The hills...

...oh, the hills.  The beautiful, beautiful hills.

Next installment of my quest to watch the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.

I'll bet you've seen this film, too.

Film 40

40.  "The Sound Of Music" (AFI Rank #40)

Heh.  Until one types out "40" that many times, one doesn't realize that one put the number 40 ranked film in the number 40 slot on one's personal list...heh.  Anyway.

Filmed largely in Austria, with gorgeous scenery punctuating a great number of the exterior shots, "The Sound of Music" is movie musical making done the right way.  Take a really good Broadway musical, with gorgeous music...then put it on real sets, in real places.  In the case of this film, at one point I said, out loud, "Will you look at that?  I mean, come on, ANY director could get this right.  OK, you've got this beautiful music, and this scenery, go put your actors in front of it and frame it properly, and you've got a guaranteed great film."

At which point Julie said, "Les Miserables."

Fuck.  I love that woman.

Which got me thinking...what are the things that are so right about "The Sound of Music?"  I'd rather not focus on comparing it to that train wreck that Tom Hooper put on film in 2012, but I may.  Not sure where this is going to take me.

Directed by Robert Wise, and starring Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, and based loosely on the real story of the Von Trapp Family, this film was a staple of my youth.  Funny, I just found out that the first time it was shown on television was 1976...I swear we watched it every year...and we probably did...but it didn't come on TV until I was 8.  Of course, I'd be hard pressed to really discuss too many events before about then, anyway, but it seemed as if it was always part of my childhood.  Once a year, we'd gather, as a family, and watch this film.  It was usually a Sunday night, but I remember a couple of Thanksgivings with this (the Friday, I think) on the television.  Or was that "The Wizard of Oz?"  Bah.  Either of those films were watched whenever they were on.  Before VCRs, before DVRs, it is amazing how much of this I would retain from year to year.  And that is what I was struck with last night as I watched it.  Familiarity.  And yet, while watching this with a somewhat critical eye, I've got my tens of  readers to think about...(that's a good joke...I do, sincerely, REALLY sincerely, appreciate ANYONE reading this stream of words.  Really, I do.  Really.)...I was struck with just how great a film this is.

The opening shots, as we establish Austria, with the slight strains of the opening of the title song tugging at our ears, tell us that what we are going to be looking at for a good chunk of this film will be gorgeous.  And it is.  It's a feast for the eyes, whether loving whatever entity created the earth, or loving of the work of man in the Von Trapp estate (Villa?!), and its sumptuous craftsmanship, this film makes us envy what we are looking at in nearly every frame.  Hell, even the Mother Superior's office at the Abbey is gorgeous.  And...I defy you not to watch the wedding scene and not to want to be there.  Robert Wise nailed this.  Just nailed it.  His camera shots are incredible throughout.  Film is principally a visual medium...and well...you get it.  It's gorgeous.

Also of note, I think being mentioned for the first time in this quest, is the costuming.  Everyone looks like they should at all times, and everything, everything makes sense.  The costumes in this film are amazing.  Tell me you aren't attracted to the Captain, regardless of your sexuality, simply because of the figure he cuts in his uniform.  Tell me you don't find Maria, the nun, hot when she is watching the Captain sing in that beautiful blue dress.  Tell me that the Baroness isn't exquisitely appointed, exactly as she should be...and tell me her costumes don't establish her character.  Highlighted especially by the scene where the Baroness attempts to play ball with the obviously very resentful children, the Baroness is the epitome of chic, even when chic is not suiting her purposes.

I don't really need to talk about the music, do I?  No.  OK.  Maybe for a moment.  Who wouldn't want to sing this stuff?  OK.  I've commented on the music.  If you don't like the music...don't bother.

What else...oh yeah.  Acting.  There is a well established thought that Christopher Plummer hated being in the film, something which he has helped to perpetuate, and one that audiences think they see in his performance.  I did find one interview in which he states that he was snobbish, but didn't hate the role, but hates being recognized ONLY for that role.  Regardless, Plummer...is quite extraordinary in this film.  Only 35 at its filming, he carries himself with the gravitas of a man several years his senior.  Sure, he looks stoic and wooden a great deal of the time.  Look up material on Captain Von Trapp.  His children describe him as a terrific bore.  Maybe, just maybe, the very talented actor inhabiting this role knew that, and played it.  I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, and look at the film in 2015 terms, and realize that the man was giving an ACTOR'S performance in a medium that usually didn't call for it.  He's not playing to the back row.  He's in a film, not a play...and so many other musical performances are played for the people in the theatre that the film is NOT being shot on.  I think Plummer is tremendous.

As is Julie Andrews.  There is real depth in a role that can easily be played shallow.  Ingenues play this role.  Ingenues tend not to understand all that is being said by their characters.  Andrews shows the real need, the real range of what it must be to be an outsider, to have feelings of lust, to have feelings of regret, and self-doubt.  She's wonderful.  Plus, when she needs to, she takes over the screen, no matter what is going on around her.  She's a star, the role is a star, and it's great.  Just great.

The kids.  Well.  The kids are the kids.  Liesl is really the only standout...and maybe that's as it should be.  I caught a line for the first time last night.  "Well, no one knows about Luisa" or something close to that.  Heh.  Luisa...doesn't say a fucking thing for much of the film.  Like...never.  Liesl, however, I still have a massive crush on.  She's a beautiful woman, and I found myself, as a dirty middle aged man, watching her with a great deal of "holy crap."  Wowza.  She is gorgeous.  And she acts pretty well, and dances divinely.

Speaking of the dance.  There are really only two "dance" numbers in the movie, and both are highly erotic, very well executed numbers.  In "Sixteen Going On Seventeen," we see the boundless energy of new feelings awakened in us as we fumble through our first love.  The symmetry, the communication, the awakened joy!  It's a great number, and it's punctuated by a resounding "WHEE!!!!!"  Then, of course, we have the dance between the Captain and Maria, the Ländler (I gotta learn how to do umlauts one of these days - GOD BLESS YOU INTERNET - I LEARNED BEFORE I FINISHED THIS SENTENCE).  Highly charged, it is the adult version of sexuality.  It is slow, steady, builds to a tremendous peak, then slowly diminishes.  It is just as energetic as the teens' version, but the way it goes about its business is completely different.  That the Captain and Maria are in love is obvious.  That it needs to be consummated is what we are left wanting.  And we want it.

Really, I've prattled on this time.  I did mention "Les Miserables," so I'm going to discuss that.  I thought, given the material, that "Les Miserables" had a chance to be the greatest film ever released.  And it is a mess, a terrible, terrible mess.  It forgot what was great about the show (the music), focused on the acting, while failing there as well, and spent so much of its energy making sure that we understood every word that was being sung by incessant close-up that it never treated us as adults.  That "Les Miserables" failed when it had so much going for it, while "The Sound of Music" succeeds still today, 50 years later, is an example of how, even with brilliant source material, that a truly great opportunity can be bungled by one or two really bad decisions (Russell Crowe, live singing).  It is not a crime, but a really bad thing, that our film version of "Les Miserables" is the piece of crap that was foisted upon us in 2012.  It is also a treasure that our film version of "The Sound of Music" is so great, even today.  A film that outpaces the show from which it came.  Amazing.
 
I didn't mention Nazis.  I didn't mention Max.  I didn't mention marionettes (Really?...come on).  I didn't really mention NUNS, so MANY NUNS.  Look, some things are underplayed in the film.  Perhaps there would be more focus on them today.  Perhaps not.  I've got "Cabaret" coming on the list if I really want a musical that sets up the horrors of the Nazis...

I'm not sure a gritty remake is in the offing, and I'm not sure what that would accomplish.  Austria was a bad place to be in the late 30s/early 40s.  That is fairly well established.  That this story came from that, as embellished as it is, is amazing.  Perhaps it is right to be sentimental and gooey.  Sometimes, an audience needs that.

Bah.  Watch this film again.  It's tremendous.

Wow.  Rumor has it that Roger Ebert never actually watched "The Sound of Music."  I find that hard to believe, but he has no review of it, anywhere.

I see...

...you're back.

Here we go...off on another whirlwind adventure with the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition).

Let's just get on with it, shall we?

Film 39

39.  "The Sixth Sense" (AFI Rank #89)

OK.  I HAVE to assume you've seen this film.  If you haven't, and don't know what happens (but want to know), then close this and open it again after you've seen the film.

Released in 1999, M. Night Shyamalan's horror/thriller "The Sixth Sense" featured a twist ending that was actually...a pretty well kept secret by people who saw it.  The internet was not what it is today, and clickbait hadn't taken over our news sources...so, yeah, in 1999, this film, with an ending that requires surprise...was kept for me.  Starring Bruce Willis as Dr. Malcolm Crowe and Haley Joel Osment as Cole Sear (EDIT:  See-er?  Oh, please.  Goddammit.  I hate that I missed that.  Goddammit.  Add this to the "quibbles" below), this film created quite a buzz when it appeared on the scene.  Its inclusion in the list of the top 100 American films of all time is testament to the stir it created...and...to the craft used in creating it.  More on that to come.

I don't recall the first time I saw the film, but I did not, at that viewing, know the ending.  This time through, I did.  I'm fairly certain (meaning COMPLETELY) that this is only the second time I've watched the film in its entirety.  So, what was I watching for this time?  I knew the ending, I knew why everything that was happening was happening, I knew I'd have to write about it today...so what was I watching out for?

Lots and lots of shit.  I was scanning the background of every scene, looking for clues.  Didn't find a whole bunch.  There are few.  One big one, however, is that red is introduced every time Cole is about to interact with a dead person.  All the instances are listed under the "trivia" portion at the IMDB page I linked to above.  Wait.  "I see dead people."  You know that, right?  I don't have to rehash the plot?  Good.  I don't want to.  I also noticed some other things.  There was a scene where Toni Colette, who did an outstanding job playing Cole's mother, is putting stuff away in his room, and we scan the room, and see Cole's drawings.  And all of them have rainbows.  "They don't have meetings about rainbows."  We also, in the same scene, see an out of focus shot of a photograph on Cole's nightstand.  The photograph is of a youngish couple, sitting several feet apart from each other on a couch, in completely different positions.  It is obviously Cole's (since divorced) mother and father.  I think we're supposed to notice the body language in the photo, and I know it wasn't placed there accidentally.  I scanned Dr. Crowe's house for clues.  None besides the obvious ones appeared.

Couple of other things I noticed.  Cole announces that dead people make the room cold when they are angry or upset.  Early on in the film, before Vincent Gray shoots Dr. Crowe and himself, Anna Crowe makes mention of the fact that it is getting cold in the house.  Now, part of that, no doubt, is because of the broken window upstairs that Vincent used to enter the house...but the other part...Vincent probably had a ghost or two hanging around him.  It's subtle, good stuff.  Notice also...the temperature never changes when Crowe is around Cole, as he is never angry or upset.  However, when he realizes he's dead...(there, I did it)...suddenly the room is very, very cold.  As Malcolm comes to terms with what has happened to him, the breath that his widow breathes is less and less visible.  He calms, and the temperature in the room increases.

So.  Horror story about a kid who sees dead people (the "sixth" sense, GET IT?), starring Bruce Willis (not exactly a heavyweight actor - but very, very good here), with a twist ending...what makes it great?  Details, like some that I've outlined above, by M. Night Shyamalan certainly are very, very well executed.  But for me, watching it last night...no.  It's Haley Joel Osment.  He's the reason this film is great, pure and simple.  There is actually kind of a parody of why the film could have sucked within the film, in the character of Tommy Tommasimo.  A lot of child actors might have overplayed the horror, overplayed the desperation of Cole.  Young Mr. Osment paints a great picture, and creates a real kid, struggling with unreal problems.  The way he eats, the way he plays with toys, everything about Cole screams "little kid," yet there is Osment, also showing us the depth and real pain and understanding that children can possess, but that we so often dismiss.  Kids understand a lot, and they are resilient little creatures.  Mr. Rogers used to just tell kids stuff, because he trusted they could handle it.  Dr. Crowe does that with Cole in this film (note the use of the "s word" in a particularly good scene), but more importantly, Haley Joel Osment does.  It's a tremendous performance, one that, looking back on the other nominees for the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor that year(Tom Cruise in "Magnolia," Jude Law in "The Talented Mr. Ripley," Michael Clarke Duncan in "The Green Mile" and the winner, Michael Caine, for "The Cider House Rules"), it's hard to picture a performance that will endure as long.  Duncan, maybe, but was that superior to what Osment did here?  I don't think so.  Toni Colette and Osment really shine in this film.  It's odd to see characters so believable with so much unbelievable happening around them...but they nailed it.

I should also mention the brief, terrifying appearance by Donnie Wahlberg.  As a member of The New Kids On The Block, it is easy to dismiss Wahlberg as a talent.  Perhaps Hollywood is capable of churning out great acting from people you'd least expect to do so, but Wahlberg established himself as a formidable actor in this film, and followed through on that promise as Carwood Lipton in the brilliant HBO Miniseries "Band of Brothers."  Wahlberg is chilling here, and it's the kind of performance that makes you sit up and take notice.  We did.

Never afraid to show a shocking, graphic visual at you, this film is incredibly well-crafted, scary, taut, thrilling, well-acted, and...well...just plain terrific.  It really, really is.  I was shocked at how well I enjoyed it this time, knowing everything that was coming.  I think only a great film can do that.  Ergo...this is a great film.

Now, I've got some quibbles.

1.  Cole Sear stuck around the wake after exposing the mother who killed her daughter.  You know what Cole Sear would have been?  FUCKING FAMOUS.  REALLY, REALLY FUCKING FAMOUS.  That father would have made Cole a celebrity.

2.  No way Cole's mom doesn't get freaked out that his homemade tent (safehouse) in his room is full of religious idols.  No way that goes on.  Also...no way that his mom, with the knowledge of the tent's contents, reads the notes Cole left in which he talks about killing...without saying anything about it.  It gets shoved aside in the film, and it just wouldn't happen.  Instead, we are given a talk about a pendant that keeps making its way to Cole's room.  No.  Just no.

3.  Cole pulls out the "Stuttering Stanley" on his teacher...and NO ONE wonders how he know this?

Minor quibbles.  This is a really well-constructed film, and I enjoyed watching it last night.  I'm glad I did, and I'm glad it was on the list so I would.  Perhaps you'd like to, also?

Julie and I watched this together.  Our discussion afterwards centered on the above, mostly.  What a fine film.

The only review Ebert wrote was after his initial viewing of the film.  I wonder what he would have seen had he revisited it?  Anyway, he has similar thoughts about young Mr. Osment.

I'm worried...

...about my future.

So many films to go.  So little time.

AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  I should probably call the timing on this quest off, but I'm trying.  I still want to get through them all, though, even if I don't make the whole list in a year.

Film 38

38.  "The Graduate" (AFI Rank #17)

I was able to squeeze this one in last year before I abandoned ship on this journey.  Well.  I watched it again last night.

I said some things about this last year.  I'm going to be a little more detailed this year.

Released in 1967, this was director Mike Nichols' second film, and the second film for which he'd been nominated for a Best Director Oscar.  This time he won, while Best Picture went to "In The Heat Of The Night."  Those awards being split happens more than you think...but not all that frequently.  If I were asked my opinion (and even if I weren't), I'd say the Academy got it right.

Why?  Simple.  Like the last film I reviewed, Mike Nichols' background wasn't in film.  He was a product of Broadway, and directed several huge hit shows in the early 60s.  What we see in "The Graduate," like in "A Streetcar Named Desire," is the work of a guy who is used to really WORKING with actors, and not worrying about the technical nearly as much.  Sure, there are lots of pretty pictures that theatre directors make, but our main focus is performance.  How do you bring the words on the page to life?  We rehearse, we experiment, we focus on relationships, and truth, and listening.  And that, folks, is what is GREAT, GREAT, GREAT about "The Graduate."  There are lots of moments where we see characters laid bare, or change, or whatever.  Nichols' hand on those moments, no doubt, was probably central to a lot of that.  For example...when Mrs. Robinson first encounters Benjamin in his bedroom, she asks him if he has an ashtray.  "Oh, that's right.  The Big Track Star doesn't smoke."  A short while later...and indeed, when Benjamin decides to submit to Mrs. Robinson's request to have an affair...we see him talking to her on the phone...while smoking.  The next time we see Benjamin sitting down, we see an ashtray full of cigarette butts, all of which he has smoked while waiting for Mrs. Robinson at the Taft Hotel.  In a simple visual trick, we see that Benjamin is no longer the innocent, no longer a child.  He's a man, and he's changing, whether for the better...or not.

That isn't really about working with actors, I guess.  So, let's look at a different scene.  Let's talk about the scene where Benjamin decides that sex alone is no longer satisfying, and that he wants to converse with Mrs. Robinson.  Anne Bancroft and Dustin Hoffman give such compelling performances, work together so well, that it feels like we're peeping toms, staring in at a nefarious moment between a couple of desperate people.  Their conversation is snappy, it's well-paced, the actors "top" (talking simultaneously) each other many times...it's all the things that make a theatrical performance special.  Every conversation written in a script needs to feel like it's being said for the first time, because, in theory, it is.  Watch "The Graduate" and try to find those moments where it doesn't feel that way.  It's not very often, and I'm going to credit Mike Nichols.  Other subtle performance things that a director may have helped with:  the way Murray Hamilton places ice in the glasses he gives to Benjamin; the holding of the cigarette smoke by Anne Bancroft when Benjamin first kisses her; the near constant grilling (something I would notice, for sure) of dinner by Benjamin's parents.  How about the fact that Mrs. Robinson is nearly always wearing the fur pattern of some predatory cat?  

Now, had Mike Nichols just done great performances, he'd still have a great film.  However, he pulled all kinds of other tricks.  He may have been (I'm not knowledgeable enough to know) the first to use the montage to rock music to great effect...that it was in its infancy is shown by the fact that one of the more clever montages (the one where we are going back and forth between Benjamin at home and at the Taft with Mrs. Robinson)...actually has TWO songs that play through it.  On top of this, we've got the wonderful scene with Benjamin in his SCUBA gear, the opening title sequence, with Benjamin riding the moving walkway at LAX, the scene where the Robinsons stop by the Braddocks house after the affair has begun...and the adults are in silhouette...blurred by the sweaty sunglasses Benjamin wears, the many scenes of Benjamin driving from LA to Berkeley, back to LA, back to Berkeley, then to Santa Barbara.  It's gripping stuff.  It's heady filmmaking, and I LOVE heady filmmaking.

This, from my little research, was the first film to use popular music that ran over the visual, whether tied to the moment or not, just to create a mood, rather than help the story along.  Performed by Simon and Garfunkel (with Dave Grusin providing the incidental music), it is impossible to separate that music from this film.  It is so tied with our emotional investment in everything going on, that without it, the film would somehow not carry the weight it does.  It's a terrific choice, and really, really paves the way for a discussion as to how important music is in film.  Kubrick would prove it again the following year with "2001: A Space Odyssey," but think about how many thrillers, etc. we would not be able to experience without that music under it.  Music is as much a part of film as actors.  "The Graduate" nails this aspect.

Of course, I haven't really touched on the SCRIPT.  Written by Buck Henry (who makes a terrific turn as the hotel clerk IN the film)  and Calder Willingham, the script is a super tight story, full of humor, satire, drama...you name it.  That a word like "Plastics," when uttered by an actor, could have such an impact...is testament.  Named the 13th best screenplay in film history by the Writers Guild of America, it is hard to argue with that honor.  The fantastical works because of what is so REAL in the more grounded scenes.  It must have been a pleasure to show up to work every day, knowing that the plot laid out in front of you was so intrinsically beautiful.  Great stuff.

Acting.  Well.  I can't expound upon this too much more.  Bancroft is DEAD sexy, Hoffman is wonderfully befuddled, Katherine Ross is exquisitely charming, and even small roles like Norman Fell's landlord...are spot on.  So much chemistry exists between the actors, so much listening, so much trust...damn.  I really, really love this movie.  There is one moment that I wish could have been a little different...I wish Hoffman had taken just the tiniest of pauses after "You open up your" before he said "life to me" as he is staring at Mrs. Robinson, legs slightly spread, trying her damnedest "not" to seduce him.  I'm not sure why he didn't.  Maybe it was better subtle, but that's a terrific chance that was missed.  Maybe the censors didn't want it.  I don't know.  It's pretty great acting if that's really my only quibble.  As I said last year...I still find it incredible that Murray Hamilton and William Daniels were younger than I am now when they filmed this.

Is "The Graduate" the perfect film?  No.  I find a lot of the Berkeley stuff unnecessary...and too drawn out...it feels out of pace with the rest of the film.  However, it is a great film.  A GREAT GREAT GREAT FILM.  Watch it again.  It merits it.  It's #17 on the list...and if it's one of the top 20 films of all time...well...that might be worth checking out, don't you think?

I think Roger is too much a part of the generation that he thinks is being hailed in much of "The Graduate" to see it from any perspective other than through that filter.  His review of the re-release in 1997 is here.  I think he's myopic.  Yes, the generation gap may be a large part of this film, in 1967 terms...I'm not sure that is the ultimate theme.  Maybe it is.  I wasn't part of that...and I see a lot more in the film than that.  Bah.  Screw Roger on this one.

Hey! Hey Stella!

Here we go again...

Exhaustive quest to watch all of the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.

Film 37

37.  "A Streetcar Named Desire" (AFI Rank #47)

It is hard to imagine a time when live theatre audiences were treated to a much more graphic, more sophisticated, more adult version of a story than the one that was filmed.  This particular film is one of those instances.  Other examples include "Bad Seed," "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," and "Born Yesterday," to name a few.  Pretty sure ALL of Tennessee Williams was sanitized.

I was involved with a production of this particular masterpiece in 2009, acting as Producer.  At that time, I'd had a skewed version of it.  I thought a lot of the subjects broached in the play were handled elsewhere in film/television/theatre in much better ways.  What I was neglecting then, of course, was a sense of perspective.  That this play existed (and was a smash hit) in its time period, with the themes that it addresses, is a testament to just how unsophisticated we may be now.  Shows like this are still done, but the blush is off the rose, if you will, and graphically shocking material, at times, seems like just that.  "Let's see what else I can get away with!"  I digress.

I'm going to treat you like you've seen this.

Let's talk about the film version of Tennessee Williams' great play, "A Streetcar Named Desire."  Directed by Elia Kazan, who directed the original production on Broadway, and featuring EVERY performer except 2 from the original Broadway cast, this is an incredibly faithful film version of a stage play.  I mentioned that only 2 actors were not on Broadway...they are Wright King in the role of the young collector (originally played by Vito Christi) and Vivien Leigh as Blanche DuBois, replacing Jessica Tandy.  I cannot imagine what it must have been like to film this.  "Hey, remember what we did like 400 times before?  Let's just do that, only with better sets, better lighting and no audience...and occasionally going to a different location.  Sound good?"  Seriously.  All the pieces were in place.  All the motivations had been tested, repeated, and made to work.  Chemistry is already there.  Sure, blocking changes when you're not constantly facing the fourth wall, but what a luxury to have tested materials and actors with major studio backing...

And they took advantage of it.  Kazan's direction is superb.  His visual telling of the story is spot on...we see shadows when they should be there, we see light when we should.  We feel hot and sweaty when we glance around the Kowalski apartment.  Acting choices that were made are spot on, and a great deal of that has to do with the director.  I know.  I've directed a time or two, and there is a great deal of trust involved with actors stepping beyond their comfort zone and trying something, only to be rewarded with "YES!  That's right!"  Take, for example, the moment that Blanche meets Stanley.  We immediately see her desire. She finds Stanley remarkably desirous, and the moment is played so subtly, so understated...it's just sexy as hell. Kazan was given a rare treasure, and he flourished with it.  I also liked that he took a few scenes out of the Kowalski apartment.  It helped, especially in the Mitch/Blanche confession about her young husband's death.  Having that taking place on a date...somewhere that Mitch had to find...well...that's a wonderful touch.

I would be negligent not to talk about Tennessee Williams.  The opening lines...well...they kind of set it all up for us.  "Why, they told me to take a streetcar named Desire, and then transfer to one called Cemetery, and ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields."  Not so subtle, but that kind of craft is genius.  Yes, Blanche's journey is one precipitated by her Desire...to where she can only reach her Elysian Fields after she's been to the cemetery.  It's great stuff.  In Blanche, we have a terrifically strong woman, whose weakness and frailty, we are shown, is merely an act of self preservation. She knows PRECISELY whom she is, what she has done, and why she is where she is.  In Stanley, we see the overwhelming presence of ignorance, and how that can destroy all those around it.  In Mitch, we see the cuckolded hero, virtuous to a fault.  And Stella is our wide-eyed innocence...or is she?  She's more likely "the maid in the living room, cook in the kitchen...and whore in the bedroom."  She's the grown-up.  And she's the one, throughout the film, carrying the next generation of Stanley Kowalski, carrying on the ignorance, but maybe carrying the hope for the future. Williams wordplay, his tone...his fantasy...it's tremendous.

I can't say a whole lot about the acting in this, save "Superior."  Brando is amazing.  Sexy, brutish, hard to understand (yeah, his voice......boy...it needed help), Brando inhabits Stanley.  You watch him eat a cold plate of food for dinner and you buy it.  You watch him drink a beer, and you buy it.  You watch him oafishly paw through Blanche's steamer trunk, and you buy it.  It's a complete character, fully realized, and I'm glad it's preserved on film.  Karl Malden is fantastic as Mitch, always with the best of people in mind, always with that "hey, look at me" child-like demeanor...until it matters.  Then he turns, and he turns quickly, and hard.  It's masterwork.  Kim Hunter as Stella is sexy, earthy, smart, but not so smart as to make us wonder why she's there.  Also...terrific.  At center, of course, is Leigh's Blanche.  38 at the time of the filming, Leigh was a stunningly beautiful woman, and she had the acting skills to back up her metamorphosis (as a British actor) into two of the screen's most indelible "Southern Belles," Blanche and Scarlett O'Hara.  Leigh is a powerhouse here.  Vulnerable and strong, gorgeous and plain, fantastical and grounded...Leigh covers all the ranges of humanity that Blanche exhibits with a grace and ease that is just a pleasure to watch.  That she was thrust into a film with a gang of people who had worked together a long time...and thrived...is a testament to what she brings to the role.  It's a wonderful, wonderful performance.  It should be noted that Leigh, Hunter, and Malden all won Oscars, while Brando did not.  Only one other film had 3 people win Oscars for acting...the just-reviewed-in-this-blog "Network."  It is hard to imagine why Brando wasn't awarded, too.  Especially since the award went to the clearly drunken Humphrey Bogart in "The African Queen."

And ultimately, I have to say a few bad things.  It is a tragedy that this film took out or hinted at in odd ways a couple of essential elements to the play.  For example, Blanche is raped by Stanley.  We see her thrown to the bed in the play, while Stanley says "We've had this date coming for a long while" (Possibly paraphrased).  In the film...we get the idea that Stanley has done something bad...but it's represented by a physical motion...and a broken mirror. We are left to wonder if he physically abused her...or if he, as he does in the play...rapes her.  I knew the answer...the film doesn't necessarily confirm it.  Also troubling is the ending.  Stella leaves Stanley.  That isn't what happens in the play...and I've read that she had to leave because there was a code that said that criminals must be punished.  Bullshit.  It's more tragic, more satisfying, and way more disturbing if she stays.  Blanche has told Stella that she was raped by Stanley.  Stella says "I couldn't live with him if I believed it."  Then...she leaves.  No.  Staying is what Williams intended...and Kazan tried, desperately, to get that ending.  It is a tragedy that it had to be that way.  Also missing is the notion that Blanche's dead husband was a homosexual.  The play makes this clear.  Man...so much missing...yet still a great film.

So.  Great film, based on a great play, starring the people that helped make that play great.  Might, just might, be worth your time.  I'd say...YES.

The film was re-released in 1993, with a lot of the missing things I complained about above restored.  Kazan filmed it all, hoping to show two versions of the film, one that complied with code, and one that was his "director's cut" that would be advertised as outside the code, and give people the choice.  The studio chose not to do this.  Ebert reviewed it then.  Here's his take.  I guess Roger and I are on the same page again.

A bit...

...of the ultraviolence for a Sunday night.

Dear friends, your humble narrator is working his way through the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) and reporting his windy-findings here.

I viddied this film last night, and...well...

Film 36

36.  "A Clockwork Orange" (AFI Rank #70)

Let me just go ahead and qualify myself as something that I am not - and that is a professional film reviewer.  Nor am I a writer.  I'm a dude with access to some bandwidth, and a desire to express my views in that bandwidth.  As such, I inform these things with personal stories, etc.  I mentioned that I took hallucinogenic drugs when I talked about "2001:  A Space Odyssey."  Here's Kubrick again, and here's another film that I watched on hallucinogens back in the day...many times.

Yes.  I've watched this film a lot.  When I was a teenager, I was drawn to the nudity, the unmitigated "guts" (gall) of the film, the dystopian setting, and a whole lot of other stuff.  It was a gutsy film, and I'm fairly certain that I liked it because it did not appeal to those who were "establishment" at the time.  I wore eyeliner (false eyelashes were hard to deal with) on my right eye to school because of this film.  Yeah.  I had some real issues.  This film appealed to the 17 year old version of me the way few others did.

I'm 30 years older, 28 years sober, and I watched this film in its entirety for the first time in a while last night.

I'm also going to treat you like you know that the lead character is Alex DeLarge (Malcolm McDowell) and that his Droogs are his gang members.  I'm also not telling the story.  Go find it if you need to.  You won't get far in the film if you object to it anyway, so what difference will describing the story make?  Here's a thumbnail.  A bad kid kills someone, goes to jail, and is given, by the government, the opportunity to go free if he's willing to subject himself to a new technique to "cure" his violent nature.  He does, and more bad things happen.  The End.

A few things still appeal to me.  Kubrick is a mad genius.  Every shot in this film feels planned, feels so cinematic that one just has to step back and admire the handicraft on display.  Need an example?  How about the doorbell ringing on the "HOME" of the writer both at the start of the film, and near the end.  Both scenes are set up identically, with the same speed/pace of a dolly shot across the two rooms of the house, one culminating in the writer's wife getting up to answer the door, the other ending with the muscular helper that the writer, now confined to a wheelchair, has to help him in his daily tasks answering the door.  It's careful filmmaking, and it's on display regularly.  The slow zoom out from the Droogs at the Korova Milkbar that opens the film...the shots of Alex as he wanders home, hell...everything.  It all seems so damned intentional...it's amazing.  Unlike the last film I reviewed, it doesn't feel like Kubrick is just recording performances that happen to be in front of his camera as much as he is working those performances into his vision of what this particular scene should make us feel.

"A Clockwork Orange" is a brutal film...perhaps a little romantic in its treatment of that brutality...and one that needs to be seen as a whole, rather than worrying about the niggling details of what is happening.  Yes.  Rapes happen.  Not one, not two, but three (one is during Alex's treatment).  They are really tough to watch, especially Adrienne Corri's scene as the writer's wife.  We also see an ultraviolent rumble between Alex's Droogs and the gang of Billy Boy.  We see a strongish woman get her skull crushed by a phallic sculpture, and we get to see a couple of really graphic beatings.  All of this...however...is mere graphic representation of the film's central message...the disconnection between the government and its people, between generations of family members, and between ourselves and our sanity at times.  Look at Alex's parents.  Dad is wonderfully clueless, and Mother...well...she suffers greatly because of Alex, as mothers do.  Yet...neither of them seems particularly interested in doing anything about their son...in spite of what is hinted at several run-ins with the law.  M & P are in their own world, living in a shabby building, locked away from the rest of the world.

So. I've gone on about how well crafted this film is.  Other things to talk about are the acting.  McDowell is so intensely watchable in this that we kind of forgive Alex for being evil incarnate.  Don't believe that he's Satan?  How about the detail late in the film, when he is attacked by Dim and Georgie Boy (his former Droogs), and they are badge numbers 665 and 667.  Between them is Alex.  His number is 666....right?  Anyway, McDowell's performance here is a wonder.  Always with a wry smile informing his every move, he is a study in intensity, a study in raw energy, sexuality, what have you.  He's a little kid with no filters in a grown up body, and he wreaks havoc on all around him.  It's a terrific performance.  I cannot imagine what it would be in someone else's hands...and I'm glad I don't.  Most of the rest of the acting seems to rely on incredible consistency, and Kubrick would be the guy in charge of that.  The Chief of the Guard at the prison where Alex is interred is especially good.  One other acting performance concerns the Psychiatrist, played by Pauline Taylor.  Alex, ever on the prowl, and ever RIGHT in what he suspects, says that he has had dreams where people are messing around in his gulliver (head) during their meeting.  The imperceptible flinch that the Psychiatrist gives before smiling and saying something to the effect of "lots of people have those dreams" is Class A work.   We catch it.  Alex, for sure, caught it...and his work with the slides immediately afterwards is...hilarious.

Also of note should be the design of this film.  The women mostly have outrageous colored hair (purple, pink, etc.), the Milkbar is amazing, the record store is mindblowing, the costuming is wonderful, the sets are glorious.  This is one really, really stylish film.  Still mindboggling that so much beauty can contain so much ugliness.  Also...the language.  A mix of English with some sort of wacky made up slang for things..."viddy" means "view," "slooshied" means "listened," etc.  It's tough to follow the first time through.  I confess, while on LSD back in the day, I finally understood the language.  I, again, was 17, and probably not as smart as I thought I was at the time, but I "got it" when I was hallucinating.

As I sit here writing this, it occurs to me that I should probably come up with some grand meaning of it all.  I've talked about it above, but I'm not even sure I'm right on that.  Ultimately, it's a story about a bad, bad boy, and how he really doesn't want that to change, nor does he have the capacity to do so.  It's about what we expect as a society of each other, and what lengths we're willing to go to to keep the peace.  It's about overstepping of control in the name of security.

And it's not.

It's Kubrick.

Look.  I'm not going to recommend this film.  I've talked about it above.  If you wish to watch it, fine.  I love it.  I completely understand if you don't/can't.  It's a tough, tough watch.  And I'm warning you...again.  It's a brutal, brutal film.  Really.  Really, really.  Ultraviolent.  It belongs on the list of Top 100 films because it is so very well crafted.  So very well.  Beyond that...it's a brutal film.  I've mentioned that.  Right?

Ebert didn't consider this a great movie.  He didn't like it much. In fact, Roger and I have opposing views.  Hmmmph.  Roger may be on to something.  I have to think some more.  His original review is here.

You know, the more I think about this, having read Ebert...the more I think that the best word for the film is "immature."

And maybe that...THAT...is exactly what Kubrick meant...and what Roger missed.  I wouldn't be surprised.  Bah.

Whew...

...this pace is getting a little much.  Those 5 months off are going to kill this project, I'm sure, but I'm not giving up just yet...

Next installment of the essays I'm writing on my experience watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.

Film 35

35.  "A Night At The Opera" (AFI Rank #85)

There is no way to couch this.  It is awfully hard to imagine why TWO Marx Brothers' films earn their place in the top 100, while films like "Alien," "Night of the Living Dead," "Amadeus," any of the "Star Wars" or "Lord of the Rings" sequels, and myriad others find themselves off the list.  I get it.  The Marx Brothers were historically significant.  So were Fred and Ginger.  The latter got one film in the list, the former got two.

But...the film is on the list, and I watched it with my sons.  I think I can get through this quickly.  There are exactly no amazing technical aspects in this film (with the exception of gags), no transcendent acting performances, no directing chops that couldn't be justified as "point the camera over there and let those guys do their thing."

What there is, however, is laughter.  Lots and lots and lots of laughter.  Beginning with Groucho, the film showcases the amazing talents of 3 of the 5 Marx Brothers, the aforementioned Groucho, Harpo, and Chico.  As I said, the film opens with the machine gun one-liners of Groucho (Otis B. Driftwood) as he furiously explains away his affections (and the lack thereof) to a wealthy widow whom he is milking for cash.

A typical exchange:

Mrs. Claypool:  I've been sitting here since 7 o'clock
Otis B. Driftwood:  Yes, with your back to me.  When I invite a woman to dinner, I expect her to look at my face.  It's the price she has to pay.

As the film progresses, the set-up is made clear.  A chorus tenor named Ricardo is in love with the ingenue of the opera company in which they perform in Italy.  Her beauty has also attracted the affections of the lead tenor, a typical diva named Lassparri.  Mrs. Claypool, for whom Otis acts as the business manager, has given a large donation to the New York Opera company, with the express purpose of bringing Lassparri to America.  Harpo plays Lassparri's dresser, and Chico is...well...Chico is an Italian guy who knew some people backstage at the Opera, including Ricardo, and becomes his manager.  Eventually, all these people need to travel by steamship to America, some stowing away, some living off the fortunes of others in different ways.

What ensues is a lot of cleverly done gags, a lot of witty banter, and several wonderful musical performances captured on film.   Classic gags:  too many people in too small a stateroom; the musical numbers; the bearded aviators making their speeches; and the 4 guys in one hotel room gag.  I'm missing a few.  I've mentioned them because if you've seen the film, you know exactly what I'm describing.

 It's great fun.  I'm not sure, however, that it qualifies as "great film."

I don't know.  Maybe it is.

I am currently directing "Play It Again, Sam" for the local community theatre.   Sometimes, as I told the cast the other night, sometimes the best thing a performer can do is just entertain people.  "A Night at the Opera" does that, and it does it in spades.  The boys, who are probably a little too young for Groucho's genius, were enthralled with the slapstick stuff, with Chico, and especially with Harpo.  I kinda knew that was going to happen.

I mentioned musical performances.  I have to mention the 6 or so minutes of Chico and Harpo playing the piano and the harp respectively, (Harpo plays both) or I'm not doing justice to this film.  You simply must see that portion of the film to believe it.  It is hard to imagine how the Marx family was able to afford the money (let alone the time) with 5 sons in the house to allow at least 2 of them to become master musicians.  I'm sure there is research I can do on this.  I'm not doing that. I'm watching "A Night at the Opera" (and later "Duck Soup"), and reporting my thoughts on it.  My thoughts are that, like the Beatles, or any other great artists, I'm sure happy there was a medium available to record their exploits.  The piano/harp bit are timeless, and simply amazing.

I don't know what more to say.  I'm always glad to watch a Marx Brothers film.  They are a national treasure, and their work will resound for generations to come.  There is a timelessness to it that cannot be denied.  There is also a great deal of classical comedic history in their characters/caricatures.  There's lots of material available to discuss that, I'm sure.  I'm not going to get into it.

I'm ecstatic that the boys found it funny, too.  I'm glad I got to watch a hilarious comedy during this quest.  I hope you watch it sometime soon, too.  Beyond that, it's the Marx Brothers.  Just enjoy it.

No Ebert this time.  He does an article about "Duck Soup," however, so I'm looking forward to reading that post write-up of that film.

One that I did last year...

...and my reactions are pretty similar.

Here we are with another contribution to watching the list of the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  66 to go in 3 1/2 months.  That's a LOT of film, people.  I may not make it.  I'm going to try.

Film 34

34.  "Pulp Fiction" (AFI Rank #94)

Well. This is awkward.  I actually wrote up my thoughts on this film last year.  I think the reviews I'm doing this year are better, more substantive, whatever...but this one is a little tricky.

I watched "Pulp Fiction" last night.  I am a man.  I've been required, because of the fact that I am a man, to have watched this film MANY, many times over the last 20 years.  So.  Last night, nothing particularly life-changing, nor particularly deep came across to me.  I guess more than anything, I was struck by a sense of appreciation for just how good this film is...and then again...how much it has been romanticized as time has gone on.

As a follow up to his film "Reservoir Dogs," Quentin Tarantino was able to further establish himself as a voice that needed to be heard with this film.  How he was able to nab not only John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson (who, admittedly, became a MUCH bigger star after this film), but Christopher Walken, Uma Thurman, and Bruce Willis is beyond me.  I've read the budget for the film was $8 million, of which, $5 million went to actor salaries.  That Bruce Willis, who was a $20 million actor at the time, took so little money is pretty darned crazy.  That Tarantino guy must have had something on the ball.

Well, he did.

What he crafted was a uniquely twisted piece of cinema, and one that showed off a lot of promise for a guy who used to clerk at a video store.   Told out of sequence, the story of "Pulp Fiction" is fairly straightforward...kinda.  It involves a lot of people that we actually care about, a lot of situations that we maybe shouldn't care about, and some of filmdom's more memorable quotes.  "Say 'what' again, I dare you!  I double dare you, motherfucker!  Say 'what' one more god damned time!"    Foul language, extreme violence, rape, hit men, a drug overdose, and a silly twist dance contest in a bizzaro world restaurant are all things that we witness in this film.  And somehow, all of that, despite the fact that most of us cannot relate to any part of it...is compelling as hell to watch.

Why?

What is the great appeal of this film?  Let's start with the acting.  Samuel L. Jackson gives us more information about what is going to happen in a scene while drinking a Sprite than we should be able to glean.  John Travolta's heroin filled haze is so realistic, so well played, that it's hard not to imagine that he's not actually Vincent.  Harvey Keitel plays the cleaner so well that although he's barely in the film, we all know who The Wolf is.  Throw in Eric Stoltz actually handling comedy, Rosanna Arquette being the shrieking harpy, Uma Thurman laying down just enough cool to make us really like a character that should be unlikable, and Bruce Willis, being Bruce Willis, only really put into vulnerable situations.  The performances by everyone in this film are so honest, so real...that I haven't even mentioned two of the most natural actors in cinema, Amanda Plummer and Tim Roth.  Nor did I mention Maria de Medeiros, whose Fabienne is the most believable portrayal of the bunch.  Know what that is?  That's a lot of damned characters, and if you've seen the film before, you know every one of their portrayals.  That's old-school filmmaking.  That's 70s style filmmaking.  Lots and lots of characters, some of whom barely appear, but all of whom we connect with on some level, somehow.  The acting in this film is tremendous.  I wonder if that's Tarantino allowing those actors to do their jobs, or if it's a result of his passion...I can't tell.  I know I've never enjoyed Travolta nor Jackson more than I do in this film.

What else works?

The shots are beautiful.  There is a real skill in the visual presentation of the film, whether through lighting choices, close-ups, wide F-stop shots that blur the background, or whatever.  You get the impression that this film was crafted, sometimes in the camera, in a way that required an attention to detail that is only seen with those who REALLY know what they are doing.  That it was Tarantino's second film is astonishing.  Check out the lighting on the scene when Mia gets the adrenaline shot.  It's gorgeous to look at.  Check out the moment when Marvin gets his head blown off.  Check out camera angle in the Mexican standoff between Jules, Honey Bunny, Vincent, and Pumpkin.  It's heady stuff.  It makes us feel.  That's what visual art is supposed to do for us.  That film is not only a visual medium makes this icing on the cake.

Cannot talk about "Pulp Fiction" without mentioning the soundtrack.  We get a groovy surf song during the credits that is interrupted and replaced with a different song...and we don't think anything of it.  Urge Overkill's cover of Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" somehow doesn't seem at all out of place with Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher Man," nor with the Statler Brothers' "Flowers on the Wall."  The soundtrack fuels "Pulp Fiction," because it is obvious that the creator REALLY likes his music.

Also.  The film is much less grotesque with its violence than its predecessor, "Reservoir Dogs," and certainly WAY less than what I consider the best Tarantino film(s) I've seen, "Kill Bill."  Yet, we believe we saw a lot of really violent stuff.  Really, the most violent sequence to me, and the one that probably hits closest to home because it feels like it could actually happen, is the drug overdose, and the resulting adrenaline shot.  There's a realism in that sequence that we don't necessarily see in the rest of the film.  I can't imagine a pawn shop with a chained up gimp in the basement and a rapist security officer friend could stay open past the first day of business.  But, you know, it works.

Plus, you get to see a lot of Tarantino trademarks taking shape.  Feet.  Mexican Standoffs.  MacGuffins.  Red Apple cigarettes. "Fox Force Five" may have been the rough draft of the "Deadly Viper Assassination Squad."  Music that sometimes runs opposite what is happening in the scene.  Like Hitchcock's soft focus on blonde women, you can see Tarantino's emerging style in this film in spades.

Now.  What don't I like?

I hate, hate, HATE the Christopher Walken sequence.  I don't think it's funny, nor do I think it helps the film.  It reminds me of the end of "A Mighty Wind," when the cheap joke of having Harry Shearer transitioning into being a woman is meant to be funny.  In a film of high comedy, why throw in a sequence about a watch being stowed up someone's ass for 7 years?  That's not funny, it's not even funny in an abstract way, and it adds nothing.  This scene, by itself, knocks the film out of "ALL TIME GREATEST" consideration for me.  Without it, maybe we can talk.  With it...forget it.  It's indulgent crap.

I also hate Tarantino's dialogue as Jimmie.  I'm not sure that gets better in the hands of a skilled actor, but he seems to have saved the worst lines in the film for himself.  Maybe, just maybe, it's because of how bad he is at it...but I don't know.  It's bad.  Really bad.

So.  Know what you should do?  You should watch "Pulp Fiction" again some time.  It's great, if flawed, filmmaking.

Ebert focused on the structure a bit more than I did, but his observations are spot on.  Notice he doesn't do much more than mention the scene with Walken. I'd love to have been able to chat with him about its merit in the film.

This is a big day...

...back from my hiatus with 3 reviews in a day.

This is the next entry on the list of the AFI Top 100 Films (10th Anniversary Edition) that I'm trying to watch in a calendar year.

I published a link to the rules in the last one, so I'm not putting it here.

Let's go...this one's a thinking man's film.  Just the way I likes 'em.

Film 33

33.  "Network" (AFI Rank #64)

There are several years in this list that have multiple entries.  The most in any given year is four.  1976 is one of the years with four entries.  (So is 1982...if you can believe that - and "Gandhi," the Best Picture winner, isn't even one of them)

Directed by Sidney Lumet, "Network" lost out on the Oscar for Best Picture to "Rocky."  Lumet also lost to "Rocky" director John G. Avildsen for Best Director.  Also on the list of the top 100 from that year? "Taxi Driver" and "All The President's Men."  Scorsese wasn't even nominated for Best Director.  Film was a whole lot better 40 years ago, that's for damned sure.

I'm digressing.  "Network" is a terrifyingly prescient film about entertainment, business, and our tastes as Americans.  Centered around (but really tangential to) the puppet being used by his superiors, Howard Beale (Peter Finch), "Network" is a plunge into the madness of the American consumer.

The tone of the piece is set immediately, as the second sequence in the film shows us Howard Beale, fired from the fictional UBS television network as its news anchor, as he announces that he is leaving in two weeks, and that his last broadcast will feature him killing himself live on television.  Certainly this is remarkable stuff, but what is so perfect about the scene is that the majority of it is shot in the control room, and that the people assigned to putting on the news show DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HOWARD SAID.  Not one of them.  As word reaches them, it becomes obvious that Howard must be removed forcibly from the studio, which is also broadcast live.  Howard's long time friend Max (William Holden - who appears again and again in top 100 films) is forced to remove Howard from the air immediately, with no two week grace period.  Max is a longtime news man, who has grown old during the time of television, presumably starting his career as one of its pioneers.

As Howard begins to gain exposure for his on camera antics, corporate leaders in the form of a soulless, ambitious executive named (not so subtly) Hackett, played by Robert Duvall, and a soulless, ambitious programming director named Diana Christiensen, played by Faye Dunaway, are drawn to the idea of exploiting Howard for financial and power gains.  Diana sees Howard as the ticket to making her ideas of a radical network a reality, and Hackett sees nothing but dollar signs, and his own stature increasing.  One of Diana's ideas, which is in the works, is the "Mao Tse Tung Hour," which will feature the Ecumenical Liberation Army, a radical group who has a Patty Hearst type heiress in its folds, and a group that has garnered fame for actually filming its exploits.  She wants a show that shows a new crime perpetuated by the ELA each week to kick off the show, followed by discussion, etc.  It's ghoulish.  It's "COPS."

Gradually, Howard becomes more and more unhinged, and when he finally snaps and tells the viewers to run to their windows and scream "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this any more!"  Howard has tapped into the anger that permeates society, and found his audience.  And it just keeps growing.  Not unlike a certain billionaire investor from New York in our current discussions.  There is always a market for faceless rage, and Diana, Howard, and Hackett are making a killing off it.

Of course, Max is having none of it, but he finds himself wrapped up with Diana, to the point where he leaves his wife (Beatrice Straight) for her.   Eventually, Howard's appeal begins to wane, and in a chilling scene, the heads of the network decide to kill him, live on the air.  We believe, until the moment that it happens, that it can't be real...but it is.  And we are reviled.

So.  What about this film makes it so great?  Acting.  Storytelling.  Acting.  Directing.  Storytelling.  Directing.  Acting.

This film is genius.  Lumet's direction is tight, inspired, and brilliant.  As the film opens, it's dark/gritty.  As it progresses, it becomes more and more sanitized...like television.  Lumet was a master filmmaker, and one who never received the thing he deserved...an Oscar for Best Director.  Like Kubrick.  His biography is a list of brilliant films, all of which seemed to be released at times when other films more "Oscaresque" were released.  In the case of "Network," it may simply have been a case of too many great films in one year, and "Rocky" emerged because it was the one that left voters with the best feeling.  I don't know.  I know this film is superior to "Rocky."  The sequence with Diana never shutting up about what is going on with the network, even as she makes love to Max, is inspiring.  That's a little to do with writing, but the director makes it sing.  This aria soars.

Story.  Paddy Chayefsky DID win best screenplay.  That we find so many people to care about, and that a character as small as Max's wife could be so well fleshed out as to merit an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress despite only 5 minutes and 40 seconds of screen time, well...it's a wonder.  Farcical, we laugh at the script...until...given out 2015 sensibilities...we realize that everything this guy wrote basically came true.  Tell me that Glenn Beck isn't Howard Beale.  I've already made the "COPS" comparison.  The script, now, is chilling.  Plus.  You get great lines like "Nine hundred fucking phone calls complaining about the language."  "Shit."   The satire fairly drips from this piece.  Watch the scene of the lawyers and network executives parsing the contract language and payments with the leadership of the ELA, and you know you're watching a masterpiece.  That's what this script is.  A pure and simple masterpiece.

Acting.  This was the last film to receive 3 Oscars for acting.  The aforementioned Straight got hers, Faye Dunaway was given Best Actress, and Peter Finch won posthumously for Best Actor.  Also nominated were Holden and Ned Beatty, who was quoted as saying, when saying that actors should NEVER turn down work:  "I worked a day on 'Network' and got an Oscar Nomination for it. All the acting in this film is honest, committed work.  Duvall didn't get nominated, but I find it hard to believe that in any other year, he wouldn't actually be awarded, let alone nominated for his work. You want to learn how to act?  Watch this.  Finch is unflinching.   Holden is a clinic in cool.  Straight is heartbreaking.  Dunaway is stone cold.  Duvall is befuddled ambition.  Beatty is pure passion.  I imagine Lumet had a lot to do with all of this as well.

I can't say too much more about this film.  It's a terrific film, and I wish that more films today felt like this one.  Gritty, biting, honest, and ultimately fantastical.  It's a wonder.  Great films leave us with questions...I defy you to watch "Network" and not have a lot of them.

Welp.  Ebert and I are there again.  Damn me.