Come back...

 ...I did.

On to the next phase of watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  

I've gotten through 25 of the 100 thus far, but my total for the list in my life is now at 75.

Make that 76.  These next 5 are all films I've not seen before, for whatever reason.

Film 26

26.  "Shane" (AFI Rank #45)
I confess, I find the Western to be my least favorite film genre.   The moral code exhibited is often too black and white, too archetypical for me.  I also am reminded, when watching a Western from the 50s, of Sunday dinners at my Grandmother's house in Geneva, when Disney came on at 6, or of rainy Saturday afternoons when there was nothing else to do, and "Family Classics" or whatever was showing a film that I wasn't really all that interested in.  "Shane" certainly falls into a lot of these categories.  And then again, it doesn't.  I watched it on a Saturday afternoon, when I was incredibly sick, but had already slept 17 hours, so I was just going to be awake...

Lavishly beautiful, the setting of "Shane" is a wonder to behold.  George Stevens and his crew did an outstanding job scouting locations for the film, because every time one sees the landscape, one gets a real sense of why so many were willing to brave so much to settle it.  Shot in glorious color, I did find the vistas, etc. comforting, and familiar...and somehow immature.  This film is from 60+ years ago, but it looked, as I have alluded to above, like an old episode of the Disney show of the early 70s that I'd watch at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Those, it seemed, were always some kind of western, or nature film, or whatever.  At least, that's the way I recall it.  As such, I often found myself less enthralled by the set than I should have been...until the repeated trips to Grafton's broke that for me.  That particular set piece felt so authentic, that the rest of my complaints went by the wayside after the second trip to the location.

I should probably watch these films I've not seen before twice before commenting on them.  I find my lens focuses on different things once I know the story.  I don't have time for that (this is TWO MOVIES A WEEK, ALL YEAR), so my thoughts on unfamiliar films are going to be not nearly as symbolic/etc. as the ones on films I've seen before.

Well, Randy, you've expressed a disdain for Westerns, said that the film looks like an old episode of Disney, and hinted at greater depth.  So, let's hear it.

"Shane's" story is pretty simple, an obviously talented gunfighter, whom we know only as Shane (Alan Ladd) wishes to hang up his six-shooter and change his life.  He arrives at the home of the Starrett family in Wyoming, where he is given a warm welcome by the father, Joe (Van Heflin), and treated to a meal cooked by the mother (Jean Arthur), and shelter for the night.  He awakes the next day, greeted by the son, Joey, (Brandon De Wilde) and begins work chopping at a stump that Joe has been trying to remove from his property for two years.  Hired by the Starretts to help them with their smallish farm, Shane goes into town to buy some fence wire and work clothes.  While there, he decides to treat little Joey to a soda pop, against the wishes of his mother.  Having begun his business in Grafton's general store, he concludes it in the back room, Grafton's bar, populated with rough cowboys who have no love for the farmers building fences, as they built them right across their cattle ranges (recognize that?).  Shane is confronted by the chief hothead, Chris Calloway, who insults him by throwing a drink in his chest, and telling him never to come back.  Shane doesn't do a thing, and just takes the humiliation.

What we learn over the course of the next bit of film is that there is a cattle rancher named Ryker (Emile Meyer), who believes that the farmers are staking claim to land that is his, and that he intends to do whatever it takes to drive them from the land.  The farmers, unwilling to be afraid, travel into town for supplies together one day, where Shane joins them.  This time, Shane walks into the bar and delivers a beating to Chris.  Outnumbered, Shane is then forced to fight his way through all the cowboys in the bar once Chris is subdued.  Unable to let Shane fight his battles, Joe joins the fray, and he and Shane do a number on Ryker's gang.  Ryker determines that the farmers won't be bullied out of their land, so it's time to start scaring them.  He hires a gunfighter out of Cheyenne, named Jack Wilson (Jack Palance), to start dispatching the farmers as they resist.  Lots of ol' timey Western action follows, and Shane eventually realizes he has to take up his six-shooter again, and finish the business with the Ryker gang once, and for all.  He does what the hero is supposed to do, and rides off into the sunset.  The end.

My understanding of the list of 100 films is that amongst the qualifications are "historical significance," and I think that is why we find this film so near the top of the list, while a far more compelling (storywise, anyway) Western like "Unforgiven" finds itself in the bottom half of the list.  The acting in this film is not overwhelmingly expert.  Even Jean Arthur, whom I enjoyed so much in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," is nothing short of a whiner with a voice that just grates on me.  And don't get me started on the kid.  He's brutal. But, he's a kid.  No, the acting chops in this film are carried by two people - Van Heflin and the guy who played Chris (Ben Johnson).  The rest of the characters, even Ladd's tortured, self-reflective Shane, are played with rather little depth.  I probably need to watch Ladd again, for the subtle, but first viewing fell flat for me.  Palance, of course, is exactly as he should be, menacing and evil, and Ryker is played by a man much younger than the one he is portraying, so kudos for that.

So.  Why did I actually enjoy the film?  The Grafton's set feels like exactly what it should be, an isolated hub for all the people so far spread out to gather in and conduct business.  It felt real.  The cinematography, for the most part, is stunning.  The layers of stories presented are fairly sophisticated, if not particularly well acted.  I also, frankly, love Ryker's speech about what he and his fellow ranchers went through to tame the land.  "Cowman and the farmer should be friends," indeed.  It fleshed out the character, and took him from fairly easy to box in evil guy to a guy that you actually understood.  And that's why I liked the film.  The archetypes, no matter which way they leaned, were muddied with gray.  Sure, we like Shane, like we're supposed to, but who was he before?  We see a wedding ring on his finger.  Where's his wife?  What has he lost?  He's not really a good guy.  The only guy not fleshed out is the man in the black hat, Wilson.  I realize I may sound contradictory in describing the acting as shallow, while describing the characters as deep.  I think that contradiction is right.  The script has the depth.  The actors don't.  We have real, symbolic characters, flawed as they are...being portrayed by actors out of their depth...it appeared to me...
on this viewing.

I need to comment on one other thing.  Recognizing him as the guy with the assignment of roughing up Sam Spade in "The Maltese Falcon," Elisha Cook, Jr. does some nice work as the hotheaded southern settler "Stonewall" Torrey.  It is his death that leads to the inevitable conclusion of the film.  His death, so expertly choreographed, is chilling and heartbreaking.  It feels real.  So many Westerns feel like "well, guys just died in gunfights, and that's the way it was."  This death has weight, and feels like a loss of a human life.  It's a real moment.

I look forward to watching this film again sometime, probably with my sons.  I'd like to see the subtle things I missed, so that I may better understand just how great this film is.  As of now, I don't see it, I think, like I should.

I see the roots of "Unforgiven" in this film.  And if that is the logical conclusion of a film like this, then, well done.  I think my thoughts on this are a little scattered.  I think I'd like to do another draft of this piece. I'm not going to, however, as that isn't my style.

HOLY SHIT.  I swear, I never read Ebert's stuff before I write these.  FUCK ME, I nailed it.  I skipped the sexual tension (it was obvious, but I so disliked Arthur's voice, I couldn't comment on it).  Dammit, Roger.  I see it like you...

Caught up...

...finally.

This is the quarter post.  I've made it through 25, and I watched this one on March 30.  I've got a pretty terrible cold, so I'm reasonably certain I will be through 27 by the end of the weekend.  This is the first major milestone on the quest to watch all 100 of the films in the AFI Top 100 Films (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.

I'm getting there...

Film 25

25.  "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" (AFI Rank #33)
I'd seen this film when I was a much, much younger man, but I've seen the play a couple of times since.  This is a story I know pretty well.  Julie participated in the viewing of this one, so, again, I'm watching it not only through my eyes.

"...Cuckoo's Nest," at its core, is a fairly simple story.  A con who has always flouted the system, and continually causes harm to those around him, is sent to a mental hospital to be evaluated for mental illness.  While there, he meets a group of patients with varying degrees of illness, and a tyrannical nurse.  He continues to be just whom he has always been, and creates chaos, until the system crushes him.

Now, that seems pretty simple.  And were that what Milos Forman and the production team chose to focus on, we'd be bored senseless.  Instead, what we get is an incredibly nuanced film with stirring performances by everyone on screen.  Every single person on screen.  This may go long, because this is a "heavy" film, with universal themes and symbolism to spare.  I apologize in advance. Hell, even the soundtrack, with its use of the MUSICAL SAW, is just right.

Randall P. McMurphy, played by Jack Nicholson, in what has to be his finest performace, may seem like just an anti-social demon.  There is a lot of that in him.  What he becomes, however, is an almost Christ-like figure to the men of the ward.  When McMurphy arrives, he blows in like a freight train, hooping and hollering, decidedly different from everyone there.  The first activity we see him particpate in is a group meeting, in which the patients are discussing, in sheepish, beaten tones, a fellow patient's sexuality.  Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher), the sickeningly calm head nurse of the ward is leading the discussion.  As we sit with the scene, and with McMurphy for a minute or two, we are left to wonder just what the hell ever gets solved around this place, and just what the hell a woman so detached from the moment, yet in control of the situation, is doing leading any sort of therapy.  As the film progresses, we see the changes that McMurphy starts to instill in the patients, their confidence, their emotions being shared, etc.  McMurphy may be a demon to those in charge, but to the nuts, he's a savior.  Eventually, a session erupts when a patient, overwhelmed with want for his confiscated and rationed cigarettes (and buoyed by McMurphy's rebellion), loses control.  McMurphy, tired of Ratched's ridiculously dogmatic approach, does the sane thing...which is to give the guy his fucking cigarettes.   A fight ensues between the patient missing the smokes, McMurphy, a gigantic Indian named "Chief" and the orderlies.  Finally gaining control, Ratched and the staff deal with this open rebellion in a sadistic, unnecessary way, by subjecting the already calmed down Chief and McMurphy to electroshock therapy.  This isn't a prison, but the staff is making an example of the rebels.


Of course, it fails, and McMurphy's triumphant return to the ward makes things far worse for the staff than they were before.  Instead of a warning, McMurphy has become a martyr.  He's the men's hero.  But, for McMurphy, that comes at a terrific price.  When he returns, he is surprised to learn that he is one of the only men in the ward who has been committed by the state, and that he cannot leave until the staff says he's ready.  Suddenly, his revolution has no end-game, as he could wind up a prisoner of Ratched in perpetuity.  This beats on him.  Of course, McMurphy's crazy side eventually cannot be quelled, and in a final gesture of brazen "Fuck-youedness" he turns the ward into a Bacchanlia for Christmas, complete with booze, women and free medication.  Horrific consequences are visited upon not only McMurphy, but Nurse Ratched, and fellow patient Billy Bibbit (Brad Dourif). *SPOILER*   Billy kills himself, Nurse Ratched is nearly strangled by McMurphy, resulting in a considerably weakened voice and a still being worn neckbrace when we see her several months later, and McMurphy is given a lobotomy as punishment.  The savior is crushed.  Yet, even in his moment of absolute weakness, McMurphy's lessons continue, as the Chief, seeing his fallen friend, smothers him, and utilizing a massive structure McMurphy had once tried, unsuccessfully, to move, crashes through the window, and to freedom.

Nicholson, who has become caricature as time has gone on, is nothing short of brilliant here.  Sure, we see his simmering-rage-boiled-over guy that he has become, but we also see tremendous sadness, conflict, and genuine caring about another human being in McMurphy.  The range and depth that Nicholson displays are easy to miss, as that maniacal smile crosses his visage, but McMurphy is a tragic figure, mostly of his own doing.  Isn't that what classic tragic heroes usually are?  I'm not necessarily that into ranking performances, but I'd be hard pressed to argue against Nicholson's performance here as one of cinema's greatest.  There isn't much to like about McMurphy, as he just makes things really tough for everyone he's trying to help, but dammit if Nicholson doesn't make us like him.  It's genius.


Forman's film is filled with details that may be hard to see, but are there, nonetheless.  When we see McMurphy first appear on the ward, he is dressed in normal street clothes, which are jeans, a green t-shirt, a blue denim workshirt, a leather jacket, and a black knit hat.  As the film wears on, we see pieces of that armor slowly chipped away.  First, the jacket goes, then the workshirt, then the workshirt reappears, this time covered by hospital clothes, then the workshirt underneath goes, then as McMurphy prepares to escape, on the night of the party, he's fully dressed again...but after the lobotomy, McMurphy appears in only hospital clothes.  No armor left.  These changes are subtle, but they're there, and I caught them.

I've glossed over a lot so far, and I don't mean to, but there is so much here, it's proving hard to distill my thoughts.  The character of the Chief (Will Sampson) has much more to do with the story in other forms of this story.  I can't comment on those, as I'm choosing to focus on the film.  Sampson's Chief is so instantly likeable, so true, it's hard to believe that the guy was cast just because he "fit the suit."  The subtle humor between Nicholson and him when McMurphy realizes that the Chief, thought to be deaf and dumb, is neither, is a real, honest moment.  It's the kind of filmmaking that the 70s really specialized in, and I was smiling watching it.  Chief, at the end of the film, is McMurphy's great success.  His spirit is freed by McMurphy, and his escape (flight) from the Cuckoo's Nest is hopeful allegory.  In fact, everyone in the film is so convincingly played, I feel badly not singling any of them out, but we'd be here all day.  Look up the actors who played the patients of the ward.  Assume I'm talking about all of them when I say that I believed every moment that they appeared in.  How Forman was able to do this, I'm not sure.  The source material is there, sure, but it takes a special director to capture those performances.


I alluded to the Chief being McMurphy's great success.  If that is the case, then Billy Bibbit is McMurphy's great failure...kinda.  Billy is a hopelessly lost little boy in a man's body, whose mother is a friend of Nurse Ratched's.  Shamed as often as possible by Ratched, Billy stutters and stammers when he tries to speak.  As the film progresses, we see Billy find a mentor in McMurphy, and we see him become braver and braver.  It culminates on the night of the party, when Billy, having danced the night away with McMurphy's friend Candy, is sent into a room with her, with the intent being...well...getting laid.  The next morning, when Ratched arrives to the destroyed ward, Billy is discovered, still naked, lying in bed with Candy.  When Ratched confronts him, there is no stutter, no stammer.  Billy is "cured." For about 5 seconds.  It takes the insidious nurse only a simple "I'm going to have to tell your mother" to undo all that McMurphy has done for Billy.  He starts stuttering again, and flies into a fear-filled tirade.  He is dragged from the scene, and taken to a doctor's office, along with Orderly Washington, to isolate him.  McMurphy, incensed by this, starts yet another fight, and Orderly Washington abandons Billy in the office.  Billy, left alone with his fear and shame, does exactly what you'd expect him to do, which is break some glass, and slice his throat.  McMurphy's great triumph turns to soul-crushing loss at the hands of Ratched.  Taking that loss into his own hands, he tries to kill her, but fails.  We weep for Billy, but realize he is nothing more than the embodiment of McMurphy's spirit, and it has lost its battle for control of his mind/soul.  It's a devastating scene, expertly performed by Dourif.

We've talked a lot about Nurse Ratched, but I want to talk about how brilliant Louise Fletcher is in the role.  She's crappy, really crappy, to everyone on the ward, and again, that's allegory more than reality.  What Fletcher brings to the role, though, is a sense of duty, of repression that she just cannot allow herself to get past, for whatever reason.  I tend not to look for archetypes, and Ratched can be one of those, but the acting moments, the moments that flesh out the character, are moments of seeing Ratched leaving the ward after her work day, and her pained/forced "have a good night" to a fellow worker.  This woman is trapped in her dogma, and I don't believe she's necessarily that big a fan of it.  She has a job to do, and she utilizes a very small toolbox to do it.  I think she wishes she had a wrench, but every time she goes to grab it, she finds only a hammer.  Also of note is her reaction when she arrives to work the morning after the debauchery.  She is amazingly calm, considering what she walks into, and just goes about her business.  Even in her interaction with Billy, she never allows a moment of overt rage to show, except in her words.  Never in her tone.  Also, note her ever so subtle crushed spirit when she is given her soiled nurse's cap. She feels, but cannot allow it out.  Not, I don't believe, because of the patients, but because she is incapable.  I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for her to do this for the period of filming, but her Oscar won for this performance is well earned.

In fact, there's some trivia.  This is one of 3 films in Oscar history to sweep the "Big 5" awards:  Best Screenplay; Best Actor; Best Actress; Best Director and Best Picture.  The other two are the previously discussed on this blog "The Silence of the Lambs," and the eventually to be discussed (but discussed last year) "It Happened One Night."  This is a tremendous film, made in an era stuffed with tremendous films, that holds its head high in comparison to those.  Consider this.  Between 1970-1982, 26 films from the top 100 were made.  This list does not include such heavy hitters as "Patton," "The Sting," "Manhattan," "The Empire Strikes Back," "Gandhi," "Ordinary People," "Mean Streets," "Dog Day Afternoon," "The Shining," "Alien," and "Halloween.(yeah, I'll make a case for this film's greatness/importance anytime you want me to)"  It was probably Hollywood's most golden era, and a time of great change in the way films were made.  I miss some of this now.  I'm glad they saw fit to put these films on film, however, so we could enjoy them as long as they remain in print.

Watch this one.  Watch it again.  And again.  See what great filmmaking is. This, I'm going to say, despite not wanting to do so, is ranked far too low on the list.  This may be one of the 10 best films ever made.  Yes, I feel that strongly about it.  It's amazing.  Hell, I didn't even discuss two of the great scenes in the film, the imagined World Series broadcast, and the fishing sequence, and I don't feel I need to...this, this is a great, great film.

Hmmmmph.  Ebert and I are in lockstep again.  I must be getting attuned to looking for stuff.  Watching 25 great movies in 3 months can do that, I guess.  (Although I missed a pantload in "Vertigo," so I'm not too proud of myself, yet.)

EDIT:  Turns out that, although I watched it last year, and indeed wrote about it, I never published my thoughts on "It Happened One Night," as it got stuck in draft form.  So.  I was wrong. 

I'm not sure "greatness" applies to this one...

...or maybe it does. On the list of AFI Top 100 Films (10th Anniversary Edition).  Watching 'em all this year, writing about them here.  I've been churning out some reviews of late, and this is one.  Heh.

Film 24

24. "Tootsie" (AFI Rank #69)

Hey!  A film I know I saw in the theatre in first run!  There are few of them here (although "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial" was just reviewed, right?).  Yes, I saw this film back in the day, because EVERYONE needed to see this film, I was led to believe.  I remember watching it with my maternal grandmother at Yorktown in the winter of 1982/1983.  Know what that has to do with this?  NOTHING!  Not a fuck thing.  However, I have seen the film before.  When I wrap up this quest, I'm going to do a bunch of work to explain some of the statistical stuff involved with the list.  Frequency of appearances by actors, frequency of appearance on the list of directors, frequency of gun use or death, etc.  One of those things is that the year of 1982 produced four films on the list.  This is the second that I've watched thus far, and "Sophie's Choice" is in the next block.  Anyway, 1982 tied with 1976 for the most films on the list from a given year.  

I was chastised on Facebook for neglecting the score on "E.T.," and that was a serious oversight.  I also didn't comment on the soundtrack for "Vertigo," perhaps an equally egregious slight.  Not this time.  The soundtrack for "Tootsie" is so...bad...that it serves no purpose, in historical context, other than to remind us that film soundtracks with songs written just for the movie based on "pop music" in the 80s...sucked.  The song "Tootsie" ("Go, Tootsie, GO!") is such an annoyingly saccharine piece of tripe that it often made me angry while watching the film.  And the other signature piece, "It Might Be You," is equally cheesy, and detracts from the film now.  So.  There.  I mentioned the soundtrack this time.  This soundtrack can bite me.

Now, on with the rest of the film.  I find it somewhat odd that AFI's two greatest comedies on its list of "100 Years...100 Laughs" are films where the main joke is cross-dressing.   With all the great conceits and humorous situations that film has presented us...boys dressing like girls is the way the voters decided to go.  Hmmmmmph.  Not sure what to say about that, except...hummmmmph.  ("Mrs. Doubtfire is number 67 on that list, by the way)

All this build-up, how does "Tootsie" hold up?  The story of an incredibly skilled actor who has burned all his bridges, our hero, Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman), has decided that if no one will hire him, he's going to seek a part that a friend of his auditioned for...as a woman.  Of course, Dorothy Michaels gets the part, and the balance of the film is spent dealing comically with his/her foibles and in genuine, tender moments of intimacy that the elimination of gender differences seem to offer us.  Dorothy may be Michael's mask, but he is never more exposed than he is when he's her, yet wearing that mask makes it impossible to be exposed.  It's a tremendous juxtaposition, and one that Sydney Pollack explored to great effect.  How do we communicate with each other when sex is in the way?  Better yet, how do we communicate when that factor is removed?  I like to think that I can communicate pretty effectively regardless, but I'm delusional.  I absolutely behave differently with women than I do men.  What a great opportunity Michael is given, and his ability to recognize how wonderful a gift he created for himself, is at the heart of what makes this a great movie.  Like "It's A Wonderful Life," Michael is given the opportunity to see what the world was like...if he wasn't a man.  Like George Bailey, he is transformed by it.  "I was a better man with you, as a woman, than I ever was with a woman as a man."

There.  I said it.  It's a great movie.  There are no stunning visual images.  There's a cheesy 80s-style montage.  There's just lots of really great acting performances, lots of great choices, and lots of emotional depth.  Michael's arc is quite stunning to watch, as we see him, early in the film, in an apartment full of well-wishers for his birthday, make stunningly brazen and ineffective pick-up lines on every female in the place.  We see it exemplified, when, caught in his underwear by his female friend, he does what any man in that situation would do, twist it to get laid.  In that case, I think a fair bit of self-preservation was involved, but I admit, I've been there myself a time or two.  And it maybe worked out well for me, and maybe lousy for the women, each time.  I was a pig.  As was Michael.  Somehow, living in a woman's skin opens him up to witness all that in a way he never could otherwise.  Having him be an actor was another great stroke.  Actors, especially the great ones, are sponges by nature, and Michael would be keenly aware of his impact/environment at all times.  The arc completes, I think, because of that particular skill.

It's a comedy.  There are a few laugh out loud moments, the biggest, at this viewing, being when the director of the soap opera Dorothy is in (Dabney Coleman) calls for a close-up, and both he and the producer (Doris Belak) scream, in perfect unison, "NOT TOO CLOSE!"  It's a hilarious moment.  Beyond that, a great deal of the laughs are generated by the idea that a man might kiss another man, or a man is in a dress, etc.  Those laughs are cheap.  Comedy doesn't always have to make one laugh to achieve its goal.  

What makes this film great are the performances, ultimately.  Teri Garr is...well...Teri Garr, full of angst, confusion, flightiness.  All those things that we have come to associate with her.  Perhaps she's just typecast, but that's what Teri Garr does best.  It's all here in this film.  Also noteworthy are Sydney Pollack, Dabney Coleman, Charles Durning, and Bill Murray.  All four bring so much to each moment they are on the screen, they help us create a picture of all Michael is doing.  Durning's barroom scene, when Michael has been exposed, is particularly distinguished.  It's delightfully honest scene, that ends a little too "Hollywood," but gives us a great moment with a tertiary character.

At the centerpiece of the film, and the thing that helps Michael in his journey the most, is his relationship with Julie, played, in an Oscar-winning performance, by Jessica Lange.  Captivatingly beautiful, Lange shows quite a range in this relatively small role.  We see all facets of Julie, be they hardened television star or scared little girl.  She helps drag the knuckle dragging Michael out of his testosterone filled life and helps turn him into an evolved, evolving human.  She's wonderful.

Lastly, of course, is Dustin Hoffman's tour de force.  1982 was a tough year to be an actor seeking an Oscar, as the nominees for Best Actor were Peter O'Toole ("My Favorite Year"), Jack Lemmon ("Missing"), Paul Newman ("The Verdict"), Hoffman for this role, and the winner, Ben Kingsley for his amazing "Gandhi."  Could Hoffman have won in a lesser field, in a different year?  You bet.  His performance here is historic.  He gets Dorothy right, of course, and that seems like the easy part.  No, what Hoffman really does best in this film is show us the struggle that Michael has within himself.  He knows he is the best at what he does, yet figures a way to nuke that for himself as often as possible.  He does that not only professionally, but in his personal life.  Finding Dorothy, and those moments that Hoffman can explore with her, are what redeem Michael.  It's breathtaking work.

So.  Julie and I tried to watch this together.  She slept.  I watched the film, expecting to ridicule its inclusion in the top 100.  The longer I've contemplated it, however, the better the case I've made for it being on the list.  It's a great film  Watch it again.  I enjoyed doing so.

Ebert's original review (he didn't write about it again) is here.  

Falling...

...falling, falling.

Here we go, next up on the ramblings of this author about the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition).

This is another film in the top 10.  This is the third of those 10 I've watched so far this year.

Film 23

23. "Vertigo" (AFI Rank #9)
This film is the fifth film I've watched in a row by directors that have more than one film on the list. I've been running through a hell of a streak, of late, with directors who just knew what they were doing.

I can't really get into the plot on this one, because if you haven't seen the film...there's just too much of the story that can be given away by even subtle discussions about what happens.  No, "Vertigo" relies on its ability to twist us around and dump us in a place we weren't expecting.  Kinda like we just fell off a roof or something.

Set in San Francisco, the film uses its location to its great advantage often.  Whether the unique architecture of the city, the Golden Gate Bridge, or the hills that it is built upon, you can feel 'Frisco in the exterior shots.  We even get to see some of the coastline of Northern California.  The region is amongst my favorite places I've ever visited, and getting a brief tour through it was great.  There is also a scene shot in (what I believe is) Muir Woods.  Hmmph.  I'm wrong.  Loves me the internet.  Anyway, the setting of the film is an important piece of the action.  Know what's great about San Francisco?  You can't capture on film the grade of the hills.  You can't in this film, either, but it remains a beautiful place to shoot a film.

Alfred Hitchcock takes us on a devious trip into a run of the mill, if a little nutty, bit of sleuthing by "Scottie" Ferguson (Jimmy Stewart).  His pace in the film is almost painfully slow at times, especially in the myriad scenes shot with Stewart behind the wheel of his automobile, tailing Madeleine Ester (Kim Novak).  I watched this film 30 years ago, when I was a far-too-serious teenager, trying to watch the classics, despite not having enough experience to deal with a great deal of what was presented.  As such, I felt as if I was watching it for the first time, and I was...getting bored...with the pace.  Then, I got into it after a bit.  I realized that I wasn't being led by someone who didn't know what else to do, but by someone who had planned to make me sit uncomfortably, ready to yell, "GET ON WITH IT, ALREADY" at the screen.  That, my friends, is genius.  Make no mistake about it.  Sir Alfred was a genius.  This is considered his greatest film.  I have a soft spot in my heart for "Psycho," but I can understand the praise on this one.  The twist is so eloquently executed, so...unexpected...that we are truly shocked when it comes.  Suddenly, everything comes into focus.  Everything that had evaded our vision is crystal clear.  It takes a lot to convince me that I missed the twist before it came.  Even the second time through, I could not remember that this twist was what it is.  It's great.

Scenes of great value, from a technical and aesthetic aspect, include the shots where Stewart shows the symptoms of his illness (vertigo, but really acrophobia).  Shot with a quick zoom, the effect, in 2015, may seem a little rudimentary.  I'm thinking of it as a viewer in 1958.  I'd be thrilled.  It's shocking, effective, and bloody well gorgeous.  Also to be noted should be the animated sequence that appears toward the beginning of Act II of this film.  Psychedelic in nature, it, again, seems awfully cheesy compared to the wonders we can now experience.  I'll give it a pass, because it is wildly experimental for the time.  Disney did a similar thing with the "Pink Elephants" sequence in "Dumbo."  That was an animated film.  This is a thriller, and smack in the middle of it, we get an animated nightmare.  It's bold.  Balls, gentlemen, that's what it takes.

Since I can't tell much about the story, I'm probably going to cut this somewhat short.  Let's talk acting.  Jimmy Stewart is very good, if not great, as usual.  I just talked about his skill in my piece on "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."  His "Scottie" is spot on, if befuddled, most of the time.  Also of note, perhaps for the wrong reasons, is Kim Novak.  She's a stiff, mostly, through the film, and while Stewart does his best to connect, I never feel as if she does.  She seems concerned with looking pretty more than she does with being a human being.  Maybe that's the choice the role demanded.  I don't know.  I know she didn't heat up the screen in the romance.

No, the actor to watch in this is the delightful Barbara Bel Geddes as Midge.  Wonderfully natural, Midge is free to roam and find her intelligence and voice in her scenes because she's not tied down with carrying a love story.  She's a terrific character, a real broad, in the most positive sense.  Bel Geddes is so great, I wish she had been featured in the film more.  I get why she wasn't, but I found myself wishing Midge could snare Scottie.

Beyond that, "Vertigo" is a terrific film.  I can't say too much more than that.  If you haven't seen it, do so.  If you have...why don't you watch it again?  I think I've given this film short shrift.  I think you need to watch it, then maybe we can discuss it sometime.  I don't feel like I can here.  Sorry.

OK.  Ebert gives away A LOT in his essay.  I'm not as smart as he is.  Here's his take.

Childhood living...

...is easy to do.  Being a grown up (sometimes before you should be) is a lot tougher.

This is the next installment in the ongoing series of blogposts I'm writing about watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year.  I am, as of March 30, through 25 of these films.  Rules are here.

Film 22

22. "E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial" (AFI Rank #24)

OK.  I kinda jumbled the order around so as to make sure that this film wound up on a weekend that I have my kids.  As such, my delicately planned matrix took a bit of a hit.  I'm OK with that, but it...you know what?  I'm already getting to the theme of my thoughts.

I watched "E.T." for the second time in the last 3 years, but the first time with a critical eye...ever.

THERE IS A LOT WRONG WITH THIS MOVIE.  A LOT.

Rather than listing them, I'm going to let most of them go for the purposes of this review.  The errors are in the realms of continuity, convenient coincidence, and just...shit that can't possibly happen.  Don't believe me?  OK.  I'll give you one that is a little tough to spot.  There is a scene where Michael (Robert MacNaughton) and Elliott (Henry Thomas) are in the garage, looking for any tools they can find to help E.T. build his space phone.  There is a table, covered in dust and disorganized tools, which contains their father's (very recently separated from their mother) work shirt.  They smell it, and it smells of Old Spice.  It's a touching scene between the boys, speaks to isolation, separation, regret, etc.  It is lit well, and there are really great images contained in the scene.  EXCEPT THE TABLE IS POSITIONED 6" from Mom's DRIVER SIDE DOOR, rendering her car impossible to escape.  Later in the film, when she needs to jump in the car and go...SHOP TABLE (WHICH NEVER MOVE, RIGHT, GENTS?) IS NOT THERE.  Like I said, that's one that is not quite as glaring as others...but sticks out like...well....like a director who cared about manipulation more than reality.

And...BAM.  That's it.  I, while watching the film, continued to point out the errors as I saw them, but because I was watching the film with 3 children...eventually I was able to really just watch the film for the emotional punch it packs, and the beautiful pictures the director created, whether they could ever happen, or not.  And, for the record, I get that this is about an alien trapped on earth, and that a lot of disbelief needs to be suspended.  I always believe E.T. is real.  I don't believe the humans are, at times.

I'm getting off track.  Let's talk Steven Spielberg.  This is the second Spielberg film I've watched this year on this quest.  He was THE director of my youth, and has more films (5) on the list than any other director, beating out Hitchcock, Kubrick and Wilder with (4) each.  Perhaps some of that is sentimentality on the parts of the voters...but a lot of it has to do with the innovation and beauty that Spielberg brings to his lens.  "E.T." was, for years, his masterwork.  And it's easy to understand why.  Every shot in this film feels intentionally laid out in order to maximize its emotional or aesthetic impact.  Whether it is the shot of the crescent moon over the corn field behind Elliott's house as he stares into the lit shed, or the simple shots in Elliott's room with the kids as they meet E.T., we are treated to a visual feast.  But what Spielberg does so well, and what he learned, I'll bet, while filming "Jaws," is making us feel something with very little visual information at times.  We see a character called "Keys" (Peter Coyote) several times throughout the film.  We don't know much about him, but he represents fear to us.  We're not exactly sure what he does until he appears at the family home, but he is always there, stalking Elliott and E.T.  It's a great conceit, and I love the fact that his character's name is the visual we are left with most often.

Also well utilized in this film is the actual E.T.   While played by a puppet, we believe he's what he's portrayed to be.  Spielberg couldn't get the shark in "Jaws" to work, and had to film a great deal of the film hiding that fact, which made for a much more terrifying experience.  Can't do that with this film. We need to connect with E.T., and he needs to be presented to us visually throughout.  We know that thing isn't real, as rational human beings.  "E.T." succeeds in tricking us into believing he is.  Spielberg finally got his shark in front of us, and we love it.  Now.  Let's think about it a bit.  Do you think we'd connect with our little alien if he'd been rendered on a computer?  I'm not sure we do.  Not the same way, anyway.  This film was made at the right time.  Now, I'm not regressive, nor do I think that "they did it better in the old days."  This particular film, however, with the technology that was available, is just right.  

The heartbreaking emotional impact of the film, the gut-punch, if you will, is the final scene showing E.T. going home...his "Ouch" as he points to Elliott's heart...if that doesn't get you...you can't be got.  But, those are not the only moments we are led down a path of heartbreak.  I'm not going to spoil (any more of) them...but there is a shot in the film that I almost feel is unfair to us...and way more than I wanted to see, because of what it does to us...so long before the film ends.  I may have a photo of it somewhere near here.

Now.  Acting.  Dee Wallace, while playing somewhat of a ninny (script's fault), does a fairly capable job of portraying a mother who is kind of wandering, as she has just lost her husband to another woman.  She is in a whirlwind of events that are out of her control, and we see her struggle very well portrayed at times.  She's got a lot of responsibility she hasn't been used to shouldering all by herself, and Wallace nails it.  Plus.  What parent wouldn't laugh before scolding the child if he/she blurted out "Penis breath!" at a sibling.  It's a small moment. I love small moments.  Drew Barrymore got her start with this film, and we all remember her capturing us almost from the moment she appears.  It wasn't a "THERE'S A STAR" momemnt, but she draws focus whenever Gertie appears on screen.  Robert MacNaughton is great as the older brother, and apparently retired from acting in 1987, just 4 years after this film, but has made a small comeback of late.

Of course, Henry Thomas is our eyes.  His portrayal of Elliott is at once real, fantastic, wooden, and multi-layered.  Elliott's story is of a middle child, in the throes of some really devastating family upheaval, who finally meets a friend who understands him, and whom he understands.  E.T. grounds Elliott...the alien from another galaxy...grounds the kid.  Anyway, Henry Thomas was a kid strapped with carrying a major motion picture, directed by Hollywood's hottest talent, with a little alien puppet.  I, for the life of me, never once believe that Elliott isn't looking into the eyes of a real alien life form.  His connection with E.T., which becomes symbiotic in the plot of the film, looks that way on the face of a then 10 year old kid.  It's an amazing job, and if Henry Thomas hasn't had the career that his fictional younger sibling Drew did, it's not because of the talent he displayed in this film.  We love Elliott, and the film would NOT be what it was if Thomas hadn't nailed it.

It's been 33 years since this film appeared.  It looks it, at times.  It was a joy to watch it again this time, especially since I got to share the experience with my kids.  They were just as fascinated with it as I was...although I was 14 when the film premiered, as opposed to nearly 10 and 5.  What my kids have that I didn't, however, is films like "The Avengers," and indeed all the Marvel films...plus the amazing Pixar movies, "Shrek," etc.  Entertainment has definitely improved for kids, in technical terms.  They are able to see images we could have only dreamed.

My kids, however, LOVED "E.T.," because, while still a cinematic marvel (for the time), it has heart.  A glowing red heart that sometimes hurts...and makes us say..."ouch."

Great film.  Watch it again, grown-ups.  Try and let go of the ridiculous errors.  You'll love the (flying bicycle) ride.  I did.

Good GOD.  I just read Roger Ebert's take on this film for his Great Movies series.  It's here.  It's perhaps a bigger gut punch than the film.  My eyes are welled up, for real, writing this.  Wow.  Yup, Rog, that's what it is.  

It may be painless...

...but suicide brings many changes.

More on the series of film commentary I'm doing on the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) this calendar year.  Rules.

Film 21

21.  "MASH" (AFI Rank #54)
I watched this film last year for the first time when I was trying to accomplish this quest, but never wrote up my thoughts.  Life got in the way.

OK.  I was raised on the television show that got its start with this film.  That television show, while similar to this film, is a much different experience than the film is, to be sure.  As such, it is hard for me to segregate the two, but I'll try.  The character choices were much different on television, that's for damned sure.

So, what are my thoughts on the film "MASH?"  Let's see.

The only reference to Korea is written in graphics at the beginning of the film.  This, from the research I've done, was done intentionally, so as to deliberately confuse the viewer into believing the film actually took place in Vietnam, a conflict going on at the time.  Frankly, the haircuts, mustaches, etc. seem much more suited to the late 60's than early in the 50's anyway.  So, let's say that this is a film about Vietnam, set in Korea.

So.  What are my thoughts?  Well.  Let's talk about a few things.

There is a running gag with the camp loudspeaker, used throughout the film to great effect.  What I love the most about this conceit is the fact that the guy behind the microphone on the speaker, never, I mean NOT ONCE, gets his announcement right without a stutter, stammer, or correction.  It's hilarious commentary on the tedium of military service, and the insane events that these people find themselves in the middle of.  Often the announcements are about such things as the film that will be showing in the camp, as we are shown a scene of intense violence wrought upon a human being.  It's a wonderful framing device, and a great bit of commentary.

The ensemble nature of this film is at once a nice commentary on the "use 'em up" attitude of the military in war time, but also incredibly confusing.  We get LOTS of stories presented to us during the film, some of which matter towards advancing whatever plot is there, most of which don't.  I read that Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould staged a coup attempt when they felt that Robert Altman devoted too much time to tertiary characters, and their efforts were thwarted.  I can see their perspective, but I don't think they got the bigger picture of the film...which is..."how the hell does this go on?"  I think Altman's refusal to focus on Hawkeye and Trapper was a masterstroke, however disjointed it leaves the film in the end.  Again, I think that disjointedness is on purpose.

The scenes of the cost of war, in human carnage, are gut-wrenching, as we see Hawkeye start with a hacksaw on a kid's leg, or see Trapper John release pressure on a spurting neck wound.  If this is comedy, there's a considerable amount of drama wrapped up in those moments...and yet...we see the humor.  And the horror.  I love that the film does that.  I do.  Really.

I also must comment on the mock suicide of dentist "Painless" Waldowski.  Nicknamed "Jawbreaker," I believe, not only for his work on the troops, but for his endowment in the penile department, the character is convinced that he is gay because he wasn't able to get it up one time while the moment was right.  The scene is pretty ludicrous, and pretty absurd, with a mock staging of "The Last Supper," but what got me...and I think...to a certain extent...offended me was the use of a nurse to "cure" him.  Hawkeye has been trying to make it with a married nurse for a while, and when she is given her discharge papers, she decides to consumate with Hawkeye.  He, however, chooses to...ask her to give in to Jawbreaker instead.  She, rightly, is leery about it...until she sees his manhood.  As she leaves camp, we see her wryly smile about the night she just had.  It's a tough thing to watch as an evolved man of the 21st Century, and, like the portrayal of Hot Lips (discussed below), is offensive to women.  Maybe I'm off base, but I don't think it's genuine.  Bah.

The film stops about 15 minutes before the end, and becomes a second film, about the camp playing a football game.  That entire sequence could (and should) have been cut.  It's like the film "Stripes," which is a tremendously funny film...until they get in the damned RV.  The football game exists, as far as I can tell, for no purpose, other than to beat up the character of "Hot Lips" O'Houlihan.  Eventually, Henry Blake resorts to calling Hot Lips an idiot.  She was not an idiot, and the film goes out of its way to make her one in this sequence.  Lose the whole thing, and I'll feel like I watched a masterpiece.  With it, I'm terribly disappointed I had to watch two films, the second of which...sucked.

Now.  Actors.  Donald Sutherland is great as Hawkeye.  His whistle, his attitude, everything about him bespeaks a burning intelligence that is being wasted in Korea.  His portrayal is delightful.  Tom Skerritt, as the forgotten character Duke Forrest is pretty good, but given very little to work with.  I find it hard to believe that he's a surgeon, having gone through the rigors of a long education.  Robert Duvall plays Frank Burns far less buffoonish than his later portrayal by Larry Linville (I said I wasn't going to get into the TV show, but how can you NOT talk about Frank Burns?), and I had a tough time getting a grip on him.  I guess the idea was that Frank was about faith, and not about science, but that may have been a miss, in terms of character.  I think Frank was a wasted opportunity in the film.  Perhaps he needed more screen time.  Elliott Gould looks totally out of place in 1950's society, but I liked his Trapper John.  He also portrayed a guy who just go shoved into something insane, and needed to get out.  I liked it.  Sally Kellerman, probably by choice of the script, was all over the board as Hot Lips.  That's unfortunate.  The character has so much potential for actual threat in the film, but winds up as the buffoon.  I'll bet Altman, if given the chance to do that again, would change it.  I'm guessing.  Maybe I'm wrong on that.  He seemed to know what he was doing, so he had a reason, I'm sure.


Beyond all that, I'm left watching "MASH" less as a comedy than an incredibly biting satire.  I know, DUH!  However, there are not a lot of belly laughs in this film.  What there are, are a lot of "Holy shit, that's funny, but I don't think I can laugh" moments.  Those are my favorite comedies, and the ones I actually laugh at the hardest.  So, what we have here is a film right up my alley, in terms of cynicism, satire, and intelligence.  I really enjoyed it this time through.  I hope you find time to watch it.

Here's Ebert's original review, from 1970.  Again, I read his missives after I write these things, right before I publish them.  He did not include this in his essays on Great Movies.

Damn me, but I hit a lot of his points here (he likes the football game though).  Roger and I were in lockstep a lot on our view of films.

Always playing catch up...

...I'm back to FOUR (since I started this one, it has ballooned to SIX) in the backlog.  Let's try to get rid of two of them today, eh?  

I'm watching the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) in a calendar year and writing my thoughts about the films here.  Rules are here.  

Film 20

20.  "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" (AFI Rank #26)
This was my second viewing of "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."  I watched it, and wrote about it, last year when I started this quest.  I didn't care for the film much last year, and found it odd that it would occupy such a lofty position in the countdown.  Somewhere on this blog is that post. I'm not linking to it.  It's here, though.

I still kinda feel that way, but I liked the film a whole lot more this year.

This is amongst the films I have watched with Julie lately.  She is a big fan of the film, and having her in the room made me less rigid in my views on the improbability of a lot of what happens over the course of this feature. She's good for me, in that she and I tend to see things differently, yet we both have a mutual respect for the other's view.  I definitely watched things differently because she was there.  I still, for the record, find the idea of children (and those children actually being the Governor's kids) being run off the road by a gang of goons ridiculously manipulative.  I also find a good portion of the Right/Wrong of this to be entirely too black and white.

I did, however, think about this film in historic perspective.  There are some real balls being shown by Frank Capra in this film.  The idea that Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart) would be able to say, on the Senate Floor, that, essentially, Congress is completely corrupt...took some mighty bravado.  In our cynical age, of course, we accept these things to be fundamental truths, but at the time, I can understand why this stretch of fancy was viewed with so much reverence/disdain.  While the film, at times, seems almost too sickly-sweet, the bitter truths that it exposes merit a lot of consideration.  I missed that last time, focusing on the manipulative, rather than the honesty.  Capra also has some pretty stunning pictures that he shoots, especially of the Senate set, which they built almost to scale. You can see the work of a master in this film, that's for sure.  It's got a lot of beautiful art.

I'm assuming you've seen the film, and am writing this from that perspective.  I may be wrong.  I'm not going to change my perspective, though.  So, if you haven't seen the film, please watch it, so we may be on a similar playground.

Another thing I found on this viewing was the civics lesson within.  We get what is a very real portrayal of the mundane nature of a good deal of business that a body which plays by Parliamentary Procedure has to deal with.  The resigned way in which the President of the Senate (Harry Carey) goes about his business is so well executed, that one can't help but...feel sorry for the men/women in the Senate that have to abide by those rules.   It makes one wonder how anything COULD get done, let alone DOES get done.  I believe the film, to a certain extent, lets us understand just how remarkable these men/women are, and how much of their patience/intelligence/etc. is wasted in tedium.  By the way, Harry Carey's acting in this is top notch.  He understands just how vital Jefferson Smith is to the Senate, and we see that, at times, but he never lets slip his control on the proceedings.  It's a wonderful performance.

Also wonderful...until the moment she has to be weakened by Hollywood's infatuation with a male/female love story is Jean Arthur's Saunders.  She's a hard nosed, no-nonsense character.  Smarter than just about anyone she comes into contact with, and certainly more skilled than even some of the Senators portrayed, we love
Saunders.  And yet, in her moment of greatest triumph, basically willing a Senator to fight something which she knows to be wrong...we are left with her confessing her love to that character that she is love with him.  Because, of course Hollywood needs that.  It would be impossible for a woman to just act in the best interests of a group of people on her intelligence and reason alone.  Nope, she must love the guy who can do the fighting as well.  I know it was a different time, but I find that moment insulting.  Sorry.  I do.


Claude Rains seems to be slightly underutilized in this film.  Rains was a terrific actor, capable of a huge range of intelligent emotion, and in this, unfortunately, he seems to be stuck into a fairly small box.  He's the bad guy...but he's lost.  Rains does Herculean work trying to show us how Senator Paine is lost, but I feel as if the ending scene is just too simplistic.  The work is there...perhaps a different, more drawn-out show of his disgust with himself would feel more genuine.  Like I said, the groundwork is there.  What is presented, however, is just too quick, too "let's get this shit over with" for me.  Again, like with Arthur, Rains character seems to be wrapped up for convenience's sake, rather than because that's the arc he's completing. I think Paine, in his relationship with Jim Taylor, especially, has room for much more range.  I wish the focus, a little more, had been there to allow that.

And, of course, in the center is the remarkable Jimmy Stewart.  Stewart is the lead actor in 5 films in the top 100, and I tend to believe that it is not because Jimmy Stewart just had a knack of picking good projects.  I believe Stewart was an incredible actor, and his involvement in a film, when a good idea was there, helped make that film great.  DeNiro brings a similar skill, as do a bunch of other actors whose names appear again and again on this list.  Anyway, Stewart's portrayal of Jefferson Smith is a little more nuanced than I realized on first viewing.  We see him going through emotional turmoil at several times, despite the fact that his character is decidedly singularly faceted...on first glance.  The scenes which were shot in the Lincoln Memorial (with the expressed written forbiddance of the National Parks system) are stunning to watch, not only in a stirringly patriotic way, but because of what we see through our hero, as Jimmy Stewart portrayed him.  It's an easy thing to film, but Stewart helped it have the impact that it did, that's for damned sure.


So.  I've watched the film twice.  I enjoyed it MUCH more the second time.  I encourage you to watch it again, if you have seen it.  If you haven't - watch this movie.  It's worth your time.  I promise.  Roger Ebert didn't include this film in his series on Great Movies, so no link to his reflections this time.