The Train

During the last days of Germany's occupation of France, German Colonel Von Waldheim (Paul Scofield) arranges for a collection of priceless art from a French museum to be shipped via train to Germany. The museum curator (Suzanne Flon) enlists a cell of French Resistance fighters, led by railroad inspector Paul Labiche (Burt Lancaster), to rescue the paintings "for the glory of France." Labiche refuses to waste lives saving paintings, but a complicated series of events results in Labiche commandeering the train anyway. However, Von Waldheim is obsessive about his cargo, and Labiche and his colleagues must go to extreme lengths to stop him.

The Train is a truly brilliant movie. As a rousing action film, it is among the best of its kind. It also works as a thoughtful mediation on the cost and meaning of warfare. Skillful direction by John Frankenheimer and two extremely talented leads cause both ends of the film to come off extremely well.

The movie is brutally honest in its examination of war. Labiche says early on that paintings aren't worth risking lives, and a comparison between the value of human life and the value - artistic and monetary - of the art is repeatedly raised. Dozens of lives - French and German - are lost during the mission, callously thrown away to preserve the paintings. Labiche doesn't understand why so many people must die for the sake of art - but that, in and of itself, is largely the film's message. At one point, Boule (Michel Simon), the cranky old engineer assigned to drive the train, justifies the mission by tying it to "the glory of France". It doesn't seem overly convincing to the audience, but then, is saving paintings representing France's national heritage any less of an abstract idea than patriotism itself? If nothing else, the paintings serve as a physical manifestation of national pride, and they are a viable object to fight for - something that can be touched. The brilliant climax, however, provides a stark and brutal answer to Labiche's dilemma; afterward, there can be no question what he values most.

First and foremost, however, the movie is an action film. On a technical level, it is brilliant. The film has an atmosphere of gritty realism which has rarely been surpassed by films of this type. The Train is filmed in crisp black-and-white, which adds immeasurably to the movie's stark, gritty feel. Labiche's heroics remain completely within the realm of the possible, and he wins more or less by luck. There are many impressively-staged sets, with steady dolly shots and pans around crowded rooms and station platforms. The movie's set-pieces are brilliantly staged, including the air raid on the train station, the massive train crash using three real locomotives, and the final confrontation between Labiche and Waldheim. Few war films are as realistic and believable as this, while remaining entertaining and exciting. Maurice Jarre contributes a subtle, effective score to the proceedings.

Burt Lancaster gives a truly exceptional performance as Labiche. An actor capable of over-acting on occasions, Lancaster restrains himself and gives a serious, thoughtful turn as the French Resistance fighter who is forced into a mission he doesn't believe in, who values the lives of his colleagues over abstract ideals and suicide missions. He performs his own stunts, and his physicality serves the role very well. Labiche is tough but not indestructible; but in the end, he is a man who will simply not be stopped, regardless of his personal feelings or the obstacles in his path.

Just as impressive is Lancaster's counterpart, the late, great Paul Scofield (A Man for All Seasons). His character is obsessed, but not insane. As a man who appreciates the art, he feels it his duty to save the paintings, and will go to any length at all to save them. Scofield gives a fiery, intense performance, making Waldheim a sympathetic and well-rounded character. His final speech to Labiche, as they face-off beside the wrecked train, is poignant and moving in its own twisted way, spelling out the themes of the movie in a most eloquent manner.

Supporting the two leads are a roll call of top-notch French and German talent: Jeanne Moreau as a French war widow who briefly romances Labiche; Suzanne Flon as the idealistic, determined curator; Albert Remy, Charles Millot, Michel Simon, and Jacques Marin as Labiche's colleagues; Wolfgang Priess, Richard Munch and Jean Bouchard as Von Waldheim's colleagues and henchmen.

The Train is simply one of the best, most realistic and entertaining war films of all time. It is to the immense credit of Frankenheimer and his skilled cast and crew that they were able to pull off both realism and entertainment without sacrificing one or the other. 9/10

On the Waterfront

You'll have two film reviews. I rewatched two of my old favorites, On the Waterfront and The Train in the last twenty-four hours. Instead of writing new reviews, I'll be lazy and copy and paste my old IMDB comments for them here.

On the Waterfront

Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando) is a failed ex-boxer who is now essentially working as an errand boy for crooked longshoreman union boss/mob chieftain Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb). Malloy rebuffs attempts from the police to enlist him for questioning when one of his friends is murdered by Friendly's thugs, afraid that he will be perceived as a "rat" by his co-workers at the docks. However, the inquiries of his dead friend's sister (Eve Marie Sant) and the driven local priest (Karl Malden), along with the refusal of his hit-man brother (Rod Steiger) to follow boss's orders and kill him, drives Terry to do the right thing - no matter what the cost.

"On the Waterfront" is undoubtedly one of the great achievements of American cinema. Directed by Elia Kazan, who is best remembered for his role in aiding the HUAC investigations into Hollywood in the early '50s, the film has been read as an attempt to explain his involvement in the investigation, with the mob standing in for the Communist Party and the dock workers as his colleagues in Hollywood, many of whom were blacklisted and lost work over the investigation - and many of whom never forgave Kazan.

This is certainly an interesting way to look at the film, and there is some credence to it. At first, Terry, a generally good guy who has hit a rough patch in his life, is reluctant to aide the Federal investigation because he doesn't want to betray his friends and he fears the backlash against him. But the efforts of the lovely sister of his best friend and the kindly but driven preacher drive him to do the right thing - and ultimately his colleagues stand beside him and reveal Johnny Friendly for what he is - a cowardly crook - expressing Kazan's hope that he would be forgiven for turning against Communists in the film industry

.In real life, this didn't quite happen; Kazan was continually ridiculed for his role in the HUAC investigation, which, for all its excesses, was not chasing after ghosts. To be fair, unlike the (now provably real) Communists in the State Department and elsewhere in the US government/military, liberal intellectuals and artists in Hollywood who were seduced by Communist idealism weren't really a threat to American security, as misguided as their views might appear today. Nonetheless, it's something of a shame that such a talented director was so ridiculed for doing what he thought was right by his clannish colleagues.

Politics aside, "On the Waterfront" still holds up very well today, in no small part due to the acting. This is one of Marlon Brando's finest performances, when he was at the height of his talent, well before he became an overweight caricature of himself. Terry Malloy is a character who, while not particularly bright or insightful, is driven by a determination that there is something wrong with blindly sticking up for his friends. Once he sees what his bosses are, he risks everything in order to do what's right. He's bitter about his failed boxing career, which we learn was largely sabotaged by his brother Charley, and his inability to connect with something greater than being "a bum". Every scene Brando is in is brilliant; this is, simply put, one of the greatest performances of all time, completely naturalistic and utterly believable.The cast is filled with other brilliant actors, with Eve Marie Sant wonderful as Edie, the girl who Terry falls for and drives him in the right direction. Karl Malden gives a powerful performance as Father Barry, a truly inspirational character who is completely honest and clear-cut in his views of right and wrong. Lee J. Cobb is wonderfully understated as Johnny Friendly, with Rod Steiger delivering the finest performance of his career (with the possible exception of "Doctor Zhivago") as Terry's conflicted brother (the famous taxi scene between the two is justly considered one of the finest acting moments in film history). Like Brando, Steiger would become a self-deprecating ham late in his career, but here he gives a truly powerful, believable portrayal of a man torn between love for his brother and serving his boss.

There are so many aspects that one could focus on with the film, and I'm limited in what I can say. Skilfully directed and shot, with a wonderful script by Budd Schulberg and one of the greatest casts ever assembled, "On the Waterfront" stands today as a powerful, inspiring drama. 9/10

Cat People

"What do you MEAN someone is remaking this movie!?! Cat Time!"

Our first class for Intro to Film Genres was last night. I will post a list of films we'll be watching shortly, but I will note that all of our films are clustered in the rather concrete genre of Horror, and the fluid, indistinct "super-genres" of melodrama and film noir.

Our first film was Jacques Torneur's Cat People, the first of nine horror films created by Val Lewton's RKO studios (other notable titles include I Walked With a Zombie and The Leopard Man). Although undoubtedly restrained by limited budget, the film has a palpable atmosphere of dread and foreboding far beyond most of its modern counter-parts - and like most horror films, it has a plethora of interesting issues to explore (and dissect, if you will) - and in this case, it's actually good - perhaps even great.

To paraphrase my colleague Ms. Harriman's excellent article on Mad Love, I can't claim to be a big fan of the horror genre. (To be honest, I haven't even seen a lot of the classics like Dracula or Frankenstein, so I have no pretension of being an expert on the genre- I merely opining on what I've seen.) I find the modern slasher and "torture porn" genres to be particularly abhorrent; grotesque gore and ridiculously over-the-top violence isn't really my style, although to be fair I do often get a nice laugh at some of it. It takes a lot to impress me - style, thoughtfulness - but most horror movies, at least in this day and age, are contrived around cheap scares that quickly grow tiresome, either of the monster-in-the-dark sort (what Pauline Kael called a "Boo Movie") like Alien (which may be scary at first, but quickly loses its impact through repeated attacks), or the gore-soaked splatter fests like Halloween, Friday the 13th, and (God help us) Saw. Dario Argento is the only horror director I can claim to be a fan of (excluding Hitchcock, who doesn't really count), and even his movies are instances of style over substance (but what style!). These aforementioned films lack subtlety, intelligence and imagination (maybe some small points for thinking of creative ways to spray blood across the screen), and thrive mostly on cheap thrills of sadomasochism and oft-written about sexual fetishization; quite frankly, I'd rather watch something like Leprechaun in the Hood, which at least doesn't make any claims to creativity or brilliance, and is at least worthy of a few (intentional?) laughs, than any of the tiresome and redundant Halloween films. Cat People, however, is another kettle of fish entirely, a masterful piece of expressionism that relies on photography and suspense to bring its tale creepily to life.

Cat People tells the story of Irena (Simone Simon), a Serbian emmigrant in America who is clearly not normal. She is an introvert who keeps portraits and sculptures of cats around, has no friends, loves the dark, and is feared by any animal she comes across. Irena's life seems to change when she falls for Oliver Reed (Jack Holt), an ordinary guy, and the two quickly get married - but Irena refuses to consumate their relationship, for fear that she is a Cat Person, a group of cursed witches who take on the form of panthers when aroused to anger or lust. Irena and Oliver's marriage quickly grows strained, and Oliver soon turns to his close friend Alice (Jane Randolph) - who has unrequited romantic feelings towards him - for help. This arises, and soon Alice and Oliver find themselves the target of an escalating series of alarming incidents, being stalked by a panther-like creature who seems bent on destroying them.

Cat People is an interesting film in many aspects. Perhaps we should start with the cinematography and camera work, by Torneur and Nicholas Musaraca. Constrained by a relatively low budget, Torneur channels his talents elsewhere, making the most of shadows and lighting, creating an indescribably eerie atmosphere. All we see are vague but disturbing hints of impending danger - shadows reflected on a wall, growling noises, a shadowy outline of a panther prowling through the darkness, panther paw-prints turning into those of high-heeled shoes. The use of lighting, shadows, sound, and editing - particularly in the two major set-pieces, Alice's long walk through Central Park and her encounter with the beast in a swimming pool - creates an eerie, repressive, and decidedly nightmarish atmosphere. This is probably best, as the few glimpses we see of the panther are laughably fake - the film's big attack scene illicited a great deal of laughter in my classmates - but perhaps that's all for the better. Unseen monsters, both in real life and fiction, are the scariest kind, after all. The movie takes a clever Hitchcockian twist at the end, where the "explanation" provided actually serves to obfuscate what really happened - better that we (well, the film's characters) live on in our delusions that the world is a rational, safe place.

As most horror movies are wont to, the film deals extensively with sexuality and morality - and is surprisingly explicit for a movie of its era. Throughout the film, Irena refuses to "kiss" her husband because of fear that it will unleash her bestial side. Substitute kiss for screw (pardon my vulgarity, but clinical terms are not really applicable here) and this dialogue becomes much more on the nose. Isn't it always the case in slasher films that the sluttish, big-breasted and oft-naked teen girls who have lots of sex get whacked, while the virginal heroine is the lone survivor? Oliver may drawn emotional to his old friend Alice, but as he states, he has an indescribable physical attraction to Irena. Eventually, the kindly psychiatrist (Tom Conway) who tries to help Irena falls victim - with deadly results. Irena is a not a femme fatale in any meaningful sense - she does not deliberately set out to seduce Oliver or the Doctor - but she radiates an irresistible, palpable, long-repressed sexuality that soon takes physical form. As in so many future, horror films, sex equals death and destruction, and only the virginal (or at least virtuous) survive.

Cat People is a mite dated, and the acting isn't anything overly special - although Simone Simon is appropriately lovely and alluring as Irena - but for the most part, it works brilliantly. It's got an atmosphere that most films today, horror or otherwise, couldn't even hope to replicate. It gets a solid 9/10 and a definite recommendation from me.

Lean Quest! Blithe Spirit

Watched two noteworthy films today, and will do a seperate review for each of them, though perhaps not both tonight.

The latest conquest of Lean Quest is another Lean adaptation of a Noel Coward play, Blithe Spirit, described aptly as "an improbable farce". Although Coward was reportedly dissatisfied with the end result, for my money it's Lean's first truly "great" film, after two entertaining but largely formative works, In Which We Serve and This Happy Breed.

Blithe Spirit involves an improbable love triangle between author Charles Condomine (Rex Harrison), his nagging wife Ruth (Constance Cummings), and his equally shrewish ex Elvira (Kay Hammond). Nothing too strange about that, except that Elvira happens to be, well, dead. A ghost, to be more precise, summoned after a silly seance by the eccentirc medium Madame Arcati (Margaret Rutherford). Elvira's specter drives Charles off-the-wall, and Ruth is, needless to say, not happy with the arrangement, particularly since she can't see her competitor. After Elvira accidentally kills Ruth, Charles is in even more of a pickle, and he must convince Madame Arcati to save him from this rather uncomfortable situation.

Although the premise is rather far-fetched and silly - it's the only straight fantasy film that Lean would ever make, not to mention one of Coward's only forays into the genre - Blithe Spirit is a fabulous film, a comedy of manners as much as it is a supernatural farce. Coward, the man who defined English wit, provides a screenplay full of lyrical, literate barbs and zingers, ever-so-British but also rather clever. Of course, nobody really seems all THAT surprised or frigthened by the ghosts in their midst - I guess it's just not that big of a deal, really. The film is surprisingly risque for a 1945 British film - dialogue includes Charles complaining that Ruth is "compiling an inventory of my sex life" (and doing a bad job of it), and even - gasp! - an actual profanity! The ending - which I'll not spoil - is perhaps predictable, but a wonderful bit of irony all the same. This is the kind of humor (or humour) that the Brits excell at, and it's a treat.

The film does have a smidgeon of depth, exploring as it does themes of class and romance. The movie pokes fun at the British middle class, who engage in frivolous leisure activities like seances to kill time, instead of doing things of actual value or import. More interesting, is the movie's witty take on romance. Is love really everlasting, or is it merely temporal? This a question that Charles has to face when confronted with his current wife and his long-dead first spouse. Although the romantic might wish to believe the former, the fact is that Charles and his battling brides fall under the latter category - and even then, in this case, love is nothing to really write home about. None of the characters are really likeable: Charles is something of a conceited misogynist, Ruth is a harping shrew, Elvira is possessive, mean, and something of a floozy, and the Madame is an inept charlatan. This, though, is very much the point, and it only adds to the fun.

Lean has his usual team (Coward, Anthony Havelock-Allan, Roland Neame) and as usual, gets strong results. Again working in Technicolor, he and cinematographer Neame make much more creative use of it than in This Happy Breed, where the color looked nice but didn't necessarily add much to the film. The green lighting affect on the ghostly Elvira is quite interesting, and the use of shadows and lightings for the ghostly entrances and activities of her and her rival. The movie may not have a stand-up scene that grabs you and won't let go, but the whole movie is quite impressive technically, making it stand out from Lean's previous two works. Even if an atypical film for Lean, this film clearly shows him, in his third feature, already firing on all cylinders, his tremendous talent in full bloom. From here, we go straight to Brief Encounter, and then on to Dickens, and its only a matter of time before we're whistling Colonel Bogey or charging into Aqaba with 1,000 Arabs.

Rex Harrison is at his best in the role of George, both charming and arrogant at once, sinking his teeth into Coward's repartee (and baring more than a passing resemblance to a certain Professor of Linguisitics he would much later portray). Harrison is clearly having fun with the role, a condition which follows for the rest of the cast. Constance Cummings and Kay Hammond are perfectly cast, and are just plain fun to watch as the two battling specters. Margaret Rutherford steals her every scene with a lovably broad and humorous performance as the hapless Madame Arcati, a charlatan whose one success leads to disaster for all concerned.

Blithe Spirit is not a masterpiece, nor one of Lean's best movies, but it's the first of his movies which could be called "great". It's an excellent, beautiful, and wonderfully unique drawing room comedy, and all other considerations aside, it's a load of fun. 8/10

Remakes of Remakes

Interesting article by DVD Savant debating the issue of the virtues and creativity inherent in cinematic remakes. Quite well-written and worthwhile, the norm for Mr. Erickson, to be sure.

The bloated, super-long The Greatest Story Ever Told is on TCM tomorrow afternoon. Even though Sir David directed a few scenes of it as a second-unit director, I think I'll give it a pass - perhaps a Blithe Spirit will suffice. My first Intro to Film Genres will be tomorrow, if that doesn't work out.

Speaking of remakes: I'm also going to revive my political blog at http://lordcutlerbeckett.wordpress.com/. We can hope that blog will be sustainable with college and this blog.

Lean Quest! This Happy Breed

The David Lean quest continues today with Lean's second film (and his first color work), This Happy Breed. This was actually Lean's first solo effort, as he had co-directed In Which We Serve with Noel Coward. Coward allowed Lean, his protege, to adapt one of his plays to film. The result is a fairly entertaining, albeit inevitably dated movie, which is affective in showcasing the British at their best.

The film covers the lives of a middle-class British family, the Gibbons, in the interwar period, where Britain struggled to recover from the horrific carnage of the Great War, manage unrest both political and social, and return to a life of complacent normalcy - seemingly in disregard for the world around them. Frank (Robert Newton) is an old-school, conservative gent who served with distinction in the war; Ethel (Celia Johnson) is his quiet, hard-working, straight-laced wife; Reg (John Blythe) is his headstrong but loving son; Vi (Eileen Erskine), his quiet older daughter; and Queenie (Kay Walsh), the lovely but self-absorbed and impulsive younger daughter who struggles to manage a relationship with sailor Billy (John Mills), but finds his long absences intolerable. Most of the film's plot and problems come from the children, the young generation trying to find their way in uncertain times and strike out on their own, while their parents try to hold the family together and cling to their old ways.

The movie was made, it would seem, as a wartime morale film - not really a "flag-waver", but something to keep the average Limey's spirits up as they sifted through the rubble of their apartment. It embraces conservativism of the most benign sort - complacency and nostalgia. The key line of the movie, perhaps, is when Frank chastizes Queenie's complaining about their middle class status: "We are what we are, and if you don't like it, you can lump it." All over Britain, Tories and fuddy-duddies no doubt applauded this line, or at least nodded their heads sagely. Good show, sir. How dare anyone want to rise above their station in life! The nerve!

The sword cuts both ways though, as illustrated when Reg joins up with a group of socialist agitators engaging in a strike. The movie is not overtly hostile to the socialists, rather depicting them as rather foolish character, whose problem is that they "want everything done quickly" - not a very British proposition. Sam Ledbetter (Guy Verney), Reg's agitator friend, can be seen by auteurists as perhaps a very loose precursor to Tom Courtenay's Strelnikov in Doctor Zhivago - except that he's depicted as a goofball rather than a force of righteous indignation. (The Fascist orator we see much later is equally clownish, but he is just a background character.) Not only are people unsatisfied with their state in life in the wrong; those dissatisfied with the general state of the world need to be taught a lesson. Those pesky kids...

However, in fairness, it should be pointed out that the movie doesn't really favor political conservatism, but rather social and personal complacency. The movie repeatedly states that one should accept their lot in life - not necessarily a bad proposition in and of itself, although the film's seeming refusal to acknowledge that change or self-improvement/advancement is rather awkward. The key to happiness is complacency, marriage to the right person, and finding one's station within society (and a healthy dab of patriotism to boot) - and you'll have a kindly old father or fiancee to set you straight, should you stray. And yet, the movie isn't angry, senile old codgers complaining about the old days and the state of today's youth. The youngsters, Reg and Queen, are portrayed as simply easily misled, confused youngsters who ultimately renige on their mistakes. This is understandable, given the time and the climate in which the film was made, but it inevitably dates the movie for the modern viewers, and perhaps inspire a chuckle or two. Fortunately, though, it's relatively mild and soft-hearted, and so the message doesn't come across in an obnoxious or bull-headed manner.

However, in its second half, Breed does become a bit more thoughtful, as tragedy strikes the Gibbons family - first Queenie runs off with a much older man, then Reg dies in a car. This would be melodrama were it not so well-done, and it's too Lean's immense credit that these tragedies don't come across as mawkish, but rather poignant and even moving.The movie's best scene is undoubtedly when Ethel, having just finished preparing a meal, leaves the kitchen for a moment, only to learn of Reg's death. The camera lingers on the kitchen, the impeccable garden, with children playing outside and happy jazz music playing on the soundtrack - until Ethel re-enters. The shot of Ethel walking into frame, a grim, uncomprehending, is a moment of astonishing power, and I dare say, one of the best moments of Lean's career.

The movie is shot in glorious Technicolor, which honestly surprsied me. This would be Lean's first color film, but given that the film is shot primarily on location in South London (and studio sets), it hardly seems necessary. Ronald Neame's photography is relatively straightforward and undistinguished, and one almost misses the gorgeous, moody black-and-white which Lean and his cinematographers (Neame, Guy Green, Jack Hildyard) worked with in his other early works. Lean's direction has its share of highlights; the parallel shots of the empty house which bookend the film (first foreboding, then familiar), the bravura military parade which is a fore-runner of a similar scene in Doctor Zhivago, and the aforementioned kitchen scene.

The cast is made up of old British pros and up-and-coming talents, many of whom had already worked with Lean, and would be become an invaluable member of his acting repertoire. Robert Newton gives a rather subdued lead performance as model father Frank, quite a departure from the flashy character parts he's best remembered for (Sykes in Lean's Oliver Twist, and Long John Silver in Treasure Island). Celia Johnson (she of Brief Encounter) gives a marvellous performance, and is probably the standout here. Johnson is a remarkable screen presence, beautiful, dignified, lovely and wholly human. It's a pity her film career was rather limited, because in all of her movies she tended to walk away with the show single-handedly. A lovely young Kay Walsh (Mrs. Lean Number Two), a longtime Groggy favorite, is radiant and immensely sympathetic as the wayward Queenie. Lean regulars Stanley Holloway and John Mills pop in for pleasant if unremarkable supporting turns.

All things considered, This Happy Breed is a pretty good film, with some powerful sequences and fine performances. It's also very interesting for its depiction of an uneasy Britain, it's power shaken by four years of brutal carnage, and a new, even more horrifying war breaking out just as soon as they've picked up the pieces. It's pretty low on my list of Lean's, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. 7/10 for the balance of the film; 100/10 for the aforementioned kitchen scene.

Ooh, HANDY!

In my pre-class time killing, I came across this amusing review of the Leprechaun movies, which goes about its business in rather a unique way, I thought. I would love to write something about the Leprechaun movies, but I feel I should wait until I've seen all of them. In any case, class (and later, hopefully, David Lean) awaits...

The Lean Expedition Begins!

Am in between classes right now, on this, my first day of school. I doubt I'll get a lot of film watching done this week, but we'll see what we can do.

First of all, today is Sean Connery's birthday. Let's hear it for the Raisuli! (And, apparently, Tom Hollander's as well.)

Although I haven't been able to finish my Zulu article for various reasons, I am making a declaration of sorts. I have just recently discovered that the Pitt library now has a DVD copy of every single David Lean film ever made! So, as of this moment, I am declaring it as my solemn vow to watch all of Lean's remaining films (7 of 18 yet unseen) in the next few weeks, as convenient - if it kills me. (That seems a mite contradictory, doesn't it?)

Why? Because I am a:



Or a loser. Your choice.

The 39 Steps

Well, another largely wasted day - although, I did find out that the Pitt library has all of David Lean's feature films on DVD! This Dedicated Leaniac will have to get on that ASAP.

Tonight's feature is The 39 Steps (1935), one of Alfred Hitchcock's first "classics". It is very interesting to view it as a predecessor to pretty much of all his subsequent works. The plot, in a nutshell, involves a man (Robert Donat) who finds himself accidentally caught up in a tangled web of espionage and intrigue beyond his comprehension - all the while, being hunted by sinister spies and unknowing authoritarians. While it bares an obvious resemblance to North by Northwest, Hitchcock's later (and much better) prototypical spy thriller/action film, one can see echoes of nearly all of Hitchcock's later works here - distrust of police/authority, the wrong man accused of a crime and damned by insurmountable circumstantial evidence, dubious spies and elaborate, creatively-staged set-pieces.

You know, I've always found it very hard to actually write about Hitchcock. Maybe there's some Freudian-Jungian subconscious thing about my not wanting to deal with sexual and violent themes explored in his works (I highly doubt that), maybe it's just because Hitch's films are largely visual, with very lightweight plots and characters that don't hold up to any real scrutiny. The 39 Steps is a case in point. In the last analysis, it's a rather banal Hitchcock - as mentioned above, Hitchcock would deal with these themes many, many times in the future and much better. And this movie also features one of my least favorite Hitchcock touches - the maddening vagueness as to what exactly is going on, and what the stakes are (like, who are the spies working for? What are they doing? Why should we care, if you won't let us know?). I know that's the concept of the Macguffin, and I know it ultimately doesn't matter a great deal, but dammit, the way Hitchcock used it on occasion (and uses it here) is just aggravating.

All things considered, though, The 39 Steps isn't a bad watch. It's fast-moving, with nice cinematography and editing, good performances and snappy banter by Robert Donat and Madeline Carroll, and at a mere 86 minutes it doesn't even have. But really, it's best seen as a stepping stone - and foundation - for Hitchcock's later, better works. 7/10 seems a fair rating.

Anyway, classes start tomorrow, though, so we won't have this much time for that much longer. I have an intro to Film Genres class, which will hopefully be interesting. At least it will give me the opportunity to write (a lot more than I'd like to, I'm sure) and check off some films on those 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die books. I'll admit it; I'm a listomaniac.

The Passionate Friends

My first day of college didn't end until about 4 o'clock this morning, because TCM was showing for the first time one of David Lean's most obscure and forgotten movies: The Passionate Friends. Although my lethargy prevented me from getting 100% experience, I still enjoyed the film a good deal, enough to provide you with a review.

The best way to describe the film? You've seen Brief Encounter, right? (If you haven't, you'd better get on that, Mr. Wannabe Film Buff.) Well, start with Brief Encounter. Replace Ceilia Johnson with Ann Todd (Lean's then-wife and one of England's biggest movie stars). Shift the focus from Laura and Alec to Laura and her husband. Add Claude Rains, some fine location shooting (in the French Alps) and crowd scenes. Lather, rinse, repeat. Voila. After about 91 minutes, you have The Passionate Friends.

Based on a novel by H.G. Wells (?), The Passionate Friends is very much a David Lean film. It deals with Lean's usual themes of infidelity and its consequences on individual people. Lean is one of the most human of directors, in this writer's estimation; he doesn't shy away from depicting his protagonists as flawed human beings, and his refusal to glamorize adultery and romantic entanglements (in and of themselves) shows a degree of sophistication and maturity beyond most directors. The film treats our protagonists, Mary and Steven, as two lovers who missed an opportunity as young people - Mary refused Steven's proposal because she "didn't want to belong to anyone". Now, she realizes that she made a mistake, but by now she's comfortably married to a successful businessman, Howard Justin (Rains), who looks upon romantic love as something to be, if not feared, than avoided for its unpredictability. Mary is forced to make an impossible choice between two men she loves, albeit in different ways, and who each love her. This is a theme Lean often worked with, and would explore in more depth in Doctor Zhivago and Ryan's Daughter. The course of true love never did run smooth, least of all in a David Lean movie, where the choice isn't simply between the usual bad or at least unsatisfying husband and the dashing lover. Things just aren't that simple.

The cinematography (by Guy Green) is another remarkable aspect. Lean's later epics are of course astonishing visual spectacles, but his early films show a mastery of black-and-white cinematography with few peers in the annals of cinema. This has to be one of Lean's biggest films up to this point, making extensive use of beautiful Alpine scenery, showing that even this early in his career, Lean had an eye for the beautiful and picturesque. But he maintains the gorgeous use of expressionist lighting and angles which mark the best of his early work (Brief Encounter, Oliver Twist), keeping the focus entirely on the characters, and it's this aspect that impresses more than the pretty scenery and location work.

The film contains a trio of top-notch stars. Ann Todd was one of England's biggest stars of the time, and she gives a knock-out performance. She's more glamorous and perhaps less down-to-earth than Ceilia Johnson in Brief Encounter, but that comes with the territory of casting a star - and certainly she has the talent to pull her character off. Trevor Howard, on the other hand, pretty much sleepwalks through his role; his character is basically a retread of Alec Harvey (even being a medical professor), only with much less focus on him, which definitely has an adverse impact on his performance. However, the film is quite easily stolen by Claude Rains, as Todd's conflicted husband who isn't sure how to deal with the situation; Rains pulls off all of the character's emotions regarding the situation, making him believable as a tortured husband in a near-impossible situation. In fact, I might even be so bold as to say that this is Rains' best performance.

Although not one of Lean's best works, The Passionate Friends is still a highly entertaining film. I certainly recommend it for romance fans, and anyone who likes David Lean. It gets an 8/10 from me.

Back at Pitt

I'm back at school, putting an end to this excrutiating summer. I'm settling into my solo dorm, which. Last film of the summer was (what else?) Leprechaun in the Hood.

TCM had a Trevor Howard day today, which unfortunately I've missed most of. The very obscure David Lean film The Passionate Friends (also starring) is on - at 2 AM. I'll have to see if I'm up for staying up that late.

I want to write something Zulu-related before it slips my mind, so stay tuned for that. School starts on Monday, but I've got most of the weekend free, so I'll try and write something in that time.

Aaron Sorkin Article

Well, I watched Zulu Dawn yesterday, and to be short, it wasn't that good. Not bad enough to warrant writing off its potential as an essay subject (although that will have to wait), but it came off basically as a TV movie with a great cast. Even better is that Netflix sent me two copies at once... Which means we might not get Leprechaun 3 before I go back to school.

Anyway, I read this excellent interview with Aaron Sorkin - up there with Robert Bolt as my favorite screenwriter ever - today. I particularly like this statement:

"The Internet... (is) a bronchial infection on the First Amendment. Nothing has done more to make us dumber or meaner than the anonymity of the Internet."

I feel like I should be offended, but I'm not sure I would disagree.

I'm going to be posting lightly, if at all, until I move back to Pitt on Friday, where I'll have unfettered Internet access and MY OWN DORM! In the meantime, perhaps one of my prospective contributors would care to lend a hand...

Mad Love by Analee Harriman

(My first column by a guest contributor, Ms. Analee Harriman. Hopefully she'll become a regular. - Groggy)

I’m not a big fan of horror movies. Well, wait, that’s not exactly true. I’m not a fan of TODAY’S horror movies. Blood, guts, and gore have never really interested me, and I see no real reason for a horror movie to need an excess of any of the three to even be considered a horror movie. I’d much rather watch one of the classics. By classics, I mean a horror movie that doesn’t throw buckets of fake blood everywhere, has a slightly odd storyline, and is most likely in black and white. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt to have a name like Karloff, Lugosi, or Price attached to it either. Most of the time, that’s an added bonus. Give me a good old-fashioned horror movie that relies on the creepiness of the actors, sets, costumes, and lighting involved ANY day.

One of the unquestionably creepiest (and best, in my opinion) horror movie actors of all time is Peter Lorre. The first time I saw a Peter Lorre film, I was 17 years old. It was a Friday night in October of 2005. To be precise, it was the 28th of October, and I remember this because it was the same night that my neighborhood had its Trick-or-Treat night. Now, at 17, I was too old to trick-or-treat properly, but not too old to get candy from any neighbor who saw me taking my little sister and her friend around and decided to reward me for being such a good teenager. Anyways, that’s beside the point.

When we got home (and after my little sister’s friend had left), I threw my candy in my room (so my dad couldn’t steal any of it) and flopped into our big green recliner with the remote control, hell-bent on catching a good horror movie. At the time, AMC was having a marathon of the old horror movies, and while they weren’t showing Frankenstein until the next morning, I figured I could still catch something worthwhile that I hadn’t seen. I changed the channel to AMC, and discovered to my delight that we had arrived home a mere 5 minutes before the start of the movie Mad Love, a movie I had been dying to see that movie since I was in 5th grade and read about it in a horror movie book. I watched the movie with my parents and little sister, and I was not disappointed. It was amazing.

A few nights ago, for some reason or another, they were showing quite a few Peter Lorre movies on Turner Classic Movies. One of the movies they were showing was Mad Love, and after a show of shoving my friend out of the apartment post-chicken nuggets and Velveeta Shells & Cheese dinner, I came back upstairs with a few minutes to spare before the movie. I had nothing else to watch that night, and as I had no homework to do and had done the dishes earlier, I felt I deserved a reward, and that reward was going to be Mad Love on Turner Classic Movies, by damn it!

Mad Love is actually a remake of a silent film from 1924 called The Hands of Orlac, which is a film version of the story with the same name. The premise of the film is thus: a pianist loses his hands in an accident, and a doctor attaches a new pair that just happened to come from a recently deceased convict who just happened to like to kill people by throwing knives at them. I think you see where this is going. Anyways, one of the biggest plot points is that Dr. Gogol (played by Mr. Lorre) is in love with a woman named Yvonne Orlac (played by Frances Drake), who is married to the protagonist and resident Unfortunate Piano Player Stephen Orlac (played
by Colin Clive).

There’s just one problem with the good doctor: the man is batshit insanely in love with Yvonne Orlac. He buys the wax figure of Madame Orlac from the theater where she works (as an actress who plays women who get tortured and killed in various ways…way to not be misogynistic there, Karl Freund!), then takes it home with him…and SERENADES IT. Later, at the climax of the movie, after Madame Orlac has snuck into his home, accidentally broken the statue, and takes its place, Gogol sees her move and thinks that the statue has come to life. So what does he do? He does what any self-respecting man who thinks the effigy of the love of his life has awakened like Galatea and come to him. Oh, wait, no he doesn’t.

Instead of having the decency to see whether or not this "wax figure come to life" is any different from the living breathing counterpart, he starts to strangle her! Because, in case you missed it at the beginning, when they stated it the first time, Dr. Gogol believes that each man should kill the thing he loves. Hence, instead of riding into the sunset with Waxy, he decides to start doing the Hitchcock movie Frenzy a few decades too early and without the proper strangulation tools. In case you missed it, by this time Dr. Gogol has gone completely batshit insane. Since it’s a 1930s horror movie, I don’t think I have to tell you how it ends. You’ve probably figured it out already.

Peter Lorre took what could have been a mildly unsettling character and turned him into the stalkery male admirer that makes all straight women cringe and all gay men run for cover. This is a man who could scare the living hell out of people in Germany just by whistling a cheery tune-you’ll understand why if you’ve seen the film M. I’ve seen him do other movies, some horror, others along the non-horror lines of The Maltese Falcon, even a comedy. The man was a brilliant actor. He took the character he was given and added an extra spark of creepy or pathos or whatever was needed to make his performance jump out at you without being over-the-top about it.

The gloomy sets, a well-written story, and the brilliance of Peter Lorre all combine to make a wonderfully creepy and unsettling piece of film that’s as timeless as it is entertaining. Feel free to disagree with me if you will, but for me, Mad Love is brilliant. Totally batshit insane, but brilliant. Mr. Lorre, you outdid yourself, and the world still hasn’t found a horror movie actor who can do it quite like you and your gang could do it back then.

Your Classic Movie SUCKS! #1: Amadeus

Hello all! Your humble blog master is bored for the moment, so what better way to alleviate said boredom than to pick on a classic, critically-acclaimed film?

This seems like a good candidate for a recurrng column. After all, who doesn't enjoy writing (or reading) a scathing review of a movie? And all of us enjoy occasionally being the odd man out, the iconoclast who hates the movie everybody else likes.

I'll make it clear: I am not taking on x-classic movie for the sake of being an iconoclast. I genuinely think any films listed in this series either suck, or are at least mediocre, which is a sin for an allegedly "classic" film. If you disagree, you're certainly entitled to your opinion, as I am entitled to mine. In any case, I'm sure x-film's reputation will survive my dissent, no matter how scathing or mean-spirited it may turn out.

With that out of the way, let us proceed to our first victim: Milos Foreman's adaptation of Peter Schaffer's Amadeus.

Amadeus, Or: Poofy Wigs Do Not A Period Film Make

Ah, Amadeus. Perhaps the perfect candidate for this column, if for no other reason than it is flawed in so many ways that its classification as a classic boggles the mind. It's a film that suffers from a number of ailments, including Smugness, Annoying Anachronism, and Bad Casting Disease, among many others. Yes, it has lots of period detail and a decent score by a little-known composer named Mozart. Does that make it a good film? Or, even, a period film?

Let's start with the biggest flaw. There is a class of movies (and plays) that fall under the self-contradictory category of "modern period piece" - a film which uses modern, and in many cases post-modern and (ugh!) self-aware. How one of these could exist is beyond me, but anyway... Amadeus is, along with The Lion in Winter (perhaps the perfect candidate for a future entry), one of the more obnoxious examples of this style of filmmaking. It can work - A Man for All Seasons being perhaps the greatest example of this sub-genre - but quite often it doesn't. In this instance, it's extraordinarily egregious, cloying, and irritating. The dialogue sounds like chit-chat amongst 20th Century New Yorkers, and is not convincing in even an abstract way as conversations of historical figures in 18th Century Austria. For this reason, and for all the great costumes, wigs, architecture and sets, the film isn't convincing for a second as a period piece, merely as a bit of anachronistic, self-aware pop art. The effect is rather disconcerting.

Some may find it a rather pednatic criticism, but hey, I wasn't the one who made the movie a period piece. Is it personal preference? You betcha. Of course I'm going to inject my opinion into an essay. Amadeus seems at times be trying on the airs of a black comedy; if there was anything funny in the movie, I might be willing to classify it as such. As it is, though, it's just obnoxious and annoying, "Oh-look-how-smart (and modern!) we-are!" story-telling. Someone pass me a barf bag.

The casting is really bizarre. Let's start with F. Murray Abraham. Abraham plays Salieri in an extremely subtle performance, with only a few glimmers of emotion. Subtlety can be a virtue. But here, Abraham is subtle to the point of being boring. Salieri is never a really compelling or interesting characer, his character development conveyed in trite, overwrought scenes such as his renouncing God by throwing a crucifix in the fire (YAWN!). This might be forgivable, if Abraham showed the slightest hint of emotion or feeling at any point in the film. Is this really one of the greatest performances in the history of cinema, as I've often heard it proclaimed? It would have been interesting to see the late great Paul Scofield, the original Salieri, play the part; now THERE was an actor who could be subtle without being boring and dull.

Let's proceed to Tom Hulce. Hulce is an extremely off-the-wall casting choice - his best-known part up to this time was in Animal House - and his portrayal of Mozart as an arrogant, air-headed, vulgar rock star is quite disconcerting. It's not necessarily inaccurate, and Hulce's actual performance is a lot more interesting and fun than the brooding boredom emanating from his co-star Abraham. But still, seeing Pinto as the greatest composer of all time is a sight beyond the comprehension of most mortal men. It's to Hulce's credit that he's able to do something with the role.

Let's deal then with the supporting cast. On paper, it's a very good cast - well, some of it - butthey are given the barest minimum of screen time in which to perform. Elizabeth Berridge is excrutiatingly flat, annoying, and out-of-place with a New York accent; she's not at all convincing as Mozart's wife, and one wishes to punch her every time she's on screen. Jeffrey Jones and Simon Callow (the original Mozart, interestingly enough) are the two best members of the supporting cast, but they have virtually nothing to do. The rest of the cast isn't really worth mentioning, save perhaps Christine Ebersole's small role as an actress who infatuates Salieri. Teensy-tiny parts, particularly in this film, would defeat even the best actors. And waddya know, that's what happens here.

From an entertainment point-of-view, Amadeus's biggest sin is that it's slow-paced, dull, and boring. I have no problems with a long or slow-paced film. What I do have problems with is a film that's slow-paced for little reason beyond self-indulgence, and when the time isn't filled up with things worth watching.

Here's the part where I'll have to no doubt part ways with many critics. At least a quarter of the movie seems to be made up of musical performances - orchestras, operas, piano playing, what have you. Instead of inducing an appreciation for Mozart and his works, it induces insomnia and sleep. Now, I recognize that, since we're dealing with Mozart, seeing at least some of his works is a good idea, and probably essential to the story. But do we really need never-ending passages of opera performances, again and again? Maybe I need to refine my taste in music so I could appreciate it more. Or maybe Messers Forman and Schaffer should have realized that this is a film, and putting in a never-ending series of stage performances-within-the-show only slows things to a deadening crawl. When your movie is already annoying, you definitely don't want to throw boring into the mix. Unless you're trying to make some sort of point. How post-modern.

So, in a nutshell: Amadeus sucks on toast. If I haven't persuaded you, then at least I had fun writing this article.

Friday

Watched The Bank Job today. It was a decent heist film without anything terribly original, entertaining without being really involving. Oh well, not a bad waste of 100 minutes, I suppose.



This is the last weekend of summer vacation, which is both good and bad so far as I'm concerned. Zulu Dawn probably won't be here until next week (thanks Netflix!), so scratch that article idea for the moment, and one of my contributors is dragging their feet with a promised (or offered, rather) review. But I'll have something for you tomorrow, although it may be something an eensy-weensy bit... controversial. (Well, to film geeks, at least.)

Why The Dark Knight sucks

Very interesting article I found on my 'Net travels: Why The Dark Knight Sucks. Can't say I disagree with too much of this, although I did enjoy the movie.

(On the other hand, TDK is no longer the #1 movie on the IMDB Top 250. I would be lying if I said that news didn't please me.)

Also, an interesting article by Karl Hungus warning against myopic, selective cinematic nostalgia. This is an interesting topic, and one I might want to deal with myself one day.

I've had a pretty shitty week, personally. Watched Jaws and Zulu since Sunday, had some technological difficulties, watched some Olympics and am trying to organize a response to Russia's rampant aggression. Oh well, school starts in about a week.

I will hopefully get Zulu Dawn via Netflix in the near-future. Since I've heard it to be extremely anti-war, especially in comparison to the original, it will be interesting to compare and contrast it to the original. Do I sense a possible topic for a future featured article?

The Dark Knight

Another celebrity loss: Isaac Hayes died at age 65.

Today I finally got around to watching the uber-hyped The Dark Knight, a film which has been hyped to the moon for a variety of reasons, so much that it is currently Number One on the IMDB's Top 250. So, after weeks of being annoyed by mountains of IMDB threads about it, what did i think?

Well, I thought it was a pretty darn entertaining film, actually. It bites off a bit more than it can chew - a bit too much is covered in too little time, and after the Joker's escape from jail, the movie loses a lot of its interest by becoming repetitive and drawn out. (To be fair, it seems as a general rule that no one knows when to end an action movie these days.) But up until that point, it's a very well-made, entertaining film. The cinematography is nice, the moral issues raised by the movie are quite interesting (how can you fight crime by the rules, when the criminals don't play by the rules?), the characters are for the most part well-drawn and interesting. Most of the flaws are of form, rather than content - if that makes the least bit of sense.

Christian Bale is a very good Batman, and Maggie Gyllenhaal is adequate as his ex-girlfriend. Heath Ledger, who for obvious reasons has received virtually all of the acting hype, is pretty good, relishing his opportunity to play one of the nastiest villains in recent memory - although I wouldn't rate it as the amazing, Earth-shattering turn it's listed as by most critics. The two great supporting cast members are Gary Oldman, who gives us a layered and conflicted Commissioner Gordon, and Aaron Eckhart, who gives a fine performance as the naive Elliot Ness-like crusader who becomes a vengeful killer. The only real question is, why they decided to (apparently) kill him off in his first movie?

So, that's my take. Greatest film of all time? No. Very good for what it was, though. It gets an 8/10, which might be a mite generous, but what the hell, I enjoyed it.

I also watched Jaws 3 today, but I hope you don't expect me to say anything about that... I'll be working on my Pirates article, should be done by the end of the day tomorrow.

Pirates of the Caribbean: An Appreciation and Criticism

This past week, I engaged myself in a re-watching of three of the most popular adventure films of recent years: Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. What started out as a goofy-sounding movie based on a theme park ride turned into one of the biggest pop culture phenomenons of the new millenium. And two of the films, at least, are damned good movies, blockbuster entertainment at its best. They are movies of excrutiating complexity, with many themes, messages, and subplots crammed into their near-three-hour running times.

The Curse of the Black Pearl hit theaters in July 2003. It wasn't expected to be a whole lot worth mentioning, just a dumb summer flick based on a dubious premise, in spite of a cast featuring stalwarts Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush and Jonathan Pryce, and up-and-coming stars Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley. But then something happened, and it became a huge hit. How did this come about?

This is a rather easy question to address: Pearl is a relatively simple film, all around. Not that it doesn't contain its share of themes or ideas, but for the most part it's a grand old adventure film (albeit with a supernatural twist), relatively formulaic (in a good way), featuring a well-structured story, interesting characters, and lots of great scenes of action and spectacle. We have a plethora of enjoyably archetypical characters: the straight-laced romantic hero Will Turner (wooden plank Orlando Bloom), feisty heroine Elizabeth Swann (pre-bitchy Keira Knightley), nasty villain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), stuffy English naval officer Norrington (Jack Davenport), Elizabeth's doting Father (Jonathan Pryce), and of course, Jack Sparrow (Depp). There are lots of great action scenes (including two of the best sword-fights outside of an Errol Flynn or Douglas Fairbanks film), nice visuals (particularly Elizabeth's first encounter with the zombified pirate crew), a stirring, instantly classic score by Klaus Bladet, a sharp, witty script by Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio (who actually had time to develop this project, unlike the sequels) and a nice, typically happy ending. The film's a mite overlong but all things considered, it's a forgivable sin.

Perhaps the biggest asset of Black Pearl is Johnny Depp. He gives us a wonderfully eccentric creation in Jack Sparrow, one of the great film characters of this century so far. Looking like Keith Richards with eyeliner and dirty dreadlocks, mincing like a drunken drag queen, acting like a more fey version of Eli Wallach's great Tuco from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, spouting off a never-ending succession of (largely ad-libbed) quips and non-sequiters, Depp easily steals every scene he's in, and our nice but wooden leads don't stand the slightest chance. He's a charming rogue, an extremely unscrupulous schemer who always finds the most convoluted and improbable ways of getting out of trouble. A question frequently asked in these films is: "Do you think he plans it all out, or just makes it up as he goes along?" Trying to decipher Jack's motivations and unwind his tangled machinations is ridiculously fun. The rest of the cast is adequate-to-good - Geoffrey Rush in particular makes a fabulous, teeth-gnashing yet sympathetic villain, and Jack Davenport is quite good, as his portrayal of the complex Norrington throughout these films will remain truly refreshing and enjoyable - but this film, at least, is Depp's show from beginning to end. Only sporadically in the sequels would Jack reach such a glorious level of irreverent entertainment; this is the original, and by far the best.

So, we have everything sweetly tied up at the end. Jack has his ship back, Elizabeth and Will are together, and Norrington and Swann seem reconciled to that fact. The End. Unfortunately for Will, Elizabeth, Jack, and the rest, Curse of the Black Pearl was a huge success, so they couldn't be left off in a state of never-ending fictional bliss.

The two Pirates sequels are quite interesting in their own way, with their own flaws and rewards, and seemingly in a completely different universe than their simple-minded predecessor. While Dead Man's Chest is a pretty lousy movie barring a few good scenes and admittedly neat visual effects, At World's End is an intriguing film, a sprawling bit of excess that manages to entertain and fascinate even while inspiring a huge degree of incredulity. The latter two movies contain loads of sub-plots, side characters, which simultaneously help and harm the films in question. The phrase which leaps to mind is glorious mess - or, at least it's glorious in the case of one of them.

Dead Man's Chest is a failure for a variety of reasons. Despite a brilliant opening ten minutes, with Elizabeth and Will's wedding interrupted by the arrival of the evil Lord Cutler Beckett (Tom Hollander) and his henchmen (in the midst of a swirling rain storm), and Jack's intro shooting a crow through a coffin lid, the movie never quite decides on what it wants to be. It is by far the darkest of the Pirates films, with Lord Beckett's omnipresent henchmen consolidating power (for nefarious purposes of imperialism and - gasp! - capitalistic enterprise) and more pertinently, the lengthy scenes of Davy Jones (Bill Nighy) and the fishy, undead crew of the Flying Dutchman (well, they would be dark and scary if they didn't look so ridiculous). Too much time is spent setting up the plot, with Macguffins and backstory that are either discarded or contradicted later on. Other than Norrington - interestingly reincarnated as a drunken wastrel, his career in tatters after his unsuccessful pursuit of Jack - our heroes from the original story are pretty much ciphers. Even Jack barely gets to do any scheming, and he ends being a rather lifeless and unfunny cipher, rather than the interestingly complex, cunning rogue of the previous film (and what the hell is with his flirtation with Elizabeth?). The action scenes are mostly lame, degenerating to the Looney Tunes level - the whole ridiculous, excrutiatingly long (and mostly pointless) scene on the cannibal island, and the three-way swordfight on the spinning water wheel. There's no fun to be had here, only dizzying exposition and aggravating incredulity. In the end, the only level on which Dead Man's Chest works is as a set-up for the finale.

At World's End, on the other hand, is a refreshing return to form. Although a mite overlong - the inexplicably surreal Davy Jones' locker scenes, with the multiple Jacks and thousands of rock crabs, are just as long, boring and stupid as the cannibal scenes in Chest - and schizophrenic in tone, with an excrutiatingly convoluted story and fifty-six different subplots that don't always tie together or get resolved satisfactorily (the whole bit with the pirate council comes to very little, and Chow Yun-Fat's much-hyped part is a glorified cameo), it manages to succeed on the level of pure entertainment, which is where it most counts. It starts off with a really dark and nasty opening - Beckett has gone Liberal Caricature of George Bush and is executing thousands of people without trial, including ugly little kids - a very amusing juxtaposition with the Disney logo with When You Wish Upon a Star playing. The rest of the film doesn't live up to that tone, but if there are too many gags with monkeys and midgets, and too much going on, and poor use of supporting characters, and too many implausible and occasionally unsatisfying moments, they're swept under the rug for a lights-out, no-holds-barred super-giant wowser battle scene that is one of the most visually stunning and intense sequences you'll ever see in a PG-13 Disney film (wait, that's a much more back-handed complement than I'd intended). And, here's something - Captain Jack is back to being entertaining.

If nothing else, the two Pirates sequels are complex to a fault, and they worth discussing in some detail. They carry a number of intriguing themes and ideas, even if all of them aren't satisfactorily dealt with, and I shall indulge my inner film student with a half-baked analysis from here-on. There are many aspects of these films we could analyze, but realizing this article is already half the length of War and Peace, I'll restrain myself to a handful of issues, ennumerated below...

One of the most interesting themes of the film is that of Man vs. Nature. All wrapped up in the mythological implications of Davy Jones, Tia Dalma (Naomie Harris) and their ilk, most critics seem too eager to connect Jones to the old seafaring legends and stories rather than say what they actually stand for. Jones lost his humanity through his relationship with Tia Dalma, mutating into a laughable CGI monster with a caricature Scottish brogue, and now his heart is literally out of his body. His crew, trapped between the two worlds, sails the seas with impunity, unleashing the vicious Kraken whenever they see fit to kill a few people for jollies. When Jones arrogantly proclaims "I AM the sea!" he may not be speaking the literal truth, but he is certainly a force of nature far beyond the control of man. Dalma is the sea goddess Calypso, and is an even more overt representation of Nature. Beckett may gain control of the Dutchman ("The immaterial has become immaterial"), and the Bretheren Court might control Calypso (or at least the terms of her release), but both learn the hard way that all this achieves is inviting punishment and revenge. Man can try and control Nature, but failure is inevitable - and doing so only incurs its wrath.

Less discussed by reviewers than Jones is Lord Beckett, brilliantly portrayed by Tom Hollander, who represents a number of interesting themes. At first, he appears to be a fairly typical bad guy - arrogant, calculating, British - but as the film(s) progress, he develops into an interesting symbol, if not character. On a basic level, Beckett functions as a physical manifestation of imperialism (represented by the huge world map painted on the wall of Beckett's office, and later a Chaplin-esque globe in his ship's cabin) and capitalism - a huge company, under the guise of patriotism and progress, expanding its monopoly around the globe with callous regard for human life, only concerned with profit and personal gain. (Hmm... nope, no political message there.) More interestingly, he is also a dark analogue to Jack Sparrow - their shared past and different paths afterwards point to this, and their meeting in At World's End shows them to be, effectively, mirror images of one another. Both men are skillful at manipulating others, in order to save their own skin and advance their means. But the chummy, scraggly, witty and cunning Jack represents freedom, an idea completely antithetical to the clean-cut, cold, and conniving Beckett, who represents imperialism and macroeconomics. Why critics don't seem to pay much attention to Beckett (and the wonderful David Schofield as his glowering "clerk" Mercer) is beyond me, but I guess they were too distracted by Squidface Nighy and his briny crew. Critics.

Therein lies the central conflict of the films: freedom. Jack makes a point of this fact in the original: "A ship represents freedom." In spite of the best efforts of Norrington, in Pearl the Caribbean was still pretty much a wild, raucous place where one could be a pirate and have lots of fun plundering, looting, and otherwise being a criminal. The likes of Beckett, however, want none of it: power and control are paramount, along with a rigidly structured society. Jones has forfeited his own freedom, allowing himself to be controlled by whomever owns his heart. Jack has to make this choice, too, being forced to confront the ultimate question: Is it worth living forever? And how free would one really be, in that instance?

This is all interesting on a thematic level. Unfortunately, some rather clunky attempts are made, in End at least, to connect this with our global situation and the dummy currently residing in the White House. Elizabeth's embarrassing Braveheart-esque speech in End spells this out, treating piracy like an unfairly maligned liberal movement rather than a bunch of cut-throats (a dubious proposition, to be sure). To be fair, though, the Bretheren Court does come across as a slightly more violent version of the UN, with lots of pointless bickering and argument among selfish world leaders that leads nowhere...

But really, reading political subtext into this is rather foolish, even if Elliot and Rossio (both active Screenwriters Guild members) frame the issue in this way; the theme ressonates on a much more basic level. The ultimate dream of a pirate, at least according to these films, is not to plunder and rob and amass a fortune, but to be able to sail the seas, unfettered and alive, forever. This has been the appeal of piracy in fiction, from Treasure Island to Captain Blood to, well, these films: the dreams of being able to live outside of the constraints of society and do your own thing, heedless to rules and laws and the like. Elizabeth is our representative on the spot (at least in Pearl): eager to burst free of the controlling, stuffy society she inhabits, and to experience the world of unmitigated freedom and enjoyability. And she gets to live her fantasy (and ours), getting kidnapped by pirates, managing to escape at fight them off, and being rescued by her Prince Charming in the process. This what not only these movies, but films period, are, in their purest sense - being able to live a fantasy, in a much more direct sense than one could with novels or story-telling.

So, yeah, there is some actually depth and content to these films. But mostly, they are (or should be) for fun. That's why Curse of the Black Pearl is the best, and why At World's End is infinitely better than Dead Man's Chest. As armchair film critics, themes and ideas might appeal to us. But as pop-corn munching theater-goers, we want action, adventure, likeable heroes, hissable villains, cool special effects, a satisfactory climax, and a few good jokes along the way. Adding plots of Dickensian complexity to our fun swashbuckling adventure isn't something that most viewers appreciate, and it doesn't really help the movies that much, save for the purpose of articles like this. Quite frankly, it smacks of self-indulgence as much as anything else. The effort to make these films deeper than something like Die Hard is admirable, but how seriously can you take a movie with zombie pirates and squid-faced sailors anyway?

No, Pirates of the Caribbean are top-notch fantasy films, not political screeds or classic novels. As such, they're pretty darn entertaining. But sometimes less is more, and in this case, Curse of the Black Pearl definitely trumps Dead Man's Chest and At World's End.

RIP Bernie Mac

Yet another celebrity has left us - comedian-actor Bernie Mac died at the age of 50 today.

This has been an unusually grim year: Brad Renfro, Heath Ledger, Paul Scofield, Richard Widmark, Mel Ferrer - and that's just a partial list (see also the "Curse of the Dark Knight" - I'm hoping Michael Caine isn't going to be affected anytime soon!). All that, and stories about Patrick Swayze, Christina Appelgate and Paul Newman suffering from various cancers. Oy.

Watched A Clockwork Orange the other day, which I enjoyed (and it was too over-the-top to be really disturbing), and finished my Pirates of the Caribbean week. Will probably write an appreciation/criticism of the Pirates films, but I'm not 100% sure if it will be an analysis or an essay - whichever one's easier, I imagine.

Wednesday

Been a couple days, due to lack of things to write about. At least, of interest to me.

Morgan Freeman got into a car wreck a few days ago, which, after what happened to Heath Ledger (R.I.P.) and Christian Bale, doesn't bode well for Gary Oldman and Michael Caine. I'd be wary of being cast in any future Batman installments, from now on...

An interesting article here showing why August is the absolute doldrums for movie-goers. Not that I disagree - certainly the pathetically meager offerings so far this month are only supporting the article. I'm curious about one thing, though - is "Space Cow" really Space Cowboys, or am I missing something else altogether?

I watched The Sea Hawk with Erroll Flynn yesterday. You can read my comments in the updated "Tudor Mania" post below. Pretty good, but the TCM print was absolutely awful.

I'm continuing my Pirates marathon with Dead Man's Chest today. I have found that film to be rather bad in my first two viewings, but I think I'll give it another stab for old times sake. At least there's Jack Davenport and Tom Hollander to hold my interest, if not enough of either. Who needs Orlando Bloom or (God help us) Keira Knightley anyway? Certainly, no one needs the ugly, stupid, ridiculous fish people. But that's another article.

Sunday Post/Week in Review

Nothing cinematic to report for now, except a few links:

- Barbara2001 pointed me to this great profile of Peter O'Toole from a few years ago.
- Impossibly long (and appropriately hilarious) reviews of two of the worst movies of all time, The Trial of Billy Jack and Billy Jack Goes to Washington - films so bad that I may, myself, desire to write a screed on my hatred of them.

Lots of playing Sonic the Hedgehog games this weekend - now there's a good time. I still maintain Sonic and Knuckles is by far the best. And Sid Meier's Gettysburg!, of which I have a buggy copy which causes the game to freeze at inopportune moments...

Anyway: As of right now, I am enlisting potential collaborators from around the 'Net to join our enterprise, so within the next week or two we may become larger or more diverse (since I know there's only so much of me you can take). It's merely a possibility though, not a promise.

In the mean-time, so you have something to read: Originally posted on IMDB, here is a brief overview of the films. It was, for me, a rather disappointing week.

Leprechaun 2 - 0/10 - Ugh. It was slightly "better" (in terms of enjoyability) than the first one, but it was still nowhere near the brilliantly camptastic Leprechaun in the Hood. It did have some really funny scenes, though, including the Leprechaun's drinking contest (with a bar full of midgets cheering him on) and the Leprechaun's custom Go-Kart.

The Eagle Has Landed - 7/10 - Based on a novel by Jack Higgins, unread by me, it's a pretty typical WWII commando movie centering around a Nazi plot to kidnap Churchill with a platoon of elite paratroops. It's an intriguing premise with a great cast - Michael Caine, Donald Sutherland, Robert Duvall, Donald Pleasance, Jenny Agutter, Anthony Quayle, Treat Williams - but it doesn't quite live up to its potential. After some interesting scene-setting/character establishment, the movie sets itself up as a suspenseful thriller, but about eighty minutes in turns into a dumb, predictable shoot-'em-up action flick, albeit a well-made one. The cast is adequate: Michael Caine has some nice early scenes, but most of his performance seems tossed off; Donald Sutherland has fun in spite of a laughable Irish accent; Jenny Agutter is bland and unmemorable; Robert Duvall is excellent as the increasingly obsessed intelligence officer in charge of the plan; Donald Pleasance and Anthony Quayle are good in small roles as real-life Nazi big-wigs; Larry Hagman's scenes as the obnoxious, over-the-top American Colonel are ridiculously bad, and not even funny in the least. A great ending helps, but it could have been a great film instead of a modestly diverting one.

Syriana - 5/10 - Utter *beep* This movie is pretentious in every possible meaning of the word: long, convoluted, dull, and full of hackneyed political statements presenting themselves as "thoughtful" and "profound". It presents nothing new, or even very interesting or insightful, about the oil business, the CIA, or terrorism, taking feverishly paranoid, far-left viewpoints all of the above, and does a poor job of tying its various plot lines together (I still have no idea what the hell was going on with the Jeremy Wright-centered plot about corporate corruption). Its worst sin, however, is that it's confusing, convoluted, and boring. I'm more than happy to sit through a film with differing political viewpoints than mine, if it's good. When there's little of entertainment value to compensate, such childish ranting masquerading as profundity tends to piss me off. Direction was competent and the excellent cast is pretty good (I really liked Alexander Siddig and Christopher Plummer in particular), but that's not enough in and of itself to make a good movie.

Gosford Park - 6/10 - This one was a much bigger disappointment than any of the above. I looked at the director, the cast list and the premise and I thought I was in for a rollicking good time. Boy, was I wrong. As a murder mystery, it isn't bad, although it seems Mr. Altman was trying to make some sort of social satire of the British caste system (rather unoriginal, I dare say). If so, I'd say he failed, because there was virtually no humor in the film - I could probably count on both hands the number of times I laughed or smiled. I'd argue that there were simply too many cast members, played by too many "name" actors, and the effect ends up like many of the old war/Biblical epics with casts of thousands being put to waste. Getting x-number of big name actors engaging in lengthy, aimless conversations and letting the camera role does not make good cinema, in and of itself. There were some great performances - a handsome and suave Jeremy Northam, Tom Hollander getting lots of rather mean (but funny) height jokes, the always-lovely Kristin Scott Thomas, Michael Gambon as the cranky, randy patriarch, and Stephen Fry, whose brief cameo provides the film with most of its laughs and energy - but most of the fine cast is wasted in roles that could have been played by any number of actors equally well. And God help me if I don't find Bob Balaban excrutiatingly annoying. This was the one film I watched this week that I was genuinely disappointed by.

The Train - 9/10 - Finally! This movie lived up to its reputation and then some; one of the most stylish, effective and gritty war films. Although the plot is a mite ludicrous (albeit, much stranger things have happened during wartime in real life), the movie remaisn rooted in reality throughout; pretty much everyone who helps Burt Lancaster and Co. in their mission gets shot for their trouble, and Lancaster's heroics are on a decidedly modest and believable scale. It has interesting things to say about the cost and meaning of war (why sacrifice lives for art?) and ties its trainload of paintings into the abstract cause of patriotism wonderfully. Great set pieces, including the air raid, the train wreck and the final confrontation. Lancaster is brilliant, with an unusually understatement (and admirably athletic) performance, and Paul Scofield gives a wonderful turn as the evil, obsessed Colonel Von Waldheim; his final speech in his showdown with Lancaster is striking, and even moving in its own way. A brilliant film, and pretty close to a masterpiece. If nothing else, it's the one good film I watched this week...

In the works is an article on The Train, although I'm not entirely sure what form it will take.

I plan to watch A Clockwork Orange this week, as well as a marathon on the Pirates of the Caribbean films, which may or may not result in an article on said topic.

Happy Birthday Peter O'Toole!

"If God could do the things we do, then He'd be a happy man!"

First of all: I watched John Frankenheimer's The Train yesterday. Brilliant, wonderfully dark war film with Burt Lancaster and the late, great Paul Scofield. I want to say more on it than that, but that will have to wait for another day. After a week of bad/disappointing movies, it was certainly a welcome addition to my film-watching CV.

Anyway, today is the birthday of the greatest actor in the history of the planet Earth - Lawrence of Arabia himself, Peter O'Toole! (How appropriate is it that I wrote a long-winded, ambulatory and pompous article on Lawrence of Arabia yesterday?)

For your enjoyment, since I'm too tired/lazy to write a profile, are some nice video clips of Mr. O'Toole at work. Enjoy!

Lawrence of Arabia:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9QHSeFRsA0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGfAi7Jh2C4

Becket:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DmrqoUCfbPw

The Night of the Generals:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbZ6T7b3nGU

Lord Jim:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCaDCqnb1Nw

How to Steal a Million:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_U1NLjAIS2I

The Lion in Winter:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6gfd6Npe98

The Ruling Class:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryhgjNe7csU

The Stunt Man:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DVR_E8ZIjEA

My Favorite Year:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3UzqqHuB3U

Troy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBmixbd2Jzg

Venus:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHwI-ra05pM

Ratatouille:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPfN_zYKxNQ