 My cousin's had this on once and this image alone gave me nightmares for weeks Director: Sam Raimi Writer: Sam Raimi Cinematographer: Tim Philo Producer: Robert Tapert by Jon Cvack I’m not sure the last time I’ve seen Evil Dead, recalling a moderately cheap indie film per the likes of Halloween (1978), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), or Friday the 13th (1981), and while it definitely has some cheap moments, it’s by far the greatest of the major franchise indie kickstarters; featuring craft and effects of the highest order, starting off with the gawkiness found in all of the “group of teens on a road trip” format, filled with cheap dialogue and bad coverage. But with the 16mm grain popping strong, saturating the colors as they drive deeper into the woods, what’s most effective with the movie is that Raimi knows there’s no use in wasting any time. At only 81 minutes, the only thing that matters is getting to the good stuff. And so they arrive at the cabin in the woods, hearing the bench swing bumping into the cabin as they exit out and make their way inside. They grab their rooms and Ash’s sister Cheryl (Ellen Sandweiss) draws a picture of a clock which stops in the middle of her illustration, her hand freezing up and becoming possessed and drawing what we learn is the Naturom Demonto. Later, Ash and his Scott device head down into a cellar to explore, discovering the Naturom Demonto, shotgun, and a tape recorder. They bring it up top and play the recording, discovering an academic researcher examining the Sumerian Book of the Dead, soon reading the incantation which triggers the dead and we get that signature handheld, ground level wide shot, rushing toward the home, with fog pouring out from the trees. Later that night, Cheryl hears some noises in the woods, and - against all logic - heads out alone to investigate, discovering the trees possessed by demons whose branches go on to rape her in what remains one of the most terrifying horror sequences in history. Breaking free, she runs back and demands that Ash take her back to town, which he reluctantly agrees to, finding the bridge to the cabin collapsed in what is an incredibly impressive set piece; the girders, metal, and wood seemingly collapsed into the ravine, trapping them in. Any great horror film operates from a simple premise - a deranged Texas family slaughters whoever arrives in town; a masked supernatural killer kills his sister’s friends in trying to find her; a monster living in dreams kills teens in their sleep; teens recreate the horror movies they grew up with, killing their friends; victims of some ornate lethal traps are forced to either escape or die; one night per week, for twelve hours, people are allowed to kill one another. The Evil Dead is the horror film that every aspiring filmmaker tries to recreate, whether aware of this movie or not. Four kids are stuck in a cabin as they’re attacked, whether by crazed rednecks or supernatural demons; a budget friendly plot as everyone knows someone with that cabin in the woods where the entire production can live for the shoot. To think it’s been nearly forty years since this movie was released and with the exception of maybe Cabin in the Woods (2011; maybe in that it was in no way an indie film; or all that great of a horror film, for that matter), no one has ever replicated the formula, as even Raimi himself would abide by the same plot for the sequel (albeit with bigger everything). From the bridge onward, everything in this film is perfect - the fog, the handheld demon POV, the creepy red lights rising from leaf filled forest floors, and of course the make up. I’m not sure why I assumed that this movie was as cheap as I remember. And while the first thirty minutes live up to my memory, the last two thirds are a thrilling, hilarious, and shocking amount of gore, violence, and fun; in which it was clear that Raimi had one mandate - make the make up and effects as ridiculous and over the top as possible, keep the energy high, and up the ante until the very last scene. Back at the cabin, Cheryl grows possessed, becoming a full fledged demon, stabbing Linda in the foot with the Sumerian dagger. They lock Cheryl in the cellar, provided just enough room for her to lift it up and reveal her head and essentially operating as the play by play host for the movie; taunting, degrading, and making fun of Ash and the others as they then battle Shelly after she’s attacked and becomes a demon who Scott then seemingly kills and Ash and Scott decide to bury the body rather than dismember it, who then rises from the grave and is decapitated by a shovel. It leads to the final sequence, as Cheryl escapes and Linda resurrects as a demons, with some of the most over the top and stunning gore from any movie from the period; with pools of blood, guts, and magnificent effects (especially for being such a low budget) providing both horror and hilarity, culminating in Ash tossing the Book of the Dead in the fire which freezes the demons who then melt down into a mess of blood, guts, and bones, rotting into mold, before turning to dust and blowing away. Reading both Bazin’s "What is Cinema? Vol. 1" (1967) and Munsterburg’s "The Film: A Psychological Study" (1916) before writing this, both writers refer to cinema’s “plastic” nature - that is, showing a true reeality that takes the effect of a logical dreamstate - is what differentiates it from other art forms. When similar effects are mimicked via computer, they don’t take on the same feel; we know they’re completely artificial and therefore they’re ineffective, unable to age due to the limits of the technology. Watching a movie like this, the fun is in how much more grotesque and absurd things will get, testing the limits of our ability to stomach them, knowing that this was created out of talented crafts people applying their best skills, given the limitations. It’s not at all what I remember, and might now be my favorite low budget indie horror debut of all time. BELOW: The performances. The effects. Perfection. 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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 Kinda like a Godly version of the Linklater's Before Series Director: Fernando Meirelles Writer: Anthony McCarten; based on The Pope by Anthony McCarten Cinematographer: César Charlone Producer: Dan Lin, Jonathan Eirich, and Tracey Seaward by Jon Cvack With a horrible and misleading title that I think makes most people assume the movie is simply about two old men talking, i’s once the opening credits role and you see Fernando Mereilles as director that you realize that, although likely still about two old men talking, it’s going to be done with all the energy required to avoid boredom. The movie opens after the death of John Paul II as the Vatican votes on the new pope. In a sequence straight out of a Michael Bay film we see the various Arch Bishops cast their ballots, failing to get the proper majority of votes; the votes tallied by dropping wooden balls into various containers, then weaving a red string through the individual names. After a few rounds, German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (Anthony Hopkins) is selected to become Pope Benedict XVI. Years later, one of the Cardinal’s Jorge Mario Bergogliowho (Jonathan Pryce) - who may or may not have voted for Benedict - is called in to meet the pope. I rewatched this scene before writing this, as it was the moment that hooked me into the movie. Until this point I was still ambivalent, unsure if this was going to be a grind or not. Watching it alone, I realized that this movie isn’t so much about two popes so much as two ideologies, and that this movie is very much a look at our - and the world’s - current political divide. In a brilliant sequence where each exchange warrants discussion, the two men sit in the garden. Benedict asks Jorge about some of his recent criticisms against the church; starting with the fact that the Cardinal refuses to live in the Vatican Palace. Jorge responds that he wanted a simpler life, to which Benedict strikes back stating that his desire for a simpler life implies that the Pope and other Cardinals should live simpler lives. Jorge gets the last word in by asking if anyone could. A point difficult to refute. They continue on with Benedict accusing Jorge of being his leading critic, going on to ask about the various statements Jorge had made regarding celibacy and homosexuality. Jorge defends it as being misquoted until Benedict suggests he tell the press what he actually thinks so no one misunderstands him. They continue the debate and Jorge explains how he sees the world forever changing. The church being one of the finest examples. Marriage amongst priests only started in the twelfth century, celibacy in the fifth, and angels in the fourth; point being that the things the church now holds sacred didn’t even exist at the birth of Christianity. Benedict wonders if God changes to which Jorge says of course, and that it is our journey on this changing Earth that we hope we can one day meet him. It’s perhaps the greatest explanation of one’s relationship to God I’ve heard; a point made all the more poignant when later in the film, Benedict explains that he hasn’t heard God’s voice in weeks; afraid He might be gone, or have never existed. Benedict continues inviting Jorge over for various discussions. I’m certain revisiting the film would allow each and everyone one of these interactions to warrant extensive discussion, but for the sake of a first viewing, the story continues on to reveal Benedict’s pending retirement and hope that Jorge could become the new pope; believing that Jorge’s progressive ideas could provide the type of reform required to expand patronage. We’re unsure whether it was the abuse scandal, the accusations of Nazi ancestry, lowering attendance, or a loss of faith, but as Jorge mentions, he’d be the first pope to resign without external pressure since Celestine V in 1294. Benedict retains that his decision was based on his old age. Throughout the film we watch as the men share wine and music. Benedict reveals his skills at the piano and love of The Beatles while Jorge mentions his passion for soccer. They look past their ideological differences and into what brings them together; as servants of God hoping to guide the world away from sin and toward virtue. However, we also get a look at Jorge’s checkered past, having served in Argentina during the right-wing uprising which resulted in the rounding up and execution of political dissidents. Being a liberal Jesuit, he ordered his priests to shut down their parishes to prevent further bloodshed, destroying numerous relationships in the process as the priests accused him of capitulating to the right-wing government. It’s a demonstration of the type of compromise the film promotes. Jorge may not have agreed with the far right regime, but he wasn’t prepared to allow additional death. It poses a tricky question as to how to stand up to violent extremism. Either you can die by physical fights, or you can die by the intellectual ones. Do your best to change things from the inside; especially if you’re approaching it from a pro-life perspective. Eventually, Jorge becomes Pope Francis and Benedict resigns. The two allegedly retain a friendship; the film ends with the two watching the World Cup featuring their respective homelands, Argentina and Germany. We’re not sure why Francis supported Jorge. The cynic makes me think that, for the church, he knew it’d need a significant shift. On the other hand, he might have grasped the ideas that Jorge expressed; that the God and therefore the church are always changing, and to commit oneself to a particular ideology is to appeal to a narrower and narrower set of people. It doesn’t take much to extend the ideas to our own politics. As of this writing, tonight the Republican Party voted to deny additional witnesses at Donald Trump’s first impeachment. It’s an enraging and terrifying moment, in which there’s no other explanation than politics - that is, their own careers - that can explain the decision. John Bolton’s testimony is risky. They have spent the last two months criticizing the witnesses for failing to have firsthand knowledge. John Bolton can provide that and has confirmed the accusations, but they have no desire to make that public. Then again, in an effort to take a lesson from The Two Popes, perhaps they know Bolton’s book and subsequent media blitz is inevitable and whatever he talked about behind closed doors will be revealed afterwards. Even with his testimony - no matter how damning - there’d never be a conviction. They are aware of the hypocrisy and understood the risk. Putting this up nearly two years later, they succeeded short term. Most people I’m sure can’t even remember what the first impeachment was even about. Conservatives by their very name are Benedict in this case. They see a nation that is changing and are failing to adapt; leaning further and further into their white, Christian base. There’s a David Frum quote going around, “If conservatives become convinced that they can not win democratically, they will not abandon conservatism. They will reject democracy.” If too many people are voting for someone you disagree with, prevent their votes from being worth as much. Publishing this about a year later, we’re now seeing this exact action in Texas, Florida, and dozens of other Republican led state governments. It requires taking logic to its very end. First you have to convince people of illegal voting and fraud, and then if experts question that premise, call out the experts as partisan. It demands division. It thrives on us versus them; all the more inflamed when it creates a vicious spiral and both sides believe the other is destroying the country. The Two Popes portrays a movie about an ideology that is forced to change and adapt; to see the other side as desiring an equally virtuous outcome. It calls for a time of bipartisanship and empathy. All matters aside of how the Vatican is structured compared to liberal government, it shows the beauty and humility in trying to understand. Of course, Donald Trump is a foul and disgusting human being, and until he’s gone, I don’t think any of this is possible. As Benedict hasn’t heard God, we have to bide our time and retain hope that the journey provides brighter times ahead. In full honesty, I’m becoming increasingly unsure. Fortunately, I was wrong, though I'm not sure for how long. BELOW: Talking progress Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Couldn't tell you what the plot is, but dang is it violent Director: Takeshi Kitano Writer: Hisashi Nozawa and Takeshi Kitano Cinematographer: Yasushi Sasakibara Producer: Shôzô Ichiyama, Toshio Nabeshima, and Takio Yoshida by Jon Cvack This is my first film from Takeshi Kitano who’s been called the Clint Eastwoood of Japan. Azuma is a suited police detective who’s willing to step far beyond the line of duty in order to bring down the bad guys. The first fifteen minutes is a long and dragged out sequence following Azuma as he moves from accosting kids to then beating the shit out of random alleged crooks. Somewhere in between his sister is kidnapped and Azuma presumes to hunt down those responsible. I started this film, got about a half in, couldn’t return to it for a week, started it over again and still had no idea what was going on. Once you catch onto the plot and how it’s completely insignificant, you realize that the movie is very much an exercise in stunts and violence. In one scene, Azuma breaks into an apartment. The camera then moves to the bottom of the apartment stairs where the man is then thrown down. It’s not that it looks real. It is real. The man could have broken his neck or cracked his head open and luckily rolled down the steps and into the railing. At only a quarter in, from there a film is one incredible sequence after another, with the plot serving little beyond a MacGuffin. In a bizarre scene, as Azuma and some other morally corrupt officers chase down a suspect in a car as he’s running down the street, rather than some intense action score, Kitano utilizes a smooth - or smoothish - jazz score. They then corner the guy who proceeds to take a pipe he finds and smash every single car window; the camera inside, all shot in a single take and the jazz doesn’t stop. Another scene involves a bird’s eye shot of another suspect on a roof, crawling forward, away from Azuma until he reaches the roof’s edge, flipping himself to drop off where in a long lens, we then look up from the ground floor as he hangs from the roof by his fingertips. Azuma then pulls out a switchblade and slices his fingers open which causes him to drop. By this point we’re convinced that Azuma is a complete psychopath and his police chief demands he hands over his gun and badge. It doesn’t stop him and the film culminates in a scene so brutal and intense it matches any of Tarantino’s bloodiest moments. After the sister has been getting raped and shot up with heroin for the last two hours, the crime boss proceeds to execute his lackies who refuse to fight the cops; blowing their heads off and stabbing them dead before Azuma tracks them down to an empty warehouse where the pair play a game of gun fight chicken; Azuma charging toward the man, getting struck with bullet after bullet before blowing the boss's head off; his sister then appearing from the shadows, scrounging to find some heroin and Azuma shoots her down.. Takeshi Kitano plays Azuma, and like Clint Eastwood, it looks like the majority of his films involved this type of renegade cop. The difference is in the brutality. While Eastwood and other hard boiled American films like this involve comparably violent scenes, Kitano limits his cuts, showing the violence in all its actuality, making it just absurd and entertaining enough to avoid it simply horrifying the audience. BELOW: Smooth jazz and violence Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the hotter pre-code films Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder; based on From A to Z by Thomas Monroe and Billy Wilder Cinematographer: Gregg Toland Producer: Samuel Goldwyn by Jon Cvack This was one of Billy Wilder’s last films he wrote before he entered into one of the finest directing careers in the history of cinema. The film contains all his trademarks, and yet even though directed by Howard Hawks, just doesn’t have the same energy found in his directed work. The story is a hyper sexualized rendition of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, in this case Snow White is a lounge singer Katharine “Sugarpuss” O’Shea (Barbara Stanwyck) who’s involved with a local mob boss Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). The Seven Dwarves being a team of academics who’re working on an encyclopedia series financed by some Wall Street tycoon who all live in a modest sized home, all bachelors with no interest beyond their research. Being on the letter “s”, one of the professors Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper) dives into the world of slang, which when their financier discovers what some of the phrases mean, decides to end the project and terminate the entire team. Undeterred, Bertram heads to a nightclub where he sees Katharine perform. Later, when Katherine’s approached by some police officers who want information on her boyfriend and she’s unwilling to cooperate, she approaches Bertram for protection who takes her back home to the mansion, offering to exchange her knowledge of slang in order for room and board. Bertram agrees and brings her back and immediately all of his colleagues are washed with lust and desire. I’m not sure if it’s that I’m getting older and appreciating the creative pre-code style, but this scene has one of the hottest moments I recall from the period. After the rest of the professors allegedly leave, Bertram and Katherine are left alone in the study, where in the background we see the other professors easing in from doorways, eavesdropping on the conversation. Bertram stands above and Katherine looks up from the sofa, still wearing her tight sparkling dress; the ruffled cut falling right above her upper thighs. “Let’s get a couple of drinks, start the fire, and you can start working on me right away,” Katherine says, “I’m planning to work on it all night.” Bertram fails to pick up on the suggestion. When Katherine says she’s going to sleep over, she then removes her stockings, holds up her leg and asks him to feel her foot, asking Bertram what he feels. “It’s cold,” he says, “It is, cold and wet”, she says before trying to bring him in closer to look down her throat; the entire process arousing all of the other men to the point where they can’t resist intruding; There is a heavy suggestion of a gang bang at this moment. Not that it’d actually happen, either Katharine wouldn’t do it and the professors couldn’t go through with it, but the suggestion is palpable as they circle around her, enraptured, following her around. They agree to let her stay and while Bertram tries to plead his side once more to avoid having her over, losing when Katherine makes a reference to Isaac Newton’s discovery of gravity, comparing herself to that of the apple that would fall upon Bertram, then clicking her tongue. Katharine knows she can seduce any of the men, and even finds Bertram worth pursuing. She’s also aware of how to use her body to get almost anything she wants from men. From there, the flirtations continue until Bertram and Katharine are left alone in the room where there’s a hot first kiss segment, where again without a mention of sex, you can feel exactly where the story went after the scene ended. Bertram proposes (in classic era 48 hour speed) and Katharine keeps helping with the slang. She wins the affections of the other professors, realizing that the life of study is a nice change up from underground crime and nightclubs. Joe tracks her down and soon she’s kidnapped and as though straight from a 90s rom-com, the professors and Bertram all travel across town in order to save her. When Joe’s henchmen arrive with machine guns, she bargains for the professors’ lives in exchange for marrying Joe and leaving Bertram forever. The last third is as generic as it gets in the genre. The girl goes back to her boyfriend until she has a change of heart and the pair live happily ever after. Beyond Stanwyck’s oozing sexuality is combining her with someone like Gary Cooper, often seen as a paragon of virtue; who while never seeming to have purely lustful thinking, at the very least is conflating his desire for love; providing the one time when a 24 hour engagement actually made sense in Bertram wanting to get down to business as soon as possible. Add the search for the latest slang, in which Wilder and Hawks went to actual drug stores and pubs to get authentic phrases, and any time the movie needs a break from the romance we’re often learning new slang terms from the period. Some regard the film as the final nail in the coffin for the classic slapstick romantic comedy era. I don’t know much of what came out after, but having just watched What's Up, Doc? (1972) and currently reading Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (1998) and how Bogdanovich was an egomaniac who regarded himself as great as Orson Welles and that Ryan O’Neal was dressed up as a dork to prevent him from getting involved with Cybil Shepherd, but overall you realize that even a master cinephile couldn’t capture what the original slapstick comedies had. Given how overt sex can now be, viewers can’t appreciate the power of suggestion as anything more than a cheesy or hackneyed way to talk around sex. It’s so often done with a wink of an eye to the audience. Ball of Fire took the power of suggestion to the absolute limits, and I’m left wondering, for people who had nothing more than some dirty magazines or pictures, how it must have felt to have movie stars talk like this. The reason the films can’t be replicated is because they’re part of a moment in time, when physical comedy was a way to camouflage sex. They were films that progressed things forward, and with almost 90 years having passed, it’s no surprise that to try and revisit the movies feels antiquated. Someone might be able to do it, but it has to go way beyond just the story. It has to capture the tone. BELOW: Pre-code dialogue Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Could have used a better title, too Director: Sam Mendes Writer: Sam Mendes and Krysty Wilson-Cairns Cinematographer: Roger Deakins Producer: Sam Mendes, Pippa Harris, Jayne-Ann Tenggren, Callum McDougal, and Brian Oliver by Jon Cvack Gravity (2013) was the first movie that felt as though cinema had progressed into new territory, allowing cutting edge technology to combine with a tentpole plot. It was a movie that felt like a ride. The kind of experience that only a movie theater could provide. When I heard people disparaging the film, the first thing I asked was how they watched it. One friend said she hated it before admitting she saw it on an air =plane. Not to be confused with the transcendental feeling that great cinematic art can provide, films like Gravity and 1917 are those which fully maximize the movie-going experience. It is rocket fuel for a room that is filled with millions of dollars of audio-visual equipment. It’s how certain sequences from Interstellar (2014) or Ford vs. Ferrari (2019) or even Armageddon (1998) accomplished. People seem to forget how much better new movie theaters are even from just a few years ago with projection and sound alone. It’s why low attendance is such a shocking idea. We are at the apex of cinema going technology and even before covid, audiences were falling fast. 1917 is an odd film in that I haven’t even heard of the movie prior to its release, let alone that it’d be competitive in awards season or the technical mastery it contained. However, soon it leaked onto the internet that the movie was a series of long single takes. Not reading or wanting to know anything about the story, I had long figured the movie was your classic epic war film; taking place in the trenches of the First World War. Soon, I heard it consisted of essentially two seemingly long single takes; serving as both an exercise and another possible rare maximized cinematic experience. The story is as simple a war story as it gets. It takes place on the Western Front where the Germans have allegedly retreated after a series of blistering attacks. Separated from the other battalion across No Man’s Land and with the telephone lines cut, the English 1st battalion suspects a German ambush and order two young soldiers, Lance Corporal Will Schofield (George MacKay) and Lance Corporal Tom Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman), to take orders across No Man’s Land and cancel the attack. The opening frame is as simple as it gets; showing Blake in close up, sitting against a tree. He then stands, joined by Schofield. The camera pulls out, revealing a dozen soldiers as Blake and Schofield walk by before then entering into the trench and we soon realize that we’re about to pass over a hundred soldiers in a single take. We follow from behind until a piece of subtle action - people cutting them off, stopping to chat, etc. - allow the camera to reposition itself so we’re never stuck following the backs of their heads. For the most part, each long sequence is an attempt to change style and purpose. The first shot comes out strong, setting us for the sheer scope of the film. It made me excited for what’s to come; figuring if it was this good and fascinating from the opening minutes things only stood to evolve from there. The next sequence moves into the headquarters as General Erinmore (Colin Firth) gives them their orders and the camera moves around the tiny space, lingering on the other characters. It’s the weakest part of the film as it was both weird having such a powerhouse talent like Firth play someone that wouldn’t appear in the rest of the movie. There were also people talking all around me at the movie theater during this particular scene which kind of ruined the next ten minutes. Blake and Schofield make their way across No Man’s Land, cutting through the barbed wire where Schofield catches his hand, down through some trenches where they find a corpse where Schofield accidentally drops his cut hand into the rotting chest. I did find this an odd moment that was never revisited, as I would have bet money that Schofield was going to experience some infectious discomfort as the story went on, but instead it never comes up. They reach the German side of the line, finding the barracks completely abandoned and they head inside, finding rats crawling all over the space which soon trigger a trip wire, setting off a mine that causes the space to collapse and Schofield to be buried below a layer of rubble; his eyes blinded with dust. Blake leads him out, and they’re forced to jump over a mineshaft and I quickly realized that this film was not some grand war drama per the likes of Full Metal Jacket (1987) or Saving Private Ryan (1998), but rather an action-adventure movie-video game hybrid. As I mentioned in my thoughts on Robert Zemeckis’s A Christmas Carol (2009), the issue is that video games now look as good as many tentpole movies, which combined with their interactivity, makes the film fail by comparison. 1917 poses the mirror of the same problem in providing a video game narrative with the greatest graphics possible which are actual images. We follow the characters around as though characters who never die in an MMO video game, wandering from adventure to adventure. That’s what I mean by experiment. It was as though Deakins and Mendes wanted to prove that cinema could still provide a better real-time experience. Nevertheless, the issue with a video game structure is the inherent limitations that live-time photography provides. The story suffers as it’s forced to accommodate unrealistic action pieces over and over again. It was a common criticism of Gravity. It was fun to watch, but people got so carried away with the spectacle that they forgot how ridiculous the story was. When you drop the technical prowess, 1917 is an equally absurd story in which a simple MacGuffin propels the character forward into surviving a booby trapped explosion burying him in rubble; fighting a Nazi fighter pilot to the death; battling a Nazi sniper firing in a massive abandoned and bombed out town; and running across the battlefield as his fellow soldiers storm the German trenches. All in half a day. It is a character moving from one problem to another, each getting increasingly more difficult and emotionally intense. Just like a video game. A live-time action-drama war film necessitates a thrilling story. It cannot be gritty or real the way the greatest war films are. That also doesn’t matter. If you accept that each moment is serving the craft more than the character or plot, it’s easy to accept the cinematic achievement. It begs the question as to what the story could have been instead of what it is. Long and elaborate takes wouldn’t accommodate a story with slower pace. The one direction that might have worked better is what I expected going in - a battle between the Allies and the Germans in which we’re following the character in real time. They would line up along the trenches, the whistle blows, and we would follow a two hour battle with the character. This isn’t to say there aren’t moments that in and of themselves were some of the finest bits and pieces of cinema I’ve seen all year. When the dog fight plays in the sky, I knew the inevitable fate and yet never could have imagined where it went or how they achieved it. Blake is stabbed and just when I thought Saving Private Ryan retained the most gruesome death scene in a war film, the live-time provides what most other films lack. Blake is stabbed, Schofield refuses to believe the situation, and then grasping the reality, we watch as Blake passes away, shifting from excruciating pain and into chills and calmness. It’s a moment forever burned into my mind. The experience then shifts a bit from there, as you can’t help wondering how much wilder each scene will get, setting expectations so high that while there are great moments, with the exception of the iconic run through No Man’s Land, nothing comes close to matching the death of Blake. Then again, after a week went by and I talked to more people, I found myself wanting to go back and experience it all again. The oddest part of the film is how quickly you forget you’re watching a single take; providing this weird zen-like interaction in which I lost all sense of watching a film and therefore had no idea what magnificence I missed. That alone goes to show how amazing the movie is. It’s not the greatest war film ever made, but it might be one of the most impressive technical achievements I’ve ever seen in theaters. NOTE: I ended up returning to the cinema for a second screening and was unfortunately disappointed. No longer surprised by what was to come, something felt far more underwhelming; serving as an example where the video game format fails by locking us into a journey that initially felt unprecedented and lost its magic on the second round. It’s still a magnificent achievement, but I’m not sure when I’d return. BELOW: Best scene of the movie Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Works so well, up until the end Director: James Ponsoldt Writer: Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber; based on The Spectacular Now by Tim Tharp Cinematographer: Jess Hall Producer: Tom McNulty, Shawn Levy, Michelle Krumm, and Andrew Lauren by Jon Cvack Miles Teller skates a fine line between a gawky dork and an absolute douchebag in most of his roles, though always feeling like your cool and charming buddy from high school. Whiplash portrays the former while the Spectacular Now is the finest example yet of the latter. It follows Sutter Keely as an alcoholic high school senior who’s dating one of the hottest girls in school, Cassidy Roy (Brie Larson). When Cassidy breaks up with Sutter, he recounts the story via his college admissions essay and how he went on to meet his next love, Aimee Finecky (Shailene Woodley). After a night of heavy drinking, he and Cassidy get into another fight which officially ends things. Sutter dives further into the hard stuff before Aimee wakes him up the next day on a stranger’s lawn, making the rounds on her paper route to help her mother out. I’m sure Woodley didn’t completely forego make-up, but it’s as close to anything I’ve seen; allowing her natural beauty to create her character’s appeal. Counter to his life of excess, Sutter’s drawn to her authenticity and asks to see her again. An interesting touch during the first third is seeing Sutter constantly walking around with a 24 ounce styrofoam cup that he’s constantly sipping out; which for anyone with a similar friend, we know is likely spiked. Director James Ponsoldt never reveals this until well past the thirty minute point, where Sutter pours his flask in and we realize how severe his problem is. Sutter attempts to balance his burgeoning attraction to Aimee with an inability to fully break things off with Cassidy. He invites Aimee to a party at the river, knowing that Cassidy would be there, seeing him with his new girlfriend as she ended up with the captain of the football team. The ploy works and while Cassidy doesn’t stay long, it’s just enough to make her jealous. At the same party, Sutter pulls out his flask, offering some to Aimee who reluctantly accepts before then admitting that she’s not going to college because she has to help mom. Feeling buzzed, we then move into what’s becoming the “thoughts and prayers” of the teenage romantic comedy as Sutter tells her to shout out a cathartic “Fuck you, mom” which she of course takes a few times of progressively letting to before finally nailing the energy. I have no idea how people can still write scenes like this unironically. From here the film takes kind of a bummer turn, as we realize that Sutter is not just a kid who likes to drink, but a severe alcoholic. Taking his own advice he gave to Aimee about college, he contacts his estranged father who invites them over. We find it to be one of the weirdest pieces of casting I’ve ever seen in recent years in having Kyle Chandler play the role of his father; aka the most charming and loving man in the world attempting to play a deadbeat. It’s not bad, but it’s difficult to buy until his cameo is over. Sutter learns that his dad is an alcoholic like him and left because he didn’t want to be a father. Plain and simple. Sutter keeps drinking and takes his anger out on Aimee, soon kicking her out of his car on the shoulder of a highway where she gets out and is hit by a car; ending up in the hospital. Concerned he’s a terrible influence, Sutter distances himself. He ends up going to his graduation ceremony, but we later learn it was as a courtesy. He failed his senior year and will have to go to summer school. He’s then provided an ultimatum at work, between keeping his job and stop drinking or face termination. He chooses termination. He tops it off by going to a bar trying to get laid instead of visiting Aimee at the bus station to see her off. He gets wasted and crashes into his mom’s mailbox, later breaking down in front of her who comforts him. It then cuts to his writing the college admissions essay. He’s failed senior year and missed the deadline so it seems more about a self-assessment than anything else, but then also becomes a bit deceiving in that whether it’s for him or not, the whole act was pointless and deceiving. Though so is Sutter so maybe that’s the point. The conclusion wraps up in rapid speed after the accident. Sutter eventually pulls a Will Hunting and drives to Philadelphia to be with Aimee, even though she’s in school and he’s now in a big city, with lots of bars and stuff to do and at no point in these five closing minutes could I accept that someone struggling with alcoholism immediately got over the condition. It’s easy to see that this is probably little beyond acknowledging the problem and far from solving it. Both would go on to meet other people and have other experiences. There’s naivety in asking us to seriously consider that it all went happily ever after, and not see the inevitable ugliness to come. The film attempts to replicate some hybrid of Good Will Hunting (1997) and Adventureland (2009), but Sutter’s problems are neither portrayed as all that serious until the end, and he’s not humble enough per the likes of Jesse Eisenberg for us to sympathize. Miles Teller carries the story in having us care about the character, but as you replay and continue the story, you realize how awful of a person he is. I had no faith that he wouldn’t screw over Aimee again and fall even further into alcohol. If he couldn’t handle senior year of high school, there was no way he was handling living with a girl in a big city with no job or college prospects. BELOW: Maybe going to NYC with no job and no college prospects will cure severe alcoholism Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the more unique films I've seen from the period Director: William Dieterle Writer: Marion Parsonnet; based on Double Furlough by Charles Martin Cinematographer: Tony Gaudio Producer: Dore Schary By Jon Cvack Netflix said this was directed by George Cukor, and for over a week provided one of the most impressive shifts I’ve seen from a director; away from his female led romantic dramas and comedies and into a dark story about mentally disturbed, discharged soldier and a female prisoner on week-long leave who meet on a train and then fall in love. The soldier is played by Joseph Cotten as Sgt. Zachary Morgan who we soon learn has been in therapy for his shell shock. Keep in mind, this wasn’t made at the height of 1950s popular psychology, but a year before WWII even ended. Mary Marshall is an equally strange character, played by an otherwise wholesome Ginger Rogers who we later learn got herself trapped with the wrong man and killed him in self-defense. Pauline Kael said that the movie is melodrama, which it is, but there’s something especially dark about the story. It’s the type of melodrama you could label noir. Zach ends up in Pinehill after meeting Mary on the train, who tells him that she’s headed back home for a week during the holidays. The two start dating and bit by bit, the truth of Zach’s condition trickles out. He loses it at a coffee shop when the waiter starts talking about the war; can’t handle a war movie at the theater; and is soon attacked by a dog, nearly killing it in the process. The night before they leave, Zach visits Mary to propose and Mary’s sister Barbara (Shirley Temple, surprisingly) informs him about Mary’s situation. It freaks Zach out, feeling as though he was lied to and he heads off. The next train arrives and Mary boards to return to prison, figuring she ruined things with Zach. When she arrives, she finds him in the shadows. He’s decided he’ll wait for her to get out. The closing shots are what push the film into noir. The ridiculous plot is mostly melodrama, but when you consider the ending is that a mentally disturbed must wait for the only cure for his PTSD while she rots in prison, the cynicism is as thick as anything from the movement. We often think of PTSD arising years after the war, and yet the film plays it up before the war is even over. Combined with an impressive feminist angle to Mary killing a potential rapist and it’s almost impossible to categorize. It’s easy to say this movie is all cheese ball melodrama, and yet combined with the paragon of innocence, Shirley Temple, playing an overtly boy crazy teenager who goes to even buy a skimpy dress, there’s something oddly mature about it all. It is as though Dieterle wanted to use the melodrama’s superficiality as a means to discuss actual ideas. It’s not perfectly accomplished, but well worth checking out. BELOW: Not much on the YT front so here's a trailer Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  What more could have been done? 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  Similar but different Director: Terrence Malick Writer: Terrence Malick Cinematographer: Jörg Widmer Producer: Elisabeth Bentley, Dario Bergesio, Grant Hill, and Josh Jeter by Jon Cvack Prior to The Tree of Life (2011), and with the exception of the 1980s (which would have been interesting), Terrence Malick made about one film per decade. From 1973 through 2011 he made five films. From 2011 to today he’s made another five. Notoriously avoidant of the press and Awards show, you can’t help wondering what made the man suddenly immerse himself into telling one story after another. His study of philosophy is felt in every scene and it doesn’t seem too far a reach that at the age of 76 he’s growing increasingly aware of his own mortality. Perhaps distraction. Perhaps the need to tell his remaining stories before it’s too late. To the Wonder (2012) was his first film that felt as though it had failed to meet the grandeur of his prior work. It was a very good movie, but something was missing. It felt small, experimental, even. Aside from the few scenes with Javier Bardem in church, few images have remained with me the way his other stories have. Knight of Cups (2015) followed and suddenly there was a shift; in which Malick’s style became too apparent and ill-fitted; feeling as though an imitation like so many others have done. Waves (2019), most recently. It’s a topic that Tarantino has mentioned in declaring he’ll only make ten films; not wanting to fade out the way his favorite directors have and leave a tainted filmography. Having won a Golden Globe for Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood (2019) I’m left wondering if he would do it. This was the first year that I thought my generation’s most revered filmmakers lost some of the magic the way Tarantino described. The Irishman, Tarantino’s film, and A Hidden Life were all very good films, but didn’t provide that Earth-shattering experience the directors previously created. Put differently, these movies are better than the vast majority of cinema, but in terms of individual filmographies, these are on the lower half. A Hidden Life is the true story of rural farmer Franz Jägerstätter (August Diehl) who works in the Austrian mountain village of St. Radegund as the Nazi’s expand across Europe. A title card tells us that Germany demanded Austrian men to fight for them and swear an oath to Hitler. He’s joined by his wife Franzika (Valerie Pachner) and three daughters. Franziska and Franz are that endearing duo, sharing the work equally while always making time to show affection and love. When Franz quits the service and returns to the farm, ostracized from most of the town; made all the more problematic in that he works with people everyday, depending on them for trade and assistance. Franziska supports him the best she could even though it means working all the harder to make up for it. Soon Franz receives a draft notice, ordering him back into the military. He heads back but again refuses to take an oath to Hitler which then lands him in jail. Franziska manages the farm with the help of her sister Rosalia (Karin Neuhauser). She receives letters on occasion, unsure whether she’ll ever see Franz again, all while dealing with the town’s animus. According to IMDb trivia, the film took over three years to edit; making me wonder if Donald Trump was even a real possibility at the time of Malick writing or even discovering the story. The parallels are striking in how the town increasingly commits itself to Hitler, shunning anyone who fails to tow the party line. One question both sides of the aisle can agree on is how the Nazis were able to convince so many people of their cause? We forget that there was idealism and hope; a return to the great Prussian Empire, allowing them to ignore the pains and death caused to others in order to achieve that goal. The one issue I had with the film was in wondering how Franz knew enough about the Nazis to refuse an oath to Hitler. We never get a sense of information being exchanged. Only discussed. Given that it takes place in an idyllic rural Austrian mountain village how could any information be trusted? Were there newspapers or an underground press? I assume it was when Frazn was watching the news footage and heard the Nazis cheering on the destruction. Turns out the real Franz was a pacifist, and thus like Desmond Doss from Hacksaw Ridge (2016), it wasn’t even about politics. Something that feels like Terrence Malick deliberately left out. I’m left wondering how interesting it would have been to hear the Nazis debate Franz’s religious objection. As Franz rots in prison, Malick keeps teasing us with sounds of planes and soldiers coming in; making us think he might last through the Allied invasion. The time stamp is enough to suggest otherwise, and when Franz is sentenced to death in August 1943 we know there are few chances for survival. A lawyer tries to convince him to sign the oath, going so far as to return to St. Radegund to find Franziska and bring her back. She does and with few words, she knows his mind is made up. I’m left wondering if Malick saw The Death of Stalin (2017) as he follows Franz up to his execution. In the film’s most brutal scene we watch as he’s positioned fourth in an abandoned factory yard, waiting his turn to get into the dark building and what awaits him; soon discovering a guillotine. It’s here where Malick mastery shines as he somehow places us into the mind of Franz and the other soldiers. Some cry, others panic, and Franz looks around, up at the beautiful scattered cloud sky. What does one think of in those final moments, knowing that each thought and image could be your last? We at least get a taste of how time and mind functions in such a situation. The weekend I saw this I watched Schindler’s List (1993), more confident than ever in declaring it as one of the greatest pieces of cinema - and works of art - ever created. I was left thinking of The Thin Red Line (1998), which serves as one of the greatest war films ever created. At three hours long, A Hidden Life was simply too much for such an intimate story. There were only so many images of Franziska and her sister working the fields, the children running around, and Franz sitting in his prison cell or wandering around the yard. The story itself is simple enough to have been a phenomenal two hour film. Instead, it feels unable to let go, combined with losing Lubezki, it couldn’t achieve the magnificence to justify its running time. Three hour films about the Nazis demand action; if not in physical action then in dramatic. BELOW: One of the best scenes of the year Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The performance outshines the film Director: Marielle Heller Writer: Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster; "Can You Say ... Hero?" by Tom Junod Cinematographer: Jody Lee Lipes Producer: Youree Henley, Peter Saraf, Marc Turtletaub, and Leah Holzer by Jon Cvack This is the type of film that I wanted to wait to see what people thought of before I jumped to the theaters. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2019) is such a fantastic documentary that I feared this narrative was simply taking all the juice it could get. The movie opens up with the Mr. Rogers set, filtered as though we’re watching it on our old televisions. We see the model town and move into the set where Tom Hanks then opens the door and within seconds I was completely taken away. In terms of people from history, there seemed no better match for Mr. Rogers and Hanks takes us completely away, reciting the opening song, tying his shoes, putting on the vest. It seems so easy to have broken and bombed, but Tom Hanks resurrects the spirit. Without anything beyond the usual intro, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I’m not at all sure why. Mr. Rogers holds up a tall board covered in doors; opening them up one by one, introducing Daniel, King Friday XIII, X the Owl until landing on the last door where he opens it up to find his friend Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys) as a beat up newspaper reporter with a large gash across his nose. Immediately my attention snapped, away from the beauty of seeing a person recreate another human being and fully immerse me within their world and into a story gimmick. In seconds, I learned that the movie was not at all a biopic about Mr. Rogers but rather Lloyd’s story about his estranged dad whilst dealing with a newborn baby and middle age. The story isn’t terrible and I’m left wondering if another viewing with the proper understanding would create a different approach. The last time Lloyd saw his father, Jerry (Chris Cooper), was at his sister’s wedding where they got into a fist fight. At work, Lloyd is gaining a bad reputation as a harshly honest reporter. When Esquire wants a feature done on 100 Influential People, Lloyd’s editor gives him Mr. Rogers. Lloyd refuses, seeing himself as above it. His editor explains it’s not a request. In a fun movie, director Marielle Heller created various Mr. Rogers-esque NYC and Pittsburgh model sets that served as transitional elements for Lloyd flew. He ends up at Mr. Rogers show, seeing Mr. Rogers in action as his endearing, polite, and charming man. His team is frustrated as he’s over 90 minutes overschedule, though Mr. Rogers doesn’t flinch a muscle. It’s a bizarre scene as we get the feeling of what it’d be like to be both Lloyd the character and Matthew Rhys watching Mr. Rogers and Tom Hanks performing on stage. It’s a scene so fascinating that we completely buy why Lloyd’s interest is piqued. He’s seeing a national treasure in the process of creation. The pair form a friendship. Fred sees something damaged in Lloyd and Lloyd sees a larger story in Mr. Rogers. Both question and pry one another. Lloyd is confronted with failing to resolve issues with his dad and Fred admits that he’s far from the perfect man he portrays on television. Soon Lloyd is again visited by his dad who brings his new girlfriend over. His wife, Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson), holds her baby while she passes out plates for pizza. Lloyd snaps and with a bit too heavy of a scene, explains how Jerry cheated on their mom while she died from cancer. Jerry gets so worked up, he keels over, having a heart attack. The situation changes nothing for Lloyd, who again flies to Pittsburgh against his wife's request that he stay with the family. He later learns his father has cancer and the two reconcile their ways and Mr. Rogers pays them a final visit. Mr. Rogers talks about the need for forgiveness; a concept most only grasp when you’re older. It is not necessarily for a wrong committed, so much as a quality required when dealing with those you disagree with. No matter who is right or wrong, I’m left wondering how things would be if people simply forgave the other and - with humility - attempted to understand. Perhaps I should forgive the movie. I was so hungry for Mr. Rogers and Tom Hank’s performance that I think I failed to accept what the movie was really about. It wasn’t the idealism preached on the show. It was the real complication of adults trying to adopt his lessons. BELOW: Going... going... going... and... 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