knowing the truth and having no one believe you is terrifying, which this film captures as well as I've ever seen. Kolchak can certainly be an annoying and persistent SOB, but that's what makes him a good reporter and an interesting character. Besides, John Carradine is always a welcome presence as the owner of the newspaper.

Holiday Inn

This Irving Berlin musical boasts the teaming of Bing Crosby who sings and Fred Astaire who dances and they both seem to always go after the same girl. It's also the film that introduced the song, "White Christmas" which has since become a perennial classic. It's not a great musical, nor is it distinctly a Christmas movie, though that's what it's most commonly associated with. It's a likeable enough film, but not really a good one. There's even one musical number done in "black face" which isn't particularly offensive (it certainly isn't meant to be), but it certainly wouldn't go over well today. I'm in no hurry to make this one of my holiday regulars.

The Night Stalker

Many call this the finest made for TV movie ever made, and at one time it was the most popular. Darren McGavin is Kolchak, a Las Vegas reporter who is determined to get to the bottom of a series of strange murders involving bite marks and a loss of blood in the victims. He challenges his bosses, the cops, and anyone who gets in his way that they are dealing with a vampire, but of course no one believes him. It's fairly suspenseful at points, but the real terror doesn't come from the scenes with the vampire, but the scenes in which Kolchak has compiled mounds of evidence that they are dealing with a vampire, but the authorities still refuse to believe. It becomes even more terrifying when they are finally convinced of the vampire and how they react. Richard Matheson who was also responsible for Duel wrote the script, and no one does this kind of thing better, but my one problem with his scripts are their use of voice-over. Understand, I'm not one of those anti-voice over Nazi's, but I've never liked the way he chooses to integrate it. Other than that, it's made for TV at its finest.

Going My Way

No less than Jean Renoir once said that Leo McCarey understood people better than any other Hollywood director, and that has never been more evident than with this film. Bing Crosby is Father O'Malley who has been reassigned to lead a struggling church with an aging head pastor, Father Fitzgibbon, played wonderfully by Barry Fitzgerald. O'Malley is young, kind, and more modern than Fitzgibbon. He uses his love of music (it's Crosby after all) to reform a gang of young hoodlums that all seem like James Cagney wannabe's. The Bells of St. Mary's was a sequel to this film (see my review below from April 18th), and while Going My Way doesn't have as many distinctly memorable scenes as St. Mary's, this is easily the superior film. Crosby and Fitzgerald are both excellent, and it's just difficult to dislike Crosby in the first place, but when he's playing such a likeable and loving guy, it's all the more. The Christianity of this film is taken as seriously as your likely to find in a 1940's film, and emphasizes the importance of selflessness and charity. It's perhaps a mite overly dramatic at points, but McCarey is truly one of the most warm and human of directors, and the ending is a real earned tearjerker.

Touchez Pas Au Gribisi

No one makes those film noir, crime dramas like the French, especially in the 50's and 60's. The title of the film I believe translates to "Get Your Hands Off of the Loot". Jacques Becker was one of the more well respected pre-New Wave French directors. It's an understated film with little action, but a lot of interaction. There's one stunning scene involving a double cross on a dark, country road with maching guns. It's very well staged. It also has one of those immaculate French gangsters with the stylishly graying hair, well-pressed non-pretentious suit, and calm demeanor that doesn't even flinch when a gun is put in his face. These were the kind of films that would have a great influence on the New Wave directors that would begin to make their splash only a few years later. Tarantino has also done his share of borrowing from these films and their characters. It's a classy film and a French specialty.

Rififi

After escaping the blacklist in the U.S., director Jules Dassin found himself making films in Europe. The first part of the film involves four thieves getting together and planning a daring robbery. The second part is the robbery itself which is half hour virtuoso sequence in which the robbery is performed with no dialogue or music. The final part involves the kidnapping of one of the robbers sons by another bunch of thieves in order to obtain the loot. The robbery has become a famous piece of cinema in its own right, and it really keeps your eyes glued to the screen, but the real success of the film comes in the final part when they are forced to realize that crime doesn't pay. I sense that this film had quite and influence on Jean Pierre Melville who began making films at about this time that felt very similar to Rififi. Truffaut once called this the greatest film noir he'd ever seen and that's quite a compliment.

Land of Plenty

In honor of this Wim Wenders film, I feel the need to go more in depth than just a typical blog entry. It's the kind of film that demands examination and response, which is what I intend to provide. Be forewarned, the following will be as much a political discourse as film analysis, so if that's bothersome to you, then don't keep reading.

Mr. Wenders is undoubtedly one of the world's most important filmmakers working today. In that sense, it's unfortunate that this film has not (and probably will not) pick up a distributor in the U.S. It's been well-received around the world, but won't be shown here, and I think I understand why. Apparently the distributors liked it but aren't sure how to market it because it's either a liberal film with Christian undertones or a Christian film with liberal undertones, so who is it to be marked to? As a politically conservative Christian, I felt those same reverse pulls.

It tells the story of Lana, a 20-year-old girl who is returning to American after living most of her life as a missionary in Israel. Michelle Williams, who plays Lana, deeply surprised me -- after seeing a handful of episodes of Dawson's Creek, I decided I really didn't like her, but here, under Wenders' direction, she blew me away. Simultaneously, it tells the story of her uncle, Paul, a Vietnam vet who, in recent years (i.e. post 9/11) has taken to surveillance across the streets of Los Angeles, determined to single-handedly stop terrorist cells opperating in the U.S. He's not working for the government, he's working for himself, but sees himself as doing his duty to the country that has always been good to him. John Diehl, an actor I was unfamiliar with going into the film, is superb as Paul. In fact, I think he brings a depth and humanity to the character, that I felt may not have even been intended. It's a difficult role because he spends most of the film acting to himself and talking to himself, recording his findings in a tape recorder. It's a tough role that he makes work. Paul is Lana's only living relative, so when she arrives back in Los Angeles, she determines to find him. She works a Christian mission in inner city L.A., where she feed the homeless and provides shelter. One day, while Paul is following an Arab, that he suspects has terrorist intentions, Paul follows him to the mission where Lana works. The Arab is shot in front of the mission, bringing Paul and Lana together. She then becomes a "source of information" to him from the inside. Eventually, they find themselves taking the body of the dead man to his brother in a remote, California desert town. All the while, Paul is uncovering the trail to the heart of a terrorist organization.

Now, for the politics of religion. Lana is a sincere and genuinely sweet, nonjudgmental woman. I only wish the film could have been as nonjudgmental as she was. The pastor of the mission she works at is one of those Christians who comes dangerously close to saying that you can't be a real Christian unless you're in the inner city caring for the homeless. A few times he goes off on how Washington (i.e. the Bush administration) has spent so much money on a war across the ocean and virtually ignores the poverty and homeless situation in America. Perhaps a just criticism, and one that I don't know enough about to respond to. However, this seems to be the kind of film that has a truthful and profoundly orthodox view of Christianity (which it does), yet believes that Christianity in America has been high-jacked by the Right. After all, the Gospels are all about helping the poor and needy, right? Yes and no. The true teaching of Jesus lend themselves to the political Left. Herein, I have a problem. First of all, American liberals have a bad tendency to say that the Left is about the people and helping those in need, while the Right is about patriotism, loyalty to a country rather than people, and helping those are already wealthy while ignoring the poor. You'd be hard pressed to find someone in this country, liberal or conservative, who would say "to hell with the poor" and mean it. No one wants to see their fellow countrymen suffering and impoverished. So, once that fact is understood we can move on to the real difference between conservatives and liberals: how to go about fixing the problems of poverty. We differ in methods, not concepts. The Left leans towards saying that the government should allot funds to various programs that directly deal with the poor (welfare, MediCaid, food stamps, etc). The Right, however, tends to shy aways from these large government programs, and instead believes that through incentives to businesses and investors, people will be more encouraged to spend and produce, thereby creating more economic capital. It is a capitalist system after all. It is the governments job not to provide for people, but to encourage and foster the opportunities for individuals to succed for themselves. Now, granted, this is simplified view of both sides, but hopefully it gets the point across. All that is to say, I get upset when conservatives are branded as the heartless rich who only care about greed and bombing unsuspecting Middle Eastern countries. My second problem, is in saying that Jesus advocated liberal values. Jesus didn't advocate liberal values, neither did he advocate conservative values. Jesus did not adhere to any manmade political doctrine, He only ahered to Himself and the work of God. Political doctrines should adhere to His teachings, not the other way around. This is where we can rejoice is honest difference of opinions, because not everyone is going to agree on the specifics of His teachings, but as long as we, as Christians, are all focused on the work of Christ in this world, then Left and Right should cease to matter. I feel the need to do some honest, self-reflection at this point because I have to admit, that if I were to see movie of this quality that supported the idea that Jesus endorsed conservative values, I would probably be singing its praises, and not writing lengthy blog entries about it. I admit, this is wrong by my own statements. But as a political conservative, I like to see my values supported, and I would imagine that the same is true of liberals.

Now, on to the next issue. This is the first honest, post 9/11 film that I have seen. It is a film for now, that might have some univeral applications. It has the kind of passion of a filmmaker who has something to say and has to say it right now. I has the passion of immediacy and succeeds brilliantly. It has that kind of Christian, humanitarian liberalism that's very anti-war and pro-peace (as if those in favor of the war in Iraq are all turned on by the idea of death and destruction). Paul is determined to protect America and won't let terrorists undermine all that we stand for. Innocent people died in the World Trade center. A character responds to that by saying that the people who died in the towers would want others to die in their name. A clever emotional appeal (as if to say that the war on terror is just an American revenge ploy). The thing is, the world is safer thanks to the war on terror, and Iraq is a free country no longer under the tyranny of Islamic fundamentalists. There may never be an answer to those long asked questions of Christianity and Christians as to whether or not there really is such a thing as a just war, that can be reconciled by Biblical teaching. Some say yes and others no, and I can respect and honest pacifict even if I ultimately don't agree. All I can say is that I sleep soundly knowing that America and the world is safer thanks the actions we have taken in the Middle East.

Back to the film. While I may not always agree with its politics, I respect its complete honesty. It's a film that I feel that I can also respond honestly towards, and causes me to think about why I believe the things that I do. What more can you ask from a work of art, and this is a work of art. It was shot on DV (oh yeah), over an 18 day shoot, and it looks fantastic. Los Angeles has never seemed so real. It feels like a real city and not merely a place where a movie is set. Wenders has always been concerned with places and the search for home. His two greatest films Paris, Texas and Wings of Desire are two of the finest examples of this theme in film history. Here, however, Wenders almost seems to be maturing as a person and a filmmaker, by taking the next step. In this film, while place and home are two very important factors, he is moving beyond and trying to say that ultimately people are more important than places, where in his earlier films he seems to be saying the opposite (even if he never believed it). The importance of people and places merge beautifully in this film. Paul is a man concerned with a place (America) while Lana is concerned with people and showing God's love. She may be finest openly Christian (non-saint or apostle) character in film history, certainly in the pantheon of greats. I love American and what it stands for, not what it should stand for or what it could stand for, but what it does stand for, but God values people more than He values land or even ideas, and this film demonstrates that.

My one problem with the film artistically is in the handling of Paul's character. He's the kind of guy that liberals can look at and either pity or laugh at for his blind patriotism, nationalistic cliches, and naive devotion to a lie (i.e. America); or they fear him for being that guy who actually believes that we could be in danger. He would end up being borderline one-dimensional if not for the fact that he's an ex-vet messed up with Asian Pink. The fact that he's an ex-vet becomes the "explain all" for his behavior. If he seems odd just chalk it up to the fact that he's a messed up ex-vet. As I mentioned earlier, it's also a testament to John Diehl's performance that he makes Paul feel much more human and sympathetic than he was probably intended to be.

I honestly wish that more people would get a chance to see this film. It has the courage to address issues that others shy away from, or address in only the most superficial kinds of ways. As you might know, Scott Derrickson, a Biola grad, is credited with story credit on the film, and a solid backbone he provides. Wenders works carefully off of Derrickson's story and creates two memorable characters, an enlightening relationship, and a few things to say about where we are today, right now. I appologize if this feels a little bit disjointed, but I really care about this film and its integrity, and feel the need to provide my honest responses, because that's what it asks for.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Apparently, Douglas Adams created quite a cult following with this series of books, and I suppose I can see why. I knew very little about the series before coming into the film, so I can't speak as a fan or an expert. It's the kind of story written by one of those joyful atheists who, rather than getting depressed and angst-filled over the questions of the meaning of the universe, decided to laugh about the meaninglessness of it all and satirize those who would seek the answers. It's never less than an amusing film, and, at times, unusually clever, but it's not a good film. It has its moments and boasts an impressive cast, but ultimately, doesn't hold up. I did, however, enjoy the voice of Alan Rickman as the manicly depressed robot. Very dry. Very British. And, while I generally love that, this may be one that's primarily for the fans.