Derek failed at finishing his top 100, but there are a lot of solid reviews in here!

[Sven]

#95 - Crossroads

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/Crossroads.jpg

Crossroads is certainly the grooviest, though maybe not the most definitive or philosophical, example of Walter Hill’s obsessions with cultural hegemony and territorial warfare. Premise: Eugene (Ralph Macchio, the darling little fella that we last saw pretending he knew karate, here pretending—quite impressively—to play the guitar) and Willie (Joe Seneca), the grumpy old coot who claims he’s the blues legend Willie Brown, head out to the ol’ Mississippi crossroads so that Willie can win his soul back from the devil. Along the way, Willie never misses a moment to instruct Eugene, who says he’s a “bluesman”, on why it is that Eugene is not a “bluesman”. Among these reasons is Eugene’s heraldry: a well-ish-to-do Italian Long Island kid with a Brooklyn accent as thick as a cannoli, attending the Juliard School of Music. Times ain’t never been so hard on poor Eugene. But the blues are where his heart is, and it is up to Willie, stubborn, ign’nt old man that he is, to teach Eugene from whence the blues originate, both culturally and personally, geographically and emotionally. Meanwhile, Willie’s in dire straits as his impending rendezvous with Scratch himself has left him in an awfully cantankerous way, butting heads with our young Blues grasshopper in a clash illustrating the progress of cultural integration (Eugene’s acceptance, by means of Willie’s desperation, as Lightning Boy at the all-black bar even as being ejected from the all-white bar across the street), miscegenation (Eugene’s blues leaves him in Dutch with Juliard, but his classical training is what ultimately offers Willie his soul), and ultimate assimilation (Willie sees himself in Eugene’s transformation, lamenting “the only thing I wanted anyone to say is: he could really play, he was good.”).

What we have in Crossroads is an attempted reconciliation of disparate times and disparate peoples: past and present, young and old, black and white, city and country. Hill and screenwriter John Fusco, who specializes in revising folklore (Spirit, Loch Ness, the upcoming Forbidden Kingdom), suggest that perhaps these apparently diverse groupings are ultimately as similar as country and rock ‘n roll (as exemplified in the film’s showdown with Jack Bulter, played by a snaky Steve Vai). Which is to say, very. This model is all but disrupted in cinematographer John Bailey’s lovely scheme—the epilogue combines the black and white stock of the film’s folkloric (Willie’s) narrative and the color stock of its coming-of-age (Eugene’s) narrative. In it, Willie, soul in tow, finally is able to look to the future, and Eugene has finally found his mojo. A new deal is forged at the Crossroads, but this time, what once was a negotiation of resignation has become a march towards a united future, apart.

Kristen: I could have gone a couple of ways with this. The other way involved Britney Spears references, and no one wants that, so I present. . . The Ralph Macchio Blues:

I got those ol' Teacher-Looked-At-Me-Disapprovingly Blues
I got a mullet, a gigantic blazer and an old Ethnic dude
I'm in a pretty ridiculous movie
Learning not-completely-justified lessons about authenticity that some pretty entertaining sequences almost excuse.

[SirNewt]

Was the YouTube link insufficient?



Well, I was trying to avoid watching it that way but the quality was actually really good. Thanks for the link. I really enjoyed that.


Why? Best way to get good recs.

I was only kidding. It does, however, begin to make me feel somewhat cinematically inadequate.

[ledfloyd]

Crossroads rules. Nice pick.

[dreamdead]

Sokurov's film is now at the top of the queue. Should have thoughts in a week or so.

iosos' list means that I'll have even more recs to go by. This is fun and humiliating all at the same time.:)

[Sven]

Crossroads rules. Nice pick.

Thanks. It does rule. It's also the first movie on my list that the wife didn't really care for. Sad, but inevitable. I love her anyway.

[Raiders]

Your review makes no mention of Joe Morton who I see in the pictures, so I'll just assume he is as awesome as always.

[Sven]

Your review makes no mention of Joe Morton who I see in the pictures, so I'll just assume he is as awesome as always.

Natch. I realized that my review made no mention, so I made sure to include him in the picture. He is truly great here as Scratch's assistant.

[Marley]

Crossroads sounds like something I'd enjoy. I still haven't seen any films on your list Iosos.

[origami_mustache]

I promise my #95 pick is something everyone is seen.



I personally enjoy and even prefer the lists with a bunch of films I haven't heard of.

I love this thread...keep up the great work everyone.

[Velocipedist]

Father & Son > Mother & Son. I heart Sokurov, though.

[Duncan]

95. California Split (Altman, 1974)

http://www.thehighhat.com/Potlatch/007/block02.jpg

I do not have immediate access to California Split on any format, so in preparation for writing this I checked YouTube for excerpts. I found a few copies of the opening scene, and I also managed to find the ending dubbed over in Spanish. I decided to watch it muted because dialogue dubbed in a different language irritates me. To my great surprise this 7 minute 17 second clip has caused me to question my overall appraisal of Altman as a director. I used to think of him as someone who let his actors riff off of one another’s personalities and let his microphones and cameras capture the proceedings. I have never been especially impressed by his visual style. Even a shot as complex as the opening of The Player didn’t convince me that Altman knew how to use a camera for any meaningful purpose. But the ending of California Split, stripped of sound design and vocal performance, proved that previous opinion wrong.

California Split stars George Segal as Bill Denny and Elliot Gould as Charlie Waters. Bill is a bored journalist who picks up a gambling habit and soon finds himself deep in debt. Charlie is a lifetime hustler prone to taking unannounced trips to Mexico. They meet in a poker room, form a fast friendship and spend the rest of the film episodically wandering through the gambler’s landscape. Chance, however, does not provide stable footing. They get the shit kicked out of them a few times and lose some winnings. Charlie rolls with the punches, not seeming to mind a Jake Gittes style nose bandage. (Coincidentally, Chinatown was released the same year. Funny what ends up iconic and what doesn’t.) But Bill slips deeper into his bookie’s pocket and gets more desperate to escape. The only option left seems to be entering a high stakes poker tournament in Reno.

The plot synopsis probably doesn’t make California Split seem any more interesting than the numerous other gambling films out there that follow the same trajectory. Nevertheless, Altman’s deceptively relaxed direction and the comfortable acting of Segal and Gould craft what is perhaps the most genuine depiction of friendship that I have seen on film. The film and the friendship culminate in the final scene that I mentioned earlier. Bill finally leaves the table and wanders into an empty bar, bowed and elegantly silhouetted against the backlit drapes. The camera starts a slow zoom in, further and further isolating Bill. Cut against this is a shot that begins on a stack of cash then zooms out to reveal Charlie immersed in the crowd. Watching this pair of shots and the eventual parting of ways between the two protagonists without sound I was struck by how gently expressive the whole scene was. There is no earthquake. There is no Parthenon draped in the American flag. The scene is not shot in Vegas but Reno – the biggest little city in the world that’s still a little city. The décor is that 70’s era orange we’re all so ashamed of now. I am reminded that Wheel of Fortune may be both the funniest and saddest show on television. But most of all, I am quietly reminded of all those wonderful, dead friendships that pass on without you even realizing they were slipping away. The scene conjures the people that exist in one’s emotional memory who were so beautiful one day, and so plain the next. Or worse, it evokes those times when you faded suddenly in the eyes of someone else. Why you can no longer see each other as you once did is not understood. Perhaps when you reunite two, three, ten years from now you will appear beautiful to each other once more. Until then, the wheel’s still spinning.

[Sven]

Fucking genius, Duncan.

[ledfloyd]

yes. my second favorite altman.

[Bosco B Thug]

Whoo seen it, love it, and your review is a wonderful read.

[Philosophe_rouge]

I need to see this still :(

[Marley]

The only Altman that I adore greatly. The last paragraph of your review is brilliant.

[Duncan]

I got iosos to say "fucking." What have you ever done?

[Melville]

I got iosos to say "fucking." What have you ever done?
Saved Latin?

Second viewings have forced me to ditch a couple of the films on my list, resulting in me having no review. I'll get something up tomorrow night.

[lovejuice]

Father & Son > Mother & Son. I heart Sokurov, though.

hear hear. for both your statements.

[Melville]

95. Bigger than Life (Nicholas Ray, 1956)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/biggerthanlife.jpg

“There are some side-effects associated with cortisone use. Depression and peptic ulcers occasionally occur. Psychic derangements may appear when cortisone is used, ranging from euphoria, insomnia, mood swings and personality changes, to frank psychotic manifestations. At high dosage, moon face and buffalo hump can also occur.”
— A Winning Essay: Cortisone: The Wonder Drug

“Childhood is a congenital disease, and the purpose of education is to cure it.”
— Bigger than Life

Nicholas Ray explodes the 1950s American ideal nuclear family. From the beginning, he hints at its instability: the father works a second job at a cab company in order to maintain a façade of success; he lies to his wife and son, who are models of docility; and he notes to his wife that their friends, as well as they themselves, are bores. The landscape of fifties suburbia is shown dense with exaggerated shadows, as if the darkness of film Noir’s expressionistic lighting lies, malignant, within the American ideal.

When the father starts taking cortisone pills to treat a rare blood condition, he develops a megalomania that ruptures the ideal, allowing all the unspoken resentment, quelled ambition, and bitter disdain born of this ideal to spill forth. Believing himself to be “bigger than life”—free from social bonds and filled with a violent energy hovering on despair—he casts aside American institutions, criticising the modern education system in a bitterly hilarious speech, scorning his marriage to a wife who he chastises as intellectually inferior, and finally condemning Christianity and its soft-hearted God. Played with both restrained pathos and sprawling mania by James Mason, the father exemplifies the malignancy lingering in those Noir shadows: a frustration with oppressive social norms and a despondent denial of one’s own failings.

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/biggerthanlife2.jpg


To reaffirm Mason’s disunion from his former self and society, the camera separates him from the rest of the cast, emphasizing the space between him and them, shooting him from below as if to glorify the absurd freedom and the terror of his mania. But this separation is laced with a frequently humorous tone, maintaining an ironic distance that allows us to remember the placid past underlying Mason’s grandiosity, never allowing that grandiosity to become seductive in its self-destructiveness. The melodrama of the father’s breakdown is embedded in the world of Father Knows Best, and this dichotomy is utilized to comment on both the breakdown and the televised idealization. With both extremes thus destabilized, the film then leaves only the reality: a sad picture of a man broken by the weight of his expectations.

[Philosophe_rouge]

YAY! Not only a film I've seen, but one I love. I think your analysis is divine, and I couldn't have said it better myself. I do think there is some irony in Mason's transformation, that he does seem to on one hand become the outsider, able to see "clearly" the faults and even the cruelty of such a repressive social structure, he also seems to embody, albeit to an extreme, the ideal masculine figure of the 1950s. It seems to point to the obvious flaw in both stand points as both meet at a sort of fascist madness. Melodrama was never so delicious... except maybe in Imitation of Life... still entirely different ball park.

[Melville]

I do think there is some irony in Mason's transformation, that he does seem to on one hand become the outsider, able to see "clearly" the faults and even the cruelty of such a repressive social structure, he also seems to embody, albeit to an extreme, the ideal masculine figure of the 1950s. It seems to point to the obvious flaw in both stand points as both meet at a sort of fascist madness. Melodrama was never so delicious... except maybe in Imitation of Life... still entirely different ball park.
Yes to all of the above.

:pritch:

[Derek]

#95 - The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939)

http://tnjn.com/content/storyimage/2007/09/25/wizard_of_oz.512.jpg

How to begin a review of The Wizard of Oz? I’ve dreaded writing about this for a while because there’s simply no possible way I can review as I would just about any other film. I’m too close to it, too connected, as it’s burned images and emotions into my heart and mind since I was a young impressionable child. Part of getting older and growing as an individual is, to a certain degree, a rejection of who you were in the past and as an avid film lover, that often includes coming to the realization that when I was a kid, I had pretty awful taste in movies. I’m not ashamed to admit it; especially because if I had the same preferences as an average boy, I might be giving girls wet willies or doing God-knows-what with the hip, new over-the-counter medications. But this is all very much beside the point, a way for me to avoid talking about the film and confront why I still love it to death when I’ve turned my back on so many other films that I loved back in the day.

If you’ve ever been camping, you probably know what hitchhikers are. Not the thumbs-up, looking for a ride hitchhikers, but those annoying little brown balls with points that stick to your socks and pants. I’d say the past 15 years of my life has, in part, been devoted to shaking and picking most of those little adolescent buggers off to make more room for the adult ones. The Wizard of Oz, however, is one that simply refuses to let go, so I’ve adopted it as my own. It’s no longer stuck to my sock – it’s part of me and whether it’s watching it with my parents for the umpteenth time growing up or in the slightly altered state of a Pink Floyd laser show set to Dark Side of the Moon, there’s something about seeing Dorothy atop that barnyard fence or opening the door to Technicolor or one of 100 other moments, that touches me like few other films.

Sure, there may not be much to its conservative “there’s no place like home” message, but Dorothy’s journey, even if it’s all a dream, is really about the necessity of confronting the outside world and the importance of new experiences. Although she returns to the bland, black-and-white Kansas in the end, she at least returns with a new appreciation for it. And even if wasn’t the intention of the film, I like to imagine Oz as the bevy of experiences we’re missing out on if we remain contented at home. Whether those experiences are internal or external, they exist in order for us to grow and while sometimes they bring us face to face with a wicked witch, sometimes we might be lucky enough to come across something as awesomely unexpected as a couple hundred midgets willing to sing and dance before giving us directions to our next destination. So whether or not you return home to your roots is unimportant in the larger scheme of things. It’s following the yellow brick road that’s the heart of the film for me and while that message isn’t delivered with a ton of ambiguity or complexity, it could not be more heartfelt. As cynical as I can be at times, this is one of those films that not only reminds me of the hopeful innocence of my youth, but actually allows me to experience those feelings and emotions, even if fleetingly until I once again awake to the black-and-white world of adulthood. That, to me, is one hell of a valuable film experience and the reason why I’ll continue to return to it in the years to come.

[Spinal]

My wife has a great story about getting in trouble when she was a kid and being sent to bed on the night The Wizard of Oz came on television. This was before every household had a personal video system, so the one time per year that Wizard of Oz came on TV was an event. So she ended up bawling into her pillow as the muffled sounds of the film leaked in from the other room. Perhaps no greater torture short of cancelling Christmas could possibly be devised for a child of that era.

[dreamdead]

Wish I could find a copy of Ray's film. I'll have to do the ol' searching for VHS in Illinois libraries trick, I think.

And kudos for Wizard. It's been too long since my last viewing...

[Philosophe_rouge]

Very good write-up, because like you I struggle to write about films I'm so personally attached to (The Wizard of Oz is one of them), it's deliciously anecdotal, relating emotions I also feel while watching it with the content. Bravo!

[Derek]

Very good write-up, because like you I struggle to write about films I'm so personally attached to (The Wizard of Oz is one of them), it's deliciously anecdotal, relating emotions I also feel while watching it with the content. Bravo!

Cool, glad you liked it! I usually opt to write little or nothing about films like this, so one thing that's good about the top 100, as you know, is that there's no escaping it. :)

[D_Davis]

Cool choice with Oz.

Have you read any of the books?

[Spinal]

Cool choice with Oz.

Have you read any of the books?

This is a rare case where I think the film actually improves the book quite a bit, adding imaginative elements and streamlining stuff that is redundant. I've only read the first book though.

[Derek]

Cool choice with Oz.

Have you read any of the books?

I haven't. I've been meaning to read it for a while though, so maybe I'll pick up a copy next time I'm at the book store.

[ledfloyd]

You said this one would be one everyone's heard of...

[Melville]

Strangely, I never had any attachment to Oz, even as a kid. I should definitely watch it again sometime.

[D_Davis]

This is a rare case where I think the film actually improves the book quite a bit, adding imaginative elements and streamlining stuff that is redundant. I've only read the first book though.

I can see this. I don't think the books are fantastic or anything, but I did like them quite a bit when I was younger. I think I've read the first three. I always liked the art in them as well. I don't know if they are like the Pooh books, or even The Neverending Story, in that they have something more to offer to an adult.

[origami_mustache]

I have very similar feelings and attachments towards the Wizard of Oz, maybe even more so because I'm from Kansas, and it's impossible to avoid people who think they are so clever saying "you're not in Kansas anymore." It's one of those films I watched annually on television as a child and remember vividly. I even remember all of those Campbell's soup commercials in between.

[Duncan]

Strangely, I never had any attachment to Oz, even as a kid. I should definitely watch it again sometime.
I never really connected with it either. I watched it again last year, and it did very little for me. Good review though, Derek.

[Sven]

#94 - The Wild Child

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/The-Wild-Child.jpg

Pitched somewhere between stodgy period procedural and snarky New Wave comment on human custom, this, maybe Truffaut’s greatest film (mostly because it’s not as bewildering as anything else I’ve seen of his), is a ripe and luscious entertainment. Truffaut illustrates the disparity between nature and society, savagery and conformity, with his own characterization as the Dr. Itard, the conflicted teacher of the eponymous little beast. (I’ve always found Truffaut to be a much more effective actor than a director.) In a moment of sincere regret, he laments that man’s curiosity has cruelly stripped the child of his freedom and happiness. His observable hesitance to execute an unjust punishment on Victor (the wild child) in order to instill a sense of moral order says it all: our capacities for institutionalized order regulate the functions of our libido until our original, even primal, senses of biological necessity are warped past our ability to tolerate them. Emblematic, hanging by Dr. Itard’s bed is a poster mapping the nervous system within the human head: the face is frightening and unwelcome, scorning the idea that the comprehensive charting of the human brain somehow made his/her psychology more comprehensible. Also illustrating this very elementary conflict is some terribly beautiful photography (by Nestor Almendros!). From the introductory scrambles through the Rashomon-like foliage to the devastating finale where Victor succumbs to the contrived conventions of an overcomplicated society, the crisp black-and-white perfectly illuminates one of man’s most fundamental conflicts. None of this detracts from the film’s humor or brisk pace, which is aided by the sterling classical musical direction of Antoine Duhamel.

Kristen: Refreshingly straightforward, which confuses me. Is it just an interesting thing about a guy and a kid? Is that allowed?

[Sven]

Must see the Ray film (I am definitely making an effort to get to all these films eventually, but my film watching has been peripheral lately to my actual life, sadly).

Excellent call on Wizard. I love all these reviews (of which I've devoured every word so far). Rep, for representing a wonderful film that otherwise would've made my list, had it not been for the brief, albeit stringent guidelines I outlined earlier.

[Qrazy]

When I was first getting into film I fell in love with Truffaut's first three outings, but since then I've been disappointingly underwhelmed by the majority of his later pictures. However, there's a few I'd still like to view... one being The Wild Child, another Fahrenheit 451, your review has inspired me to round out my viewings of his works.

[Duncan]

When I was first getting into film I fell in love with Truffaut's first three outings, but since then I've been disappointingly underwhelmed by the majority of his later pictures. However, there's a few I'd still like to view... one being The Wild Child, another Fahrenheit 451, your review has inspired me to round out my viewings of his works.
Fahrenheit 451 isn't very good. Haven't seen The Wild Child, but photography by Almendros is enough to interest me.

I probably won't have anything until Friday. Sorry to slow the pace.

[Qrazy]

Fahrenheit 451 isn't very good. Haven't seen The Wild Child, but photography by Almendros is enough to interest me.

I probably won't have anything until Friday. Sorry to slow the pace.

As far as I"m concerned Raoul Coutard is almost more important to French New Wave and cinema in general than Truffaut or Godard.

[Melville]

Wild Child sounds great. Like you, iosos, I haven't loved any of the movies I've seen from Truffaut (though I've liked all of them), so this one sounds promising.

Out of curiosity, I compared my lists to the previous seven. Here are the number of films common to my list and each of the others:

Raiders - 22 in top 100 / 16 in top 50
Spinal - 15/11
KF - 15/13
E - 12
Watashi - 5
dreamdead - 15
Boner - 12

[Raiders]

Raiders - 22 in top 100 / 16 in top 50


This means you are awesome. Though, just to be sure, are you basing this off the one in my sig, or the old one I originally created at the old site?

[Duncan]

This means you are awesome. Though, just to be sure, are you basing this off the one in my sig, or the old one I originally created at the old site?

Going by the one in your sig I also have 22 films in common with your list. btw, when was the last time you watched 8 1/2?



Man, I am having a ton of difficulty writing my next entry. Tough film to write about.

[Melville]

This means you are awesome. Though, just to be sure, are you basing this off the one in my sig, or the old one I originally created at the old site?
It was based on your original list. The total is 22 either way, but the breakdown is 22/10 based on your updated list.

[Raiders]

btw, when was the last time you watched 8 1/2?

About a year ago, I think. I still love it, and it still makes the top 100, but I don't know. It just doesn't affect me the way it once did. Maybe it is just over-saturation.

[Duncan]

94. Dog Star Man (Brakhage, 1961-1964)

http://content.cdlib.org/xtf/data/13030/fr/ft438nb2fr/figures/ft438nb2fr_00022.jpg

Dog Star Man begins with a glow. A soft redness permeates the screen, nebulous and mesmeric. But this ether is not satisfied. The intensity of the redness rises, collapses, then rises again. There is a single frame flash of fusion and we are thrust suddenly into a montage too dense to parse, a chain reaction of colour and image. As epitomized by this opening, Stan Brakhage’s Dog Star Man is an endearingly tactless film. I say tactless not with disdain, but because of the directness with which Brakhage confronts his enormous themes. When your goals are to illustrate the most primal acts of creation, to present humanity’s fate in complete terms, and to develop a filmic language capable of interacting with the viewer on a subconscious level so that he or she may see definitively with the eyes of an individual you are inherently going to be made to look ridiculous. And yet, the film remains.

Dog Star Man is comprised of five parts including a prelude. Strung through them is the thinnest of plots. A man walks up a hill with his dog, chops at a tree with his axe, falls down, then starts chopping again. The man is played by Brakhage himself. The nude female body we see flashes of is that of his wife. The child we see being born is Brakhage’s own. There is no distance here; nothing to separate Brakhage from the celestial. It is not often we are asked to make associations between lactating nipples and solar flares. Rarer still are the times when we are asked to make those associations without irony. Brakhage suggests with this film that the same force that brought together those millions of kilograms of hydrogen to form a star is the same one that propels man towards expression. More fundamental than gravity, there exists a creative force in the universe.

This force, however, is also a destructive one. Each creative act is suicidal. The destruction cannot be extricated from the creation. Similarly, creation cannot be extricated from destruction. In other words, there is no Jedi/Sith dichotomy. Brakhage’s climbing of the hill and chopping of the tree is illustrative of this ephemeral compulsion. It is not necessarily supernatural, but it is undeniable and it is awe inspiring. At a certain point on his trek Brakhage uses the rather simple technique of turning the camera sideways so that it appears as though he is walking vertically into a ceiling of light. Soon afterwards he tumbles back down only to take up the task of hacking away at another tree. The image compels one to imagine Brakhage in his editing room punching holes in his celluloid, a technique used in this film. Despite Man’s ultimate failure he has no choice but to continue his absurd journey up the hill, just as Star has no choice but to continue its self destructive fusion process. Denying this compulsion and the fundamental integration of - or perhaps even sameness of - creation and destruction is a perversion. How could one turn away from the burning? That’s where the light comes from.

http://www.sensesofcinema.com/images/directors/02/23/dstarman.jpg

[Kurosawa Fan]

My wife has a great story about getting in trouble when she was a kid and being sent to bed on the night The Wizard of Oz came on television. This was before every household had a personal video system, so the one time per year that Wizard of Oz came on TV was an event. So she ended up bawling into her pillow as the muffled sounds of the film leaked in from the other room. Perhaps no greater torture short of cancelling Christmas could possibly be devised for a child of that era.

Something similar happened to me once. Only I punished myself, and was bawling because even my wall couldn't block out the noise.


HIYO!

[Spinal]

Something similar happened to me once. Only I punished myself, and was bawling because even my wall couldn't block out the noise.


HIYO!

I'm not sure what you're trying to say here, but I have a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with being a lunatic.

[Melville]

Nice review; your last paragraph reminds me a lot of the themes of Narcissus and Goldmund.

Unfortunately, the only thing I remember from Dog Star Man is the image of Brakhage climbing up a (possibly snowy) hillside. I'm not even sure if I saw the whole movie. It's definitely due for another viewing.

[D_Davis]

Out of curiosity, I compared my lists to the previous seven. Here are the number of films common to my list and each of the others:

Raiders - 22 in top 100 / 16 in top 50
Spinal - 15/11
KF - 15/13
E - 12
Watashi - 5
dreamdead - 15
Boner - 12

What, mine doesn't count?

Once again, the genre stuff gets marginalized. Way to go. Snob.

[Qrazy]

Dog Star Man is essential avant garde cinema, and it's quite good, but it's also so fucking long. In some ways it almost benefits more from an art installation viewing than an actual viewing. This is a film I'd enjoy viewing in the Warhol portraiture vein... leave it playing in the background... watching bits and pieces here and there. The themes are so repetitive and direct, it begins to wear on the viewer and lose it's immediacy. Brakhage is communicating a great deal and the extent of his repetition and layering is central to what he's trying to communicate, but it grows wearisome.

[Melville]

What, mine doesn't count?

Once again, the genre stuff gets marginalized. Way to go. Snob.
:)

Well, your list wasn't part of this series, and I've only seen 38 out of the 100 films on it... But since you asked, here you go:

Davis - 3

[D_Davis]

Well, your list wasn't part of this series...

Oh, I don't know it was an official series. Sorry.

:)

[Qrazy]

Oh, I don't know it was an official series. Sorry.

:)

Anti-canon genre snob! Get ye to the back of the store and gather dust! :)

[Melville]

Sorry for the delay. I've been busy feeling apathetic. I'll have my next entry up tonight for sure.

[Melville]

94. They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (Pollack, 1969)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/theyshoothorses.jpg

I am enamored with cinematic frenzy; I relish the feeling of a film spiraling out of control. Rapid cuts between slightly (or drastically) disparate elements, a disconnection between sounds and images, and almost comically exaggerated faces—all are simply irresistible to me. Examples that come to mind are Nicolas Cage’s most delirious ambulance ride in Bringing Out the Dead, with its violent strobe lighting, frenetic music, and Tom Sizemore’s viciously jubilant face; a moment in Eisenstein’s October when the cuts between a dancing Bolshevik, architectural and cultural emblems, and a celebratory crowd reach such a dizzying pace that the images are almost blurred into abstraction; and the final car ride in Rififi, with its cuts between the grim visage of a wounded Noir hero, shots of careening streets as seen from the car, and silent images of a boisterously laughing child. In many cases, these moments of frenzy elevate an entire film by offsetting or pinpointing themes suffused throughout it. Which brings me to Sidney Pollack’s They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

The film is an allegorical depiction of a 1930’s dance marathon. Often lasting for weeks or even months, these contests were a popular spectacle of misery during the Depression. They allowed their desperate contestants only 10 minutes of rest each hour and periodically subjected them to grueling mini-events to entice the crowds. Pollack presents this grim spectacle as a world unto itself, with virtually the entire film sequestered within the dance hall. The marathon is made into a microcosm of the whole of the Depression (and even of the whole of human desperation), in which the jubilant ballroom trappings of a spotlight, confetti, and music, and an emcee’s constant evocation of America’s never-say-die spirit all starkly contrast with the degradation on display. Indeed, the film’s imagery and allegory are almost simplistic (what with the horses and all); and it virtually wallows in its gloom, which might make one accuse it of being just as exploitative as the marathon organizers. But the film more than justifies this with its mood of exaggeration, its angles that seem to make faces leap forth from the frame, its performances by Jane Fonda as a terminally bitter, despairing woman and Gig Young as the repulsively charismatic emcee, its iconographic use of Henry Fonda look-alike Michael Sarrazin to craft a figure of everyman idealism—and beyond all these things, its sublime moments of frenzy.

Acting as the culmination of the film’s endless gloom and desperation, these moments of frenzy come in the form of a race, a “heel-to-toe derby”, that the contestants must run on the dance floor. In a cacophony of mirror-ball lighting, jaunty music, wild-eyed, grimacing faces, and limbs flailing in a grotesque march, the competitors are stripped of any remnants of their dignity and reduced to pure frantic desperation. Perfectly evoking this frantic desperation in its careening lights and sounds, each of these scenes is a masterwork of cinematic frenzy. But what is most impressive about them is how they balance their frenzy with a thoughtful humanism. Rather than letting us get completely caught up in the mood of the moment, they hold back ever so slightly and, via short panning shots, eye the event with a thoughtful melancholy. (Nothing is so counter to cinematic frenzy as is a panning shot.) This is most evident in the second of the two races, when the frenzy is suddenly interrupted by a (still somehow frenzied) slow-motion shot that forces us to reckon directly with the horror of the scene. Thus, even as the film’s misery coalesces, and as the film’s presentation of that misery as a spectacle reaches its spectacular peak, we are enjoined to be wary of the spectacle. Throughout the film, the audience at the dance hall is depicted as a grotesquerie, simpleminded in its simultaneous support of the dancers and revelry at their misfortune; in the film’s delicately balanced moments of frenzy, when we are closest to reveling in the miserable spectacle, we are made to realize our affinity to that audience.



More information about dance marathons can be found at http://www.historylink.org/essays/output.cfm?file_id=5534

The image from the movie looks pretty bad, so here are some images from real-life marathons:
http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/marathon.png

[Watashi]

When I watched the movie, I couldn't believe these marathons actually existed.

I mean, what the fuck America?

[Melville]

When I watched the movie, I couldn't believe these marathons actually existed.

I mean, what the fuck America?
Yeah, I still find it hard to believe. I guess they aren't that much worse than some reality tv shows, but the sheer length of them boggles my mind.

[Sven]

Excellent review, Melville. Pollack has never struck me as a director worth my attention, but I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and check this one out.

I'm totally befuddled at this Brakhage picture. I look forward to seeing it.

[Melville]

Excellent review, Melville. Pollack has never struck me as a director worth my attention, but I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and check this one out.
Well, don't set your expectations too high. Much as I love the film, its metaphors and even some of its techniques (e.g. foreshadowing flash-forwards) and dialogue (e.g. the final scene) are groan-inducingly simplistic. But it embraces that simplicity so well that, if you can go along with it, it works wonderfully.

As for Pollack as a director, the only other films of his that I've seen are Tootsie and The Firm, neither of which I remember very well. But I love him as an actor, even if he always plays the same role.

[Sven]

But I love him as an actor, even if he always plays the same role.

Same here. I love this dude's projection. Have you seen him in Changing Lanes? Mighty, mighty performance. I also quite like him in Tootsie.

[Melville]

Have you seen him in Changing Lanes?
I know I've seen it, but I have absolutely no memory of it. However, I think Pollack pretty much owned Michael Clayton (nuts to Tilda Swinton) and Eyes Wide Shut.

[Derek]

#94 - Parade (Jacques Tati, 1974)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/parade.jpg

Let me just get this out of the way – Parade is one of the strangest, most joyous films I’ve ever seen, yet the exact reasons behind its utter charm are still a mystery to me. I first saw it on video a few years back and while I found much to respect and enjoy about all of the film’s various performers, I felt like I was missing something. After seeing it in the theater with a responsive audience, I am a bit more certain of where its charms lie. First, let me explain what it’s all about. Tati gathered a couple dozen performers from a variety of backgrounds (musicians, acrobats, jugglers, dancers, etc.) and for a live performance with an audience. It sounds simple enough except he includes the audience in the performance by having them stage events, reactions and even personal mini-narratives which play out through the course of the film and he captures everything with both visible and hidden cameras.

Effectively shattering the line between performer and audience, on-stage and off-stage, live performance and rehearsed fiction, Tati’s generosity as both filmmaker and performer has here reached its peak. It is a veritable celebration of everything the man loves; an expression of his passion for entertaining and finding the beauty and comic possibilities that exist within all of us. While the performances themselves are for the most part remarkable, it is through the constant undercutting of expectations that Tati creates something remarkably unique. Musicians leave the band mid-song to perform acrobatic feats and audience members stand up mid-trick and attempt to outdo the on-stage talent. It’s literally a free-for-all for everyone involved and while there’s certainly an element of staged spontaneity, the moments ring true by making the audience, and in turn the viewer, feel like a part of Tati & Company’s performance.

By also capturing backstage interactions and tenderly intimate and comical moments in the audience, one gets the feeling that Tati doesn’t see the stage as a boundary, but something that extends as far as a performer/filmmaker wants it to. What many see as an impassable paradox, he sees as unnecessary barriers. At one point in the show, he trots around the ring enacting the part of the both the horse and the rider. While this is a simple act to perform, it actually works as the perfect metaphor for what he achieves in Parade. The talented performers are not given preferential treatment as even the most untalented of audience members are given their moment to shine. One of the most amusing moments comes from an overweight middle-aged man escaping the grip of his wife to get his chance to ride the donkey on-stage. It’s clear that this moment is planned, yet when the man returns to his seat only to fall on his ass, the audience erupts in genuine laughter. Even what is staged, perhaps even rehearsed, contains elements of truth and genuine emotion. Just like the film’s other dualities, the staged and spontaneous are not mutually exclusive. In other words, as Tati himself demonstrates, the rider and the horse can be one and the same.

When the films winds down to a close, the two young children shown intermittently throughout the film make their way on-stage. The audience and performers have exited, yet the children move innocently from prop to prop, finding amusement with each one, unconcerned with the fact that they aren’t performing for anyone in particular. The innocence and purity behind their curiosity is quite moving and mirrors Tati’s own view of performance and the simple joys of approaching the world with openness of a child. As Tati grew more and more cynical with each of the Hulot films, it is wonderful to see him end his career with a film that embraces all that is good within the human spirit, while also displaying his vast array of talents as both performer and filmmaker.

[Sven]

What an exciting review! I can't wait to see that one, whenever that may be.

[Derek]

What an exciting review! I can't wait to see that one, whenever that may be.

Thanks. Hopefully it'll play in NYC at some point, because I have a feeling you'll adore it. Just thinking about it makes me want to give Tati a big hug. :)

[D_Davis]

I am enamored with cinematic frenzy; I relish the feeling of a film spiraling out of control. Rapid cuts between slightly (or drastically) disparate elements, a disconnection between sounds and images, and almost comically exaggerated faces—all are simply irresistible to me.


I predict more Tsui Hark in your future!

:)

That's his modus operandi!


Good review.

[D_Davis]

#94 - Parade (Jacques Tati, 1974)


Interesting.

Your review reminds me of how I thought of Mind Game - a film that is a wonderful celebration of joy, life, and love.

[Derek]

Interesting.

Your review reminds me of how I thought of Mind Game - a film that is a wonderful celebration of joy, life, and love.

That's one I plan to get to in the next couple months. It sounds amazing. As for Parade, it's not one I'd recommend to anyone who's not already a Tati fan. You definitely need to be on his wavelength to really enjoy it since it's an odd little film.

[D_Davis]

I plan on checking out Play Time, soon, and perhaps some others, so I might add this one to the list.

[Russ]

You've never seen Playtime? I think you're in for a treat.

[D_Davis]

You've never seen Playtime? I think you're in for a treat.

Nope. Never seen any Tati films. Playtime looks awesome though. I am really looking forward to it.

[Qrazy]

You've never seen Playtime? I think you're in for a treat.

Ehh I could be wrong but I really don't see Tati's tone meshing all that well with Davis (based solely on his top 100 films thread), still if anything in Tati's filmography will win him over it would be Playtime.

Playtime > Traffic > M. Hulot's Holiday > Jour de Fete > Mon Oncle > Parade > School for Postmen

[Melville]

I predict more Tsui Hark in your future!

:)

That's his modus operandi!


Good review.
Maybe I'll check out Time and Tide.

[Duncan]

Parade sounds awesome.

[SirNewt]

Ehh I could be wrong but I really don't see Tati's tone meshing all that well with Davis (based solely on his top 100 films thread), still if anything in Tati's filmography will win him over it would be Playtime.

Playtime > Traffic > M. Hulot's Holiday > Jour de Fete > Mon Oncle > Parade > School for Postmen

Sorry, but you've grossly underestimated Mon Oncle.

[Derek]

Sorry, but you've grossly underestimated Mon Oncle.

And Parade for that matter, but I really like how high he has Trafic. FWIW, I'd go:

Playtime> Parade > Trafic > Mon Oncle > Jour de Fete > M. Hulot's Holiday > Forza Bastia

Although I really like everything he's done.

[balmakboor]

Dog Star Man is essential avant garde cinema, and it's quite good, but it's also so fucking long. In some ways it almost benefits more from an art installation viewing than an actual viewing. This is a film I'd enjoy viewing in the Warhol portraiture vein... leave it playing in the background... watching bits and pieces here and there. The themes are so repetitive and direct, it begins to wear on the viewer and lose it's immediacy. Brakhage is communicating a great deal and the extent of his repetition and layering is central to what he's trying to communicate, but it grows wearisome.

I agree. I've watched it about a half dozen times and will certainly watch it many more times. It's a great and beautiful film. I never have been able to watch the whole thing start to finish without losing focus and having my mind wander though. I may try next time to watch only one part at a time and take a break of as much as a day before watching the next part.

[Qrazy]

Sorry, but you've grossly underestimated Mon Oncle.

Yeah, if I was rating solely formally but I'm not, more of the jokes fall flat here and the pacing just doesn't quite work as well as the ones I've rated more highly. Maybe I should put it above Jour de Fete (I feel their strengths and weaknesses are about equal) but that's the most I'd change.

Parade is to me like the I Clowns (Fellini) of Tati's filmography. It's a fun idea executed enjoyably well, but by it's very nature it must semi-yield the aesthetic excellence and precision of the artist's other work. Lacking the high visual calibur of his other works it loses much interest and replayability for me.

[Qrazy]

I agree. I've watched it about a half dozen times and will certainly watch it many more times. It's a great and beautiful film. I never have been able to watch the whole thing start to finish without losing focus and having my mind wander though. I may try next time to watch only one part at a time and take a break of as much as a day before watching the next part.

Yeah I watched most of his work back to back to back off the Criterion discs in the span of a few days way back when, next time I'd like to space it out a lot more... since each film encapsulates such a uniquely subjective state of mind.

[Sven]

ANNOUNCEMENT:

I have three papers due by next Thursday (that I haven't even started yet!) and then I'm leaving on Friday for a week and a half long vacation spanning nearly the whole country. So this is going to be my last entry for roughly two weeks. Sorrys.

Also, kinda fudged this one: it's not a review, just a really brief paragraph I thought up off the top of my head, and I haven't rewatched the movie, but luckily it is one that the missus has seen already, so no biggie.

Also, no pretty tetratych. Alas.

#93 - The Full Monty

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/fullmontyREX_468x312.jpg

I often compare The Full Monty with Rocky, in that they’re both populist stories that encourage the spirit of the underdog. Say what you will about cliches and formula—often, in the right hands, they can stir and ennoble like nothing else can. What I love, too, about this lovely little film, is the way it encourages an activity traditionally frowned upon, morally. But the film posits the ideal that the only people offended by male stripping (or stripping in general) aren’t going to be watching the movie in the first place. It shows us men coming together through the removal of clothes, women coming together through the removal of men’s clothes, and men and women coming together through the spectacle of naked men. Love it. Also, something to said for the film’s portrait of a poor economic community… not much more graceful than Rocky’s slums of Philadelphia, but still teeming with a palpable grunge, one that adeptly communicates the discontent of its denizens. A good-humored and absolutely inspiring movie.

Kristen: Remember what I said earlier about low-key British character pieces?

[Raiders]

Um, really? Wow. I watched about forty minutes and was so unenthused I didn't even bother to finish.

[Eleven]

It's no surprise that iosos' unpredictability factor goes to my username.

[Melville]

Yeah, iosos' list is unsurprisingly wacky.

I like this line:

It shows us men coming together through the removal of clothes, women coming together through the removal of men’s clothes, and men and women coming together through the spectacle of naked men.

[Spinal]

Full Monty didn't do anything for me. Didn't find it funny. Didn't get anything out of it emotionally. I thought it was instantly forgettable.

[Sven]

It could be that I am rather moved by stories of the downtrodden who use physical ingenuity and focus to overcome (even if only temporarily) social obstacles. Peradventure.

[Kurosawa Fan]

Full Monty didn't do anything for me. Didn't find it funny. Didn't get anything out of it emotionally. I thought it was instantly forgettable.

I am in complete agreement with this post.

[Spinal]

It could be that I am rather moved by stories of the downtrodden who use physical ingenuity and focus to overcome (even if only temporarily) social obstacles. Peradventure.

Aren't there lots of films like that though? Is The Karate Kid on your list? Lucas? 8 Mile? Not trying to be an ass. I just don't consider this film anymore special than those.

[Sven]

Aren't there lots of films like that though? Is The Karate Kid on your list? Lucas? 8 Mile? Not trying to be an ass. I just don't consider this film anymore special than those.

You are right that those films fit the formula, but you know as well as I do that it all depends on how the material is handled by the director, screenwriter, cinematographer, et al. It is a theme I'm attracted to, certainly, and I definitely like The Karate Kid and 8 Mile (somewhat.... not so hot on Lucas). But I think The Full Monty is quite witty and a credible depiction of community politics (another theme I like). Also, I do find something stirring about a positive spin put on something so conventionally frowned upon, despite its victimlessness--the relationship between the blighted economy and traditional Christian values and having to subvert one to make do in the other, etc. I think its quite fascinating.

[Qrazy]

Aren't there lots of films like that though? Is The Karate Kid on your list? Lucas? 8 Mile? Not trying to be an ass. I just don't consider this film anymore special than those.

Come on now, The Fully Monty is better than any of those.

[Thirdmango]

I remember really liking the Full Monty, it has been 6 years since I've seen it, but I liked it just the same.

[Spinal]

Come on now, The Fully Monty is better than any of those.

I don't think so. I think it's the least of those four.

[Qrazy]

I don't think so. I think it's the least of those four.

Yeah, but that's just because you're a football playing wigger ninja anti-nudist.

[Spinal]

Yeah, but that's just because you're a football playing wigger ninja anti-nudist.

I wish.

[D_Davis]

RUDY!

[Spinal]

RUDY!

I've never seen it, as I don't think I could ever accept the premise that someone who plays football for Notre Dame is worth rooting for.

[Sven]

RUDY!

The Full Monty > Rocky > The Karate Kid > 8 Mile > Lucas >>> Rudy

[D_Davis]

RUDY!

[Spinal]

RUDY!

Give up, Rudy. You're not good enough.

[D_Davis]

Give up, Rudy. You're not good enough.

You'll never kill my spirit.

[Qrazy]

Good movies >>>>>>>>>>>>> The Full Monty > Rocky > The Karate Kid > 8 Mile > Lucas >>> Rudy

Fixed... hehe... heh... :P

[Kurosawa Fan]

The Full Monty > Rocky > The Karate Kid > 8 Mile > Lucas >>> Rudy

:cry:

[Watashi]

Rudy is better than all of those movies.

[Sven]

Naked men >>> football

[ledfloyd]

Naked men >>> football
i'd be worried if i was your wife.

[Spinal]

Naked men >>> football

Wrong ... to the EXTREME!

[Qrazy]

Wrong ... to the EXTREME!

Naked men + football = ?

[Spinal]

Naked men + football = ?

Really good Nielsen ratings.

[Derek]

Naked men + football = ?

Any Given Sunday?

[Rowland]

Any Given Sunday?I'd take this over Rudy any day.

[Sven]

Brimley in the house!

[Derek]

I'd take this over Rudy any day.

I still think it's a terrible film, but it is far more interesting than the by-the-books blandness of Rudy.

[Duncan]

93. Raising Arizona (Coen, 1984)

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2022/1555661149_da0260fcdd.jpg

The Coen Brothers are a strange couple. I don’t know if their Oscar acceptance speeches were affected or not, but only genuinely weird people decide to pull a Penn and Teller act while receiving the highest honour the film industry has to offer. Their films generally probe genres and exactingly spill the eccentricities inherent to film noirs or screwball comedies or westerns out onto the screen. Sometimes I think of them as finger painting with a draftsman’s kit (blood being their favourite medium). They may skip from genre to genre, but what seems consistent in their films is the idea of an overarching absurdity to existence and human life. Absurdity can mean any number of things depending on how it is contextualized. The Coens’ definition is not uniform over their entire filmography.

No Country for Old Men, their most recent film, strikes a decidedly bleak note. The absurdity I spoke of is not redemptive. People die without reason. People kill without conscience. Naturally, these propositions hold a great deal of truth and, if you want to believe the hundreds of articles repeating the same claim, they accurately reflect or prophesize the state of America. Their other film nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, Fargo, poses another definition of absurdity that can be found somewhere between a wood chipper and a mallard duck. Again, there is the image of meaningless violence. But there is also great warmth to be found in the ridiculousness of a balding man’s happiness at having his painting chosen for a two cent stamp. It is an accomplishment resistant to condescension. Its peculiarity and humble nature amplify its absurdity while simultaneously emphasizing its personal meaningfulness.

And so finally I come to Raising Arizona, which I haven’t mentioned in the last two paragraphs. You’re a good sport for sticking with me. There is a scene in which H.I. robs a convenience store of money and Huggies in order to diaper his newly acquired infant. People draw magnums and shotguns, women are chased by dogs, and supermarket floors were never so slippery except when wet. I love this scene because it reminds me strongly of watching real life parents clumsily run around trying to look after their kids. As far as I can tell, they really have no idea what they’re doing, but their efforts are applause worthy. After rescuing H.I. from this bizarre chase, Ed tells her husband that “You and me is a fool’s paradise.” Again I am reminded of all those real life couples for whom the stress of parenthood was too much and decided to go their separate ways. The absurdity of this scene does not reflect some vague notion of social nihilism. It is simply an exaggerated reality, plus or minus a stolen baby. This is the contextualization of absurdity that I find most satisfying. It’s the one that, based on my quotidian experience, makes the most sense to me.

Like No Country for Old Men, Raising Arizona ends with a dream of the fool’s paradise. The former rejects it while the latter somewhat sarcastically embraces it. I am emotionally constituted to lean towards Arizona, despite the Hellish landscape implied by the film’s title. Life is largely dependent on how each individual contextualizes it. You can post script your more romantic letters with “then I woke up,” and adopt No Country for Old Men’s stoic sense of tragedy. Maybe that’s the most pragmatic thing to do. But better tragedies have been written, and you don’t have to have read King Lear to know that the fool is often right.

http://www.lazydork.com/movies/raisingzona.jpg

[Philosophe_rouge]

Raising Arizona is wonderful, Holly Hunter gives one of my favourite comic performances. Great choice

[Bosco B Thug]

I really like Raising Arizona, and I'm digging the very eloquent but casually personal writing style everyone seems to be approaching their write-ups with.

[Robby P]

Yes. Such a perfect movie. The Coens still haven't topped it.

[Sven]

For the longest time, Raising Arizona was my favorite film. Excellent choice.

[Benny Profane]

Top tenner for me. Raising Arizona is an absolute joy.

[dreamdead]

Still haven't been able to comment on too much, but I too commend the balance of personal and analytic responses to the works listed.

And I've seen Raising Arizona. Score. Still probably their best blend of slapstick and, albeit absurd, humanity. Love the dialogue throughout. And the performances are awesome; it was this film wherein I realized my love of Holly Hunter.

[Sven]

This will most likely be my last post for the next nine days or so (though I may pop in for a moment or two to vote in the 00s thread). I fully expect two more entries by the time I return! :)

Peace out, all.

[Beau]

Some wonderful recommendations in this tread. I'll be reading.

[Melville]

I'm having a hell of a time writing a review for my next entry, but I'll post something tomorrow night.

[Melville]

93. Scorpio Rising (Kenneth Anger, 1964)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/scorpiojacket.jpg

Working only with images and continuous waves of early ’60s pop songs, Scorpio Rising sketches the tale of a biker gang caressingly repairing its motorcycles, attending a lewd homosexual masquerade, desecrating a church, and meeting oblivion in a street race. The contrast between iconically sweet music and aggressive imagery prefigures the work of later American stylists such as Scorsese and Lynch, but Anger utilizes this contrast for much broader goals, presenting fetishism as iconography and bikers as postmodern prophets.

At first the camera focuses on individual body parts, motorcycle gears, and leather jackets, fetishizing them. Rather than building character through action or dialogue, it constructs a world as a set of symbols, and characters as the confluence of those symbols. Magazine photos of James Dean are tacked to the bikers’ walls, and shots of Brando in The Wild One are spliced throughout one scene; the bikers knowingly equate themselves with these icons—not with the particular actors, but with their iconography. The camera lingers on the donning of leather attire, casting the event as a momentous transmutation: the creation of Self as symbol.

Besides making the film more dynamic, and thereby averting any potential boredom with the obscure narrative, the soundtrack of pop hits expands the film’s process of symbolization, making it into a study of symbols in general. The songs themselves are already symbols of American pop culture en masse, and the film appropriates these cultural symbols, skewing their meaning: the latent morbidity of “My Boyfriend’s Back” is exaggerated by a death’s head motif, the sexualized objectification in “Wind-Up Doll” is made disconcerting when it simultaneously sexualizes the bikers’ motorcycles, etc. Beyond these specific re-presentations of lyrical meanings, the contrast between the glossy songs and the gritty images and jarring cuts forces a continual reappraisal of both sets of symbols. The separation of the two styles seemingly ensures that the two remain distinct, but as the songs and images comment on each other, the meanings of the songs become inextricable from those of the images, and vice versa. Thus, the broader cultural symbols are not only commented upon by the fetishistic symbols of the film—they are entirely incorporated within the bikers’ symbology.

With this dialectic constructed, the film then moves onto an extended, ridiculously grandiose comparison between Scorpio (the leader of the biker gang) and Jesus Christ (our savior). The bikers attend an orgy that is contrasted with a gathering of Christ’s disciples, they ride off on motorcycles that are compared to Jesus’ donkey, and Scorpio preaches with a machine gun and urine-filled helmet in a church, as the Christian motifs are overwhelmed by Nazi symbols. Peggy March’s “I Will Follow Him” reinforces the notion of Nazi biker as both popular and religious idol. We are never given the words of Scorpio’s sermon, but the words are irrelevant: his sermon consists of himself, his self as constructed from his symbols. If Christ is the Word made Flesh, then Scorpio is the Flesh made Word. He is the prophet of the signifier, of pure, scintillating meaning dancing on the edge of the void, meaning always in flux, meanings built one atop another with no bottom in sight.

[Duncan]

Nice. Love the line "Jesus Christ (our saviour)." What happened with Lucifer Rising?

[Qrazy]

If Christ is the Word made Flesh, then Scorpio is the Flesh made Word. He is the prophet of the signifier, of pure, scintillating meaning dancing on the edge of the void, meaning always in flux, meanings built one atop another with no bottom in sight.

Nice.

Personally I have no love for the film beyond historical curiousity, but solid write up nonetheless (same for the rest of you keep putting in entries!).

[Melville]

What happened with Lucifer Rising?
Too much New Age mysticism for my liking. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.


Personally I have no love for the film beyond historical curiousity
It's curious all right. But rather than being a historical curiosity, I think it has probably improved with age, since the 50s-era biker gang and early 60s pop music are more thoroughly ingrained cultural symbols now.

[Beau]

Oh, that's interesting. I just watched this film and really liked it. Wonderful write-up, Melville. You touched on most of the issues I found dancing across the visual text - fetishism, idolatry, obsession with symbols, etc. I particularly enjoyed how the film juxtaposed the different symbols and authority figures, connecting, through editing, political ideologies (Nazism), cultural ideologies (music, bike-riding, etc.) and religious ideologies (Christianity.) Each mode of thought has its won set of uniforms, customs, behaviors, and figure-heads (Hitler, Jesus, and Marlon Brando), and in a sense, they are all equated by the film, grouped together as (potentially destructive?) belief systems.

I must admit I was apprehensive getting into this movie, earlier today, but Scorpio Rising surprised me.

[Duncan]

Too much New Age mysticism for my liking. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Yeah, I recognized it as New Age but most of the symbols didn't really register with me, so I wasn't too bothered by it. Maybe ignorance in bliss in that sense. I just liked it as a celebration of creation and fertility and as a general tribute to whoever the Egyptian equivalent of Bacchus is. Dug its rhythm and some of imagery was striking. I liked this guy enough to make an av out of him, which I wore for quite some time at the old site.

http://www.natfilm.dk/2006small/6190.jpg

You should check out Fireworks too, if you haven't already. A little gayer, a little less New Age. Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome is also very good, but an inferior companion to Lucifer Rising and Scorpio Rising.

[Beau]

You should check out Fireworks too, if you haven't already. A little gayer, a little less New Age.

Yeah, that was a good movie. A very gay good movie. The imagery starts out kind of dull, but it becomes progressively more impressive as it goes along, culminating in a series of fantastically surreal images that are difficult to shake off.

[origami_mustache]

You should check out Fireworks too, if you haven't already. A little gayer, a little less New Age. Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome is also very good, but an inferior companion to Lucifer Rising and Scorpio Rising.

I recently watched most of Anger's work...this is how I'd order them:

Eaux d'artifice
Fireworks
Scorpio Rising
Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome
Lucifer Rising
Puce Moment
Rabbit's Moon
Invocation of My Demon Brother
Don't Smoke That Cigarette
The Man We Want To Hang
Kustom Kar Kommandos
Mouse Heaven
Anger Sees Red

[Melville]

I just watched this film and really liked it.
Oh, you're comment in the other thread ("that was... unique") made me think you didn't like it. Good to know that you did.


some of imagery was striking.
Yeah, I liked the image from your old av, and the glowing giant was awesome.


I recently watched most of Anger's work...this is how I'd order them:

Eaux d'artifice
Fireworks
Scorpio Rising
Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome
Lucifer Rising
Puce Moment
Rabbit's Moon
Invocation of My Demon Brother
Don't Smoke That Cigarette
The Man We Want To Hang
Kustom Kar Kommandos
Mouse Heaven
Anger Sees Red
I haven't even heard of the first movie on your list. The only films I've seen from Anger are Scorpio and Lucifer, so it looks like I've got some watching to do.

[Beau]

Oh, you're comment in the other thread ("that was... unique") made me think you didn't like it. Good to know that you did.

Ha! Well, all I can say in my defense is that my description was certainly accurate. I mean, it is unique.

[SirNewt]

Very nice Melville, very nice.

[MacGuffin]

Yeah, Eaux d'artifice is a masterpiece. His best and one of my favorite movies. Great, great stuff.

[Beau]

Yeah, Eaux d'artifice is a masterpiece. His best and one of my favorite movies. Great, great stuff.

I just watched this - fantastic. Not as thematically dense as Scorpio, but potentially more moving, definitely more beautiful, and equally as adept in its use of music.

[MacGuffin]

I just watched this - fantastic. Not as thematically dense as Scorpio, but potentially more moving, definitely more beautiful, and equally as adept in its use of music.

I don't remember the music in particular-- Anger is almost overly fond of music (I still don't understand his need to incorporate it with all of his movies... he almost let the music tell half the story in Rabbit's Moon), but I guess that's because the visuals took over, and maybe, as much as I doubt it, Anger used music to show how powerful his images can be to the point where they completely overpower anything else.

[Beau]

I don't remember the music in particular-- Anger is almost overly fond of music (I still don't understand his need to incorporate it with all of his movies... he almost let the music tell half the story in Rabbit's Moon), but I guess that's because the visuals took over, and maybe, as much as I doubt it, Anger used music to show how powerful his images can be to the point where they completely overpower anything else.

Well, I have only seen three of his films. Nevertheless, Anger's use of music - thus far - usually seems pertinent to the narrative (if you can call it that.) For instance, in Scorpio, we have these Bikers who are heavily influenced by the icons of their surrounding pop culture. Fittingly, we have pop music filling the soundtrack, providing an aural landscape that mimics the banal, popular, cultural context that surrounds and envelops our 'protagonists.' In Eaux d'Artifice the music does not seem quite as thematically-relevant (though personal 'research' may uncover new insights), but we have classical music accompanying the movements of a woman dressed in eighteenth-century garbs. So, I suppose, it makes sense - the music provides cultural/historical context for the images.

As for 'why is the music there' - I don't know, but it helps to establish a rhythm and pace. It can also be thought of as pastiche, but that's going outside my comfort zone, seeing that I am a neophyte to Anger's work. He is a 'new' film-maker for me, and am just getting to know his stuff.

[MacGuffin]

Well, I have only seen three of his films. Nevertheless, Anger's use of music - thus far - usually seems pertinent to the narrative (if you can call it that.) For instance, in Scorpio, we have these Bikers who are heavily influenced by the icons of their surrounding pop culture. Fittingly, we have pop music filling the soundtrack, providing an aural landscape that mimics the banal, popular, cultural context that surrounds and envelops our 'protagonists.' In Eaux d'Artifice the music does not seem quite as thematically-relevant (though personal 'research' may uncover new insights), but we have classical music accompanying the movements of a woman dressed in eighteenth-century garbs. So, I suppose, it makes sense - the music provides cultural/historical context for the images.

As for 'why is the music there' - I don't know, but it helps to establish a rhythm and pace. It can also be thought of as pastiche, but that's going outside my comfort zone, seeing that I am a neophyte to Anger's work. He is a 'new' film-maker for me, and am just getting to know his stuff.

Yeah, this all seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation. I haven't seen Scorpio Rising myself. I've been meaning to check out Fantoma's most recent Anger collection, but I have to finish the Criterion Collection's Brakhage set that I bought first.

[Melville]

I just watched Eaux d'artifice. Dazzling.


Very nice Melville, very nice.
Thanks.

[MacGuffin]

I just watched Eaux d'artifice. Dazzling.


Thanks.

Wow, I'm glad to see you liked it so much, Melville. Awesome! Enjoy this positive rep I am about to give you.

[Melville]

I just watched Fireworks. Homoerotic.


Enjoy this positive rep I am about to give you.
Done.

[Qrazy]

I've watched all four of those Anger's as well... meh. He typifies everything that irritates me about avant-garde cinema and few of the things that interest me about it.

[Melville]

He typifies everything that irritates me about avant-garde cinema and few of the things that interest me about it.
Which things are those?

[Qrazy]

Which things are those?

Irritate: Throwing most of one's stones into Freud's basket, overused symbology i.e. Jesus parallels, indulgence and self-gratification.

What I like (and when) about avant-garde cinema is it's aesthetic freedom and I find him to be too unwieldy and to me uninteresting in that regard. His dissolves possess no symmetry, his compositions are second class. The uniqueness of his choice of content and means of expression may be of some value to some and clearly are, but I find them to be overly blatant and predominantly empty.

[Sven]

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

And a bit irked by Derek's blasted thesis. I was hoping to have two entries on which to catch up. Oh well. Onward and upward! I eagerly await.

Still have yet to see an Anger film (wait, I did watch the Mickey Mouse one and was thoroughly, but not without a smidgen of begrudging bemusement, dissatisfied), but I absolutely loved your review, Melville. Will add to the "check out" pile.

[Derek]

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

And a bit irked by Derek's blasted thesis. I was hoping to have two entries on which to catch up. Oh well. Onward and upward! I eagerly await.

It's pure post-thesis malaise. I sat down on Friday hoping to breeze through a review and ended up staring at the blinking culture and wasting time on various web sites. I promise to get something up by Tuesday at the latest.

[Derek]

Apologies for holding up the thread. I'm just gonna throw up something quick, so we can move on. Iosos scares me.

#93 - Naked (Mike Leigh, 1993)

http://img5.allocine.fr/acmedia/rsz/434/x/x/x/medias/nmedia/18/36/14/41/18455732.jpg

Naked begins in a dark alley where a handheld camera moves quickly towards the protagonist as he’s raping a woman outside of a club. It’s almost as if Mike Leigh wanted to give his detractors an easy scene to remember while they spout off about the film’s nihilistic perspective and its presentation of asshole as martyr. It’s easy to see the film as hopeless and excessively rubbing our noses in the shite of the modern world, but as an urban journey into the heart of darkness, it’s negativity becomes a bit more meaningful. Leigh’s vision of despair and disconnection extends to its grimy settings and thick cockney accents, delivered full of acerbic wit by his typically brilliant cast, especially David Thewlis, in what is perhaps the best performance of the 1990s. Thewlis's Johnny remains an enigma throughout, tirelessly berating every person who comes across his path, instantly deconstructing and mocking their persona but in dire need of their comfort and even the most remote form of human connection.

Leigh balances the drifter Johnny against the seeker, Jeremy. He's a bit of a caricature and seems somewhat forced into the film at first, but he essentially resembles everything Johnny hates about the world, yet part of what he himself has become. Where Johnny wanders aimlessly from situation to situation, Jeremy sets his sites on an individual and puts every ounce of energy into beating them into submission. Leigh's films usually focus on the banal routines and struggles of working class people, but with Naked, he is more interested in the monstrous effects of poverty, class struggle and alienation in the modern world. The film's swirling paranoia and pointless cruelty is not meant to be a microcosm of the world at large, but rather a powerful and frightening condemnation of the reigning sociopolitical environment that allow such conditions to remain widespread. In other words, Johnny's cruelty is merely representative of the cruelty enacted upon him on a much larger scale.

[dreamdead]

Leigh! Sweetness!

I have convinced a friend to utilize this film in her dissertation on space in contemporary English film and lit. I am a pimp. And Louise and Johnny are a thoroughly postmodern couple, constantly embittered yet constantly connected. Just a fascinating relationship unto itself.

[Derek]

Leigh! Sweetness!

I have convinced a friend to utilize this film in her dissertation on space in contemporary English film and lit. I am a pimp. And Louise and Johnny are a thoroughly postmodern couple, constantly embittered yet constantly connected. Just a fascinating relationship unto itself.

Awesome. If I had a little more time, I definitely would've delved into their relationship. It's a film that grows on me every time I watch it and I'm always in awe of how amazing Thewlis is.

[Sven]

Iosos scares me.

:twisted:


It’s easy to see the film as hopeless and excessively rubbing our noses in the shite of the modern world, but as an urban journey into the heart of darkness, it’s negativity becomes a bit more meaningful.

You say this well.

This is an excellent film, though it sometimes gets my ire up that it's often touted as Leigh's "best", because it's such an anomaly in his filmography. It's certainly a very good movie, but I prefer at least five others to it.

[Sven]

#92 - The Great Muppet Caper

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/Great-Muppet-Caper.jpg

Note: I realize that my pictures are very pork-heavy, but I assure you that despite my could-be-construed-as-borderline-disturbing-or-grotesque fascination with Miss Piggy, it is Kermit, Fozzy, and Gonzo that are the primary focus of this film.

Incidentally, it was imperative that I include on this list a film that showcased puppetry. As an amateur puppeteer, the science of communicating human expression through inanimate objects is of the utmost interest to me. And naturally, following through on my need to represent this undervalued art comes the inevitability of acknowledging Jim Henson as the master that he is. For no puppeteer that I know of is wittier, livelier, or more expressive than Henson. His creation of the Muppets was one of the finest strokes of artistic genius of the 20th Century—there isn’t a single collective of characters as consistently hilarious, unique, and inspiring. With The Great Muppet Caper, Henson created perhaps not a masterpiece, but a wonderful adventure as alive as any caper film could ever be, starring mostly shaped cloth.

There are a few times that the narrative of The Great Muppet Caper is shelved for a showcase of engineering ingenuity. When Kermit and Miss Piggy ride their bikes through a London Park, not much of interest happens aside from the mind-boggling construction of a felt frog riding a bicycle, seemingly without any wires attached. I do not know how they engineered it, the solution not being as simple as is with the Miss Piggy figure, who, when grappling onto a moving car or diving into a synchronized-swimmer infested pool (one of the best scenes in the film), is simply a small person in a pig costume. It is clear that Kermit is automated on the bike, but the balance and choreography of his riding is a mystery. Such precision of illusion is the ultimate goal of puppetry, and even in a scenario without any narrative thrust or lofty expression (it is a lark to be in love in the park), to be caught up in the complexity of the craft is a feat to triumph.

I do think that this is the best of the Muppet films (numbers two and three are Take Manhattan and Movie), as it has by far the most fun. The songs are not as good as they are in Movie, but the gags are more bountiful and there are no limits of pliability. Also, Charles Grodin. At the risk of hyperbole, I’d like to nominate Grodin’s performance as one of the criminally overlooked gems in comedic history. Listen to the way he sells the line “I’ve just spilled ketchup all over my cummerbund.” His evil laughter had me laughing the rest of the movie. And the sincerity of his expressions of love to a puppet pig… that’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

Kristen: I have held Jim Henson's driver's license in my hands, so clearly I'm somewhat devoted. I, along with a huge segment of people alive since the 1960s, have very strong and complex emotional response to the Muppets (They taught me about slapstick! They taught me about parody! They taught me about cookies!) It's pretty hard to evaluate a Muppet film that I've been watching literally since I was born on its merits. That said, this movie kicks seven kinds of ass.

[Philosophe_rouge]

I desperately want to see this. I will soon. I love the muppets <3

[Qrazy]

Haven't seen the major muppet films since I was a kid, kind of want to rewatch so yeah... love Henson though.

[Thirdmango]

Caper is by far and away my favorite of the muppet films. Glad to see it's yours too.

[Bosco B Thug]

Two excellent choices! Particularly Naked, because I'm only slightly sure I've seen the Muppet movie. I remember vaugely the Piggy bending the jail bars gag, so I must have.

[Melville]

Naked is awesome—probably my favorite Leigh film.

I don't think I've ever seen that muppet movie, but your puppet-centric review is great.

[Qrazy]

The tapering off of a great deal of the posting of the top 100's saddens me.

[Duncan]

The tapering off of a great deal of the posting of the top 100's saddens me.

I'll have one up today.

[Sycophant]

The tapering off of a great deal of the posting of the top 100's saddens me.One of my films in the high nineties for my thread suddenly struck me as unqualified and I've found myself in complete gridlock. Eh.

And if I don't see Caper before I die, I fully expect God to condemn me to hell on the merit of that one sin alone.

[Duncan]

I, uh, lied.

[Duncan]

92. Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (Fassbinder, 1974)

http://i209.photobucket.com/albums/bb208/EdwardCopeland/foreign/ali.jpg

Turns out the last couple weeks of college are pretty crazy. Who knew? Anyway, I'll do my best to fill this in later, but I am in the midst of finals, final projects, and final parties. Sorry for the cop out.

[Sven]

Great choice, though I probably have about 6 or 7 'binder films I prefer to it. I'd love to read a Duncan review of that one. I love your writing. I was particularly enamored of your review for Beau Travail, which I read only a few weeks ago after having seen it. It was fairly lucid, too, given that I've been going over Mulvey like a motherfucker this semester.

I particularly love the image of the sea of yellow picnic tables in this one. Dunno why, but that's one of the more resonant cinematic images that I've experienced.

[Melville]

I originally had Naked in this spot, but after a second viewing last night, I didn't think it was quite up to top 100 status; the dreary tone and a few specific moments both seemed a bit overdone. But if you like, you can imagine a short essay about Naked as an updated version of the Odyssey that reevaluates and ambiguates Homer's classical view of the world, ethics, and the ideal of a great man.

92. Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist of the N.Y. Herald and His Moving Comics (Winsor McCay & J. Stuart Blackton, 1911)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/littlenemo.jpg

Winsor McCay was one of the greatest cartoonists of the twentieth century. His page layouts were a marvel of design, his line work was sublime, his stories and dialogue subtly bizarre in their whimsy. He was also one of the first animators. In this short film, he emphasizes everything that I love about animation: its nature as something explicitly created in each still image and yet brimming with life in the motion of the whole; and the plasticity that is allowed by this duality, as the created images of physical forms seem to create their own physics through their movement.

Here's the whole movie:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcSp2ej2S00

And here are some images from McCay's comic strip Little Nemo in Slumberland:

http://jottings.blogspot.com/nemo.jpg

http://i111.photobucket.com/albums/n138/stethacantus2/45t.jpg

http://www.spacerockheaters.com/lyc/slumberland/imgs/Little_Nemo_plancha_2.jpg


Edit: if those images don't fit on anybody's monitor, let me know and I'll shrink them.

[Mysterious Dude]

Best comic strip ever.

I like the movie, though I don't think I would ever elevate it to top 100 status.

[Watashi]

Yeah, Little Nemo is pretty fantastic.

I love this comment in the YouTube link:


winsor mccay is teh pwnzors LOOK AT HIM DRAW HE'S AMAZING, DRINKS ALL AROUND i was looking for that one 1980s anime of little nemo but this is pretty rad. JUST SO YOU KNOW THE ANIMATION DOESN'T START UNTIL 7:27 INTO THE MOVIE. OMG COLOR!!! THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT I'VE EVER SEEN THANK YOU!!!

[Qrazy]

Watching the film now... I actually quite like the later anime film... which is also available on youtube.

[Sven]

Excellent!

I actually just got the big Little Nemo in Slumberland book, with all the cartoons up to 1914. http://www.amazon.com/Little-Nemo-1905-1914-Winsor-McCay/dp/3822863009/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210590605&sr=1-1

I'm totally in love with it.

[Melville]

Best comic strip ever.
I prefer Peanuts overall, but as far as artwork goes, Little Nemo pretty much owns.


I love this comment in the YouTube link:


winsor mccay is teh pwnzors LOOK AT HIM DRAW HE'S AMAZING, DRINKS ALL AROUND i was looking for that one 1980s anime of little nemo but this is pretty rad. JUST SO YOU KNOW THE ANIMATION DOESN'T START UNTIL 7:27 INTO THE MOVIE. OMG COLOR!!! THIS IS THE COOLEST SHIT I'VE EVER SEEN THANK YOU!!!

Awesome.


I actually just got the big Little Nemo in Slumberland book, with all the cartoons up to 1914. http://www.amazon.com/Little-Nemo-1905-1914-Winsor-McCay/dp/3822863009/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210590605&sr=1-1

I'm totally in love with it.
Yeah, I have that collection. Good stuff.

[Sven]

92. Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist of the N.Y. Herald and His Moving Comics (Winsor McCay & J. Stuart Blackton, 1911)

Incredible!

One of the things I adore most about McKay's artwork is his almost incomprehensibly expert sense of dimension. Seeing him draw a few of the characters in this movie made my jaw drop a little--I'm amazed that he's able to capture the proportions of the characters instantly, without any need to erase or light-line anything. And as the dragon walks away at the end of the cartoon, the way he shrinks and elevates it off the frame is masterful. His grasp of perspective is realistic and simultaneously dream-like, creating a surreal lucidity rarely achieved in moving art (the closest comparison I can think of now is the obvious answer of Lynch).

[Derek]

#92 - Rio Bravo (Howard Hawks, 1959)

http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff100/Livius_photos/PDVD_000-21.jpg

Typical of the later period Howard Hawks films, Rio Bravo moves at a remarkably leisurely pace and remains so unassuming at times that the effectiveness of its dramatic set-ups and exchanges are often not noticed until it's moved on to the next scene. Once again, Hawks returns to a confined space where men are defined by their professional skills and heroes by their adherence to a strict moral code. The set-up here is as basic as they come; Sheriff John T. Chance (John Wayne) is holding a murderer with only the help of his two skilled, yet damaged deputies - Stumpy (Walter Brennan) and Dude (Dean Martin) - as an increasing number of hired killers hold the town hostage waiting for the perfect moment to siege. Hawks enriches this barebones central plot with various intermingling character arcs and storylines, all functional yet given room to breathe, ebbing and flowing through serious drama and lighthearted comedy.

As usual, the Hawksian protagonist Chance is more comfortable with a rifle in his hands than a woman and where the first makes for some thrilling shoot-outs, the latter veers the film into the realm of romantic comedy that Hawks was equally comfortable with. The film's laid back nature gives ample screen time to the secondary characters, each of which must prove themselves "good enough" to enter Chance's fold. Perhaps the most perfect summation of Hawk's perspective on professionalism, Chance makes it work with what he has and refuses to accept help from the townspeople or amateur gunmen, realizing they will only get themselves kid. And who can forget the immortal exchange between Chance's friend who says, "That's all you got?" to which he replies simply, "That's what I got." There is surely a bit of arrogance in the way Chance carries himself, but as the clear-cut patriarchal figure in the community, it comes more from a sense of duty and an unwillingness to compromise his morals simply to increase the odds of saving his own skin.

Along with Chance, Hawks brings us a number of other unique, fascinating figures, working them each into the narrative like background melodies and tonal shifts in a piece of classical music. The comparison to music is fitting for this particular Hawks film, whose opening goes over 5 minutes without dialogue, the camera tracking the alcoholic Dude as he wanders throughout a saloon barely fighting off the desire for a drink. After a man gets shot for next to no reason, the sequence ends in a smaller bar in town where Chance knocks out the murderer with the butt of his gun, finishing his swing with a 360-degree spin. It is most certainly the closest John Wayne ever had and would look like a ballerina, but it signifies the start of the main conflict with a dramatic punctuation that finally gives you the signal to start breathing again.

In the same way Hawks carefully structures the intro to lead us the film's central conflict, so do his various motifs and asides build the characters in a way that develops their individuality as well as their place in the ever-changing group dynamic. Some are comical - Dude's repeated failure to role a cigarette, Stumpy's bickering, Chance's frustration at the Feather's advances - and other's are dramatic and heartfelt - Dude's battle with alcoholism, Chance's balancing duty with his burgeoning love, Feather's struggles to leave the past behind her, but all are delivered with stunning clarity and efficiency. What makes Rio Bravo a truly great film however is the way that each character is given the space and time (within the film and by the characters) to find their place and operate with their own free will. Dude's sobriety is never forced upon him, Chance is rarely questioned no matter how outlandish his decisions are, Colorado is never pushed to help them even once they realize he's good enough help them come out alive, and Feather won't let Chance off the hook until he admits he loves her yet she never says it for him. This whole group dynamic is slowly shaped throughout the film until they finally function as a well-oiled machine in the final shoot-out. It's an admirable display of honor and professionalism, but it's inclusion of Stumpy and the hotel owner give it a comic and humane pulse that make it stand out as perhaps the greatest of Hawks finales. And due to this seamless combination of comedy, tragedy, humanity and toughness, I would argue too that it's the great of all Hawks' films period.

[Qrazy]

Didn't like it all that much. It was OK... too many sing-a-longs... and the leisurely pace that worked for you for me robbed the film of it's sense of urgency and importance to the lives of the characters and their actions... also the lack of gravitas in the final shoot out made me emotionally noncommittal. Too often the film felt like a 'hang out with and bask in their star power' film, which always kind of rubs me the wrong way.

I prefer Red River despite the weak finale.

[Sven]

The only things I remember from Rio Bravo are a Ricky Nelson song by a campfire (I think) and Walter Brennan giddily yipping "I brung ye sum DY-nee-mite!" I should watch it again. Good review, as always.

I'm a tad alarmed that the interest in our list seems to be waning, compared with lists past. Are we just unpopular, or are people list-ed out? At any rate, I'm not discouraged, just slightly dismayed.

My next entry will be up probably tomorrow.

[Melville]

Although I usually really like Hawks, I didn't care for Rio Bravo. I thought the characters were thinly drawn, their relationships pretty trite, the pace too languorous, and the style too bland. Only Angels Have Wings was much more successful in covering the same territory of male camaraderie and a romantic subplot in the face of danger. Maybe I just prefer a pronounced mood.


Incredible!

One of the things I adore most about McKay's artwork is his almost incomprehensibly expert sense of dimension. Seeing him draw a few of the characters in this movie made my jaw drop a little--I'm amazed that he's able to capture the proportions of the characters instantly, without any need to erase or light-line anything. And as the dragon walks away at the end of the cartoon, the way he shrinks and elevates it off the frame is masterful. His grasp of perspective is realistic and simultaneously dream-like, creating a surreal lucidity rarely achieved in moving art (the closest comparison I can think of now is the obvious answer of Lynch).
One thing I love about his artwork is how he combines this perfect sense of three-dimensional form with thick, constant-weight lines. The linework emphasizes the drawn nature of the images, purposely avoiding naturalism, and yet it creates the sense of a real physical form. That's especially evident in the final panel of the second strip I posted, where the linework on Nemo seems almost distinct from his form. I think that aspect of the art works really well with the duality that I mentioned in my capsule review, and it helps achieve the dreamlike quality of the strips.

[Derek]

I don't really have the energy to defend Rio Bravo any more today, since I wrote a majority of that review this afternoon, but suffice it to say that I dig the languorous nature of late period Hawks and consider an oft-dismissed film like Hatari to be equal to the likes of Red River and Only Angels Have Wings. There's a naturalness in the character interactions in the late films that is simply not possible in the more compacted earlier films. Both are great, but for different reasons.

[Qrazy]

One thing I love about his artwork is how he combines this perfect sense of three-dimensional form with thick, constant-weight lines. The linework emphasizes the drawn nature of the images, purposely avoiding naturalism, and yet it creates the sense of a real physical form. That's especially evident in the final panel of the second strip I posted, where the linework on Nemo seems almost distinct from his form. I think that aspect of the art works really well with the duality that I mentioned in my capsule review, and it helps achieve the dreamlike quality of the strips.

I think I prefer The Sinking of the Lusitania.

[transmogrifier]

The only things I remember from Rio Bravo are a Ricky Nelson song by a campfire (I think) and Walter Brennan giddily yipping "I brung ye sum DY-nee-mite!" I should watch it again. Good review, as always.

I'm a tad alarmed that the interest in our list seems to be waning, compared with lists past. Are we just unpopular, or are people list-ed out? At any rate, I'm not discouraged, just slightly dismayed.

My next entry will be up probably tomorrow.


I can't speak for others, but I'm definitely listed-out, at least with regards ranking films against each other. I used to be a player, but with Match-Cut, I reached saturation point. There seems to be nothing but various ranking threads going on around here at times.

[Sycophant]

I'm not listed out. I just haven't been spending as much time here lately. I also find that when my contributions would be limited to "Garsh, I really oughtta bump that'ne up in mah queue," or "Well golly geez, sure been a long time since I done seen that one. Wish ah could remember," said contributions probably aren't worth making.

That said, Rio Bravo is a great film in my memory, but my recollections pretty much align with those of iosos. Recently saw the campfire scene played on a television in The Sopranos. "My rifle, my pony, and me." Beautiful. I actually got the film for my birthday and have been meaning to rewatch it.

[Kurosawa Fan]

I'm a bit listed out, and coupling that with the fact that you guys have so much time in between entries (not a criticism, just an observation), I tend to forget about this thread.

[Sven]

I've opted to write my reviews really fast. I like the hurried, free-associative rush that it gives me when I'm writing.

#91 - The Stunt Man

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/stunt-man.jpg

What are the limits of cinema narrative? Can a visual story develop mental logic instead of mere geography? Can we map with imagery, within the confines of a traditional plot structure, the processes of disassociated thought? These questions are asked in Richard Rush’s bizarre The Stunt Man through a series of layered realities that inform one another, finding external logic in the abstract catalysts of autonomous action. In other words, this film is like an onion, or rather, it’s like Shrek, meaning it has layers, and is, like, totally complex and stuff. It just begins to make itself clear towards the final third, only to wildly set the viewer’s head a-reelin’ in the last ten minutes (giving the viewer the distinct impression of having less of an idea of what the movie is actually about than ever). In the words of the girl I married: “What the hell is this movie?” I wouldn’t tell her.

Peter O’Toole is a godly presence, there’s no debate. His iconic role, Lawrence, is referenced in layer one of the film: O’Toole plays the significantly named Cross (the significance, however, eludes me) directing a World War I film about a soldier that ends up dying in a motoring accident. Familiar? However, unlike Lean, whom I believe I’ve read O’Toole modeled to a degree his role on, Cross is a terrible director. Or is he? He’s obviously an insane but brilliant mind, and his movie is a joke. He imposes depth on moments where the outcome of puncturing the superficial veneer can only lead to derision. Then in truly post-modern fashion, he embraces that derision as truth. How much of this is Rush commenting on the superficial three-act cliché-ridden narrative that the pitied Railsback careens through? Are we to impose depth on this silliness because Cross imposes depth on his silliness? In what capacity are we as viewers responsible for our suspension of disbelief, and how much is the director’s responsibility? If you’re ever in the mood to be bombarded with a surfeit of questions (mostly unanswered) dwelling on the nature of cinematic truth, narrative structure, or the artistic process, give this one a spin. It’s a doozy.

Speaking of Railsback, one of the fascinating things in this movie is the way his psychotic presence clashes with the graceful majesty of O’Toole’s classical training. What a dynamic result!—a Shakespearean actor embodying a role inspired by a criminal played as a creep by a the guy who played Chuck Manson. Cross claims to be moved by the humanity of Railsback’s character’s plight, which informs his anti-war movie with the necessity of an even gaudier variety of expression, to the point of nonsense (I love the mechanical bronze statue that enacts a girl on a swing set having sex with a bear). The film’s trick, which the girl that I married did not get, is that it must take on that same silliness in its primary level of storytelling, or else it’s simply an abstract adventure movie. Many scratch their heads, throw their hands up, laugh it off. But remember, this is cinema, and that King Kong was only three-feet-six-inches tall—the cinema is illusory and rarely frank, but dammit! that’s why we like it.

Kristen: Several times during the course of this movie, I turned to Patrick and said, "What the hell is this movie?" Bastard wouldn't tell me.

[Qrazy]

I've been wanting to see that ever since TGTE first recommended it on RT a few years back. I think I'll like it.

[Sven]

TGTE

Who's this?

[Qrazy]

Who's this?

ThisListGoestoEleven or here... Eleven.

[Eleven]

Yo. Yes, The Stunt Man is terrific, one of my dad's favorite movies. Too bad Rush didn't make anything else remotely as interesting.

[Sven]

Yo. Yes, The Stunt Man is terrific, one of my dad's favorite movies. Too bad Rush didn't make anything else remotely as interesting.

I so very very much love Color of Night (and on many days probably like it more than The Stunt Man), but I know I'm the only one, so...

[Russ]

I love The Stunt Man; On any given day it could land in my top ten. O'Toole, Railsback and Hershey get the most mentions, but the film's greatness is cemented by its ancillary players (Garfield, Rocco, Chuck Bail; even barely used Phil Bruns: "Time, Eli! Time, money!).

Excellent pick.

[Duncan]

Huh, I've never heard of that one. I'll look into it.

[Sven]

but the film's greatness is cemented by its ancillary players (Garfield, Rocco, Chuck Bail; even barely used Phil Bruns: "Time, Eli! Time, money!).

Yeah, Rocco and Garfield are exceptional. The whole film is. Have you seen Color of Night?

[Russ]

Yeah, Rocco and Garfield are exceptional. The whole film is. Have you seen Color of Night?
I have not. I do remember the scathing reviews it received, tho. Tell me more, I'm intrigued.

[Sven]

I have not. I do remember the scathing reviews it received, tho. Tell me more, I'm intrigued.

Yeah, it's pretty notorious, but where most say "bad", I say "mistaken". It's zany, it's ten times more delirious than The Stunt Man. I think a lot of critics didn't know how to take Rush's deliberate morphing of physical laws, as governed by the rules of the movie's frame and the geographical/chronological displacement offered by the edit. It's completely unbelievable, but it's wowie cine-gorgeous. I guess it's kind of like Die Hard and The Crying Game by way of Body Double. Very hard to describe, but I love it. Not as penetrating as The Stunt Man, meta-commentary-wise (this film is closer to the film that Cross is directing), but a beautiful example of the crazy possibilities of the moving picture.

[Bosco B Thug]

#91 - The Stunt Man
Peter O’Toole
Railsback
mechanical bronze statue that enacts a girl on a swing set having sex with a bear I must see this.

I think I love Rio Bravo. Good choice!

[Raiders]

Yeah, it's pretty notorious, but where most say "bad", I say "mistaken". It's zany, it's ten times more delirious than The Stunt Man. I think a lot of critics didn't know how to take Rush's deliberate morphing of physical laws, as governed by the rules of the movie's frame and the geographical/chronological displacement offered by the edit. It's completely unbelievable, but it's wowie cine-gorgeous. I guess it's kind of like Die Hard and The Crying Game by way of Body Double. Very hard to describe, but I love it. Not as penetrating as The Stunt Man, meta-commentary-wise (this film is closer to the film that Cross is directing), but a beautiful example of the crazy possibilities of the moving picture.

Uh yeah, I didn't get that at all. I think all I remember is the lamest twist ever and an unwanted shot of little Bruce Willis.

[Sven]

Uh yeah, I didn't get that at all. I think all I remember is the lamest twist ever

I found it brazen.


and an unwanted shot of little Bruce Willis.

Yeah. No comment.

[Melville]

I think I prefer The Sinking of the Lusitania.
Other than the short on my list, I actually find most of McCay's animation pretty dry. In Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist, the shift from live action to animation, and the ensuing shrinking, stretching, and spinning in space of the animated figures, has a sense of giddy discovery to it. All of McCay's other shorts seem pretty boring in comparison.


O’Toole plays the significantly named Cross (the significance, however, eludes me)
:lol:

Nice.

[Qrazy]

Other than the short on my list, I actually find most of McCay's animation pretty dry. In Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist, the shift from live action to animation, and the ensuing shrinking, stretching, and spinning in space of the animated figures, has a sense of giddy discovery to it. All of McCay's other shorts seem pretty boring in comparison.


Personally all of the live action elements of all his shorts bores me. I tend to ignore all of that as well as the inter-titles which I think all just cramp and stifle his actual animation.

But in terms of formal skill I find his execution of smoke and water in the Lusitania segment much more exceptional than his shrinking and spinning shenanigans.

[Duncan]

92. Fallen Angels (Kar-Wai, 1995)

http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Theater/3119/reis3.jpg

Somewhere on the streets of Hong Kong, between florescent signs and impressionistic murders, walks a group of twenty-somethings that have, apparently, fallen from the order of angels. Reduced to mere people, they set up hits and hijack lonely stores during their closed hours. The only evidence of these people’s previous status is their beauty. Played by pop stars and others from the list of Prettiest People, the characters of Wong Kar-Wai’s Fallen Angels bare their sad, beautiful faces through the colourful nights of the city they landed in.

Fallen Angels is a work of breathtaking style. It is a film whose worth lies primarily in its manipulations of the medium, not in its intellectual or emotional depth (though it has both). Its narrative is loose, cut together in almost arbitrary order. Narrative progressions are not in service of a plot, but to paint a beat and melody of image, sound and audience engagement. By this last term I mean how we as the viewer interact with the film, and how we are forced to process certain images differently on account of how they are composed and edited together or how the images change with camera movement. An example of this is the bar in which we first here song 1818. Many of the compositions here are of the reflections of characters, not of the characters themselves. The 180 degree rule is broken so many times and the mirrored walls so similar that physical space becomes next to impossible to decipher. The strongest clue we have as to whether or not we are looking at a character or the reflection of a character is the slight halo produced by the not infinitely thin mirror. As Christopher Doyle pans his camera from the reflection of the Killer (Leon Lai Ming) to the Killer himself, we must ask ourselves at what level we are prepared to identify with this image as a human being. He is, after all, still a movie character. And does seeing his reflection rather than him really reduce our capacity for empathy? Can it, in some cases, actually increase it? Like the light from a jukebox reflecting off his partner’s dress amplifies our empathy for her?

This idea comes up more directly with the inclusion of the video camera. After the death of Ho’s (Takeshi Kaneshiro) father, Ho sits down to repeatedly watch the images of his father going about his daily business. Here again we are twice removed from a character as a real being – a recording of a recording. Yet, Ho is clearly moved by the images and I can say that I am as well. We have seen these exact images before. When the father was alive they were playful and comedic. Now, they are playful, comedic, sad, hopeful, and elegiac. This recording of a recording is emotionally richer than when we witnessed the actual event as captured by Doyle’s camera instead of Kaneshiro’s. Earlier, the father also watched the tape. Smiling, he remarks, “Stupid kid.” The expression is one of affection for someone who is not even in the images, but the creator of the images.

Fallen Angels suggests that it is possible to make connections in a world that seems designed for communication through intermediaries. Furthermore, it suggests that those intermediaries can be converted from barriers to means of emotional transport. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the film is that director Wong Kar-Wai manages to accomplish this so completely through his own cinematic language. Just as words meant to represent intangibles can approach a definite reality of their own, so too do the frames of Fallen Angels. Film, as medium and intermediary, becomes the means of emotional transport. From amidst the feverish kinetics something like warmth finally emerges, and it comes in every colour of neon.

[Duncan]

First of all, sorry for the long delays between entries, and the utter lack of commentary Ali: FEtS. It's been a crazy month or so. I just officially graduated university two days ago.

Secondly, I'm sorry to say I'll be taking a break from Match-Cut though I won't be abandoning this thread. I'll be up at my internet-less cottage for the next week, then I'll be headed to Europe and Africa for a month. However, over the next week I have absolutely nothing to do. Therefore I will endeavour to write as many of these in advance as I can. I'll send them to iosos and he can post them for me.

Goodbye for now, folks.

[Qrazy]

Good pick, quite a fan.

[Sycophant]

Well said, sir. Made me want to go back and revisit it.

[Derek]

Well said, sir. Made me want to go back and revisit it.

My thoughts exactly. I like the film a lot, but it's been too long since I've seen it so I really should give it another look.

Enjoy your 5 weeks of internet-less existence Duncan!

[Boner M]

Fallen Angels is my favorite Wong, made my top 50. Good stuff, Duncan.

[Qrazy]

Fallen Angels is my favorite Wong, made my top 50. Good stuff, Duncan.

I'd prob. rank it third just after Happy Together and In the Mood for Love.

[Melville]

91. Winged Migration (Perrin, Cluzaud & Debats, 2001)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/geese3.jpg

After watching the special features on the Winged Migration DVD, I’m pretty sure that the film’s creators are hacks. The movie consists of brief, disconnected scenes of migratory birds. (The frilly narration, typified by hyperbolic statements about nature, is fortunately very sparse.) There is no apparent rhythm or structure to the sequence of scenes, which abut one another without relating to one another and which frequently begin or end with jarring abruptness. Many of them are presented as very short narratives, frequently emphasizing the tragic or frightening predicaments of various birds; one bird is threatened by a thresher, another is devoured by crabs. These scenes are filmed with trite overstatement, as if to create miniature suspense films. Their style seems absurd in the context of the surrounding elegant nature photography, and they are so brief that they seem to be abandoned in mid-thought, as if the editor just couldn’t be bothered with them anymore. At least three shots of birds flying impossibly high above the globe are obviously computer-generated—evidently because real birds simply wouldn’t allow for such a banal statement about the interconnectedness of all bird-kind. But what convinced me of the filmmakers’ hackery is this: they actually hatched hundreds of birds and trained them from infancy to follow the cameramen around; roughly half of the scenes of “migrating birds” were created by shipping trained birds (via airplane) to desired points on their natural migration route; many other scenes using wild birds were just as contrived. This strikes me as vaguely unethical, which I suppose I can forgive, but it also strikes me as vaguely insipid. The filmmakers went to such great lengths to gain control of their scenes of bird life, and they used that control to achieve disjointed artificiality?

But despite the filmmakers’ misjudgements, their trained birds allow something that I simply can’t resist: they allow the cameramen to fly alongside them. And this, in turn, affords the film its magnificence. For it shows us birds not from our fixed earthbound perspective, a perspective in which space is defined by a grouping of objects, but from a perspective that moves with the birds, a perspective in which objects are reduced to an ephemeral background, leaving only the birds and pure space. We are used to seeing birds fly above our fixed frame of reference. Even when they fly in our immediate vicinity, they fly through a space already contextualized by our surroundings. Kant described space as a fundamentally irreducible structure of our manifold of perceptions, and this is indeed how we typically experience it: as the form of our perceptions, as an elaborate representation of the transient relationship between a bird and the other objects that form the environs through which it moves (environs defined in our perception—our environs). It is something that we do not engage with, but which merely defines our possible engagements with other things in space. However, Winged Migration reveals space as something else: an arena of pure engagement; not merely something in which (or as which) we see things, but something in (and as and by) which we do (and are) things, something we ourselves are inextricably within and which we must grapple with. Frequently the film shows us birds flying at the edge of the frame, beating their wings with a desperate fervor, striving toward the empty space at the center of the frame. With minimal surroundings to contextualize their flight, their flight contextualizes itself. Space as something through which they move is defined not by their movement towards or away from any particular object, but by their pure act of flying. Their flight builds space around itself—space as a viscous fluid, as an arena of striving and will that is defined by that very striving.

So God bless artifice.

[Sven]

Holy moly, dude, awesomeness. Love that review, mostly because I think I more or less share that precise opinion. I can feel, and somewhat detest, the manipulations of the filmmakers at nearly all points, but there's absolutely no denying their supreme accomplishment of perspective.

[Melville]

Holy moly, dude, awesomeness. Love that review, mostly because I think I more or less share that precise opinion. I can feel, and somewhat detest, the manipulations of the filmmakers at nearly all points, but there's absolutely no denying their supreme accomplishment of perspective.
:pritch:

Awesome. I thought maybe I had totally lost everybody by criticizing one of my favorite movies for half of my review.

[Melville]

I'll be up at my internet-less cottage for the next week, then I'll be headed to Europe and Africa for a month.
Will you happen to be in Paris at the end of June? I'll be there for a couple weeks around then, and it would be damn cool to see a movie at the Cinematheque with you. Although you probably won't be reading this before you get back, so never mind.

Anyway, nice review of Wong's film. I thought the film's visual style was a bit too erratic, and its characters seemed a bit superficial and cutesy for my liking, but it certainly had some great moments.

[monolith94]

I think it's actually rather noble of you to recognize the flaws in a film that you love. I could do much the same with many films I'd put on my own top 100. Like Labyrinth, for example. I mean, it isn't 100% perfect, only about 97%.

[Melville]

I think it's actually rather noble of you to recognize the flaws in a film that you love. I could do much the same with many films I'd put on my own top 100. Like Labyrinth, for example. I mean, it isn't 100% perfect, only about 97%.
Yeah, I'm sure I could criticize a few things about a lot of movies on my list, but Winged Migration stands out as being so deeply flawed and yet so great. Rather than being 97% perfect, it's only about 50% perfect. (Actually, I have one other movie on my list that I feel the same way about, but I think I'll try to rein in my criticisms on that one.)

[Qrazy]

Yeah I pretty much agree with your review about the film as well, so well summed up, except I didn't find the imagery all that impressive... the idea of travelling with the birds was great but the end result was somewhat meh... and as you say the film is full of little aborted narratives which never really cohere. But it has it's moments.

[lovejuice]

i know they're apple and orange, but if one can see, planet earth, on a big screen, will that make WM pale in comparison?

i like WM. i prefer that bug documentary. and i think another one that comes after WM is totally forgettable. can't even remember the name.

[Raiders]

i know they're apple and orange, but if one can see, planet earth, on a big screen, will that make WM pale in comparison?

Yeah, I think Planet Earth makes Winged Migration look like a puppet show. That's not to discount the footage in the latter, but Discovery's miniseries is among the most amazing things I have ever witnessed.


i prefer that bug documentary

Microcosmos? Yeah, that's a pretty great one.

[Sven]

Yeah, I think Planet Earth makes Winged Migration look like a puppet show.

And what, pray tell, is wrong with puppetry? :)

[monolith94]

I think he meant to say a cheap, iosos-produced puppet show.

[Sycophant]

I think he meant to say a cheap, iosos-produced puppet show.
http://whatnot.bombdotcom.net/shit/iosospuppetry.jpg

[Qrazy]

And what, pray tell, is wrong with puppetry? :)

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

http://www.bfi.org.uk/sightandsound/images/issue/420/being-john-malkovich_420.jpg

Look away. Look away. Look away.

[Melville]

Planet Earth...Microcosmos
I haven't seen either. I'll definitely have to check them out.

[Derek]

Didn't have time to rewatch this, so I'll post an old review to keep things moving.

#91 - The Sweet Hereafter (Atom Egoyan, 1997)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/sh1.jpg

The opening shot of Atom Egoyan's majestic, heartfelt adaptation of The Sweet Hereafter is a slow tracking shot that moves to the right along a wood panel wall until it slowly reveals a serene, delicate portrait of a seemingly happy family - a wife and husband curled up together with their young infant lying between them. The shot is a memory, or perhaps an idealization of a time long past, and keys the audience into one of the key themes in the film - in a period of post-tragedy, how do human beings grieve and process the pain and regret that is constantly rehashed through memories? Non-chronologically following four characters in a small town following a tragic school bus accident, the film focuses on the periods prior to and following the accident, using it as an impetus for studying the nature of grieving and regret, rather than a singular narrative event carefully placed for maximum emotional impact. Ian Holm is particularly remarkable as Mitchell, a lawyer who shows up in town to start a class-action law suit with the victims of the accident by trying to find fault with anyone who could be blamed for it. His arrival stirs up the town by forcing them to reflect on the tragedy, which inevitably creates confusion and bitterness, but his own secrets are behind the motives for his actions.

The non-chronological unfolding of events allows Egoyan to avoid simplifying these situations into direct cause-and-effect and instead molds the past, present, and future into a tapestry reflecting the cyclical nature of human suffering. Each of the four points-of-view that we experience have different methods of processing their pain and coming to terms with their grief - Nicole (Sarah Polley), who becomes crippled in the accident, becomes tired of the manipulation and dishonesty that surrounds her as her father uses her condition for monetary gain; Dolores, the bus driver whose entire life was based around these children and driving her bus and now wants only her fellow townspeople to believe in her innocence; Wendell, the drunk who believes that the investigation and law suit are methods to avoid dealing with the reality that sometimes senseless things happen and innocent people needlessly die; and Mitchell, whose inability to cope with his daughter's incessant self-destructive behavior has made him feel so guilty and helpless, that he holds onto the string belief that there is always someone to blame for a tragedy.

What makes The Sweet Hereafter so emotionally potent is how the four stories each provide a new perspective on the events and the infinite ways people deal with, or deny, their grief. It never begs for our sympathy or pity, instead focusing on the multitude of actions and emotions as the truth comes to the surface. For such a devastating film, it's surprisingly subtle and the pacing which at first allows us ample time to soak in the serene, picturesque setting leaves room for the moral and ethical challenges that dominate the final hour. By almost completely bypassing the brutality of the accident and its immediate impact, The Sweet Hereafter is about more than just one event, but an invigorating study of the multitude of ways the mind deals with adverse circumstances individually and within the confines of a community.

[Sven]

A veritable review rotisserie, Derek. I should rewatch this one. In my estimation, it's the weakest Egoyan I've seen (maybe tied with Ararat). Positive, though.

[Derek]

A veritable review rotisserie, Derek.

Ian Holm sizzles and melts the screen like banana flambe melts in your mouth.


In my estimation, it's the weakest Egoyan I've seen (maybe tied with Ararat). Positive, though.

Your estimation is incorrect. Get a second opinion. And please tell me you don't think this is better than Where the Truth Lies...though now that I mention it, I think I remember you saying that a few years ago. Please remain silent. :)


I should rewatch this one.

This is the most correct part of your post.

[Sven]

Please remain silent. :)

:|

That's supposed to be my face after having zipped my lips closed.

[Derek]

:|

That's supposed to be my face after having zipped my lips closed.

I'm glad my memory kicked in. Trust me, it's for your own good in case Raiders and others make their way in here.

[Spinal]

First time I watched The Sweet Hereafter, I loved it enough to put it in my top 100. Second time propelled it into my top 10.

[Derek]

First time I watched The Sweet Hereafter, I loved it enough to put it in my top 100. Second time propelled it into my top 10.

I watched it a second time a few days after watching it the first time. Loved it both times and could easily seeing it improving upon additional viewings. I'd really like to see Exotica a second time too, so I'll probably return to that one first.

[Melville]

Great choice. I'll provide some thoughts on it soon.

[SirNewt]

Yeah, I think Planet Earth makes Winged Migration look like a puppet show. That's not to discount the footage in the latter, but Discovery's miniseries is among the most amazing things I have ever witnessed.



Microcosmos? Yeah, that's a pretty great one.

It's not made by discovery.

While visually the most impressive wildlife documentary I've ever seen, BBC's own 'Blue Planet' and 'The Life of Birds' are more interesting.

[Sven]

Hurray for getting ten each! At this rate, we'll finish in no time! I don't know how long it's going to be between this one and Duncan's next... still haven't heard from him... but here goes:

#90 - The Stranger

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/Stranger.jpg

In The Stranger, Welles goes for a war-crime domestic-terror noir, with terrifying and exciting results. I love the film for its strange associations, the thrills associated with hidden small-town agendas, an exquisite Robinson performance, and, much like my love for The Third Man, for holding me rapt with its showcasing of the Welles monologue. Here’s a quality bit, with Welles waxing rhapsodic about the Third Reich:
“The German sees himself as the innocent victim of world hatred and conspired against and put upon by inferior people, inferior nations. He cannot admit to error, much less to wrongdoing, not the German. We chose to ignore Ethiopia and Spain, but we learned from our own casualty list the price of looking the other way. Men of truth everwhere have come to know for whom the bell tolled, but not the German. No! He still follows his warrior gods marching to Wagnerian strains, his eyes still fixed upon the firey sword of Siegfried, and he knows subterranean meeting places that you don't believe in. The German's unbroken dream world comes alive, and he takes his place in shining armor beneath the banners of the Yeutonic knights. Mankind is waiting for the Messiah, but for the German, the Messiah is not the Prince of Peace. He's... another Barbarossa... another Hitler.” The only time his speechifying has ever been better is in F for Fake, which I do not like as much as this film, if only for my love for thrills and aversion to vanity (which all Welles films dole out in spades, but F for Fake is essentially Welles kissing himself in a mirror for ninety beautiful minutes).

I liken this film, and even prefer it, to Citizen Kane: both films are about the search for identification. One, the mystery is a word, the key, a sled. Innocuous, but nostalgic. Here, that nostalgia is traded for an expose of fascism, which Welles profoundly links to the drama of marital dominance. It’s a bit blunt, but with Welles’s penchant for expressionism, his angles, the high contrast photography, the sweeping music, the close-ups… its bluntness is galvanized into something almost ineffable, almost internal. I like that Welles here executes a few impressive long takes (I normally associate him with the Eisenstein school of assembly). Moving from tableau A to tableau B to tableau C with the invisible grace of a master craftsman. All the while, clarifying, deepening the fear of discovery—the discovery that husbandry is, potentially, not so very removed from fascist ideology. As Robinson closes in on the identification of the real stranger, as Welles’s desperation mounts, his willingness to allay his burden extends to the final solution of exterminating his accomplice—his wife, who was only following orders. It’s all very exciting.

Kristen: Totally sweet visuals, compelling-enough plot, and the varying degrees of jowliness represented by Welles and Robinson. I'm sold.

[monolith94]

Props! This entry entirely makes up for any sub-par puppetry work you may have done! Great film.

:D

[Derek]

Sweet. Those screen caps are awesome as most shots in his films tend to be. I would likely consider Welles one of my five favorite directors, yet I've put off seeing this because of the awful DVD that's available. I just checked KG and there's a nice version that I've started dl'ing, so I'll watch it as soon as it's done. At the rate of 4KB/sec, that might not be til next Wednesday. :)

[Qrazy]

Nice comments but personally... while it does have it's moments... I find The Stranger to be Welles weakest film out of the ten I've seen... so all other 9 better be above it or else...

[Sven]

Sweet. Those screen caps are awesome as most shots in his films tend to be. I would likely consider Welles one of my five favorite directors, yet I've put off seeing this because of the awful DVD that's available. I just checked KG and there's a nice version that I've started dl'ing, so I'll watch it as soon as it's done. At the rate of 4KB/sec, that might not be til next Wednesday. :)

We have this DVD:
http://www.amazon.com/Stranger-MGM-Film-Noir/dp/B000PMFRVU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1212292122&sr=1-1

It is not awful.

[Kurosawa Fan]

Love The Stranger. Nice choice.

[Derek]

We have this DVD:
http://www.amazon.com/Stranger-MGM-Film-Noir/dp/B000PMFRVU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1212292122&sr=1-1

It is not awful.

I didn't realize a new version was released last year. Netflix has it too, so w00t.

[Sven]

Duncan is now, for the next bit, participating by proxy. That proxy, me. Here goes.

Duncan
Balloons are beautiful.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/matchcut%20misc/avatar.gif

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/matchcut%20misc/rep.gifhttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/matchcut%20misc/rep.gifhttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/matchcut%20misc/rep.gif
Rep Power: 2
Rep Points: 220

90. L’Eclisse (Antonioni, 1962)

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/matchcut%20misc/leclisse-pic.jpg

Who has not sat tense before his own heart's curtain?
It rises. There is the scenery of departure.

I have been obsessed lately with Rainer Rilke’s scenery of departure. For me, it is the pillared campus I am leaving. It is the Lower East Side apartments my friends have recently moved into. It is a particular woman’s bed I’ll no longer share. It is the neighbourhood bars that I once resented for their familiarity. It is the residue these places have left in my memory that I want desperately to shed, if only so that I may leave something of myself behind. I think you can see that residue in the final minutes of Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Eclisse. The sequence is dialogue free and approximately ten minutes long. It is a revisiting of the places most important to the relationship between those archetypal beauties Monica Vitti and Alain Delon. Though we have spent some of the film’s most important moments in these places, they seem displaced from their previous reality. The landscapes remain the same, but have been diminished.

Monica Vitti plays Vittoria, a woman who shares many of the same neuroses as Vitti’s alter egos in L’Avventura, Il Deserto Rosso, and La Notte. She is alienated by the capitalistic society that infiltrates even the space between lovers. Alain Delon plays Piero, a stock broker who cares more about reselling his wrecked car than the dead man lying in it. Their relationship takes as its base their material surroundings. They meet at a specific corner, then kiss only after an agreed upon distance. Later, they try to recreate those same surroundings in an apartment by staging a kiss. Their relationship inevitably disintegrates. The phones must be answered.

In finality we return to all those places made memorable by the interactions between Vitti and Delon. A barrel has drained of its water, a sprinkler shuts off, and shadows seem peculiarly long for the time of day. A woman, blond, might be Monica Vitti. And here, perhaps, is Alain Delon. Both people are revealed to be strangers. Doppelgangers walk through the same locations, though the essence of the streets has changed. Those anonymous twins may develop loves of their own. They may even alter the landscape so that it resembles its previous self. But it will be changed in their eyes alone. As revisited by the camera the neighbourhood is marked by a severe absence. And that absence may be as strong a residue as we are capable of leaving on a place. How little these buildings matter compared to those structures in our minds - those buildings risen from experience that will later be felled only to rise again, sadder and populated by nostalgia.

[Qrazy]

Good choice.

[Melville]

Great reviews.

For some reason I always assumed that The Stranger was subpar Welles, but your review makes it sound extremely enticing.

I'm not a fan of any Antonioni films I've seen (L'Avventura, Blowup, The Passenger), but that review furthers my suspicion that L'Eclisse stands a good chance of turning me around on the whole Antonioni question.

[Qrazy]

Great reviews.

For some reason I always assumed that The Stranger was subpar Welles, but your review makes it sound extremely enticing.

I'm not a fan of any Antonioni films I've seen (L'Avventura, Blowup, The Passenger), but that review furthers my suspicion that L'Eclisse stands a good chance of turning me around on the whole Antonioni question.

I'd say La Notte is your best bet and then try L'eclisse.

[Raiders]

I certainly hope you're not saying that The Stranger is your favorite Welles film. That would just be lunacy.

[Beau]

I love L'Eclisse.

[Melville]

I'm afraid that I'm going to have to post my next few entries without reviews. I've been very busy with school, and I'll be even busier for the next three weeks. Then I'll be going to France for a couple of weeks. After that I'll try to catch up on all the reviews I skipped.


90. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920)

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/caligari.jpg

Most summaries of expressionism will tell you that the movement is characterized by an expression of the artist’s internal, subjective experience rather than the exterior, objective world. But I’ve always thought this was too simple a reduction. Expressionism doesn’t present the world as something that would be fixed were it not filtered through the artist’s subjective frame of mind; it presents the world as something irrevocably experienced in a frame of mind, something that cannot be separated or distilled from that frame of mind. In other words, there is no internal or external world in Expressionism—there is only the world as it is lived. This is in radical opposition to the metaphysics underlying realist art, which tries to construct a representation of the “objective” world and only then submits itself to our “subjective” interpretation. My primary interest in art is as a means of acquiring an understanding of the world, not as a list of facts and figures or exact visual representations, but as a qualitative figuration of that world as I—and perhaps more importantly, others—experience it. As such, my taste in art is skewed dramatically toward the expressionist side of things.

However, after having seen The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, I always feel slightly let down by the later German Expressionist films. Wiene’s film so violently embraces its Expressionist themes that everything following it seems tamed by comparison. From its beginning, the film breaks down the distinction between the physical world and the world of the protagonist: as he begins to narrate his story, we see images of the story intercut with his visceral reaction to them, as if he is experiencing the story as he tells it. And the story we see is an utterly singular one. With exaggerated makeup and wild gesticulations, the villain of the story, the titular doctor, appears as a grand grotesque around which the story swirls. The set design consists of obviously painted backdrops and fabricated buildings’ facades jutting forth into the frame at wild angles, with (painted-on) tilted windows and doors at odds even with those angles, creating a cramped, cacophonous space in which the villain roams. The set design’s mad geometries disrupt our everyday Cartesian space, conveying a sense of pervasive, nightmarish uncertainty. The effect is akin to Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart, in which the narrator’s madness renders his descriptions uncertain and bizarre. But the medium of film allows for a slightly different effect: by depicting “real” people (or at least nearly-exact visual representations of people) moving through the mad geometries and gesticulations, it insists that this is not a distorted image of the world. It is precisely the real world—the world as the protagonist experiences it.

As an added bonus, here are some thematically similar paintings by the Russian expressionist Soutine, who seriously rocks:

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/soutine.jpg

http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff317/FaulknerFan/soutine2.jpg

[Watashi]

What's with everyone going to Europe?

[Qrazy]

Good pic but no one ever seems to talk about other Wiene films... I wonder if he has anything else worth seeing. I've heard Fear is worth a look.

[Derek]

Damnit, I totally missed Melville's last post. I'll have a review up by tomorrow.

[Derek]

#90 - A Grin Without a Cat (Chris Marker, 1977)

http://www.1in12events.co.uk/GRIN%20WITHOUT%20CAT%20SFR.jpg

"A cat is never on the side of power."

Having grown up in the American public school system, I was spoonfed, for the greater part of my life, the notion that history is to be viewed as a series of dates, key events and movements occuring within a political spectrum that could be cut into clearly defined factions like a pizza; each slice falling clearly on the side of the Left or Right. Chris Marker's remarkable essay film A Grin Without a Cat, focusing primarily on the rise and fall of the New Left from a global perspective, treats the bevy of historical events and political movements explored in the film not as individual and separate but as elastic and constantly in flux. Interspersing montages of manipulated found footage and shots from narrative films with interviews and newsreel footage, Marker's historical journey becomes far more poetic than your typical documentary, engaging the events he portrays in a way that is far more dialectical than didactic.

Like the time-traveling protagonist in his science fiction masterpiece, La Jetee, Marker's journey through time is non-linear in fashion, allowing him to not only avoid the mundane, timeline-based trappings of a textbook, but also the freedom to veer off into the side streets and back alleys of history, through what at first may seem like non-sequitors to help convey the complexity and density of the political climate of the 1960s and 70s. The ambiguity of this climate and the loss of a clear delineation between good and evil, highlighted by the failure in Vietnam and the downfall of the Nixon administration, is thoroughly explored throughout the film, which examines the various counter-movements and factions within factions within factions until the spectrum becomes a stew that is constantly stirred, with each new occurance adding yet another spice which redefines and reshapes the surrounding environment. Marker's masterful blend of archival footage, poetic voice-overs and carefully orchestrated editing techniques all combine perfectly to convey a nearly absurd amount of information about histories that have, at least in the West, been all but completely ignored.

[Sven]

Swell comments on Marker. I am desperate to see more than the three of his that I've seen (and loved). Will add this to the list post haste. Sounds incredible.

[Qrazy]

Yeah I too want to see that one. I accidentally downloaded The Case of the Grinning Cat instead but didn't end up watching it because it was such a poor transfer.

[Raiders]

Bah. BAH. This one needs to be more available. Speaking of Marker though, I am watching Level 5 in the next couple days.

[soitgoes...]

Cool. I have this one burned. I'm just waiting for a day where I can watch it all in one sitting.

[Derek]

Bah. BAH. This one needs to be more available. Speaking of Marker though, I am watching Level 5 in the next couple days.

Two words: Kara Garga. They have this and a bunch of other Marker films and I have plenty of invites if you're interested. I was actually lucky enough to catch this on the big screen. There was a great Marker retro at one of the local museums when I lived in San Diego, so I got the chance to see a few of his ultra-rare films. I'm sure when I see Sans Soleil again I'll appreciate it as much if not more than this film, but last time I watched it, I was so disoriented and overwhelmed that I couldn't fully grasp it. I still love it, but I need to see it again to fully digest it I suppose.

[Sven]

D-Davis *sheds tear*, this one's for you:

#89 - Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v350/iosos/Top%20100%20movies/Nausicaa.jpg

It seems to me that there’s always at least one annoying thing with every Miyazaki film: in Princess Mononoke, it is the perfection of its sickeningly noble hero; in Spirited Away, the magic is frequently unexplained which strips some of the wonder away from it; Howl’s Moving Castle shares a similar affliction of magic for magic’s sake, which plagues its coherence; the little girls in My Neighbor Totoro suffer from GLGS, Giggly Little Girl Syndrome, and it is a source of mild to great irritation; Kiki’s Delivery Service is nice, but nothing important happens; The Castle of Cagliostro is perhaps too canny in the evocation of its diabolical scenario, so that it’s more oppressive than fun; along the same lines, Castle in the Sky’s whimsy undercuts its stakes, or rather the other way around—I never feel right accepting mass murder as a given. There is one other Miyazaki film I did not mention, for it is the exception to the rule. More on it later.

With Nausicaa, my irritation peaks with its lullaby-like musical evocation of Nausicaa’s innocence, youth, and symbology. Anyone who’s seen it knows the tune: nah-Nah-nahnahnah-NAH-nah, nah-NAH-Nahnahnah. I don’t mind it when set to Hisaishi’s glorious instrumented ensemble. It is when we hear the tune recited by the distant voice of a little girl that it really grates on my nerves. Catchy, irresistibly enchanting, syrupy awfulness. Oh well. The shallowness of my irritation only exposes how wonderful the rest of the film is. Its landscapes and visual ambiance are just about as strong as any animated picture I’ve seen. Its sense of fantasy thick and thorough. Narratively, the film stumbles over its own devising, clunkily expositing what ten extra minutes could have fluidly communicated, setting up the rules of the world. Thankfully, most of that is over quick, allowing the viewer to soak in the expressive colors and alien design of a retrograde future. I have a soft spot in my heart for any film with the ability to draw me into a universe that simultaneously feels authentic (or real, or without flaws signifying a lack of thorough human conception) and artificial (which is not to say “fake”, but rather “constructed”). Nausicaa fits the bill, and is filled with rousing action, resonant imagery, and applause-worthy intentions: one of the most memorable moral movie moments in my memory is the scene where the fox-squirrel (soon called “Teto”), in a fit of fright, bites into Nausicaa’s finger. Nausicaa remains still as Teto eventually calms down and starts to dress her wound. “You were only scared, weren’t you?” I also love the moment when Yupa intercepts her sword with his wrist and she watches in horror as his blood trickles down the blade and drips off the hilt.

Kristen: Post-apocalyptolicious.

[MacGuffin]

iosos, have you seen Tekkonkinkreet?

[Sven]

iosos, have you seen Tekkonkinkreet?

Still have not.

[MacGuffin]

Still have not.

Just curious. Might watch it tonight, as I'm trying to get into more anime myself (Miyazaki's one of my favorite directors).