Shane Watches the Greatest Movies Ever Made: The Searchers

1956 cowboy and Indian movie

Rating: 19/20

Plot: A confederate soldier returns home after the Civil War and shows everybody how to piss. When some damn Indians kill some of his family and kidnap his niece, he forms a posse--the titular searchers. His real motive, however, is to get back a doll that belonged to his niece but that he may have been having sexual relations with. The Duke! Meanwhile, there's a guy with a rocking chair fetish.

"What makes a man to wander? What makes a man to roam?" These dopey theme songs for Westerns always make me feel nostalgic. At first, I'm thinking, "This is really stupid," but by the middle of the song, I'm on board, ready to get myself a horse and a spittoon. There might be too much music in this movie. I mean, I really want it during all the ride-around montages. Monument Valley doesn't exactly need music, but it compliments the searching well. I definitely don't need music when the characters are having supper. I can figure out supper without music.

John Wayne's character is big and complex. He's hard not to like even when he's at his most despicable. He's really a villain here, but at the same time, he's a war hero and a loving family man. Well, and he's a racist, the kind of guy who'll shoot out a dead Injun's eyes just for spite. And he calls his friends things like "Blanket Head" or "Chunk Head" which doesn't seem very nice. The movie centers on his obsession when it's not focusing on Mose's obsession with rocking chairs, and although it's easy to say that his character is just racist or pissed off that his side lost the big war, it's really more complex than that. Wayne's performance, simple on the surface, and the ambiguity with his character gives this movie a complexity and along with Ford's visual brilliance and the beauty of Monument Valley, it helps elevate the Western to an art form.

Was Buddy Holly a fan of this movie? Wayne's recurring "That'll be the day" catchphrase is cool, but I really liked his "Put an amen to it!" better. Can't tell you how many times I've wanted to yell that in church. My favorite line might be when Ethan says, "A man rides a horse until it dies. Then he goes on afoot. A Comanche comes along, gets that horse up, and rides it twenty more miles. Then, he eats it." I think I read that in a history book when I was in sixth grade actually. Oh, and I like the exchange after the Futterman ambush:

"What if you'd missed?"
"Never occurred to me."

That is so cool. The dialogue's good and more than likely authentic. What I don't understand is the voice of Charlie played by Ken Curtis. I took a linguistics class in college, but it doesn't help me understand how people, in just a few generations, can lose a British accent and talk like Mose and Charlie do in this movie. They're around for comic relief, and the comic relief doesn't work perfectly all the time. John Wayne's lines are often funny, but a goofy fight between Marin and Charlie, Mose and his rocking chairs, and especially the inept Northerners who ruin some of the tension in the final moments, do a lot more harm than good.

My favorite character just might be Ward Bond's Reverend Captain Samuel Johnston Clayton. During a terrific scene where the posse is surrounded, I could have sworn he said, "I want you to move out here like Baby Jesus," but I could have just been confused.

Oh, wait a second! He's not my favorite character. I forgot that this movie's got a log lady!

Another quick question: As beautiful as this setting is--especially filmed by Ford with its yellow dusk, gnarled foliage at an inexplicable swamp, and the Dali-esque landscape--why would anybody want to live there?

This movie's got arguably one of the best closing shots of all time, but I'm not going to write about it.

Shane Reviews the Greatest Movies Ever Made: Sunrise (A Song of Two Humans)

1927 silent melodrama

Rating: 19/20

Plot: A horny farmer meets a whore from the city, and she convinces him to drown his wife and sell his farm so that they can be together. His penis tells him that it sounds like a terrific idea, but he's unable to commit the act and the married couple falls in love all over again in the big city. But then there's a storm! Oh, snap!

Again, in order to avoid ridicule from cinephiles, I feel the need to give these movies on the Sight and Sound list a 20/20. [Edit: I have since changed my mind! I welcome ridicule.] I'm not sure if this makes me a more credible movie blogger, but admitting that I do it probably takes away every tiny bit of credibility I had left. I want to start this off by saying that I really do love this little movie, however. Oh, and you should consider, when deciding in your head just how much credibility I do have since I know you're doing that right now, that I am posting this entry in the "Shane Watches the Greatest Movies Ever Made" series on the exact day I said I would which is worth something.

Enough about my credibility or lack of credibility though. There's Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans to discuss. Everybody who knows me knows that I like silent movies. 1927 was a huge year for film, one that started with Metropolis and also saw the release of The Jazz Singer, a movie that ruined movies for several years. If my shoddy research is correct, this movie came out soon after that first successful "talkie," timing that unfortunately made it interesting to almost nobody. It did win a special Academy Award though, and it's now regarded as one of the best of the silent era. Deservedly so actually.

The story's in three chunks--a haunting first act where The Man (that's his name, just like it should be in a fairy tale) and city gal conspire to off The Wife, a much lighter and sweet and humorously cute second part where the love between the husband and wife is rekindled, and a third classically melodramatic final third that features some action, some surprises, and the exact ending that it should have. It's a silent film, and Murnau doesn't lean on title cards at all, forcing his mute characters to let us know all about themselves in other ways--the way they smoke their cigarettes, flash leg, or walk; the way they tuck their husbands into bed or frown at an abandoned kitchen table; and the way they clutch bundles of sticks, offer a plate of bread, or lumber about like their legs are too heavy. Those heavy legs, you should know, were allegedly because actor George O'Brien was forced to wear lead boots to help him walk in a more guilty way. Apparently, guilty men walk a little like Frankenstein's monster. O'Brien is good, even shedding some tears during one beautiful scene. His character's dopey though. Buying cheap flowers for your wife to make up for looking menacing during a boat ride? Janet Gaynor's also great, though often with that typical 1920's staginess. Margaret Livingston plays the woman in the city, and even though she's the third most important character in this, she's not in it all that much. She does look good in lingerie, however. That was appreciated. Oh, and there's a scene where she dances after she and lover daydream of life in the city, and that might be the worst thing I've ever seen. No, I'm not just talking about dancing. I'm talking about the worst thing I've ever seen. Of course, I always like the periphery characters, and there's a pair of guys in the city--a barber played by Ralph Sipperly and a randy photographer played by J. Farrell MacDonald--who play their parts like they really want to be noticed. And there's a dog that is not credited, but I was wondering if it was the same dog who played Homo in Murnau's The Man Who Laughed.

This isn't great because of the acting or rather simple story though. This is all about technical prowess. The visual experimentation makes this a stunning movie-watching experience. Watch that fuzzy moon and farmland melt into big city excitement, a scene witnessed through a moving trolley that transitions from a rural setting to an urban one, the lighting during a scene post-storm, a title screen that chillingly says "Couldn't she get drowned?" before even-more-chilllingly melting away, long tracking shots of characters walking through these sets including one spectacular sequence where the camera follows the guy as he meets his mistress. I can't remember seeing a silent movie where the camera moves this gracefully. It does it on the outdoors sets and again through the busy streets of the city. There are also some special effects, mostly superimposition, and it looks quaint but also like a labor of love. There's a craft to putting the model trains, dancing women, and musicians on the screen with dreaming lovers in a field of wheat. The goofiest effect is during a slow careless but loving walk that ends up humorously causing a traffic jam. It looks silly but still manages to add to the fairy tale-ness of the whole thing.

I also want to mention the music, something I almost never do because I don't really understand how music was done for movies in the 20s. It sounds to me that a lot of this music may have been used just for this movie although I did hear that Alfred Hitchcock television theme music in there during a scene with a broken statue. Generally, silent movie music is at best dull and forgettable or at its worst irritating. Here, it's really terrific, adding to the tension in the early and later scenes of the movie.

And speaking of the sound, this one is not technically a silent movie. It's one of those late-20's movies that use synchronized sounds. I really wish that era of movie-making would have been longer because it's delightfully goofy, especially here when the characters go to an amusement park and later with the wind and thunder during a violent storm. I can't understand why some things get sound and some don't. There's a scene where some incessant pig squealing is audible but a dropped bottle is not. It's weird.

I should have watched this with my wife, but I'm afraid she would get ideas and try to drown me afterward.

Next movie in the Shane Watches the Greatest Movies Ever Made series: Tokyo Story. I'll write about that one on the 26th of January unless I decide to shut this thing down before then.

Amelie

2001 romantic comedy

Rating: 19/20 (Jen: 17/20)

Plot: An awkward, introspective waitress in Paris decides to become a good-deed doer, and after she gets the hang of that, she decides to help herself.

This little feel-good movie of the century seems impossible to not love. It's refreshing, like lemonade washing over you without any of the stickiness. Amelie is as cute as a peach, and Tautou just nails this quirky and lovable character. The direction is as flamboyant as you'd expect and want from something Jean-Pierre Jeunet had anything to do with, and although the surface of this story is as simple as it can possible be, its diversions are so much fun. This is definitely a case where the "Where the characters go" doesn't matter nearly as much as "How the characters get there," the latter keeping this movie fresh no matter how many times you watch the thing. Along the way, there's a tiny bit of animation, fun camera play, some narration, a lawn gnome, and a sex montage that is as much a whimsical treat as my favorite scene in Delicatessan. Oh, and I just love the music of Yann Tiersen here. Even though it wasn't written specifically for this movie, the music matches the visuals so well. Another of my favorite little things about this movie: Amelie and Nino don't have any face-to-face dialogue in this movie. There's just something so precious about that. Ah, precious! That's a good word to describe this one. It's almost a fragile little movie, so delicate that I fear somebody with big clumsy hands might come along and accidentally break the thing. This is definitely not a movie for people with big clumsy hands.

As far as I know, this is still my brother's favorite movie.

Barton Fink

1991 movie

Rating: 19/20

Plot: The titular playwright rides the success of his play about the plight of common men to a contract with a film studio and is hired to write a movie about wrestling. He moves to L.A. where he struggles with the screenplay and makes some friends.

I know that I saw black comedy before Barton Fink, but I'm not sure I appreciated the genre as much before I saw this. I guess this just came along at the perfect time in my life, and I found it easy to connect with its dry humor, its surreal glimpse of one man's personal hell, and its many incomprehensibilities. I didn't understand it back then, but it was a movie with these overly-colorful characters in this setting that seems to be right from somebody's lackadaisical nightmare that I just felt, one of those movies that keeps coming back and rubbing up against your leg long after you're finished with it. I don't think it was the first artsy-fartsy movie that I liked--I'd seen Eraserhead--but it was the one that made me actively seek out more artsy-fartsy movies and turned me into a Coen brothers fan. And you know what? I still don't have a grasp on this one twenty years after I saw it which, for me at least, puts it right up there with a lot of my favorite movies, works of art, writings, or music. It's a riddle that I'll always love diving into.

What a look the Coens capture with this! It's almost like they wanted to see how many different shades of brown they could squeeze on the screen. The movie's got this dusty tint which adds to the dreamlike tone. And I love the shots of the peeling wallpaper, the mosquito cam, all these absurdly long hallways (sometimes with shoes laid out in front of the doors) and balconies, and some of that typical quietly flamboyant Coen camera work. The movie's also got such colorful characters, both the major and minor ones, that are wonderfully performed by a few Coen regulars. Turturro's almost a straight man in this, but he gets more than enough chances to stand out on his own when his character passionately engages in one-sided discussions about the importance of his work or gets angry or nervous about something. Charlie's the perfect role for Goodman whose smile is as big as the hotel room. This was when Goodman became Goodman for me since I was too distracted by the genius of Nicolas Cage to notice him in Raising Arizona and only really knew him from Roseanne and Revenge of the Nerds. He and his chins are just such a physical presence in this. John Mahoney--who is the coolest guy ever according to a history teacher I used to work with who was an extra in some movie that Mahoney had something to do with--is also very good as the writer, W.P. Mayhew. Buscemi's Chet, Judy Davis's Audrey, Michael Lerner's Lipnick, Tony Shalhoub's Geisler, and Richard Portnow and Christopher Murney's Italian and German detectives are all smaller but still memorable roles that add such color to the Coen's world. And then there's the humor. Chet's double introduction of himself (Chet!) is my personal favorite moment, probably because of Steve Buscemi's teeth, but I also love the very first little "joke" where a guy screams "Fresh fish," a gag that is just so beautifully executed. As the characters maneuver through this landscape of surreal imagery and symbols, it's hard to know whether you're supposed to laugh at them or be horrified, and that's part of the magic of this movie. This will more than likely be a movie that I will always feel slightly lost within, kind of like its protagonist. No, that doesn't sound like a comfortable movie feeling, but it's a feeling that I'll never forget and one of the main reasons I started really liking movies in the first place.

My favorite line in the whole thing, by the way: "These are big movies about big men in tights, physically and mentally--especially physically."

Fargo

1996 movie

Rating: 19/20 (Jen: 19/20; Dylan: 10/20)

Plot: Used car salesman Jerry Lundegaard needs some cash and has thought of the perfect crime in order to get it. He hires a pair of guys--a big one and a funny-looking one--to kidnap his wife so that he can split the ransom money with them. It doesn't go very well. Hot on the trail is a pregnant police officer.

"Where is pancakes house?"

I remember the feeling I had after watching Fargo for the first time. I was kind of stunned. Part of it may have been that I fell for the Coen "Based on a true story" gag. Part of it was definitely what happened with all these characters who I really enjoyed spending time with. And part of it was just because the movie was so damn good. Oh, and part of it was how much I laughed or smiled while watching some really awful people trying to pull off some really dreadful things. It made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. The overall tone, one established with that opening shot with that somber violin music and the truck on the highway. But there's a delicious black humor (yes, I did just type that, bitches!) under the surface. And part of this movie's brilliance is the way it blends the murder mystery genre and comedy so perfectly in a way where neither interferes with the other. Of course, it's the performances that make that happen. Macy's profoundly dopey and, as far as I know, just nails that accent. McDormand does, too, the moral center for this story and the only character in the whole thing who is likable. She's so atypical for the character she represents in a murder mystery. There's nothing the least bit Bogarty about her, but it's a terrific performance with some surprising depth. I mentioned that Marge is the only character you can like. You might not like the kidnapping duo, but it's impossible to not be entertained by them. Buscemi's every movement is perfect, and Peter Stormare, as we've already established, is the greatest actor of all time. Harve Presnell, Steve Reevis as Shep Proudfoot (great name), John Carroll Lynch as Mr. Marge Gunderson, Larry Brandenburg as Stan Grossman, Bain Boehlke as the guy who gives the final tip, the hookers. There's not a weak link in the bunch. And I know what some of you are thinking--what about Scotty, the son? Isn't he likable? Well, yes. I'll give you that, but only because he apparently plays the accordion. This is about as entertaining as a movie can be for the type of funny-looking fellow that I am. So why doesn't it get a perfect score? For Jen, it's the sex scenes because she's a prude. For me, I've never been able to figure out if the Mike Yanagita character really belongs. That's a lengthy scene that adds only a little bit to our understanding of Marge, marginally has to do with one of the overall themes (something Marge "just don't understand"), and has nothing to do with the main plot. And Dylan? I'm not sure what his problem is. He only watched this because I made a deal with him that he wouldn't have to participate in family movie night. He jumped at the chance but wasn't impressed with this movie which might lead to us giving him up for adoption.

One more thing: I need one more movie to complete a wood chipper trifecta. Anybody got any ideas?

Oh, another thing: Did you know Bruce Campbell's sort of in this?

Oprah Movie Club: Once Upon a Time in the West

1968 Western

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Some guy who might have a name travels the Wild West in search of some talented musicians to complete a band he wants to start--The Belt and Suspenders Blues Band. At the beginning of our story, he's got himself on lead harmonica, and all he needs to complete the band are a back-up harmonica, a gitfiddle, a drummer, a stand-up bass, a washboard, a bottle blower, a harpist, a bassoonist, a tromboner, another tromboner, an accordionist, a piano player, a lead singer, four mildly-attractive women for back-up singers, a beat-box, and another back-up harmonica player. Meanwhile, a guy who's usually a good guy but in this movie is a bad guy has been sent by a guy with his own train to scare a nerd with "the worst hair west of the Mississippi" and either does a really poor job or a really good job. Then, his wife--Boobsy McWhoresalot--shows up and starts distracting everybody. She realizes that her honeymoon is likely ruined and makes some coffee. A bunch of ugly guys are shot, and it all builds up to a thrilling climax when a dying man pats Boobsy on her sweet sweet behind.

"How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders?"

See, I didn't remember this movie had a character who wore both a belt and suspenders. There was a line in Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole about belts and suspenders and a line in a novel that will remain unfinished because I'm too much of a dumbass to write a stinking chapter of it with a character who wears both. I might need a "belt and suspenders" blog label. Can you imagine Nicolas Cage playing a character who wore both a belt and suspenders? Pants would literally be shat!

Did everybody but me know that Dario Argento co-wrote this?

There's more goodness in the first fifteen minutes of this thing than most directors can dream of putting together in their entire careers. Bird taunting, whistling metal, a stutterer, veins on a dark hand, a ticket flying right into my living room. Under the direction of Leone, I'm pretty sure I could have watched these characters sit around and do absolutely nothing for two hours and forty minutes or so, all scenery and glorious sound effects. I'm not sure who's decision it was--Morricone's or Leone's--to not have music over the opening scene at the train station. If it was the composer's decision, this might be his best work. And that's saying a ton. This movie doesn't need to go anywhere. You've got a screen packed with details, and you just want to absorb it all. There are chunks of this movie where it's barely a moving picture. The pace is leisurely, and that allows us to just savor it. It's more a summertime movie pace, but it's the kind of pace I love, especially when there's so much to look at. Of course, contrast the overall pace to the blink-and-you-miss-it climactic gun fight.

I also love the character's dynamics and the often confusing relationships. They operate with these unwritten rules, this code that shows that Leone's version of the Wild West has this underlying structure. In fact, you almost wonder what samurai movie Leone lifted the story and its characters from. The characters, by the way, are just so complete. You don't need their back stories. All it takes a few moments on the screen and a few lines of dialogue and you just get them. Bronson ain't Eastwood, but everything he says is so cool. Fonda makes a great bad guy (love his sinner's smile), and Claudia Cardinale is so cute that I'll likely dream about patting her behind myself. Robards' Cheyenne is a complex and tragic figure. And they all get their own music! The periphery characters fill in the gaps. As Scott commented (premature commentation, by the way, but I'll allow it), Elam's "wandering eye" is a nice little detail, but really all of these characters' faces twitch or contort in ways that mine can't. I should know because I spent some time in front of the mirror trying to look tough after watching this movie. Leone's really put together a Who's-Who of Grizzled Guys. He sure loves his close-ups.

My favorite moment: Fonda searching Morton's train while the camera pans over a ground littered with dead bodies. When Fonda exits, it's almost enough to convince you that Leone was the greatest director ever. As I type this, I can think of about fifteen other favorite moments or shots in this.

This is a big movie, successful as a Western revenge epic or as an ode (or maybe an elegy) to the American West. Poetic and shockingly beautiful.

I should add that the way Charles Bronson holds that harmonica is perfect.

Cool Hand Luke

1967 movie about Christ eating eggs

Rating: 19/20 (Dylan: 13/20)

Plot: The titular ex-war hero is put in jail for what seems to be an absurd length of time for cutting the heads off parking meters. He doesn't like jail all that much and tries to escape over and over again.

Dylan and I are going to work our way through a big list of prison escape movies, and this is the first. So far, all this little prison break film festival has done is prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I have a gay son. I mean, how can you watch Joy Harmon as "Girl Only in the Movie to Wash a Car and Show How Horny Inmates Can Be" washing that car and give this only a 13/20. That extended scene sure extended me! That's just one of a whole bunch of memorable scenes in this. The boxing match, the egg scene ending in Newman striking a Christ pose, the chain-gang rushing to finish the road, the "Night in the Box" speech so fantastically parodied in Toy Story 3, the famous "failure to communicate" line that I borrow all the time to use in my classroom, a little Dennis Hopper, a little Harry Dean Stanton, a little of Kokomo Indiana's own Strother Martin (a man who taught Charlie Chaplin's children to swim), Newman singing "Plastic Jesus" in a scene that nearly jerked tears from me. You also get one of the coolest "bad guys" of all time with Sunglasses Man, a character the Coens would later lift for O Brother. One of those late-60's counterculture in-praise-of-nonconformity flicks that I like so much with the added Christ figure angle, another of my favorite motifs. Add a terrifically cool Newman performance and you've got something pretty special.

Special note: I will not have any problem at all if any of my children are homosexuals. I just wanted to get that out there.

Goodfellas

1990 gangsta movie

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Henry Hill rises up the gangster ranks and marries his sweetheart.

I don't think gangsters are very good influences. Just look at all the curse words in this movie! I do like the influence that I think this had on movies that followed it. Sure it's got some impersonators that pale in comparison, attempts at carbon copies that lack the distinctive voice that Goodfellas has. But for the most part, I think this did more good than harm in Hollywood. Minor quibble though: Shouldn't it be Good Fellows? This movie is electric from start to finish--from the in medias res buffoonery dealing with the contents of car's trunk to a conclusion where Henry's selfishness is more depressing to me than surprising. Electric. Most electric is Joe Pesci's off-kilter performance. That guy's best when he's completely losing control, and he gets plenty of chances to show off here and help create these iconic moments that become those movie moments that everybody remembers. Everybody else--and I mean everybody else--is also great. DeNiro's performance is as flawless in this as in those Fockers movies, but it's that kind of performance where he doesn't even look like he's doing anything special, deceptively so. The other guy on the cover, wide-eyed Liotta with his aw-shucks face makes a likable enough protagonist but he really works more like a straight man to a lot of wackily-inflated caricatures. And then there's the periphery characters, each adding a little shading or color to this consistently entertaining look at the [under]world of gangsters. I never realized how funny gangsters were. Technically, Scorsese's a master. The guy knows how to tell a story visually without getting in the way of things, but there are some standout scenes where his camera maneuvers in ways that shouldn't be logistically possible, like during Henry's first date when the camera follows them from their car to the table or a scene from Henry's point of view where he walks through a restaurant and we're introduced to all these colorful figures, including the guy who says everything twice. I also really like how this is all humanized a bit, or maybe softened, by focusing a little on the female characters including Pesci's mother (the one with an awesome painting that I'd love to hang in my house) and Mrs. Hill. The duo-narrators really give this story another dimension about 1/3 of the way into the film. This is one of those movies that seems about half as long as it actually is.

Note: "Beyond the Sea" is in this. For those of you who care about the numbers, that's the 27th movie I've watched this year with that song in it somewhere. This movie has a big soundtrack, by the way.

Another note: When I am beaten to death by a guy with crazy eyes, I don't want it to happen a while a Donovan song plays in the background, especially a wussy lame one like "Atlantis". Well, wait a second. That song does kind of rule. I'd prefer being beaten to death during a playing of "Atlantis" than "Mellow Yellow," I guess.

If I got to pick a song to be beaten to death to, I think I'd go with Sammy Davis Jr.'s version of "MacArthur Park" or something by Sonny Terry. How about you?

Movie Club Selection for April: Do the Right Thing

1989 joint

Rating: 19/20

Plot: A day in the lives of a handful of Brooklynites on Stuyvesant Street. It's so hot. How hot is it? It's so hot that it can melt the melting pot! Racial tensions burble.

A recipe for disaster--an Italian-run pizzeria with no pictures of black people on the walls, some old-school blacks who have been there and done that several times over, some new-school disillusioned punks, a guy with a boom box and only one song, Korean grocers, a sprinkling of Hispanics. Mix all ingredients in a large pepper pot with two quarts of water over intense heat. Season with Chuck D. and Flavor Flav screaming things about Elvis at you.

Speaking of Public Enemy, I wonder if "Fight the Power" won or was at least nominated for Best Song. And speaking of the songs, here's some interesting trivia: I noticed that left-handed pitcher Bill "Spaceman" Lee did the musical score for Do the Right Thing. Unless (and this is doubtful) there's another Bill Lee out there.

This movie has an infectious energy that is impossible not to love, from the Rosie Perez dance off against herself during the opening credits to the powerful and devastating denouement. It's alive, alive in a refreshing way. The amount of color rivals Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, and I'm not just referring to Samuel L. Jackson's array of hatwear. The neighborhood's drenched in color, like some little kids got a hold of a box of Crayolas (the bulbous 900 crayon box) and just went nuts. The characters are colorful, too. Stuttering Smiley, weirdly contrasting with the backdrops in almost every shot he's in. Ossie Davis's Da Mayor brings his street wisdom and contradictions. Sal and his sons, Sister Mama, Mookie, Radio Raheem. The latter, by the way, reminds me of a young me actually. When I was in middle school, I carried around a boom box and blasted my Spike Jones and the City Slickers "Best Of" cassette. Also, my peers used to call me Sweet Dick, so this movie brings back all kinds of memories for me. But I digress. Such colorful characters, and the actors who bring them to life are terrific. For three-fourths of the film, we're treated (and it is a treat!) to comic vignettes, the story bouncing rapidly from character to character. I loved seeing the characters roaming about in the background when it wasn't their turn to be the center of attention, too. But there's this building, underlying intensity, this anger bubbling beneath all those colors, so the climax, even though it successfully shocks and disturbs, isn't totally surprising. Finally, I was impressed with the deft camerawork in this one. There were some really creative camera angles, and I liked how smoothly the camera maneuvered through the characters on Stuyvesant Street. It slides with grace, especially impressive when showing conflict. The scene with Smiley hanging up that picture borders on "Too Much," but I think it's powerful, leaving things wonderfully foggy. This movie is stupid fresh!

I'll save discussions about the movie's message for the comments.

Aguirre, the Wrath of God

1972 movie

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Mr. Aguirre leads an expedition with his pals to find gold. It's an almost identical plot to Disney's The Huffalump Movie except it takes place in South America in the 16th Century. And Tigger has been replaced with a crazy man.

Cinematic poetry! My favorite movies are those that are uncategorizable, and although Aguirre, the Wrath of God is very clearly a movie, it's just not a movie that is like a lot of other movies. Werner Herzog's penchant for filming in impossible locales and his eye for filming those locales very well makes the Peruvian rain forest just as important as any character in this thing. In fact, since you don't really get to see much of the natives who attack Aguirre and his posse, at times it almost seems like the conflict is with the setting. The location is hauntingly beautiful, violent, and lawless and adds to this mysterious feel that pervades the film. The wonderful Popol Vuh score also contributes to that feel. Herzog not only has an eye for filming on location, he's got a willingness to allow his camera to film happy accidents, to deviate from the script and allow some of the fringe details to evolve spontaneously. One of my favorite of these moments is an extended--and seemingly pointless--scene with a guy jamming on a pan flute thing while Aguirre stands next to him. He allows the story to meander, and the story, I think, is more mythic and more mysterious because of it. Klaus Kinski's performance is a scary one even though this isn't anything like a horror movie. He's the perfect picture of madness, delusional and paranoid and megalomaniacal. As I've probably typed in these pages before, it all starts with Kinski's eyes. But as Aguirre, he's required to do so much physically, like Nic Cage in the Bad Lieutenant movie. Aguirre often seems more insect than human, walking with an awkward limp and a hunched back and with an expression on his countenance that makes it look like his mind hurts. I love his performance here, and knowing a little of the legends behind the filming of it (see: My Best Fiend or watch Aguirre with Herzog's commentary) adds a new dimension. Herzog is always good with endings, and the denouement of Aguirre is memorable and moving, definitely one of my favorite movie endings ever. It's one of those cases where you think, "How was this even filmed?" but then you just stop thinking about it and decide to just be glad it was.


I don't want to alienate my four and a half readers, but I've thought about making a rule that there are certain movies you just have to watch if you want to read my blog. This would definitely be one of those movies. I've decided not to make that rule, by the way, but you should see this movie anyway so that you can see Klaus Kinski pick up a monkey. That's something that every cinemaphile needs to see.

The Wicker Man

1973 pagan musical nightmare

Rating: 19/20 (Anonymous: 20/20; Amy: 16/20)

Plot: A policeman from the Scottish mainland flies to a mysterious island to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. The island's inhabits, a bunch of heathens, aren't cooperative as they prepare for May Day festivities.

What I love most about this movie is its sense of humor. Sure, it's got an assortment of musical selections that can stack up against the soundtrack of any other movie. It's got a great scene with Britt Ekland (Mary Goodnight in the recently-reviewed The Man with the Golden Gun) dancing around naked. It's got another of those Christopher Lee performances where he plays a sophisticatedly evil and tongue-in-cheek baddie. It's got loads of weird-looking beige-teethed Scots wearing an assortment of animal masks. It's got a gradually unfolding and hypnotic mystery that builds to one of the most shocking images in the horror movie history and a jaw-dropping finale. It's got a thematic backbone, delicious irony, and a literate script. It's got a sex scene with stuffed animals. It's got some beautiful shots of this exotic and erotic locale and its people. And it's unique. There just aren't movies like this. But what I love most is that sense of humor. No, it's not as funny as the remake with Nicolas Cage (few movies are), but there's so much hilarity as the islanders dick around with the detective. This is a movie with more great moments than a movie should be allowed to have (love the hare, the dance they're all doing at the end), and it would be difficult to find a movie as unsettling as this one.

And yes, Anonymous, the gravedigger (Aubrey Morris) was the guy in A Clockwork Orange.

The Gold Rush (again)

1925 movie

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Same as it was the last time I wrote about this movie.

Here's the deal. Friday was a wasteful party day at my school, and my team decided to show the students a movie. It was decided that the team would watch Old Dogs, the classic film featuring the comedic stylings of Robin Williams and John Travolta. I protested mightily, not because I didn't think my students would enjoy Old Dogs, but because I don't really care what my students like and didn't have any interest in watching Old Dogs. My teammates wouldn't listen to me, but I decided to bring in my own movie to show the students in my classroom. "But they'll like Old Dogs. You can't show a silent movie to them." "Yeah, they would like to eat chocolate frosting straight out the can for lunch every day--doesn't mean it's good for them." I gave the good news to my students. They groaned and whined. I told them that I was only doing it because I loved them. They reached for their weapons. I quickly started the movie. I had my students write down their ratings (figured I'd get more honest ones that way), and here's what they had to say. They'd probably better articulate their feelings about The Gold Rush if they had a better writing teacher.

Elizabeth: 17/20. It was good. Funny, interesting.
Harley: 13/20. It had a lot of comedy, but there was just too much. It had romance and little action.
Candice: 10/20. It was OK I guess. It had interesting parts.
Sean: 16/20. Narrated, would've been better if own voices
Kayla: 20/20. Unique
Jasmine: 10/20. It was okay the action wasn't that bad but we could tell it was fake.
Robin: 9/20. It was boring. Well at least to me it was. There were some funny parts here and there.
Morgan: 1/20. A waste of my time, boring. (Morgan later admitted that she rated and wrote that during the opening credits.)
Kris: 5/20. This was moderately humorous movie back in the "20's" but as times change, the hearts (?) of funny does too. It is also has no audio which means there is more showing the audience what happens rather than telling us. Overall it was an OK movie. It was better than it seemed.
James: 15/20. It was funny, and the narrator said different things than they were. (Note: Funny-looking kid.)
T. T. : 15/20. Boring, funny, good but depressing. (I can't even figure out who "T.T." is.)
DeArion: nr. DaArion snuck out of my classroom and didn't watch the movie. He apparently watched Old Dogs somewhere else.
Makaela: 5/20. It is at least a motion picture. It wasn't very interesting to me. (Note: I couldn't figure out what she meant with "It is at least a motion picture." I finally figured out that she was talking about how it was silent but at least the characters were moving.)
Brad: -20/20. (Note: This kid's a doofus. He whined loudest of all before the movie started, put his head down for a lot of the first fourth, and watched the last three-fourths with interest. I even caught him laughing.) Terrible.
Mireya: 18/20. Because you had to imagine what they were saying. It was funny because of the man. I like when the house was going to fall.
Jared: -20/20. It's retarded. It's black and white. (This kid's grade just plummeted.)
Kore: 15/20. It was funny and good. But it was boring.
Bria: 11/20. Boring.
Courtlyn: 2/20. To be honest, I hate black and white movies, and I would of liked the other movie.

I was disappointed. They watched with interest and laughed at the appropriate times. I really thought they were liking this more than they said they did. Oh, well. What should I show them next time? (Must be G or PG.)

Spirited Away

2001 Japanese cartoon

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Chihiro and her parents are moving to a new home in a new town. She's only ten and doesn't really want to move, but children don't get to make those kinds of decisions. On the way, her father detours and takes the family to an abandoned theme park. While there, her parents gluttonously devour the goods at an abandoned restaurant and turn into pigs. A boy named Haku tries to convince her to leave, but it's too late. Spirits gradually arrive and frequent a bath house. Chihiro has to find a way to transform her parents back into parents and finds out that getting a job at the bath house is the only way. A big-headed witch, a stinky spirit, a six-armed boiler room man, anthropomorphic dust mites, a magical ghost thingy, and dozens of other unusual character help and/or get in her way.

It's really difficult for me to articulate why this film connects with me like it does. For whatever reason, it seeps into the lobes. I think I would give this a 20 if I were Japanese. I'm sure there's some references to Japanese folklore, Japanese customs, or Japanese history that I'm not hip to that unfortunately probably hurts my chances of ever fully understanding this. I can appreciate the real sense of wonder and dreamy mystery, the gorgeous animation, the originality of the characters, and both the gentle fragility and thematic depth of the story. Like a Japanese Alice in Wonderland, it doesn't actually have to mean anything at all to succeed, but like all great works of art (and this is a great work of art), it's completely open to interpretation and does mean several things at once to difference audiences. Is it a coming-of-age story? Is it a critique of the greed and thoughtlessness of contemporary society? Is it about the contrast between the innocence of childhood and the futility and confusion of adulthood? Who knows? But it is exactly what an animated fairy tale should be. If dreams were as good as this, I would never want to wake up. Miyazaki has borrowed from the world we inhabit and managed to create an entirely new world, one with its own rules, its own logic, its own norms. Enchanting and wonderful and vivid and rich and magical and fantastic, this world in Spirited Away is impossible to forget and a joy to ponder. It's easy to feel lost but at the same time absorbed, and that's exactly what makes this animated movie about as good as animated movies can get.

Star Wars: A New Hope

1977 space samurai movie

Rating: 19/20 (Dylan: 14/20; Emma: 14/20; Abbey: 20/20)

Plot: This first installment in the Star Wars franchise mainly focuses on the adventures of intergalactic space hero Jek Porkins who, for the bulk of the movie, is hiding in the background or in multiple disguises. He's hard to spot as a fat Jawa, Jabba the Hutt (special edition only), as a fat stormtrooper, a droid, as Darth Vader, as a musician in the Mos Eisley cantina, as Princess Leia's left bun, etc. Porkins finds himself in a situation where he almost singlehandedly must save the galaxy from the Empire's brand spanking new space station--the Giant Ball of Doom. It's round and it's creepy and it can destroy planets by shooting them with a green light. Luckily, the bad guys built the thing with a long trench that leads to a space station's equivalent of an Achilles heel so that Porkins can lead the rebels in its destruction. Kablooey!

I don't have much to say about this one. I love it and always will. There are always things I look forward to seeing every single time I watch this movie--Alec Guinness's sly little smile the moment before he dies, when Luke interrupts a meeting to brag about shooting womp rats, the surreal visual of C3PO walking across the undulating sands of Tatooine, the climactic assault on the Death Star, almost everything Han Solo says, the sand people. And there always seems to be something new to notice. This time, it was noticing that one of the Jawas is a hell of a lot taller than the others. He's the Manute Bol of Jawas apparently. Check out the leg Princess Leia is showing on that movie poster. And Luke's chest? I bet women were really disappointed when they accompanied their boyfriends or husbands expecting to see a hunky hero and being stuck with "But I was going to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters!" Dylan wanted to watch this.

The Color of Pomegranates

1968 biographic poem

Rating: 19/20

Plot: Sayat Nova was an Armenian troubadour. He was born, had a childhood, read books, saw a nipple and a seashell, touched a chicken, learned the lute, fell in love, dressed in red, dressed in black, reflected, entered a monastery, swam in a river of lambs, moved his hands around, lit candles, and died.

So Parajanov made an even better movie than Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. The fact that I have never seen a movie like this and will never see a movie like this again means something. With no camera movements and no dialogue (not to mention how the "actors" all stare expressionless directly into the camera), this is far from conventional. But it's also the most stunningly original thing I've ever seen. Symbols float in shots that belong on museum walls. Delicately surreal, jaw-dropping, and hypnotic, The Color of Pomegranates sucks you in and spins you, tickles your mind, licks your lungs, strokes your lobes, and sets fire to your genitals (in a good way). This is one of those movies you watch and then say, "I can't believe I just watched that." Can't remember the last time that happened. Actually, after watching this, I can't remember any other movie I've seen. I would not be surprised at all if this is the best movie I see this year.

Rear Window

1954 thriller

Rating: 19/20 (Jen: 17/20)

Plot: A magazine photographer named Jimmy Stewart is cooped up in his apartment because he broke his leg jumping off a bridge to save an angel in another movie. With lots of time on his hands and nothing else to do, he sits in his wheelchair and spies on the neighbors across the courtyard. He also tries to figure out whether his girlfriend, a stylish socialite, is somebody he should marry. With one week to go before the cast comes off, he notices one neighbor acting very suspiciously and begins to suspect that there's been foul play. He gets help from his girlfriend, his nurse, and a detective pal.

Is there another movie where we get to see Jimmy Stewart's nipples? My favorite things about this movie--Miss Torso and the cigarette burning in darkness of Thorwald's apartment. My least favorite things about this movie--the flashbulb thing at the end and the fact that Jimmy Stewart's nipples are only displayed twice. I really like how the little stories in each of the windows unfold and how each seems to represent a different part of the protagonist's psyche--lust, fear, desires, creativity, hunger. I'll have to think about that more, but those little stories seem to characterize Stewart's character as much as his actions and words do. One of Hitchcock's best.

Maybe I should change the name of this blog from 365 Movies to Jimmy Stewart's Nipples.

The Gold Rush

1925 silent comedy

Rating: 19.1/20 (Abbey: 20/20, Emma: 3/20, Dylan 11/20)

Plot: The little tramp ventures to the Klondike in search of riches. After a run-in with a bear, a wanted criminal, and a burly miner, the little guy finds himself fighting against the elements in a dilapidated cabin. He eats a shoe. The weather clears up enough to allow travel to town where he meets and falls in love with a showgirl named Georgia, and what he perceives as a return of affection is more valuable to him than gold. When the burly miner pops into the picture once again, however, there is also a renewed prospect of gold and the chance that the little fellow could once again afford a second shoe.

Confession: I may have bumped this up 1 or 2 rating points because it's a classic and I didn't want to disappoint winter rates.

My second favorite Chaplin movie, and I'm happy that at least one of my kids enjoyed it. I'm always surprised with how funny this is. It's not 1920's-silent-film funny where I can just appreciate the humor. It's actually still funny. But if it was just funny, it wouldn't be great. It's also got heart, and there are some really poignant moments when Chaplin first spots Georgia at the dancehall and later at the cabin he's staying at when the girls don't show up for a New Year's Eve party. The story is also tightly written, allowing the romance and the action-adventure to intermingle with the slapstick and other visual gags smoothly. This, by the way, would probably be the silent comedy that I would recommend to somebody who has never given them a chance.

Jen took this picture:

The Passion of Joan of Arc

1928 silent drama

Rating: 19/20

Plot: A cross-dressing schizophrenic crybaby is put on trial for heresy. The judges, all men with incredibly large faces, question her, trying desperately to get a confession. Later, they all have a barbecue.

I really thought the history of this movie and its survival, which I read about before watching this, set me up for disappointment. However, I watched this late at night, completely silent like director Carl Th. Dreyer intended, and was completely moved. The camera work (lots of empty space and strange angled shots of facial close-ups) makes this move without sound or others effects like no other movie I've ever seen. The acting is extraordinary, especially from Falconetti's role as the title crybaby, and the "special effects" used add to the realism, probably because they are real. The actress really had her head shaved after begging the director not to do it. A stand-in (a prostitute apparently) really did have blood spurt our of her arm during the bloodletting scene. A real cadaver was used during the burning scene. There's no pretension, no preachiness, no tricks. You see and you get and you come away wondering why so many other dramatic films end up looking so stupid. Falconetti's performance made me look up other roles, but this was her last of three roles. Apparently she was exiled and pretty much never heard from again.

Another heretic, albeit a funky one: