Watch the driveway you hide out in...

...because you never know when it's going to be the place you go to die.

Watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year and posting my thoughts about them here.  Rules.  Shorter post this time.

Film 19

19.  "Sunset Blvd."  (AFI Rank #16)
This is one of the films I watched for the first time last year when attempting this little journey.  This year, of course, it feels like old hat, and a familiar story, so I was able to really watch for subtlety, nuance, etc.  I wasn't wholly absorbed in the story.  Yet, this time, the story was somehow different.

If you are one, like me last year, who hasn't seen this film, just watch it.  I'm not going to do a thorough synopsis.

So.  What struck me as unique about this film this year?

I was struck by the character of Joe Gillis (William Holden), and just how truly ill prepared he is to live in the environment in which he has immersed himself.  As a film noir, the entire film is played with Joe in the scene, except for one glorious scene in which Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) is treated like the star she...was.

Back to Joe.  The film starts out with us learning that he's a writer, down on his luck, and unable to sell an idea to any movie studio.  His car is to be repossessed, and he's...well...he's cooked.  We learn immediately that his natural tendency is to try and get things done HIS way.  So, after a chase with some repo men he bullshitted, Joe winds up on Norma Desmond's palatial property.  Seizing an opportunity that is given him, he decides to soak the crazy old film star for all he can.  Except...at no point is Joe in any control.  His every wish is taken care of by Norma and her butler, Max (Erich Von Stroheim).  Thinking he's got a pretty good deal, Joe submits to humiliating scenario after humiliating scenario, culminating with him being Norma's kept gigolo.  Yet throughout all this, one can't help but feel pity as Joe slowly realizes that his life is no longer his.  Everything about him is taken care of by others.  His life is in Norma's hands.  His screenplay idea is in the hands of Betty Schaefer.  Nothing, but nothing is in Joe's control.  Even his car is eventually discovered in her garage.  He's tried to outsmart life, and life beats him every time.

Beyond that, the film is just so damned good, start to finish.  Whether it is the cinematography (including the great shot at the top of this post), or the pace, or the relationships between the characters, Billy Wilder was at the top of his game on this one.  He shows a deft, if sometimes light, touch on most of the "pictures," but a few moments stand out.  Norma's moment bathed in the spotlight on the Paramount Studios set is genius in its composition.  As is the staging of the monkey funeral.  It all is just so expertly executed, one can't help but be in awe.  There's a moment where Norma stands up while watching one of her pictures in the home studio (also pictured above)...there are things that only film can achieve.  This one is stuffed with them.


Of course, the centerpiece of the film is Gloria Swanson's performance as Norma Desmond.  There is so much sadness, so much delusion, that it's hard to see her as what she is...a star.  One who is absolutely capable of decidedly pointed, educated, and wise decisions.  She's seen it all, and while she chooses to ignore a great deal of what she's seen...she is still capable, at times, of remarkable clarity.  Those moments are so decidedly well performed, that they, in my mind, overshadow the over the top acting required of a silent film star.  My favorite moment of hers in the film is when she is playing Chaplin's little tramp.  It is such a refreshing respite from all the dramatics...and it so grounds her at that moment...it's magic.  I've been trying to ponder a year when iconic female film roles, whether Swanson in this, Bette Davis in "All About Eve," or Judy Holliday in "Born Yesterday," mattered more.  I'm not sure I can pick one.  1950 was a hell of a year.


Of note, also, is Erich Von Stroheim as Max.  So subtle, so achingly pained, yet always pulling the strings, Max is a delight.  The scene where we find out that Max is Norma's first husband...if that doesn't get you...you can't be gotten.  We may see the story unfold through Joe's eyes, but Max is our guilty conscience.  He wants Norma to remain all that she remembers she was.  Watching him at the end, escorting her down the stairs for her DeMille close up...damn.  A powerhouse, if largely underappreciated performance.

Beyond that, there isn't a lot to say.  Somewhere in this here blog are my thoughts on this film from last year.  Maybe they make sense that I'm not today.  Ebert's take is here.

Sunset Blvd. is an important, great film.  I'm so glad it's becoming familiar to me as time goes by...and I regret the time I hadn't spent with it before.

Watch it again.  Or watch it for the first time.  It's wonderful.

Here's one...

...that I've never really gotten my head around.

This is the quest to write about my reactions to watching every film in the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  I'm nearing 20% through.  Rules as to how I picked the order of viewing here.

Film 18

18.  "The Deer Hunter" (AFI Rank #53)
This is now the fourth Best Picture Oscar winner I've watched in a row, and the sixth of the last seven.  It is odd, I must say, to focus so much energy to watching tremendous film after tremendous film.

I have watched "The Deer Hunter" one time prior to this year's viewing.  I was 10 when the film came out, and while there was certainly talk about it, I was, obviously, too young to know/hear anything much about it.  A few years back, for some reason, it was on one of the cable channels, and I decided to watch it.  I remember feeling lost watching it, not really getting it, and mostly feeling empty.

Same thing happened this time...except now I realize all that was on purpose.

This is a tough film to like.  It is really just a slice of life tale of a group of  friends from Clairton, Pennsylvania, and three of them who go to Vietnam.  The opening of the film lasts a fairly long while.  In it, we are introduced to a group of blue-collar friends who are in the midst of preparing for the wedding of a couple of young people.  It appears as if it is a shotgun wedding, and that the groom doesn't necessarily believe he's the father.  While we are at the wedding at what I assume to be the local VFW, we see large photos of three of our principle characters, played by John Savage (Stevie), Christopher Walken (Nick) and Robert DeNiro (Michael).  Surrounding their photos are buntings of American flags, and the words "Good luck" are present.  Eventually, as the evening wears on, we learn that the three of them are about to ship off to Vietnam.  We then see a brief sequence of the three being reunited in a village in Vietnam.

Our next major setpiece is floating Viet Cong prison, where the prisoners are brought up one by one, forced to play Russian Roulette, then discarded when the inevitable shot through their skull happens.  It is cruel, as the prisoners are kept in a cage, river water up to their waists, below the floor of the "playing arena."  Blood from the losers of the game flows onto them.

Stevie is the first of the friends (somehow all three wound up here - really?) to be dragged into the game.  He chickens out, and winds up grazing his skull when he pulls the gun back at the last moment.  He is thrown into an even crueler cage, where the water is above his neck, filled with rats and corpses.  It looks like hell.  He is also in the sun.  I cannot imagine a human would last long there.

Eventually, Nick and Michael are pitted against each other.  Michael insists that his captors put 3 bullets in the magazine.  He places the gun against his head, pulls the trigger on a blank chamber.  He then begs Nick to put another empty chamber in the gun.  Nick pulls the trigger...again to nothing.  Michael now has a gun with 4 chambers filled with 3 bullets.  In a move that could only be pulled by a desperate man, he is able to overwhelm the captors, using the element of surprise to kill the leader, then grabbing the weapons of the stunned guards to kill the rest.  Freed of their bonds, Michael and Nick rescue Stevie (who has a compound fracture in at least one leg - later we learn it was both) and float down the river.  A helicopter flies overhead, spots them, and attempts a rescue.  They are able to only get Nick on the chopper.  Michael carries the wounded Stevie to a road filled with refugees, where he deposits him on a South Vietnamese Jeep.  Michael is now left to wander Vietnam, as is Nick.  Nick finds his way, inexplicably, into a kind of Russian Roulette league, Stevie winds up in a VA hospital, and Michael is sent home during the fall of Saigon.

Returning home, Michael takes up residence with Nick's girlfriend, Linda, played by Meryl Streep.  Winding up in the group of friends that stayed behind, nothing has really changed about the town, and the customs/day to day life.  One thing that has changed, however, is Michael's ability to hunt deer.  A legendary crack shot, Michael, in a memorable sequence, is face to face with a glorious buck.  Taking the shot, we see Michael pull up on the rifle, missing his quarry.  It's a shocking image, watching a man so skilled be so utterly incapable of doing that which used to give him pleasure.

As the film closes, Michael journeys back to Vietnam to fetch Nick, who has been sending home piles of cash; his spoils from his prowess in the Russian Roulette circuit.  He finds Nick, and the two again have a duel.  This time, Nick finally runs out his string, and the pistol goes off, killing him.  Michael is left to go home and bury his friend.

So.  That's a load of synopsis.

Here's my thoughts.  This is a gritty, dirty film.  It's from the school of the 70's, most assuredly, that breathed in reality, that often was maddeningly vague, and that really made films that we could "get."  The opening sequence with characters coming in and out, culminating in the wedding...it's a whirlwind.  Michael Cimino may have bankrupted an entire movie studio with "Heaven's Gate," but films like this are why he was allowed to do so.  I like how Vietnam is like a rumor throughout the opening.  It's mentioned, sure, but it's never dealt with in an "OH MY GOD" kinda way.  It makes the film feel like a moment in time.  As a child of the late 80's, when films like "The Killing Fields," "Platoon," and "Full Metal Jacket" really brought Vietnam to us in a overwhelming fashion, "The Deer Hunter" treats it like a duty that a few guys we are watching are going to fulfill.

The Vietnam sequences are heartbreaking.  The shot of a Viet Cong soldier throwing a hand grenade into a bunker full of a family, with children, women, and elderly in it...that shit tears your senses.  Showing one of those family members, wounded, and carrying her dead child from that bunker, only to be ripped apart by bullets is just as much sensory overload.  This shit happens.  I get it.  I don't like seeing it.  Somehow, though, it makes sense in this film.  The prison is a terror.  The end of the Vietnam War is depressing.  Lots of heavy stuff happens.  And all of it seems somewhat OK...and not...at the same time.

The imagery of the deer standing almost in defiance (or sacrifice) of Michael as he takes the ill aimed shot following his return from war is amazing.  It's a gorgeous picture.

It would be hard to comment on this film without talking about the acting.  Everyone in this plays each character like a real person.  The overmatched John Savage (dude really couldn't act) is the only role that feels unnatural.  Walken, for all his quirks, is spot on in this, even though I never really buy into the Russian Roulette League.  Streep is gorgeous, and as natural as always.  What a treasure she is.  DeNiro?  Well.  DeNiro used to be so fucking great.  It's a shame that he so infrequently gets to flex the muscles he used to use so casually.  This film, filled with subtle moments, filled with DeNiro bravado, is just another one that as he gets a little older, he can look and say, "I did that."  He's tremendous.  DeNiro headlines 5 films in the top 100.  There's a reason why those films are great.  Part of that has to do with the dude in the lead.  John Cazale, who is his usual great self, died shortly before this was released, had the most charmed, albeit brief acting careers.  Dude made 5 major motion pictures in his life.  You know what they were?  "The Godfather," "The Conversation," "The Godfather Part II," "Dog Day Afternoon," and "The Deer Hunter."  Know what's unique about all that?  All 5 were nominated for Best Picture, with 3 of them winning.  Pretty good run, however brief.

I appreciate "The Deer Hunter," but I don't think I like it.  I don't know that I'm supposed to.  I can, however, love good art when it is presented to me, and that's what this is.  A whole pile of good art.  Watch it again, if you've seen it before, or watch it the first time if you haven't.

Ebert never did a "Great Movies" essay about "The Deer Hunter," but I'll be damned if I haven't caught some of his criticism here, in his original review.  Damn.

Into the mind of evil...

...we go.

You know the rundown by now.  AFI Top 100 Films (10th Anniversary Edition).  I watch 'em all in a year, I write about 'em.  You read about 'em.  Rules are here.

Film 17

17.  "The Silence of the Lambs" (AFI Rank #74)
I'm not 100% positive about this, but I believe this is the first film on the list that I've watched this year that I saw first-run in the theater.  By that, I'm not 100% sure I saw this in the theater.  I cannot remember.  I'm thinking no, however.  I think the communal feel with the audience, on this film especially, would have stuck with me.  I also can't imagine that I skipped it.  So.  Maybe I saw it in the theater, maybe I didn't.

I try, as I write these, to find a photo that is not cliche or way too familiar to head each blog post.  Not this time.  This is "...Lambs" 101.  Clarice/Lecter, him in reflection, over her shoulder; her staring into the face of evil.  It's too good an image, and one that I had to use.

"The Silence of the Lambs" is the third Best Picture winner in a row that I've watched, and the fifth in the last six movies.  Released in 1991, directed by Jonathan Demme, it is one of only two films that has won the "Big 5" Oscars:  Best Picture; Best Director; Best Actor; Best Actress; and Best Screenplay (Adapted).  The other is 1975's "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."  Now, in "...Lambs'" case, one could argue that a lack of competition certainly helped.  However, I'd argue just as fiercely that the performances by everyone involved would stand up to stiffer competition, as well.  (EDIT, 2020:  I was mistaken on this.  There are THREE films that have done this.  The other is "It Happened One Night.")

The plot of the film is fairly simple.  A young FBI cadet is used to help connect one of the most perceptive, albeit evil, minds with the FBI as they investigate a serial killer nicknamed "Buffalo Bill."  That's really it.  Except, as those of us have seen the film know, it's so very much more.

I'm going to assume you've seen this film, so I may give away the ending, and I'm not going to expound upon the plot.

What drives "The Silence of the Lambs," as I saw it this time, was a commitment to excellence on the part of everyone involved in it, whether to character, to plot, to visual imagery or to pace.  It is a gorgeous film to look at, if at times gruesome, but the camera leaves us with lush imagery in nearly every frame.  Shown in the bowels of the mental hospital where our anti-hero, Hannibal Lecter, is imprisoned; in the blandness of the FBI training facility in Quantico; in the courthouse where Hannibal makes his to-that-point imagined brutality visual; or in the simple set that turns into a nightmare maze in the film's concluding showdown between Clarice and Jame Gumb; everything is right.  It all provokes our mood.  It all surrounds us, permeates us.  It holds us and doesn't let us go.  Demme was on top of every moment.  Every single moment.

I'm gushing.  I love this film.  I've seen it...well...I've seen it A LOT OF TIMES.

Any discussion of this film, of course, starts with Anthony Hopkins' chilling portrayal of serial killer, Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter.  It is easy to forget just how little he appears on screen, as his presence so dominates the film.  Hopkins is masterful in this film.  Subtle when he needs to be, always in calm control, we see not only the sick, twisted fuck that killed and ate his victims, but the incredibly intelligent, perceptive genius that he was...when he wasn't doing that stuff.  With an unblinking gaze, Lecter immediately impresses himself into our psyche the moment he first appears on screen.  We already start to feel a little...icky...when we watch him move, calculatedly, in his cell.  In fact, the first meeting with Lecter contains the ups and downs of Hannibal, and gets us right on board with him.  Asking Clarice what "Multiple Miggs in the next cell" said to her, she responds, "I can smell your cunt."  Lecter, without showing a moment of satisfaction, nor remorse in saying what he says next, says, "I see.  I, myself, cannot.  You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps, but not today."   He is all at once so decidedly creepy, yet so sophisticated...how can you not be sucked in by him?  We understand, the longer that we live with Lecter, that this is an extremely dangerous man, a mind that we cannot hope to harness, nor one that we can hope to heal.

Now, Hopkins could devour the scenery, were it not for his equally engaging plaything, Jodie Foster.  Shown to be a woman of great ambition, Clarice is always just on the edge of a breakdown, always just on the edge of exceeding her competence.  She pushed Lecter when perhaps she should back off, and is brought to some very painful memories through this work.  Yet, she never flinches, never wavers.  Not publicly, anyway.  Playing with just a hint of a southern accent, Foster's Clarice Starling is a deeply wounded individual who is taking responsibility for altering her reality.  Physically smaller than almost everyone else on screen, we never questions Starling's strength, nor her courage.  We just question what those qualities could do to her.  In an exceptional scene, Clarice describes to Hannibal a particularly traumatic memory of her running away from a relative's home because of the "screaming of the lambs" on the farm that relative owns.  She runs away, taking one of the lambs with her.  The scene is taut, incredibly visual, while being described only with words.  It is a story that we see in front of us...yet don't.  Demme had planned on shooting a scene in Montana to actually show the story to us visually.  When Foster and Hopkins got done performing the scene, Demme is rumored to have shouted, "Well, we're not going to Montana!"

Also worthy of discussion is Ted Levine as Buffalo Bill.  Playing the second serial killer in a film where your crimes are the reasons for the film at all, Levine so brilliantly underplays the evil in Bill, that he lets Lecter shine, while still carving a place for himself.  When we really get to see Bill, we see a really sick bastard, one who is not evil by choice, necessarily, but one who is so tormented by whatever demons haunt him that we...get it.  Sure, we can't imagine ourselves behaving like that, but we can sure understand why he does.  His interview with Clarice, the one that sets in motion the finale of the film, is haunting.  He starts out so effusive, so happy, but at one point, he flips.  He can't help but reveal how clever he is.  "Wait.  Was she a great big fat person?"  It's a telling moment, and one that helps seal his fate.

Scott Glenn is great, also, doing what Scott Glenn always does. Anthony Heald is wonderful as the opportunistic, if incompetent, head of the mental hospital.  It was also fun to see recently deceased actor Daniel Von Bargen, and to recognize him, even though he's in about 5 seconds of the film.  Also present are Roger Corman and George Romero.  Demme knows his horror.

What I was left with, watching this film this time, is just how meticulous it is.  It is incredibly quotable, especially Lecter, but the visual is also incredibly quotable.  Remember the disemboweled cop hung up in the courthouse?  Well, I put the picture of it above, but I guarantee you could remember it if I hadn't.  How about Levine tucking his penis between his legs as he dances in his basement?  Yup.  You remember that.  You also remember the head in the jar, and the shot of Buffalo Bill in his night vision glasses.  Hell, I can just say "It puts the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again," and you'll be brought right back to the visual of that moment.  How about if I say, "Oh, and Senator?  Love the suit."  Yup.  You got that one, too.  

Less obvious, but something I've caught the last few times is the brief, maybe unintentional, reference to "Psycho" as Lecter talks to Starling on the phone at the end of the film.  A fly lands on his forehead, and Hopkins doesn't flinch.  Doesn't move.  Just like Norman Bates, whose mother tells us how harmless Norman is because he won't even swat that fly on his hand.  It may not be on purpose, but I caught it.

 This film is part of our cultural consciousness, and it's not going away.

There is a lot of discussion about visual imagery to be found here.  I admit, I read this before I wrote this.  I'm not going to try and expand upon this, as Mr. Ebert has already done a nice job.  I caught some of this, however, particularly the use of the Stars and Stripes.  Not sure what point Demme was trying to get to, but he's making one.  Often.  Ebert also wrote an essay on this one in his "Great Movies" series.  It's here.

Well.  I love this film.  I get why it's in the Top 100, and viewing it this time, I saw why, 25 years from now, it will still be relevant, as it is now, 24 years after its release. Yup.  It's been nearly a quarter century since this film came out.  Feel old?  I do.

La di da...la di da...

...because...why not?

AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) being watched by yours truly in one calendar year, then blogged about here.  Here are the rules.  This film is the first of 10 I will be watching that I've seen before.

On with the show.  

Film 16

16.  "Annie Hall"  (AFI Rank #35)

"Annie Hall" is the second Best Picture Oscar winner that I have watched in a row, and the fourth in the last five films.  Odd.  The list wound up with a series of two best pictures ("Schindler's List" and "Midnight Cowboy"), followed by a Fred and Ginger movie, then four Best Picture winners in a row.  I didn't notice that.  Interestingly, there are only 27 Best Picture winners on the AFI top 100.  Part of that is because only one film can win in a given year.  1977 is represented twice, with  "Annie Hall," and "Star Wars."   In fact, the 70's is the most represented decade in the AFI Top 100, with 19 on the list (beating out the 50's and 60's with 16 each).  Even if all 10 Best Picture winners from the 70's were on the list (they're not - only 7 of the 10 made the list - again, the highest percentage of any decade), you'd still have 9 films made in that decade that were considered all time greats...while not winning Best Picture.  I digress.  

Let's talk about Woody Allen's great, great film, "Annie Hall."  

Grounded in a period of film history of great experimentation, because of a new-found freedom, with the MPAA ratings guide coming into play, "Annie Hall" is as innovative as it is sweet.  At its core, it's really just a "boy meets girl, boy loves girl, boy loses girl" story.  But "Annie Hall" is so much, much more.

I'd recap the film, but that seems superfluous for this one.  Not a whole lot happens in this film, in terms of great storytelling.  No, what the film manages to do is bring us come really memorable characters, and have them communicate with the audience, if not each other, in shocking honesty.  I need to think about that last sentence a bit.

  

Anyway, Woody Allen plays Alvy Singer, a character based on...well...Woody Allen.  A stand-up comedian, Alvy skirts the edge of fame.  He's the guy you know you've seen before, but somehow is able to walk through the world fairly unnoticed.  I once ran into Joe Spano from "Hill Street Blues" in what was then the Marshall Field's State Street store.  Same kinda thing.  Famous, sure, but not really, and as such, was just a guy shopping in a store.  Except...I recognized him.  Alvy is Jewish (SURPRISE!), to the point of paranoia about others viewing of him.  Some very funny, if very stupid, dialogue with his friend Rob (or Max) about how someone asked him something with the words "Did you...?" and he heard "Jew...?" expands upon that theme.  Then, of course, we get the wonderful scene where Alvy is brought to the WASP home of the Halls, and we see how he feels...in graphic fashion.  Allen's Alvy is a great character, exquisitely embodied by the actor.  Well.  The actor playing himself.  

Opposite Alvy is Annie Hall, played by Diane Keaton, in a performance that I can best describe as lilting.  Like a butterfly, Annie is a wonderfully delicate creature, flying at her whim, yet landing in a light fashion in a relationship with Alvy.  Keaton's performance is so natural, so disarming, it's hard to believe she's acting.  Maybe she isn't.  Maybe this is Diane Keaton, in her distilled form.  Then you see her in other films and you recognize that what you are watching here is indeed, an actor completely in control of every moment.  Choices are being made, and even the wispy is grounded.  It's a magnificent performance.

So.  Why am I on about this film?  Look, the bulk of the film is just two people.  Lots of characters come in and out, whether it Tony Roberts as Alvy's friend, Paul, who calls Alvy "Max" throughout, or Shelley Duvall as a transplendent date that Alvy embarks upon shortly after breaking up with Annie for the first time, or Christopher Walken in a funny little scene as Annie's brother, Duane.  No matter who comes in, they are there for embellishment, and often as a foil to Allen's relentless wit.  

Relentless wit.  That's what this film is.  It is stuffed with punch lines, jokes are set up long in advance at times, and then delivered in a fast, almost Groucho Marxian fashion.  But above it all, nearly every sequence plays like a joke.  We always feel on the edge.  Always wait for the payoff.  That's a real hard thing to keep interesting.  Yet somehow, Allen does it.  Techniques include breaking the 4th wall...most memorably in a scene waiting in a line for a film, as a self-important college professor rants within earshot about Marshall McLuhan.  Alvy confronts the man, who waves his penis, oops, I mean credentials, at Alvy.  Alvy then pulls the thing we all wish we could do in this situation, which is to pull Marshall McLuhan from behind a poster to admonish the man:  "You know nothing of my work."   It's a moment preserved in film history, and rightly so. Not so famous to the general conversation, however, is a scene where Alvy, having just fought with Annie, just starts talking to random strangers on the street, asking them what they do to keep their relationships going.  It's tremendous.  It comes from nowhere, and disarms us.  Also amongst the innovations is a brief animated sequence in which Alvy encounters the Wicked Queen from "Snow White."  Again, where the hell did that come from?  And why is it so absolutely perfect?  There's a scene with Annie and Alvy people watching...and they make reference to a "Truman Capote look-alike contest winner" - except it's actually Truman Capote.  The comedy is in a master's hands.  It's so achingly funny.  

I alluded, earlier, to the characters not talking to each other honestly.

What the film ultimately discusses, to me, is just how little of each other we share with others, no matter how right they are for us.  In a very telling scene, we see a split screen of Annie and Alvy as they are in simultaneous, separate sessions with their analysts.  They are each asked how often they have sex.  Alvy replies, "Hardly ever.  Maybe three times a week."  Annie?  She says, "Constantly.  I'd say three times a week."  It's a wonderfully funny scene, but also incredibly poignant.  So many of us drift along thinking that our set of rules/morals/feelings are the way it should be.  It works for us, so it must be "right."  We don't listen to, or are often completely incapable of listening to, those around us who matter most.  Not because we don't want to, but because we're just different people with different ways of processing information, feelings, whatever.  "Annie Hall" shows us how that drives people apart.  It's remarkably honest about our dishonesty.  It holds a flashlight up to those of us concerned with staying in the dark.  

It is no secret that Allen and Keaton were lovers at this point in their lives, and their chemistry is well...it's palpable.  They have an ease with each other on screen that could only be the result of years of familiarity.  It's great to watch.  

I've rambled on long enough.  "Annie Hall" is a great film.  It is probably worthy of the Oscar it won as Best Picture, even over a film like "Star Wars."  Roger Ebert's take is here.  Hey.  Look at that, I'm on some things Roger brought up.  Yeehaw!  (I always read these articles after I write up the film I've watched)

If you enjoy film at all, this film needs to be in your resume.  Yes, Woody Allen is a creep.  Yes, he's got some deep-seated problems.  This film, however, is brilliant.  Simply brilliant.  

It's All About Eve...

...or is it?

Solo blogpost this time.  This film deserves it.  Blah blah woof woof, AFI top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition), watching them all in a year.  Blogging about it here.  Rules are here.  Other films can be seen throughout the blog.  Go find them.

On with it.

Film 15

15.  "All About Eve" (AFI Rank #28)
Nope.  Hadn't seen this film before, either.

This is a terrific film.  A true masterpiece.

I started this one 4 times before I finally maintained consciousness throughout.  It's not that I was bored by it, or anything else, I just have been burning the candle at both ends for...well...my whole life.  Sometimes, when I try to watch a film late night...I fall asleep.  Took me one night where I fell asleep about 10 minutes in, then woke up two hours later, to finally do it.  I decided to sit up, rather than lie down, and by the time I was about 30 minutes into this, I was rapt, and nothing was going to put me to sleep.

The basic framework for the story is solid.  Framed with an award ceremony in honor of a young actress named Eve, the film is the story of how she got to that night.  An aging ingenue, and brilliant stage actress, Margo Channing, played by Bette Davis, is introduced to a young, mousy woman who has hung around the stage door for every single performance of her latest play, "Aged in Wood."  Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter), the young woman, is led to Margo's dressing room by Karen Richards (Celeste Holm), the wife of the play's author, Lloyd (Hugh Marlowe).  There she meets the play's director, Bill Simpson (Gary Merrill), the playwright, the star, and the star's personal assistant, Birdie, delightfully played by Thelma Ritter.

Through an almost unbelievable (more on this later) path, Eve insinuates herself immediately into Margo's life, first as a guest in her home, then as Margo's personal assistant.  Eventually, we discover that perhaps Eve wants more from Margo than to just be helpful.  Through a series of connections, Eve manages to become Margo's understudy.  Eve, through her charms, is able to get Karen to be a co-conspirator in getting her a chance to go on one night for Margo.  Because it was planned, the critics are all there to witness her performance, including veteran scribe (and sometimes narrator), Addison DeWitt, played by George Sanders.  Eve is praised, and becomes...a star.

That's the basics.  What makes the film so...engaging is all that is required to make Eve into that star.  Manipulation, blackmail, betrayal, persistence, compromise.  It's a wonderful ride.

Bette Davis is simply incredible as Margo Channing.  Subtle, committed, and decidedly always in the moment, Ms. Davis' portrayal is intensely grounded in reality, while playing a flighty, not real character.  My favorite moment of hers, and there are LOTS of great, great moments, is a point in the film in which her lover, the play's director, is chiding her about Eve.  By this time in the film, Margo has had her fill with Eve.  There's a moment where Margo, in a flash of passion, screams "Cut, print it" (or something very close to that).  The moment is so authentic, so real, that one doesn't feel like we're watching an actor playing a part.  I felt like I was watching the real Margo Channing.  Ms. Davis also does a hell of a drunk.

In fact, that's a great thought.  Let's talk about the centerpiece of the film.  Just as we've gotten to like Eve, and just as we realize that perhaps, just perhaps, there's more lurking beneath her surface than we know, Margo hosts a party, almost completely arranged by Eve, in Bill Simpson's honor.  He's just returned from making a film in Hollywood, and it was his birthday.  Margo has had enough of Eve.  We watch as she drains drink after drink, eventually going from happy to nasty to morose, back to nasty, then resigned.  This scene, of course, features the most famous line in the film.  Margo's friends, who have seen the results of too many nights like this, sense that something bad is going to happen.  They quiz her about what is about to happen...Margo, downing a drink...then walking away in a defiant way, turns and says, "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night."  Tremendous.  I just got goosebumps typing it.  It's ominous.  And yet, we cheer.  We want the bumpy night.  We want someone to get after Eve. She's just too good, dammit.

But we're still at the party.  Every major player is at the party.  It's a great set piece.  We see Addison DeWitt really introduced to us.  We meet a wonderfully understated and very funny Marilyn Monroe, playing a young actress who recently graduated from the Copacabana Drama School.  The play's producer, Max, is at the party, and despite Margo's lustful anger that evening, she paws on Max, telling him that she loves him.  So do we.  Max is a wonderful character.  Brief screen time, but cuts a path.

Anyhow, the party is the turning point in the film, and from this point on, Eve is no longer this wholesome, helpful character she'd been made out to be...but is now an object of our scorn, and no matter how bitchy, how difficult, how needy Margo appears to be...we recognize that she's a consummate professional, and she is just doing her job.

Other thoughts on the party.  There is a wonderful bit that unfolds on the staircase.  Every major player from the film is in the scene...and it's one that I've been in countless times, myself.  We theatre folk, whether small scale community productions, or as is pictured here, Broadway stars...we enjoy our time talking with each other.  I've seen/been part of groups splitting off into small discussion pods for years.  I'm sure it's like that for every social group...but I'm pretty much limited to theatre folk when I party.  And, inevitably, in the wee hours of the morning, a scene unfolds just like the one in "All About Eve."

I think I've drifted quite a bit in this, and I could probably use a serious re-write, but I'm on a self-imposed deadline...and I've got now 4 other films to get to quickly.

So...rapid fire.  Celeste Holm is wonderful in this.  As is Thelma Ritter.  Anne Baxter has the emotional range of a stone.  That may be on purpose.  Hugh Marlowe is a little stiff, and at no point do I believe he's an actual playwright, but he's a Hollywood leading man type.  Gary Merrill is...well...he's not good.  I don't see any director of the stage in him...at all.  No quirk, no drive...no anything to separate him as a leader.  He wasn't good.  George Sanders as Addison DeWitt was the highlight of the men.  Totally in control at all times, he has a pace, an energy to him that is undeniably likeable, but his character is a bully.  And yet, we like him.  The Oscar for Best Actor was given to Mr. Sanders, and it was well earned.

Bette Davis.  Wanna learn how to act?  Watch "All About Eve," and watch Bette Davis.  That's all you could need.  I can't say more.  It's a clinic.

I mentioned above that I'd talk about unbelievable.  I forgot.  Here it is.  No way that Eve goes home with Margo on the very first night she meets her, and no way she winds up in the star's home, as her assistant, that quickly.  I'll forgive it, but it's impossible.

Joseph Mankiewicz's direction is tight.  There is nothing in this film that seems superfluous.  The camera shots are not necessarily grand gestures, but they always make sense.  The way the actors interact, the patter, everything.  You can see his fingerprints, and it's a joy to witness.  "All About Eve" was nominated for a shitload of Academy Awards.  It won Best Picture in a year that it was against "Sunset Blvd." and "Born Yesterday."  I'm not entirely certain that the right film won...but I'm just as equally certain that the right film did.

"All About Eve" is nothing short of a masterpiece.  I'd love to talk about the climax of the film, but if you haven't seen it...I can't give it away.  Watch it again if you've seen it before.  Watch it for the first time if you haven't.  It's high art.  Enjoy.

Roger Ebert's take is here.  I didn't get to a bunch of Roger's thoughts this time. Oh, and Roger REALLY had a thing for Marilyn Monroe.  Sure, she's great...but I think Roger is decidedly looking through a prism of history.

Thanks.

P.S.  Totally uneducated, but a thought...has there ever been a class of better iconic female roles nominated for Best Actress at the Oscars than that of 1950?  Seems odd that the least of the performances took home the prize, but that's a hell of a field.

Not sure...

...that my reactions to the next film(s) on the list deserve a whole blog post, so I'm combining them.

You know the drill.  Watching all the films on the AFI Top 100 Films (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year and writing about them here.  The rules I placed on myself in order to have a wide variety of subjects/actors/directors/rank/genre, etc. are listed here.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

Films 13-14

13.  "Midnight Cowboy" (AFI Rank #43)
"Midnight Cowboy" has the distinction of being the only X Rated film ever to be given the Oscar for Best Picture.  In the early days of the MPAA, a film being rated X was not strictly because it is was pornography.  The designation was to keep all viewers under 18 from seeing the film.  "Midnight Cowboy" is now rated R, because...well...the reason for the rating was for a non-graphic, but implied, homosexual oral sex act.   Pretty tame, actually.

I'm getting off on the wrong foot.  What was my reaction to watching "Midnight Cowboy?"

Um.

I don't know.

On the one hand, it seems a groundbreaking film, full of adult themes, full of cinematic tricks/gimmicks that seem revolutionary.  Until you sit back and process it all...and wonder...how was the film, in any way, enhanced by any of that?

The story is paper thin.  An uneducated (stupid might be better) young man from somewhere south of the Maxon Dixon line quits his dishwashing job to make it big as a "hustler" in New York City.  So.  Good looking guy wants to be a male prostitute.  He arrives in New York, naive, but ready to make his mark.  Except...he really has no business being in the business.  His first "date" is shown in the photo above.  He meets a classy blonde, who takes him to her place, then sleeps with him (while talking on the phone for a large portion of the prelims).  Thing is, Joe Buck (Jon Voight) didn't negotiate price up front.  So, he asks her for money afterward...in a very awkward way.  She then puts on a huge act...and he winds up paying her $20...which reveals that Joe's first "Jane" was for her...a "John."  Actually, the idea of a naive male prostitute paying a streetwise female prostitute for sex...well...that's pretty good.

Joe then meets a streetwise, sickly little man, Enrico "Ratso" Rizzo, (Dustin Hoffman) whose dream is to "work" in Florida, and who hustles money from Joe, sending him to a man he promises can act as Joe's pimp, only to discover that the pimp is a lunatic Christian, hell-bent on saving souls...for some reason.  Joe, quickly running out of cash, and shown, through a series of shots, to be getting NO work...finally catches up with Ratso.  The two wind up living together in a condemned apartment building...surviving a New York winter with no heat, food, etc.  ANYWAY.  Lots of bad happens to Joe and Ratso...including Joe having fellatio performed on him by a very young Bob Balaban in the back of a movie theatre.  Of course, Joe didn't get paid for that either.  Meanwhile, Ratso looks progressively more and more sick every time we see him.  It's not going well for him.

Finally, Joe and Ratso are filmed by a couple of Andy Warhol Factory types, who invite the pair to a groovy party.  In the process, Joe meets a rich woman, played by a very sexy Brenda Vaccaro.  Ratso arranges the terms...and finally...FINALLY...Joe gets a customer.  In the post coital bliss, and as Joe is leaving, she says, "I've got some friends who can use your services..."  Joe's going to realize his dreams.  At long last.

He returns home with his great news, only to find out that the condemned building is coming down.  Ratso and he are now homeless.  Ratso spews about going to Florida...and Joe acquiesces.  Then...after a little more...the film ends.  On a bus.  With Dustin Hoffman.  Gee. That sounds familiar.

Now.  Thoughts.

Jon Voight was a great looking dude.  He's a way better actor now, but he's had 45 years of practice.  This...really not quite that much.  There isn't that much subtlety with Joe.  Maybe that's as it should be.  Joe is shown through handwriting/spelling to be quite dumb.  Perhaps the lack of depth was a choice wrapped up in that dynamic.  Perhaps not.  I don't know...except the performance feels stiff.  Maybe all of that is intentional.  Maybe I'm not giving the benefit of the doubt.

Dustin Hoffman gets praised a lot for this film.  OK.  I see it.  And not.  Ratso is a little too "theatrical" at times for film.  The voice...for starters...of course the guy's nickname is "Ratso."   He sounds like a Muppet rodent.  Maybe that's because he was the inspiration...but in 2015, he sounds like a caricature.  It's a fine acting performance, though.  Consistent, always in character.  We feel for Ratso.  It's hard to believe that the mess that he is could draw our sympathy, but he does.

There is an underlying evil in the film, referred to repeatedly in flashback, of a girl that Joe knew in his youth.  Being a film from the 60's, the flashbacks are sporadic, often really not tied to any sort of "trigger."   As they continue to assert themselves, they become more and more confused as to what happened...to the point where I stopped giving a shit.  I think the girl was gang raped.  It looks as if she pinned it all on Joe, in a daze, and while being interviewed by the police.  I don't have any idea what any of it has to do with Joe's story as it is depicted in the film...except maybe as a convict he couldn't get a better job that dishwasher...then why show that he is stupid on top of that?  Is he underemployed because he's dumb, or because he's a con?  John Schlesinger, maddeningly, doesn't feel inclined to tell us, I guess.

And that, is my biggest complaint with the film.  It's excessive.  It needs an editor, or someone to say..."that is cliche.  Stop that."  It needs...well...it needs a little modernity.  Unfortunately, it had it.  1969's version.

So.  I've watched "Midnight Cowboy" now, and I understand its inclusion in the top 100.  Not sure that I agree with that assessment, but I can see why many would view it as an important film.  It's a shame that those people don't seem to understand why it maybe shouldn't be viewed that way.  It misses.  A lot.

I read these AFTER I write my thoughts.  Roger and I are in lockstep on this one.  Ebert's second published take on it here.   Read that.  He's a way better writer than I could aspire to be.

14.  "Swing Time" (AFI Rank #90)
I have never sat through an entire Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers film.  Now I have.  Folks, this ain't great filmmaking.  There exists no great acting performances, no stunning visual images (well....maybe a couple), no compelling story...  No, the reason that this is here, it seems to me, is because of the sheer force of the stars, and their impact on the history of American cinema.

I'm not going to bother with a recap of the story.  It's thin.  It's a boy meets girl musical.

No.  What is great about this film...is the music and the dance.

I'm going to include more photos from the film than I normally would if I'm posting about more than one film at a time.

"Swing Time" is some really wonderful, if lighthearted, entertainment.  Watching Astaire and Rogers move together is, at times, breathtaking.  The execution, the energy, the hint of desire, the symmetry...beautiful.

However, there is a sequence in this film...well...its intentions may not have been racist, but sorry...the execution is.

Astaire does a piece in the film called "Bojangles of Harlem."  I knew something bad was about to happen when Astaire announces the number that is coming, while we see him start to put on...blackface.

In Astaire's defense, the result is not minstrel show quality...but it's, well.  It's offensive.  It just is.  If this were a public opinion court, I'd offer this photo as Exhibit A.  Now.  There are those that will tell me that "Haven't you seen Bill Robinson's outfits?"  Yes.  I have.  This is still offensive.   It's the sole of two shoes sitting in for a face...with a big pair of lips.  The outfit...OK.  Maybe I can forgive that.  Not really, though.  Bill Robinson did lots of dancing in tuxedos.

Anyway, the number itself is terrific.  It's got some amazing cinematography with some projected shadow work of Astaire.  Perhaps most amazing in that...is that the shadows aren't really shadows, but filmed in different takes than what we Astaire do in front of them.  It's subtle at first, but by the end of the number, we realize that Astaire has been dancing not with a partner...but with his shadow.  And he stays almost absolutely in sync for a great deal of the time, then he breaks and starts moving in opposition to the shadows.  Amazing.  I'm glad I got to see it.

Anyway.  I don't have a whole lot more to say on this film.  It's worth watching.  I'm glad I did.  Its stars are worthy of our attention, even now, nearly 90 years later.  They don't make 'em like that anymore.

See you soon.  I've got 3 more films already under my belt that I need to write up.

EDIT:  Turns out Roger Ebert wrote about this one in his "Great Movies" series, and I didn't catch that.  Hmmmmph.  Link is here.