Director: Ron Howard Writer: William Broyles Jr. and Al Reinert; Lost Moon by Jim Lovell and Jeffrey Kluger Cinematographer: Dean Cundey Producer: Brian Grazer by Jon Cvack Watching a critically acclaimed big-budgeted on 4k UHD is like watching a DVD or BluRay for the first time. The way in which the quality improves provides a near-religious experience. For the cost of an iPhone you can now have a home television experience that’s as close to a movie theater as it’s ever been. I haven’t seen Apollo 13 in probably around 10 years, if not longer. It’s the type of movie I’ve seen often enough to remember the major details, but of which the minor details have faded for time; where you forget how good the great scenes are. This is one of the greatest popular American films of the 20th century. It is that strange experience of failing to remember just how incredible the film is in terms of story and craft. It opens up on July 1969 as Neil Armstrong is about to take the first steps on the moon. We’re at a packed party with all of the modernist greens, yellows, oranges, and browns from the era. We meet Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks) who’s playing host, dealing with his high-strung daughter, and from the get-go - with Hank’s magical charm - we like the guy. Recently, on NPR one of the guests mentioned how the reason Tom Hanks is so rarely nominated compared to his great body of work is because he so deeply falls into the character that we forget we’re even watching a performance. Hanks as Lovell is perhaps the finest example of this. I took issue with First Man (2018) being a film about a narcissist who’s willing to hurt anyone and everyone around him, all in an effort to achieve his dream. There was little redemption in his pursuit of the moon, and for a character based on of America’s most inspiring figures, I found the character unlikable and ruthlessly self-seeking. Hanks’ Jim Lovell is an equally determined man, and Howard instead focuses on the struggle of being a good person against that passion for greatness. Lovell wants to get to the moon as much as anyone else, realizing the politics required in getting to that position. That is, Hanks pulls off the miraculous in having the same self-centered tendencies while providing a great deal of charm and empathy; a feat only this unique and phenomenal actor could possibly provide and for whatever reason this “every man” accomplishment is often overlooked. Somehow an actor who gets the viewers to love them just doesn’t get the same recognition. After the moon landing, Jim gives one of his tours to some politicians to be interrupted by his boss Deke Slayton (Chris Ellis) to inform him that due to the previous crew being exposed to the measles, they’ve been bumped up. They are the next team going to the moon. They’re comprised of Lunar Module Pilot Fred Haise (Bill Paxton) and Command Module Pilot Ken Mattingly (Gary Sinise). During a simulation where they have to doc the rocket pod with the space module, Ken manages with all the obstacles the tech crew throws at him. Even still, after three hours, he requests they do it again. They’ve gotten to a point where they can anticipate each other’s moves. For anyone working with a crew, the dynamic is palpable; further testament to the power behind these roles as we immediately believe they’ve been working together for years. That all comes to an end when after NASA runs some blood tests, they discover that Mattingly has the measles. Deke informs Jim that they have to cut him. Just days from launch, Jim is furious and concerned. Within 72 hours they’ll have to train the reserve crew Command Module Pilot Jack Swiger (Kevin Bacon), who soon fails in his first simulation. The sequence is brilliant, as Fred and Jim break the news to Mattingly, with Jim taking responsibility for pulling Mattingly off, in a move that, again, only Tom Hanks could pull off; doing something he doesn’t need to do, simply because it’s the honorable and respectable thing. From there, during the simulation, Bacon also shines as we watch his utter embarrassment in failing to perform for his team who’s especially concerned with their new member. So leads us up to one of the most iconic scenes in modern film history, as the crew gets suited up for take off, boarding the rocket and getting strapped in. It’s cut between the Houston Command Center, led by Flight Director Gene Kanz (Ed Harris), along with Ron Howard’s brother Clint Howard as Electrical, Environmental and Consumables Manager Sy Liebergot and dozens of other men in shirts and ties and glasses, each responsible for their own individual item. The longer time goes on there more in awe I am over what they accomplished with the earliest forms of electronic computing, somehow using radio waves to communicate thousands of pieces of information from a ship flying to the moon, using math and science to figure out to build rocket engines capable of launching from Earth and following complex laws of propulsion and gravity to help a rocket connect to modules, land on the moon, and then take off again; having absolutely zero certainty that their formulas will work. It’s this uncertainty that plays throughout the film. Howard explores the superstition around the launch. For those who don’t recall, Jim’s has heard stories about the Apollo 1 mission and how the astronauts were stuck on the ship after a fire broke out and burned alive. Bad science led to flammable coolant used in the plumbing and bad engineering cause a wiring shortage. It portrayed the dangers of the Apollo mission and the faith required by future teams to believe they’re equipped with a sound team and crew. Nevertheless, after the Apollo 12 team is forced to drop out, the media immediately discusses the number 13, worsened with Ken Mattingly’s 48 hour pre-flight replacement and when Jim’s wife Marilyn (Kathleen Quinlan) loses her wedding ring in the shower. It’s never enough for us to believe any of it mattered so much as the coincidences surrounding the disaster that helped portray a sense of dread and unease. Marilyn’s fully aware of the danger, and Quinlan provides an equally powerful performance as someone attempting to hide her fear and unease, though showing just enough so that Jim knows. It’s this nuance that provides a more fulfilling look into the human drive for greatness. Jim knows she’s scared and we’re left wondering if his friendly demeanor is to calm his family, calm himself, or is altogether genuine. Perhaps all three. Counter to the simulations, Jack Swiger connects the module with just a bit of friction. They hop out of their seats and we see what shouldn’t even be possible. The men are floating. It’s not a trick, digital effects or with wires, but actually floating as though in zero gravity. For those who don’t know, they built a small set in an airplane that climbs to the sky’s upper limits and then soars to the ground at the speed of gravity, creating a gravity-like environment. I’m not sure what is real or fake, as the two blend flawlessly together. I’ve yet to see any movie that matches its realism. While shooting a live feed meant to broadcast to all of the major networks, Marilyn discovers that no one’s deciding to play it. Although only the second moon landing, they’ve decided that going to the moon has little interest from the public. They conduct their interviews and wish eac other goodbye, unaware of how few are watching. Swiger then enters into some routine housekeeping. Houston tells him to mix the tanks and he does and there’s an explosion; alarms sounds and lights ignite across the panel; unsure of what’s going on they lose control of the ship as Houston attempts to find out what’s going on. It’s a fascinating sequence as Howard dives into the individual layers - there is Houston who wants to avoid giving bad information and/or jumping to conclusion. As Gene Kranz demands, what they need to know is what they actually know. “Let’s work the problem,” he says. The second dynamic is the utter horror in realizing that the mission could be jeopardy, or worse, they will not survive. The third is Marilyn’s struggle to keep her family calm and confident that they’ll see their dad once again, and that she especially won’t lose the man she loves. The fourth when Ken Mattingly returns to help, determined to figure out what to do. Jim, Jack, and Fred soon learn that they’re to transfer to the module, detach it from the rocket, and return to Earth. Heartbroken and with the moon filling the tiny lunar window, they confirm, though the problems persist. For one thing, having shut down much of the mechanics to prevent a fire, they’re now running on limited power - 20 amps which Mattingly jokingly compares to having enough juice to run a toaster. He hops into the simulator in order to try and figure out both what he can shut off and how to shut it off without shorting out the whole system. The second problem they face is one of my favorite scenes from the film as they discover carbon dioxide leaking into the main cabin and demand the engineers take all the materials they would have aboard the ship in order to create a filter; an analogy I’ve used on our film Road to the Well (2016) time and time again and is fitting for any problem. Looking at what you have - whether materials or power - and seeing how you can use them to solve your problem. The final problem involves having to use the little juice they have in order to correct their trajectory in a single chance. If they fail, they’ll lose Earth altogether and drift off into space, immediately painting a portrait of how utterly terrifying it’d be to know that starvation (or perhaps carbon dioxide poisoning) is the only fate to await them; raising the stakes sky high as another thrilling scene takes place. The story of course catches the world by storm, portraying the cynical media environment where bleeding gets reading and the entire nation tunes in, extending all the way to the Vatican where a masse of people pray for the astronauts. It leaves you nostalgic for the days when the country could unify behind a cause and simply hope for what is right and good; cheering for the scientists, engineers, pilots, and mathematicians to solve the seemingly endless problems. All of them are solved, and it’s through accomplishing them one by one that the film leaves you on edge the entire time. It is not just the special effects, but the way Howard builds layer upon layer beneath, never allowing a single scene to operate in and of itself but to contain a depth of complexity. I’ve always enjoyed Apollo 13, but after this viewing, I’m considering it as one of the all time greatest action dramas. It is a movie that leaves you longing for what the rarest of movies provide - an entertaining and idealistic story that you leaves you wired up and proud in the end, inspired by what humanity can do and accomplish. So often it’s either the negative or hyper embellished action piece. Howard achieves both and creates one of popular cinema’s greatest pieces of the last thirty years. BELOW: A scene that really pissed off Ebert Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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Director: Michael Bay Writer: Michael Barrie, Jim Mulholland, Doug Richardson; story by George Gallo Cinematographer: Howard Atherton Producer: Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer by Jon Cvack The longer time goes on, the more certain I am that we’ll look back to Michael Bay as one of cinema’s greatest action directors. And it’s for a very simple reason - his movies are fun and a blast to watch. As much as people want to call them mindless or shallow, I could direct them to the nearest Red Box for a variety of straight to video action movies you’ve never heard of with A-level (or once A-level) stars. Thus it seems odd to believe these movies are fun without giving Michael Bay the credit of crafting well made movies. As time goes on and few have met his threshold, many of his movies are positioning themselves as works of art. They represent a moment in time. The 1990s-Mtv generation that liked things fast and flashy, with explosions, shoot outs, attractive scantily clad people, and car chases. I decided to revisit the first two Bad Boys films in anticipation of seeing the third; saddened to learn that Michael Bay failed to return. I had no idea this was Michael Bay’s first film until about ten minutes in when it was clear that someone who had never made a movie before was finally given a $19 million budget to create a flashy action piece. Eyelines don’t match up, sequences are a bit awkward and confusing, and his cutting around of big action scenes is cheap and unconvincing. And yet by two thirds in, he seems to find his stride and creates an amazing piece of action filmmaking. The story opens up with two detectives, Marcus Burnett (Martin Lawrence) and Mike Lowery (Will Smith ) driving a Porsche down the highway. Marcus is conservative, married, and living a middle class life. This is against Marcus who’s funny and gregarious, constantly hooking up with beautiful women. We learn that he inherited a boat load of money which subsidizes his sports cars and luxury apartments. It’s a simple and brilliant plot point. The cheap trick fully foils the pair, united only by their skin color, which plays a subtle though significant role throughout the series. They’re pulled over by a pair of criminals and what’s interesting is that at no point do we know they’re cops. There’s a strong suggestion that we’re meant to go with the stereotype - two black dudes stole an expensive car, to then see them pull some moves, apprehend the car jacks, who then reveal themselves as the Miami PD. The film cuts to a fast sequence involving a bunch of bad guys crawling through tunnels in order to blow through the floor of a police evidence room and steal a massive amount of heroin. They’re led by Fouchet (Tchéky Karyo ) who’s been in enough action movies for you to remember, though you might not know him by name. The next day Marcus and Mike arrive at the bureau where they’re chewed out by police chief Captain Conrad Howard (Joe Pantoliano ) who’s furious over the break in. He assigns Mikey and Marcus the case. Mike asks his ex-girlfriend (and possible escort) Max Logan (Karen Alexander) to see if any of her rich clients (aka drug dealers) have suddenly found business booming. Max and her friend Julie Mott (Téa Leoni ) then get hired as escorts and are taken to Fouchet’s mansion where his lieutenant and former cop Eddie Dominguez (Emmanuel Xuereb) makes Max. Julie hides, watching as Eddie shoots her dead. She attempts to escape and is chased down and it’s here that Bay’s nascent skills best display themselves. “Wide for comedy, close for drama” could have the former substituted with action. There’re cheap ways to shoot thrilling sequences; focus on a bunch of close ups of bricks falling, feet running, and over the shoulder of the chased/chasers, but none of it will be as effective as attempting to show the stunt in wide - or Bay’s case for subsequent films, countless wides - in order to pull of the stunt. As the henchman chased Julie, I was reminded of the endless Steven Seagal and John Claude Van Damme movies I’d grown up with. And yet what’s most fascinating about the film is watching Bay learn his style. It’s there from the start, especially with the evidence room heist, told in an onslaught of beautiful images, cut together in fractions of a second. By the second half of the film, it’s as though he had fully learned what worked and that we’re watching a filmmaker learn their voice. Julie arrives at the police station and demands to talk to Mike Lowrey who’s out of town to investigate some leads on the matter. Captain Howard orders Marcus to pretend he’s Mike. The film contains a bizarre and effective subplot (continued in both sequels) in that Marcus has been impotent and not having sex with his wife lately. Between the job and his kids, they haven’t been together in months and it’s starting to take its toll. His reluctance to take on Mike’s persona is less out of annoyance than temptation. Julie is attractive and likes to show it, and pretending to live at Mike’s apartment with her would prove just too difficult. As is, he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Mike soon comes back and learns the plan and gets the job of living at home with Marcus’s family. The situation creates a subplot that’s straight out of a classic sex-charged screwball comedy. Marcus is increasingly tempted by Julie, making it all the more difficult to curb his jealousy when hearing Mike on the phone with his wife Theresa (Theresa Randle); taking on the role of provider with a bit of flirtation sprinkled in. Later, after an intense shootout, Julie and Marcus lie on the bed and Julie propositions him. It’s a scene straight from Preston Sturges or Ernst Lubitsch as Julie talks right up to the precipice of saying she’s horny and wants to bang. Soon Theresa gets the whiff of the situation, heads over to Mike’s apartment where she finds Mike, Marcus, and Julie who seems to suggest that Marcus has been hiding out so the three could have a menage e trois. This is all against the hunt for a drug dealer, which includes two amazing action sequences. The first at a pure 90s dance club where everyone’s dressed in scanty goth gear. Marcus fights a man in a bathroom, providing Mission Impossible throwback resulting in an aquarium bursting open. Julie gets a gun and fires at Fouchet, resulting in an evacuation to car chase down through the miami streets. The film culminates in Marcus and Mikey tracking down the latest export of heroin, leading them to an old airport where they surround the place with police and drive a delivery truck inside and a massive shootout takes place, ending with a jet airliner exploding and the bad guys getting killed. Marcus handcuffs Julie to Mikey and walks off to return home to his wife. As far as I understand, this was the first popular buddy cop movie featuring two African American actors. They never show racism between whites and blacks, though there is a feud between them and a pair of latino officers, Sanchez (Nestor Serrano) and Ruiz (Julio Oscar Mechoso). The exchange goes so far as telling an off putting joke about immigrants drowning and grape juice and chicken, and suffice to say, it’s a pretty jarring moment. While writing this I had seen Bad Boys for Life (2020), which is a sequel that drops the series as far as Live Free, or Die Hard. I’ll let you read those thoughts separately, but it made me realize how masterful this movie is. It doesn’t achieve the heights of Bad Boys II (2003) and has a few cheesy moments, but overall it’s a solid and fun action flick; all the more impressive for being a first feature. We see Bay develop his style, in which each moment is as thrilling and cinematic as possible. BELOW: Action done right Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Steven Spielberg Writer: Steven Zaillian; based on Schindler's Ark by Thomas Keneally Cinematographer: Janusz Kamiński Producer: Steven Spielberg, Gerald R. Molen, and Branko Lustig by Jon Cvack During a Hollywood Reporter director’s roundtable, Michael Heineke criticized Spielberg for making entertainment out of the holocaust. It’s an understandable statement from the beginning and speaks to a grander question about storytelling ethics. What is the proper way to capture and immerse viewers into a tragic piece of history? Given Haneke’s style, I imagine he’d prefer a long, locked off camera where we are meant to watch the footage take place in the most subjective method possible. If so, it begs the question as to what makes one particular style of editing, plot, performance, photography, music, and set design more respectful than another. On Siskel and Ebert, Ebert mentions that the film has done surprisingly well at the box office, given how dreary the subject matter is, going on to say, “...when people say they don’t want to see a depressing film, what they’re really saying is that they don’t want to see a film that’s going to depress them by being bad. Because no good film is depressing. It can be about depressing subject matter, but the artistry, and the vision, and the ending of this film is exhilarating.” Schindler’s List is one of the great pieces of cinema ever created. It is craft of the highest order, providing a film that both spotlights and immerses the viewer within an experience. Writing this a week later, I still can’t think of a comparable film that has taken such a morbid and tragic history and placed it within an engaging story. Spielberg immerses within the world and all its horrifying and endearing moments; providing that classic unmatched touch in giving hope no matter the despair. We care about everything on the screen; both engaged and frightened. This is the type of film that I often put off writing about, simply for how much there is to dissect and how it essentially demands a shot by shot discussion. At three hours and fifteen minutes, literally every single scene is a work of art. The opening scene involves the Nazi clerks lining up the tables, complete with notebooks, pens, ink pads, and rubber stamps. They’re there to check the German Jews into the Krakow Ghetto; the Jews only able to take what they can fit in a suitcase and then crammed into tiny apartments. Oscar Schindler (Liam Neeson) is then introduced in a fancy nightclub. In a brilliant sequence, we see him buy a bottle of booze for some Nazi soldiers. Soon Oscar has a long table full of beautiful girls and Nazi soldiers, getting his picture taken with them all and introducing himself as a manufacturer. We learn that he’s in search of lucrative government contracts that could make him rich. Issue being that he doesn’t have the investors to construct the plant. In the Krakow ghetto, there is no money, opening up a competitive black trade market for goods. In temple, one man has a nice shirt and the others wonder how he got it; what he had to trade simply for a nice shirt, and where they could get one. It’s an interesting nugget of humanity - where even within a cordoned off area, some still search for the material goods that can make them feel better individually at best, or better than others, at worst. After playing hardball by exploiting their situation, Schindler soon finds his investors and recruits the help of Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley) to run his business which will use the Jews as minimally paid - and soon slave - laborers. The subtext of Oscar offers one cinema’s most fascinating characters. Was it always his intention to help the Jewish people? Did he know what their ultimate fate could be from the beginning, or was he actually out to make money? If the latter, how aware was he of committing a grotesque exploitation? Later, when his wife visits, he explains how he had always been a failure at his endeavors, making the initial model seem all the more wretched. He didn’t succeed at regular business, so he exploited the Jews for his own personal benefit. Then again, he came around and saved nearly a thousand. Does this make it worth it? Given the ending, Spielberg seems to say yes in that redemption, no matter the path, is a good thing. Soon the Nazis round up the Krakow Jews in the film’s most terrifying sequence. They break into the apartments, telling the Jews to drop everything. Some take the little they can fit in their pockets. One family sticks their family diamonds into small pieces of bread and forces everyone to eat them down, including the children. We watch as people hide in the floors and closets. Since I was a kid I found the idea terrifying. Of a government who’s supposed to protect its citizens coming by to round you up without explanation. To leave everything, board a truck or train, and be whisked away without any hope for justice; the sound of the boots striking the ground and whistles blowing, knowing the alternative is to live underground. The city clears out and the Jews board the trains to the concentration camp. In one scene, one of the Jewish cops, a small boy not much older than five, searches the house for Jews who hid away, finding the mom and then realizing he knew the woman. The daughter then comes out and we realize she’s friends with the boy. He hides them in the basement level and distracts the approaching Nazis to prevent them from getting caught and the whole thing is so bizarre and complex that this scene alone is better than most short films. It’s a mixture of betrayal, redemption, guilt, and thrills all within a brief three to five minute span. Even still, a few moments later, Spielberg cuts back to the same alley outside the house where a man escapes from the same building; thinking he’s free until he hears the Nazi troops closing in on his position. With the alley filled with luggage dumped from the windows, the man pretends to clean the bags. A band of Nazis led by Amom (Ralph Fiennes) stops him, asking what he’s doing and the man says he was ordered to clean the alley; clapping his heels together like a soldier. The men then laugh and continue on, calling him a good Nazi. It provides a paradoxical situation in which on the one hand we’re happy the man’s ruse went well, and yet grasp just how dark Amom’s heart is in figuring that the man was just being used as free labor to inevitably be shipped off any way; allowing the man to be exploited at every opportunity. It’s during the evacuation that we get the iconic image of the girl in the red jacket. Oskar and one of his girlfriends ride up into the hillside where they watch the Nazis round up the ghetto and kill countless Jews in the process. There’s a peculiar throwback to the Temple of Doom where one of the Nazis lines up about half a dozen Jews and shoots them through the stomach, killing all but the last two who they then shoot in the head. While seeming a bit offensive, you then realize it was Spielberg’s way of showing the horror. Unlike Indiana Jones (1981), it is not at all funny. It is not shot with a goofy wide lens, low to the ground, but a long telephoto up in the hills looking down, as though watching like a camera. It feels absolutely real. The Jews are moved to the Płaszów concentration camp where they’re stripped naked and put in prison garbs, ordered to build their own barracks. As Amom checks the work, one Jewish girl comes up to him, demanding they stop construction as the entire building is at risk of collapsing. Amom wonders why they should listen to her. She explains that she’s an engineer and Amom orders them to shoot her dead. They do and he leads them off, ordering them to tear down the structure and make the changes she suggested. It’s a taste of pure evil. It’s not done in the name of some law or moral code. It is absolute hate. It is us watching another human think another human isn’t human; whose life is expendable. It is the most evil character in cinematic history. There’s no clear moment Oscar decides to save the Jews. The closest we get is when Itzhak is accidentally thrown aboard the train; requiring Oscar to demand his release to every soldier he sees, each who shrugs him off with a grin before Oscar drops his political credentials and they do everything in their power to find Itzhak on the now moving train. Up to this point, there is only Oscar the greedy capitalist; a man who refuses to talk to his workers, who while at first appearing anti-semitic, is actually concerned for their fate. Sure enough when a one armed man visits him to thank Oscar for the job, as mad as he is at Itzhak for hiring a handicap worker, it’s also one of the first moments of pure gratitude. Each of these moments add up to where there is no need for some grand epiphany. Like any piece of enlightenment, it is an assembly of moments that finally shifts his mind; realize that he could use his riches to save, or at least put off the slaughter of hundreds of Jews. When the ghetto is cleared and Oscar loses his workers, he takes up matters with Amom who he schmoozes and bribes and the two soon form a genuine friendship. Amom gives back Schindler the Jews he lost to the camps and Schindler provides Amom jewelry, rare liquors, and women. Things intensify as Hitler passes on orders to exterminate the camps and in a horrifying sequence we watch as mothers are separated from their children who have no idea what’s going on, driven off as the rest are systematically executed; their dead bodies rounded to be buried in mass graves or burned in towering piles. We soon see the girl in the red jacket dead and carried in a wheelbarrow to be tossed into the fire. It is one of cinema’s most horrific sequences, in which Spielberg creates images that have burned into my mind since first seeing the film back in junior high. Word comes down that Oscar’s factory will no longer have an exemption. Oscar is to take the hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash and leave, now the wealthy man he always wanted to be. About the leave, Oscar and Itzhak share a final drink where Oscar tries to convince himself he accomplished his initial intention, knowing that Itzhak’s fate is death. Oscar opts to sell all he acquired in order to bribe Amom and the other Nazis to buy back his Jewish workers and create a munitions factory. Counter to pots and pans, Oscar refuses to create a single functional piece of ammunition, using all his capital to create Germany’s worst arms factory. The night before the Allies reach the factory, Oscar packs his car. A few of the workers got each other drunk in order to pull out their fillings and forge Oscar a ring which he accepts, emotional that he didn’t give up his few other goods to save a couple more Jews. His watch could have been one. His car two. And it’s the truth that tugs so hard at our hearts. He had saved over a thousand Jews, but even still held onto just a few items that ultimately cost the lives of others. The workers smother him with hugs and forgiveness, and share their gratitude for all that he’s done. He drives off and the Allies arrive the next morning, freeing the workers who walk off, unsure of where they’re going, but simply wandering on, as the nightmare seems to be over (at the time). It is said that this film is what brought the Jewish holocaust into the mainstream. It started a conversation and showed the audience a piece of history that had otherwise been unknown to most. To call it a cautionary tale fails to grasp the utter horror it captures. Schindler’s List shows the profound evil humanity is capable of. Not just to lead the execution or to indirectly participate, but to sit idly by and allow people with such hate to rise to power and destroy others. Currently, what appears to be a genocide is taking place in Myanmar against the Muslim people. People say never again, but it seems just something to make themselves feel better. Today there are more people in concentration camps than ever before, having their humanity stripped away and the world is doing nothing about it. They have forgotten. Schindler’s List portrays how far humanity is willing to go if their hate is strong enough. Whatever Oscar achieved doesn’t in any way outshine the fact that six million Jewish people died because a system and its people hated them enough. As of this writing, there are still children in cages in the United States with the most basic of hygienic products; deprived in order to dissuade other migrants. Hundreds of scholars have declared them to meet the definition of concentration camps. To think that nearly a third of the country disagrees and is fine with keeping people in cages with insufficient hygienic or medical treatment just goes to show how easy it is to convince the masses that other humans are deserving of such abject treatment. I rather be on the side of precaution; at least ensuring that we don’t strip children from their parents, provide ample blankets, soap, and toothpaste; and that everyone receives proper medical attention. It seems best to play things safe when it comes to rounding people up, putting them in cages and treating them like subhumans. Then again, think of how many agree and do nothing. How many of us, even people generally well informed, know nothing about what is going on in these prisons? It is not the holocaust, but just goes to show how easy it is for the pieces to assemble once again. And all we’re left with is hoping it doesn’t end with the same result. It is an incredible piece of ironic humanity that we could be enlightened about this event, observe the terror and the trajectory, and do absolutely nothing within our own borders. With some even going so far as to defend it. BELOW: No one has yet come close to matching Spielberg's use of showing information Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: David Jones Writer: Peter Barnes; A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens Cinematographer: Ian Wilson Producer: Dyson Lovell by Jon Cvack In 2019, Christmas FX released the latest version of A Christmas Carol with Guy Pierce. I haven’t yet seen it, but heard it was amazing, and so the contest for top honors continues. Patrick Stewart takes up Ebeneezer Scrooge this round, further supporting my hypothesis that one of the most important character traits is a subtle and intrinsic gentleness. Something George C. Scott and Jim Carrey’s animation character couldn’t provide (though again, if Zemeckis’ film wasn’t animated it might have worked). Each film often contains a fresh scene (or style) and in this it’s the idea to show Scrooge at Jacob Marley’s cremation; joined by only a few others who crack jokes about the man. We then follow Scrooge out into the cold and to his office where the camera lands on the “Marley and Scrooge” sign. It holds and the sign rusts and we move to next Christmas. I’m unsure if Scrooge attending the funeral is in the book, but it’s such a simple and effective way to set up Marley. Richard E. Grant plays Bob Cratchit in an equally engaging role, in which the filmmakers dive deep into his home life where we get to meet his wife (Saskia Reeves) and the crippled Tiny Tim. What was missing from the Zemeckis version was spending so little time on this scene which is the most urgent and pressing matter that could flip Scrooge. It instead focuses on his long lost love and doesn’t even include a scene of Scrooge visiting the Cratchit’s on Christmas Day. In fairness, this version doesn’t either, but it again comes up with a clever conclusion (though maybe from the book) in having Bob and Scrooge not meet until December 26 where Bob comes in nearly fifteen minutes late and Scrooge pretends he’s about to fire him; instead offering a raise. This version spends the least amount of time on his old love, opting to put Scrooge’s nephew Fred (Dominic West) in the second tier; following his slow fade from the family and Fred’s wife and their friends’ disdain for Ebeneezer. Aside from a weird dynamic between a man who’s creepily pursuing one of their friends, it works fairly well, if not feeling a bit dry, at times. I was wondering why such wealthy people would have such a cold home, figuring such a thing would better foil the Cratchits. From there it provides everything you want from the story with the added bonus of endearing 90s television movie visual effects; aided by its 4:3 format. I’m left thinking of all that’s preserved in the film. The tiny moments of Bob’s daughter hiding and pretending she can’t make it for Christmas; the door knocker turning into Marley; the dance at Ebeneezer’s old company; throwing the coin to the boy for him to buy the turkey; the kids sliding through the ice or throwing snowballs. So many pieces are replicated. Scrooged (1988) aside, I suppose no one wants to risk straying too far from the formula. Whether film noir, gothic, thriller, or horror story, it seems ripe for the picking. BELOW: Great Marley's ghost scene Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Ang Lee Writer: James Schamus; based onThe Ice Storm by Rick Moody Cinematographer: Frederick Elmes Producer: Ted Hope, James Schamus, and Ang Lee by Jon Cvack There’s a strange subgenre that is the domestic drama that flourished near the turn of the millennium, beginning with The Ice Storm, followed by Best Picture Winner American Beauty (1999) followed by one of my all time favorite films In the Bedroom (2001), and culminating in the HBO miniseries Empire Falls (2005). They’re the types of films that would be tough to make today; focusing on middle-upper class white families as they struggle with suburban alienation. Growing up in a comparable, though far more middle class town, I related to the images contained, dreading the monotony of 9-5 traditional office life where I’d work a job that meant nothing to me which would pay well enough to build a life I could never leave. I’d get married and have a couple kids, buy a house, and continue a lifelong routine of heading out on weekends to buy more stuff to further fill or fix that house, with the occasional holiday or family party in-between. The criticism is that the film’s show a life of privilege with characters failing to grasp how good they’ve got it; disconnected from the horrors of the world. What I find is a look at what’s to come; that even when problems are relatively absent, humans are cursed for a life of dissatisfaction and doubt. Lately I’ve been getting images from late high school and college, back when I used to consume these films on the regular; of parties in Chicago three flats and apartments and driving around the city, thinking of where I might end up and how far my pursuit of film would take me. Nine years later and making a living as a director with content that fails to excite me, I imagine I’m feeling the same as if I’d stayed back home. Not in a cynical way where the two are all the same, so much as the relative feeling - if I never pursued the dream the feeling would have always been what if, and as I’m still trying to get into movies, the question remains an equally mysterious what if I quit what I was doing and tried something else. I’m confident the feeling is the same in all situations with how far you are from a particular dream serving as the dividing factor. Yet with dreams operating per Xero’s Paradox, any big advance seems far bigger than it actually is, leaving you to wonder what if things were different. The Ice Storm is a movie I never fully grasped the first few times I had watched it. My memory is that of some parents who’re exploring swing parties with some alienated teenagers attempting to navigate the perils of first loves and lusts. Owning the Criterion Collection copy, I read the back and saw the mention of the Watergate Hearings operating as a backdrop. I hadn’t known any details of the Watergate hearings while growing up and failed to see any connection. As of writing this, congress has finished its first round of public hearings into the Trump impeachment inquiry and the country is as divided as I could ever remember and voters are more physically separated as they divide between rural/suburban and urban. The consequences of Trump is a new willingness to take the gloves off and fight dirty and talk nasty, all with the perspective that it’s worth doing. I increasingly dread going home, where being one of a couple liberals in my entire family, there’s a bizarre tension in each conversation as I hope that no one brings up Trump and forces me to have to engage and spend hours in heated arguments and debates that lead to nothing. Knowing a bit more about Watergate and American politics and three years into a disastrous presidency, I now pieced together what the story explored - which is how the shift of values at the upper echelons of government can infect the family. The story focuses on the Hood family, consisting of patriarch Ben (Kevin Kline) and his wife Elena (Joan Allen) and their two kids, fourteen year old Wendy (Christina Ricci) and her private schooled brother Paul (Tobey Maguire) who call each other Charles. Made in 1997, Ricci is more in line with Wednesday from The Adam’s Family and McGuire is only 21 years old, looking like a gawky teenager. The cast continues with Paul’s crush on the rich girl Libbets Casey (Katie Holmes; shot the same year as the Dawson’s Creek premiere) who’s nervous he’s going to lose his opportunity to his roommate and ladies man and most famous for being Bernard from The Santa Claus, Francis Davenport (David Krumholtz), all the while Wendy is seeing Mikey Carver (Elijah Wood) who finally provides the one person that looks younger than his soon to be complete Lord of the Rings typecasting. The faces provide a bizarre nostalgic blast, made all the more impressive by Lee clearly discovering some of the 90s/00s most memorable performers. On the adult front, Ben and Elena have a cold relationship. Ben pours a vodka the moment he walks through the door and continues on throughout the night. Wasted by bedtime, he makes moves on Elena who’s completely uninterested. On the side, Ben sees Mikey’s mother Janey Carver (Sigourney Weaver) as the hot milf character who’s married to a dull husband, Jim (Jamey Sheridan) who’s often traveling for business. Wendy is obsessed with the Impeachment hearings, convinced that Nixon is a fascist, sympathizing with the left much to the chagrin of her father. Her and Mikey have an awkward relationship, often meeting in the middle of the woods or an old abandoned pool where they can make out. They don’t interact much beyond the experiments. Back at Mikey’s house they watch TV and snack in silence when Mikey’s brother Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd) enters the room, catching eyes with Wendy and then scuttling off. Sandy is a strange kid, at one point blowing up all his toys with fireworks; far more disturbing as I’m now a full blown adult and grasp how strange it would be to watch a child destroy the things you bought them. Wendy meets Sandy outside of the bathroom, propositioning him with a show-me-yours-I’ll-show-you-mine game. They head into the bathroom and Wendy begins to unzip her pants, revealing her underwear when Sandy grows uncomfortable, shouting as his mom comes home and realizes what they were doing. Mikey finds out and in a haunting shot, Ang Lee has Wendy walking home in the rain down a trail while Mikey approaches from behind on his bike, declaring that he never wants to see her again, though proceeds to follow her. It’s a stinging moment, condensing volumes into a single take. Mikey hates her, but his lust dominates; he’s not nearly as mad at her as he is at himself for following her. BELOW: Regular old middle-class Thanksgiving dinner Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Jim Sheridan
Writer:Terry George and Jim Sheridan Cinematographer: Chris Menges Producer: Arthur Lappin and Jim Sheridan by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... In accord with the rest of the film, the idealism of bringing together feuding communities around sport is never directly discussed, and yet we understand its power. Of course there are radicals in sports - my experience with Giants and Dodgers fans has often demonstrated such. For the most part it’s an apolitical experience that brings people together. I’m a general baseball fan, enjoying the Cubs, Dodgers, Red Sox, and the White Sox (to say this is blasphemy in some of my home circles). I can just as easily enjoy a good game between two teams I don’t even follow much. Just today I was watching the record shutout between the Astros dominating the Mariners 22-1. What I enjoy about the game is that there are no politics. For a slow game which requires constant talking and discussion from the broadcasters, politics is never mentioned. It simply unifies people who can share a fun experience. We’re never sure if Danny had some grand mission to unify the two countries. I suppose it’s possible given his IRA roots and the violence he now detests. It’s the irony in that he boxes that provides the perfect motivation for the cause. He uses respectable violence to combat needless violence, all in the hope that it could bond divisions. Then again, it could be that after fourteen years in prison, he possesses a rage against himself, his friends, and the cause that makes him want to express himself; fighting his former enemies, sacrificing their safety for a grander cause. Or maybe it just makes him feel good. Daniel Day Lewis never let’s the character feel self-righteous. It is a person acting as they must act; doing what they must do to achieve the life he and maybe even others want. During the riot, Maggie’s son Liam (Ciarán Fitzgerald) and a couple other boys set the gym on fire after Liam saw how Maggie acted around Danny; jealous that she was going to leave his imprisoned father. Liam tells Harry it was Danny, leading Harry to demand his head; refusing to accept peace from Joe unless Danny’s turned over. Maggie begs Joe not to do it, creating a magnificent irony; as she’s torn between peace for all and Danny’s assassination. She tells Danny who decides to leave, crossing over into England where he participates in one of the most unique boxing scenes I’ve ever watched. Rather than the roaring crowds and ring girls, it’s set within an upper class ballroom, where the British elite eat dinner in their suits and gowns, hardly making a sound as the men box for them. Another fight is scheduled for a television broadcast. Danny is matched against what seems to be an African immigrant, who while initially giving Danny a run for his money, then falters when Danny gains the upper hand; taking the man down again and again in absolutely brutal fashion as the man refuses - or has been ordered - not to give up; forcing Danny to beat him to the point of near death until Danny finally calls it quits; returning the Championship to Britain and enraging his Irish brethren. The lack of yelling and cutaways to people screaming creates a nauseating experience. All we hear are the punches landing, at times cracking bones, cutting to the aristocrats eating and drinking champagne, all while the fighters get increasingly bloody. Alongside Raging Bull, it’s one of the most brutal fight sequences I’ve ever seen. It pushes Harry over the edge who demands that Danny be executed for both the bombs and embarrassing their movement after he returns home in defeat. Knowing his fate and in a brilliant sequence, Maggie helps Danny escape across the border. Sheridan keeps cutting back to the British helicopter soaring above, serving as the unacting authority; the eye of God. As they near the border, Harry and his crew trap them in, taking Danny away. Maggie chases them down, looking up the helicopter, hoping it could intervene, knowing that amidst their civil battles, it’ll do nothing but watch. By this point, given how grim the story was, I was certain that Danny would be killed, but in a thrilling reversal, Harry’s crew intervenes, leaving Danny alive, demanding he get out of town. I struggle to think of another film that so heavily transformed from its modest beginning and into a profound and complex remaining story. Part boxing movie/part political thriller/part romance - it is the type of big film about ideas that we hardly see anymore; often reserved for small indies, or removing the politics in favor of extending to as many people as possible. More surprising is how little I’ve heard of this movie, even amongst the most passionate Daniel Day Lewis fans. It’s the type of film that demonstrates his growth. Rather than the larger than life characters we’re familiar with, we witness a humble and conflicted working class hero, seemingly muted, and then exploding into the range that we know from this generation’s greatest actor. BELOW: DDL does boxing Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Jim Sheridan
Writer:Terry George and Jim Sheridan Cinematographer: Chris Menges Producer: Arthur Lappin and Jim Sheridan by Jon Cvack Jim Sheridan and Daniel Day Lewis teamed up for three films: My Left Foot (1989) where Lewis would win the Oscar and two other politically charged films about the IRA - In the Name of the Father (1993) and The Boxer, with Sheridan continuing the exploration ex-Lewis with Bloody Sunday (2002); the first film I saw of his. Realizing I didn’t even have the guy on my Master List, the reason I’ve been waiting on the film was only to see Daniel Day Lewis. Sheridan’s brutally realistic style is somehow heavier than his action scenes; in no way celebrating or glorifying the violence; portraying a tough and tragic world and that’s the way it’s going to be. The Boxer provides an equally grim story, offering that strange experience of a first third that left me indifferent about finishing the movie and an ending leading to one of the greatest films I’ve watched all year. It opens on the marriage of what’s known as a “prisoner’s wife” - a woman who marries an imprisoned IRA terrorist. The ceremony takes place in a British prison, where the groom has to remain and the bride returns to her local pub. Along the way they see a helicopter soaring above, with Sheridan cutting to its POV staring down toward them; at one point showing the fortified border between Ireland and the U.K. At the party we meet the local IRA leader Joe Hamill (Brian Cox), hidden behind walls blocked with bookcases and plain clothed soldiers in every room. I don’t know much about the history of the IRA, other than that it was their fight for independence from the U.K., focused primarily on religious independence. I’m too ignorant to even take a side, simply knowing it’s complex, but they were an organization that used violent acts of terror to achieve their cause; specifically bombs. In fact, while on a shoot in London, I stayed at the Brighton Hotel where the IRA had allegedly blown up the entire front in an attempt to assassinate Theresa May. Joe Hamill is currently in secret talks for peace with the British, in which a cease fire will be granted, and possibly an acquiescence of land of sorts (I wasn’t sure about independence). The only point of conflict is that the British won’t release the prisoners, meaning Hamill would have to reach an armistice without any of the husbands going back to the prisoner wives; making the opening ceremony all the more effective, showing us the sacrifice they make in the hopes of reconciliation. In one particular moment, a young man dances with a woman, sticking his hands down the back of her pants when two of the IRA soldiers immediately pull him into the backroom, demanding he never touch a prisoner’s wife again or else. The kid gets the message. The scene reminded me of Sheridan’s fellow working class Irish filmmaker Ken Loach, who’s Hidden Agenda (1990) also starred Brian Cox, though which he played a British Detective investigating an alleged murder between a spy and an agent. Unfamiliar with the IRA, he soon ends up at a pub, discovering the Irish singing and relaxed atmosphere; countering every idea he had of how they lived. The Boxer portrays a similar world, built around loyalty and mission. Recently my friends and I discussed the rise of China’s authoritarian capitalism amidst its communist political system. We discussed what made the systems fail to work, and how the issue with political revolutions is that even after the government is overthrown, the most radical members who are willing to destroy anyone for their beliefs are the ones who often succeed, thus introducing totalitarian regimes. They couldn’t trust their former allies, let alone their enemies. One of Hamill’s lieutenants Harry (Gerard McSorley) is this type of individual; unwilling to compromise on peace, especially if they’re not getting the prisoners in return; determined to spill more bloodshed in vengeance as much as for their mission. It’s throughout this sequence that former IRA member Danny Flynn (Daniel Day-Lewis) is released from prison after fourteen years. Discovering that the violence has carried on, he attempts to return home, resume boxing, and live a peaceful life. He ends up meeting his blotto former coach Ike (Ken Stott) who’s living on the streets in search of an endless drink. They return to the gym where Danny decides to open up a boxing school for boys. While unpacking the old ring, he finds a bag full of bombs, immediately walking out and tossing them into the river; infuriating Harry and the rest of the crew who demand he get them back. Joe Hamill’s daughter Maggie (Emily Watson) and Danny immediately exchange glances through their initial reunion; both waiting for the other to speak where we soon learn that they once had been together. In one beautiful scene Maggie and Danny do an elegant dance of subtle exposition, revealing that they might have been together, but being so young and with his arrest so sudden, neither were sure what to make of their relationship. In one particular moment, Danny laughs as he explains how he wished he could have asked her to wait for him; containing all of the anger, jealousy, and regret that only Daniel Day Lewis could possibly convey. Danny and Ike return to their training regiment, later deciding to have a fight between a Protestant and Catholic boxer, in which all faiths will be allowed to watch, particularly Irish Catholics and British Protestants. Again, Harry is infuriated and attempts to have them call it off. Danny refuses and the event’s packed, and in pure boxer-movie fashion, he loses the fight; embarrassing his people, or so they indicate. I should note that up until this point of the movie, I was a bit bored; failing to grasp the foundation being laid out. Sheridan wasn’t rushing into plot, so much as allowing us to discover each of the characters, knowing that the last two thirds would play all the better. Danny isn’t swayed by the reaction and offers to hold another fight. With the British government agreeing, it’s an even bigger event; going so far as to attract a local Police Chief. Danny triumphs in his second spat, but just as he prepares to celebrate we watch as Harry carries out an assassination against the Police Chief; planting a bomb in his car which sets off, killing him and kickstarting a riot. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Nothing else on YouTube so no clip offered Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Robert Mandel Writer: Dick Wolf and Darryl Ponicsan Cinematographer: Freddie Francis Producer: Stanley R. Jaffe and Sherry Lansing by Jon Cvack The Private Boys School movie is another one of those weird sub-genres that contain more great movies the more you think. The classic is of course Dead Poets Society (1989), and in close second would be Louis Malle’s Au Revoir les Enfants (1987), Harold Becker’s other movie Taps (1981), which takes a direction I never would have thought but went on to inspire Toy Soldiers (1991) and Masterminds (1997), and my friend told me about a female led private school movie All I Wanna Do (1998); which seems to be the Now and Then (1995) version of the male dominant movement. School Ties is one of those bizarre movies that I imagine flew far under everyone’s radar after Dead Poets Society’s impact. The cast is pretty incredible, at least for how young they were: Brendon Fraser, Chris O'Donnell, Ben Affleck and Matt Damon who in one of his first roles*, plays an anti-semite , who’s by far the best bad guy character he’s ever pulled off; to the point of being surprised Matt Damon could play a complete and absolute pile of shit with no remorseful qualities whatsoever. I don’t think he’s ever gone this far again. Taking place in the 1950s, Brendan Frasier plays David Greene, a Jewish high school senior from the small rural town of Scranton, Pennsylvania. He’s awarded a football scholarship to a prestigious prep school as the first Jewish student to attend. From the get go, we see David with his townie friends, all dressed in white t-shirts. A rival gang arrives and make anti-semitic remarks and David fights one down; getting a nice jab to the face. His dad warns him about his attitude, explaining that it’s his one opportunity to achieve great thing. That or risk remaining in Scranton, if he can't control his rage. After a brilliant 90s traveling montage, showing the excitement of the unknown, David’s coach McDevitt (Kevin Tighe) picks David up and they drive through the rolling hillside, arriving to campus where a gigantic set piece involving dozens and dozens of students and their families and all of their cars and luggage, moving into and out of the buildings. Though as friendly as McDevitt is for the ride, he then warns David about opening up his religion to other students. We soon learn that the prep school’s football team has had a losing streak for years and is desperate to recover; not wanting David for his academic skills or character, but because he’s the one quarterback to help them recover. David becomes well aware of the situation while figuring he’s using the school to get into Harvard any way; thus it’s a two-way bargain and no big deal. His roommate is Chris Reece (Chris O'Donnell) as the friendliest of the group and he’s soon greeted by the most popular guys in the school: Rip Van Kelt (Randall Batinkoff), Charlie Dillon (Matt Damon), Chesty Smith (Ben Affleck), Jack Connors (Cole Hauser), and the theatrical Mack McGivern (Andrew Lowery). They bust each other’s balls and are a bit slow in bringing David into their clique until one night during lights out while singing along to some rock 'n roll they’re interrupted by their new house master and French teacher Mr. Clearly (Željko Ivanek) who demands they go to bed; calling them a bunch of monkeys. David then makes a monkey sound behind his back and the boys laugh and they all become friendly. That is until, while later showering after practice and most of the boys unleash a series anti-semitic rants and jokes. David discovers that he’s replaced the old quarterback, Charlie Dillion, who’s a bit bitter about the situation, with Damon doing an expert job of acting like all is okay. David crushes it at the first game and the school is thrilled. David later meets and wins over a girl that Charlie Dillion has been pursuing since childhood. There’s an awkward sexual tension between Mack and Mr. Clearly, all the more complex when Mr. Clearly bullies Mack throughout the semester; leaving Mack to soon attempt suicide. I’m not sure what this had to do with anti-semitism and it felt like a studio note telling the writers to include a suicide like from A Separate Peace (1959) and Dead Poets Society. Things get more hairy when David fails to pass Charlie the game winning touchdown, and with now having his girl, Charlie reveals that David’s a Jew. Immediately all the other boys distance themselves, coughing up more explicit anti-semitic jokes and comments, hoping to get David to explode and kicked out of school. All the while they’re about to head into finals, and with all the drama, Charlie has forgotten to study, creating a cheat sheet that he brings to class, caught by both David and Van Kelt, then drops it for the teacher to discover and the film becomes a kind of 12 Angry Men (1957) procedural where the teacher demands the students bring forward who cheated or they’ll all fail; which seemed like it could have worked better by using the teacher we’ve been following for the majority of the film; that is, Mr. Clearly rather than a history teacher we’ve never met. David confronts Charlie and demands he speak up and avoid screwing all of the students; either that, or David will tell them. It was here, given all I’ve seen from Matt Damon that I saw something I’ve never seen; in which he went the extra mile of slime by pretending like he might do the right thing and then in front of all the other students calls out David before David can accuse Charlie. There was then this weird moment, where in about ten seconds, David stands up and hits back with his own rhetoric and the rest of the students immediately demand they leave in order to deliberate who to blame; denying a more dramatic moment of David pleading his case. It wasn’t just anti-semitic, it felt like a rushed moment that had been building. The students debate throughout the night and Chris is the one most sympathetic to the case. They bring it to an up or down vote and decide David is at fault. Given the significance of what they’re about to do, the glaring hole is why the students wouldn’t just demand the piece of paper and figure out who might have either written it or gotten access to particular notes; the former being the most obvious. Have both write out a cheat sheet in the same way and compare the handwriting. David is led to the office and he admits to what he did; accepting the consequence. And just as it seems like his expulsion is complete, Van Kelt speaks up, hiding behind a chair. He admits to seeing Charlie and apologizes. The teachers seemingly split between sympathy and relief that they didn’t lose their star quarterback. It’s what makes David’s final jab all the more powerful; telling the headmaster that as they’re using him for football he’s going to use them to get into Harvard. Moments later, David heads outside and Charlie pulls up, on his way out. In a nasty and truly just disgusting final confrontation, Charlie says it doesn’t matter what David does as he’ll always be a Jew. For what was headed toward such a positive ending was then pulled down; portraying a grim cynicism and yet prescient moment. It’s not that David will always be a Jew. What Charlie admits to is that there will always be hate and the necessity of pushing back. In today’s world, with the El Paso shooting occurring just a couple weeks back and where we’re now discussing white supremacy domestic terrorism; where young men carried tortures shouting “Jews will not replace us”, it’s a film like this that shows we can never assume hate is over. It just goes into hiding and lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to rise up and show itself. And how it must always be confronted head on and called out for what it is. *His previous role was an extra in Field of Dreams (1989) BELOW: Need more evil roles from Damon Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Rob Reiner Writer: Aaron Sorkin Cinematographer: John Seale Producer: Rob Reiner By Jon Cvack I once heard on some podcasts that people view presidential administrations as one of three TVs - The West Wing’s idealism, Veep’s unawareness, or House of Cards’ treachery. Compared to past and current presidents, you realize it’s more of a three-way spectrum. The American President is one of maybe twenty-five movies my dad would put on growing up. Not quite as frequently as The Sound of Music (1965) or Ghost (1990), but pretty close. Having no interest or knowledge of politics (and therefore having no idea the Clinton scandal was about sex), I recall it was my first understanding of the presidency. Now seeing this through political eyes, the idea that my Republican father would so much enjoy this movie about a Democrat dating a firebrand liberal and running against a family-values conservative just goes to show the power of story. If I were to list some of my favorite scenes before I got into movies, it'd be when the President responds to an airstrike and how he likely just killed a janitor who was going about his job, I remember the way in which it uses imagery to convince me of an idea. I saw the man who I knew nothing about, going to a job and getting killed while the people who should be killed were likely safe. It’s one of my initial memories of empathy. My initial memories of the film were of moments like this - of charm, wit, intelligence, and leadership (I was nine when it came out). This time around, I saw how much fun Sorkin gave to the adults by showing how government and elections function. The American President is essentially a brilliant proof of concept feature for what would go on to become The West Wing. Michael Douglas plays President Andrew Shepherd who’s gearing up for reelection. Working with his team, including Chief of Staff A.J. MacInerney (Martin Sheen) and Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy (played brilliantly by Michael J. Fox), David Paymer as Leon Kodak, Deputy Chief of Staff, and Anna Deavere Smith as Robin McCall, White House Press Secretary (who compared to the other three dudes, is the team’s most boring character; more on that later). They’re leading the charge on a watered down defense bill that’s three votes shy of passing the senate and looks to keep Shepherd's approval rating at 63%. In shotgun is a far more aggressive climate change bill, in which a local environmental lobbying firm just hired ace lobbyist Sydney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening); a passionate, brilliant, and expensive lobbyist whose results make it worth it (though I was left wondering how an environmental lobbyist makes more than the president, as she later says). I’m not sure if lobbyists were viewed the same way then as today, but the set up is pure Neoliberal Sorkin - a rich and hyper educated lobbyist gets involved with a powerful and hyper educated President; determined to make it a better world for all. People can make fun of it, but I see it the same as any fantasy about the upper classes which draws the public eye; they want to see lives and scenarios larger than their own. Frank Capra’s influence is apparent from the get go. Similar in style to The West Wing intro but without the individual character crossfades, Rob Reiner opts for washes between the American flag and various artifacts you’d find in the oval office - former president busts, bronze eagle statues, an expensive looking clock. It’s a style I now see hardly anywhere else beyond some Hallmark Christmas movies when I’m home for the holidays. It’s radically sentimental, and perfectly achieves Capra’s classic voice. Given that Capra’s films were obviously even whiter than in the 90s, the best Sorkin can do to address this issue is have Sydney quote Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) to the film’s one speaking black actor security guard. In one of the cringier moments, Sydney’s lobbyist colleague condescends her her to avoid making the movie reference to the black security guard as he neither cares nor could understand the reference. Of course, the security guard does get the reference and smiles back at the ladies and that’s about as much color as the film receives. It’s a fine example of racist-lite, where I’m sure a seemingly good intention moment reveals the - at best - implicit bias writers deal with throughout each generation. President Shepherd - who lost his wife a few years back - develops an immediate attraction to Sydney, after a pretty funny scene, where in classic structure, she unleashes a firestorm of criticism against the president should he fail to support the climate legislation; she’s talking to A.J. with her back turned and then the president then enters. Only Michael Douglas could pull off appearing to not give a single fuck what she said. Instead he develops an attraction to her. The film was released at the pinnacle of the Monica Lewinsky scandal. Aaron Sorkin also wrote the screenplay while on blow. In some ways it diminishes the film’s power knowing American politics of the day which would continue its downward trajectory from Lewinsky on (not Obama; Sarah Palin and the Tea Party and then Trump).. Clean as it seemed, in this #MeToo era, there is a bizarre dynamic at work. On the one hand, if Reiner and Sorkin were going to honor Capra, it was completely normal for two people to meet and become engaged within days (both in films and culturally*). Thus, to have Shepherd immediately faun over and quickly fall in love while fast, wasn’t nearly as bad as the strange power dynamic. Sydney never seems to mind that he used the FBI to find her number (we never know it’s a joke; and I’m not sure it is - think about it, he couldn’t call her work to ask for her home number). I suppose there are questions of a peculiar power dynamic between the two, and after sitting here trying to criticize the relationship, the combination of Capra influence and simply telling a good story makes it work. I never get the impression that Sydney is a weak character. Given how charming and handsome Michael Douglas is (nevertheless his position), it seems reasonable that it wouldn’t take as much as much effort as, say, Lyndon Johnson, to win her attraction. Abiding by the classic romance structure, they have their first fight when Shepherd's challenger, Senator Bob Rumson (Richard Dreyfuss) leaks pictures of Sydney standing a demonstration while a flag burns in the foreground. It causes a press firestorm and Shepherd’s numbers start tanking. The public doesn’t like the idea of the President dating; let alone a liberal like Sydney Wade. Shepherd and his team decide the crime bill is their best chance to combat the problem, but when three Senators decline to support the defense bill unless Shepherd drops the climate bill. For the good of the election, Shepherd dumps it, even though Sydney had gotten all the votes that matter, leading to her packing up; pissed that Shepherd would choose a watered down crime bill instead of significant environmental policy. Of course, the President comes around and gives one of the greatest presidential movie monologues of all time (up there with Bill Pullman’s), declaring that he was going to dump the crime bill because it did hardly much of anything; instead exchanging it for the climate bill because it’s the right thing to do. Looking beyond the dipping polls, he drops the ego, turns back to integrity, and says Sydney is off limits. If Bob Rumson wants to fight, he’s going to fight the President.* It’s a bold and risky ending. We have no idea what happens. Whether Rumson backs off, or continues the attacks and beats Shephard. In today’s climate, it arguably cuts out where it should more or less begin. I was left wondering whether the intention was to develop The West Wing, another film was in the works, or it was simply the right place to end the story. Because somehow it has always worked. The film is hopeful that I’ve ever doubted he went on to win. If I was a betting man, I’d refer to films like this for what could represent the Trump era. As so many have said, the man is entirely self-satirizing, to where even SNL just fails to capture his frantic, dangerous, and yet hilarious mind (as in laughing at his decisions, but also funny in the sense of how good he is at trolling people; guiding a scandalous discussion every week while we ignore the actual substance of what he’s doing). I work in digital production and deal with many influencers, and countless times I’ve heard that a movie should be made about them. But the situation is beyond satire, as in I either don’t think people would buy it, be interested in it, or understand it - how big it is and how absurd it can get. Trump achieves the same. He’s not a wildly raucous, charming, or evil leader. He’s just a self-centered man with a massive and fragile ego. To provide an honest look at the situation would not be believable; we couldn’t accept the premise - either that there’s a complex human underneath there, or that someone like that could get to the white house. Like most others, I’m completely exhausted by the situation. If you get bored and look back throughout the year, each week is a new pile of bullshit created by Trump; either racist, hurtful, sexist, offensive, or a mixture of all three. The show has had no break in nearly three years and it is beyond exhausting. Add constant mass shootings to the mix, and I’ve just never been as depressed about where the country is. Killing and hating each other, with a president who’s taking one side. Instead, I think audiences want a return to feel good movies. The American President, Forrest Gump (1994), The Shawshank Redemption (1994), and so on; films that showed characters we could aspire to be or experience. People who love one another and embody an admirable ethic and morality. To see good people fight to do good and big things and triumph in the end. It’s been awhile, but I suspect some are coming. A biopic, an American story, or a piece of history - I bet it’s coming soon. *Funny enough, Senator Ted Cruz invoked a similar line when Trump bashed his wife and family, only to then retreat back as one of Trump’s greatest allies. BELOW: Gets me every time Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page Director: Mike Figgis
Writer: Mike Figgis; Leaving Las Vegas by John O'Brien Cinematographer: Declan Quinn Producer: Lila Cazès and Annie Stewart by Jon Cvack For some reason alcoholism has failed to get much attention as of late, with Flight (2012) being the last major film to explore its consequences. There’s an HBO documentary “Risky Drinking” (2016) which explores the dangers of alcoholism, following four or five individuals who attempt to keep afloat as the disease slowly consumes them; from a mid-twenties working woman, who while functional during the day, anticipates the weekends where she’ll pound shooters throughout the night, often resulting in embarrassing feuds which end in emotional breakdowns, before she wakes up the next day, recovers, and does it all over again. Another man lives in the Caribbean, having his high school son head to the liquor store each morning to buy him a fifth which will be finished by early evening before he heads to the bar. Another man attempts to maintain a job where he fails to function unless he polishes off a few tall boy cans in his car before heading into work; shaking uncontrollably if he tries otherwise. The science states we start to grow tired after a certain threshold of drinking; which is essentially our body's way of saying we’ve had enough. Most casual drinkers in their late twenties and early thirties are familiar with this threshold when heading out for the rare night of bar hopping or house party - you start to get tired, but being around your closest friends, you fight through it, and fast forward to closing time, you get to anticipate a gnarly hangover the next day. Many of us know individuals who never seem to have the limit; as once they start they’re unable to stop until they literally cannot stand or speak. Alcoholics are either missing or fight through this threshold, disregarding what their bodies say in order to smother themselves in booze; quickly transitioning from a jovial and fun loving person and into a slurred and aggressive mess. It’s this latter stage that the HBO documentary best captures as we watch as the alcoholics remain full awake, except speaking through nearly inaudible slurs; where you can smell the booze from the screen. I haven’t seen Leaving Las Vegas since first getting into film. I remember little beyond it being a fairly depressing film with a wonderful performance from both Nicolas Cage (who’d win an Oscar) and Elisabeth Shue (who was nominated); the type of film where I was always interested in revisiting but never found myself in the mood. However, what I remembered as a cynical drama shifted into essentially the structure of any average romance; man meets girl, girl rejects him, the two then fall in love, they begin to fight, and the two struggle to maintain their relationship. The story involves a Hollywood screenwriter and severe alcoholic Ben Sanderson (Cage) whose wife left him with the kid, leaving him to further turn toward booze. We meet him at a restaurant where his two film producer colleagues have taken a couple of attractive actresses out. Ben’s face is flushed red, his suit wrinkled, and like any alcoholic, the booze gives him an ephemeral feeling of confidence and empowerment. Ben bums some money and the next day the studio head lets him go, giving Ben a generous severance which he decides to take to Vegas in order to drink himself to death and maybe do a bit of gambling along the way. He soon meets the prostitute Sera (Shue) who brushes him off at first; still living with her aggressive pimp Yuri Butsov (Julian Sands), who soon abandons her when mobsters track him down.. Sera meets Ben yet again and comes around and the two enter into a passionate love affair, though without the sex, as Ben’s alcoholism has rendered him impotent. Sera invites Ben to stay with her and Ben accepts under the condition that she can never stop his drinking. Desperate for anybody, she agrees and aside from Sera is working, the two are inseparable. There are few films that capture loneliness the way this film does; an idea which the older I get seems all the more terrifying. In the last two weeks, two people I went to high school with have died from cancer. Their children are all under the age of four, and their wives are now left in a position that I truly can’t imagine overcoming, let alone the kids who’ll remember little about their father. Adulthood seems to function close to the brink of complete loneliness. I think how fortunate I am to have found someone I can spend my life with, as like most, I find myself preferring to stay inside 90% of the year, and unlike most, preferring to write alone in my room most nights, I’m sure even sure the few I’d find by online dating would deal with that fact, and not wanting to give it up, I would probably opt to be alone. And in a town that’s associated with the antithesis of loneliness (like Las Vegas), it’s this alternative that makes it hard. We’re all so close to being alone. It’s an initially depressing idea, until it empowers you to appreciate the people you do have in your life. And for those who have no one, my heart aches, as it seems you then have to find alternatives to act as companions - animals, jobs, booze, or worse. It’s never stated if Ben’s wife and kid specifically left him, or if they might have died. I suspect the latter, as it seems his slow suicide would otherwise be too selfish if the child was still alive. His companion is booze, and what makes the choice so interesting is the complete lack of guilt. It’s as though there are only moments that impact Ben’s conscience, but by knowing that the alternative is to give it up, and live a far more painful life, he knows he can’t give in. Sera’s story is a bit more tragic, as we’re never entirely sure what led her to prostitution; though poverty seems the likeliest. In one scene, after her landlady (in a minor role played brilliantly by Laurie Metcalf) catches her on the job, she kicks Sera out, and with hardly any money at all, she’s left on the street; plain and simple, with nothing to do but use her body to try and scrape enough together to find another place. There seems no grander mission. Schue is so beautiful, elegant, and charming, and therefore capable of shelter with relative ease, it seems that - like Ben - there was no other choice. She enjoyed the thrill and control, but by never specifying the motive, I was left wondering what a different choice would have done; if the woman was a bit more disheveled, more forced into the position than opting in. It’s an answer only the book could provide. Abiding by a strict tragic romantic structure, we follow the two as they attempt to exist and live with one another, flirting with love, desire, and indifference. We watch as Elisabeth keeps trying to seduce Ben, each attempt increasingly more sexy, culminating in a beautiful scene when the two get drunk outside at the pool in Palm Springs; these scenes often playing through some of the best romantic jazz scores I’ve ever heard (most written by Sting, strange enough - and I’m still left wondering if he’s doing the singing). There’s no way to square the circle as to why Shue loves Ben, especially after one scene when he brings a woman back home from the casino who Elisabeth catches him half naked in bed with after she spent the night working. The irony fades away, and like any great romance, we simply get the scene of the girl catching the guy with another woman, and all the heartache great performances can reflect. Perhaps this savior complex connects to her purpose, in which she sees her work as providing comfort to others; and knowing Ben is completing a long suicide, she hopes to help him all along the way. Things peak when Elisabeth finds Ben in another seedy motel, motionless on the bed, struggling to breath, and still pulling swigs. Forgiving Ben once again, Elisabeth succeeds in seducing him. They finally have sex and he passes away moments after finishing and we cut to Elisabeth talking to a therapist. I was left wondering if these scenes were cut in to provide explanation, or whether they’re part of the novel; as they seem the only way to prevent the story from spiraling into further cynicism. Either way, as much as I found the film a downer, the scene played as the perfect conclusion. Like any great romance, the lovers ended up in each other’s arms, no matter the actual conclusion. Sting’s score compliments the film’s celebration of tiny beautiful moments. Against a world in which awful things happen to people and so few seem to care, it demonstrates the need to appreciate any and all moments of joy and pleasure. The film shows that appreciating the tiniest moments are imperative, and very often, the most fulfilling. If two such characters could find happiness in each other, think how easy it is for us to do the same in our own day to day existence. BELOW: A well deserved statue Like what you read? 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