 The Mr. Feeny of Law School Director: James Bridges Writer: James Bridges; The Paper Chase by John Jay Osborn, Jr. Cinematographer: Gordon Willis Producer: Rodrick Paul and Robert C. Thompson by Jon Cvack Shot by the Prince of Darkness, Gordon Willis, The Paper Chase involves first year student James Hart (Timothy Bottoms) who walks into his first class with the formidable and genius Professor W. Kingsfield Jr. (John Houseman), who has taught past senators, supreme court justices, and world famous attorneys. In terms of screen professors, Kingsfield is far from admirable or charming, but one of the most fascinating. These last few years I’ve developed a great interest in institutions like Harvard Law (or their Business or Med schools). Up there with Stanford, Oxford, and others I find it exciting that people so young are immediately positioned in the upper echelons of great power and influence. Looking up the demographics, wondering how old these characters are, I learned that the average age of Havard Law students is 24, and this number has gone up from decades past. To witness such a seemingly impossible task that is studying at arguably the greatest law school on Earth (though looks like Yale as overtaken it recently) is the perfect focus for a story. This film really dives into how the sausage made and it’s a thrill to watch. Kingsfield enters the room with his seating chart of the hundred or so students in class, each with a picture and a name. He demands to know the facts of the various case they’ve been studying. Participating is a part of the grade and no one can risk cowering in the corner. After a few crash and burn at the task, it leaves only a few ambitious to answer. One of this students is Mr. James Hart, who joins up with a few other students to form a study group, in which each person takes up a different piece of law (contracts, criminal, etc.) and provides a study guide. A fifth generation from the group, Frank Ford (Graham Beckett), whose great-great-great-grandfather went to Harvard before the United States existed, defines the level of competition and types of students admitted. Mr. Hart and Frank soon become best friends, doing their best to hold together their study group, while keeping their grades up . The group starts out with Kevin Brooks (James Naughton), Thomas Anderson (Edward Hermann), Willis Belli (Craig Richard Nelson), and another guy O’Connor who ditches out fairly fast. Thomas you’ll know from The Lost Boys (1987) as the mom’s boyfriend, serving as the cool and collectively and insufferably pretentious student who smokes a pipe. Wills Belli is even worse, as the haughty and condescending student who threatens to refuse to turn his reports because the others would be so inferior to his own; he plans to publish his outline and doesn’t feel it’s worth giving away for free. Finally is Kevin Brooks, who’s got an actual photographic memory, but little in the ways of analytic skills - which law obviously requires. While it leaves you wondering how he passed the LSAT logic questions (which if you don’t know what these are, try some outlet; they’re fun until you realize how difficult they are), we get to witness a character confront what he considers an absolute failure. It’s all the more complex in that he has a wife, whose father has provided them a great apartment (beyond the married dorms); clearly has a mind that could succeed at so many other things - and probably has - and yet finds life meaningless upon confronting his failure to become a Harvard Law graduate. It’s between the lines that you find the other layer of depth in that all of these students were the best for their entire lives. They are fully aware that they need to be the best in school to achieve the great things that lie beyond - whether a lucrative job or politics. Being in film there is an equal degree of competition, but the endeavor is communal and collaborative that it never becomes lonely. What we see at Harvard Law is every student out for themselves, helping each other as they can, but all competing to be the best, whose very requirement is being alone and studying. A common element for those who pursue politics is a need for adulation, often based on difficult childhoods. It’s something that David Axelrod has mentioned on his podcast a bunch of times, and the more I biographies I read about politics the more I see it. In the simplest sense, it’s receiving praise for what appears to be a selfless activity, which is only accomplished by being enough of a narcissist to believe you can do such great and noble things (and I don’t necessarily mean this pejoratively). As with any lofty aspirations, whether to be an aspiring musician, athlete, or Harvard Law Graduate - you will defend the endeavor by either saying it’s either for other people, or for yourself. Or maybe it’s just something you have to do. It all requires practice, discipline, and - I think most importantly - natural talent. Watching these students engage one another in a form of mental, or even superficial, combat was exciting to see. Knowing that there can be only so many in the 99% they know what’s most important is their own, individual study. Which leads us to Mr. Hart’s strange relationship with Kingsfield’s daughter Susan Field (Lindsay Wagner), who was engaged to a lawyer who graduated from Harvard Law and couldn’t handle the grind so dumped her to go backpacking through Europe. Susan and Mr. Hart have sex, then Mr. Hart gets stressed out with school, then they break up, then they get back together, then he gets stressed again, and sometime during this he finds a secret room with old files from the professors, and for a second I thought that some elaborate cheating scheme was about to take place, but it was just about reading Kingsfield’s old thoughts on Law while a student. Mr. Hart volunteers to help Kingsfield with some research and fails, and Kingsfield is an asshole, and one day Mr. Hart tells him this, either before or after he breaks up with Susan, but Kingsfield doesn’t really care (though it is his funniest moment). It was as ridiculous as it sounds and never even went anywhere. In the end, Mr. Hart simply studies hard and gets a good grade on the exam. He then ends up back with the girl again. I guess the point was demonstrating how life and people get in the way of certain dreams or goals, but the story’s complete lack of a steady plot left me frustrated. It culminated in some weird sequence where Frank and Mr. Hart go to a hotel to study, and piss off the management because there’s paper all over the room and they’re talking about murder law. It’s kind of funny, but by this point it had become all too dependent on “…and then.” It felt as though the story was suppose to focus on a student struggling with his first year of law, discovering it just wouldn’t be long enough. I wasn’t excited for the few seconds I thought he was going to cheat, but at least this could have tested the ethics of each character more; perhaps showing why they want to be lawyers and how their minds work. In the end, it just felt like they were sucking in information and facts, simply to puke them out before clearing room for the next class. There could have been more. Nevertheless, the movie is as gorgeous as you’d expect from Gordon Willis, with some absolutely haunting imagery, worth checking out for that alone. BELOW: Just learned it spawned The Paper Chase television series; including an opening credit song just as you'd expect from the 70s Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Next to Night and Fog, the best Resnais I've seen (which is a strange comparison) Director: Alain Resnais Writer: Jean-Michel Ribes Cinematographer: Éric Gautier Producer: Bruno Pésery by Jon Cvack I catch a lot of heat when I say that I think Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959) and Last Year at Marienbad (1961) are two extremely overrated movies. I’ve seen Hiroshima twice now, possibly three times, and it doesn’t get any more enjoyable (or less low). And although I’m bored by many of Buñuel films, Marienbad was like watching paint dry, epitomizing the B&W foreign art house stereotype (as 500 Days of Summer does a great job of satirizing). Though in saying that I think Night and Fog (1956) is phenomenal, and one of the most haunting documentaries I’ve ever seen. While I haven’t even come close to working my way through his filmography, I probably won’t as most of his films are rated at around three stars. Suffice it to say I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I realized who made this film. I was expecting an eccentric experimental story all taking place at a dinner party. Instead I discovered a wonderful and relatively light hearted multi-narrative, straight from the period when movies like Magnolia (1999), 21 Grams (2003), and Crash (2004) were running strong. The film follows six characters, involving a secretary Charlotte (Sabine Azema) and her boss Therrly (André Dussollier) who work at a real estate office, showing apartments to a middle aged engaged and beautiful couple Nicole (Laura Morante) and Dan (Lambert Wilson). Dan’s out of work, spending most of his time at the bar where he talks to bartender Lionel (Pierre Arditi). Meanwhile, during the night Charlotte takes care of Lionel’s bedridden and foul mouthed father. Charlotte is also a Christian, trying her best to honor its tenants. At the real estate office, she lends Thierry a VHS tape she recorded of a music program. However, when Therrly puts it on, after his daughter Gaelle (Isabelle Carre) leaves, the tape suddenly cuts to a neck down homemade strip show. Suspecting that Charlotte was giving him a message, he then makes a move on her, realizing that Charlotte had no clue about the porn section. Dan and Nicole are struggling to find an apartment, with Dan demanding that it have two bedrooms and a study. Nicole doesn’t see the point, as Dan doesn’t do anything requiring study, let alone have a job to pay for such a large apartment. Their relationship quickly disintegrates in one of the best scenes of the film, as Dan comes home wasted once again, to find Nicole equally tanked, ready to call it quits. Dan goes on to meet Nicole, and for awhile we’re left wondering if he simply wants another conquest, or another person to take care of him. Nicole then later gets mad when she discovers Thierry watching the porn tape, and so all these characters lives connect. Looking at the film on IMDb I see that the original titles was “Coeurs”, which translates to “Hearts.” It was only after I read Philip French’s review on Wikipedia that I realized how sad the movie kind of is - “All of them are in search of love and companionship. They're deeply lonely, though none is a natural loner, and their individual backgrounds, and in some cases the nature of their sexuality, are only hinted at.” The saddest couple is obviously Dan and Nicole, especially as we piece together their relationship. Dan was a former soldier, struggling in many ways with a return to civilian life, refusing to work and drinking himself stupid every night, though clearly, once upon a time, the two were happy, with Nicole hoping for its return, and Dan slowly learning that it’s far too late. Other characters like Thierry and Charlotte demonstrate varying degrees of loneliness, with Thierry finding solace in his daughter, and Charlotte finding insight from Lionel. Neither is as strong as Nicole and Dan, and while they were fun to watch, it at times felt like it just didn’t go as far as you’d hope. While the lighthearted vibe was perfect for most of the material, it seemed to prevent more somber moments from really coming across. Perhaps it was a case of low expectations leading to a great time, but I really enjoyed seeing Resnais’ take on the multi-narrative format, providing us with fascinating characters, and some photography that makes the BluRay worth seeking. BELOW: Resnais didn't make the cleanest jump to color, but there's still a couple cinematic moments Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Solid performances from Jamal Udin Torabi and Enayatullah Director: Michael Winterbottom Writer: Tony Grisoni Cinematography: Marcel Zyskind Producer: Andrew Eaton and Anita Overland by Jon Cvack I’m fairly certain that In This World has been in my Netflix queue for at least ten years, holding the record by probably eight years compared to the next one. I believe it was placed into the lineup while I was writing a research paper back in college, possibly even while reading one of David Kellner’s book. I recall the discussion about how as affordable digital cameras began to arrive in the late 90s/early 00s there was a proliferation of independent documentaries. Filmmaker Michael Winterbottom took influence and created a series of “docu-dramas” in which the movies were filmed with the same cheap digital cameras, using the natural environment and resources in order to craft a story that feels and looks very much like a documentary. The movie embodies the 00s video aesthetic, reflecting a period in which the decent looking video technology began creeping into affordability, but still far from catching up to professional standards. What we get is a film whose look demonstrates its exact age, no different than classic film noir, most popular 1950s black and white film, or the crime movies from the 1970s. In This World makes us feel that we are the middle of the Iraq War, during those first few years after the Iraq War. Winterbottom transports us, in which similar The Lady in the Lake (1947), the entire story feels as though its through the eyes of a cameraman; a documentarian who was assigned the story and got to share his wild journey. The story involves two Afghani refugees, Jamal (Jamal Ubin Torabi) and Enayat (Enayatullah), as they escape a refugee camp in Pakistan and sneak to London. They scrape together whatever money they have and pay smugglers to sneak across the borders using any means necessary - hiding in vegetable trucks, container ships, and beneath semis, making their way across Iran, Turkey, and France. While some might be quick to criticize the use of those horrible early 00s digital effects, it was during these moments that the film’s precise year began to show. What I enjoyed about the story was its preservation of history - serving as a fine example of how technology and story can work create a historical document. The film reflects not just where the world was politically, but technically as well, creating the unique experience of *feeling* like that period time (as any great film achieves). To have made this film any other way - while preserving the intimate and assumedly real moments we got to experience - would have been near impossible. The story was simple, feeling as though it was improvised throughout production, as the crew tried to find ways to incorporate the environment they were exploring. If not, it’s all the more impressive. Of course, as with any mockumentary, it’s that improvisation that creates such a vivid portrait. Yet having watched a lot of Cassavetes, with Mikey and Nicky (1976) just a few weeks prior to this, I think the story fell a bit short of where it could, at times relying too much on dramatic moments, rather than providing us intimate glimpses into these characters - what they cared about, what provided their determination and courage. Add the special effects, and for as much as much I can appreciate them, I think the story would have been better served to in focusing on the smaller moments. BELOW: Taking some cameras and shooting at an actual refugee camp Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of Joel Edgerton's greatest performance Director: Jeff Nichols Writer: Jeff Nichols; based on The Loving Story by Nancy Buirski Cinematographer: Adam Stone Producer: Jared Ian Goldman, Ged Doherty, Colin Firth, Nancy Buirski, Sarah Green, Marc Turtletaub, Peter Saraf by Jon Cvack Mud (2012) had gotten me excited for Jeff Nichols was headed. I thought it was one of the greatest films of 2013, ushering in a new era of Southern Goth, first explored in Shotgun Stories (2007), expanded in Take Shelter (2011), and continued with Midnight Special (2016). Except just as I had big problems with Midnight Special and its desire to abandon its own logic for sake of story, Loving piqued my interest by demonstrating Nichols’ attempt to move into Awards fare. I had recently read “May It Please the Court…” - a great book on the history of major supreme court cases, which discussed the Loving trial in which an interracial Virginian couple was arrested due to bigoted anti-miscegenation laws. Growing up, I had heard similar arguments from baby boomers about the issues of interracial marriage - in which racism was masked as a “concern” for the bi-racial children who would grow up “confused” about their identity, having an adverse effect on their entire lives; whatever this meant (even as a kid I didn’t understand this logic and Obama’s election didn’t help their case). I’m proud for having little recollection of anyone from my generation expressing similar reservations, ostensibly indicating that - while far from corrected - racism has improved over the last half century. While some Baby Boomers disagreed with interracial marriage while being against segregation, the Silent and G.I. Generations prior favored segregation while being against second class citizenship, the Silent Generation had some agreeing with second class citizenship while being against slavery, and prior to that some supported slavery while others didn’t. While there are significant problems remaining, I’m comforted that each generation has gradually improved their regard for the black community. The present phase seems to function as a denial of systemic or institutional racism; something I imagine we will reform, which the next generation will accept and, hopefully, continue to improve. While “May It Please the Court…” centered on the facts of the case and how it was argued, I was hoping that Loving would explore the public’s response. Unfortunately, Nichols made the odd choice of focusing almost entirely on the couple, excluding the scope of the case and the millions of people it would affect. By allowing us to enter the world of Richard (Joel Egerton) and Mildred Loving (Ruth Negga) we were able to see that a couple’s love and the desire for family is a universal emotion; shared by races and cultures the world over. Through providing empathy, we were able to look past the color barriers. The problem is that I don’t think this was what the world needed. Perhaps in the 1950s a film like this would have been effective, in which portraying the universal nature of love would have allowed others to see that skin color is all that separates whites from blacks. I think of the film No Way Out (1950), where Sydney Poitier as Dr. Luther Brooks had to deal with a pair of bigoted men who believed his race made him an inferior physician, refusing his service, later learning that intelligence is not at all hindered by skin color, though not before it sparks riots in the street. In Loving we get an exceptionally brief clip of the Civil Rights movement gathering in D.C., where Mildred wishes she could be, limited by her three children and that’s it. She does write a letter of Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who recruits the help of two ambitious, self-seeking lawyers Bernie Cohen (Nick Kroll) and Phil Hirschkop (Jon Bass) - clearly thrilled for the opportunity to argue in front the Supreme Court (and leaving you to wonder if it was Loving’s name that provided at least a minor political advantage toward offering their support). However, most of their scenes revolve around explaining the process of appeals and how they get to the SCOTUS, while offering some comic relief, and doing their best to convince the stolid Richard to continue fighting the cause. It wasn’t a mistake to focus almost entirely on Richard and Mildred’s relationship and history; it was just wasn’t what the story deserved. From a historical standpoint, this story had far reaching implications - for America and the entire world. Just as Brokeback Mountain and Moonlight (2016) have helped break down the binary attitude toward masculinity, allowing us to meet fascinating and accessible characters and extend ourselves into them, providing us empathy and understanding, Loving has done the same - the problem is that it’s just not what’s needed. The greatest films connect to the zeitgeist, no matter the story or topic. The country didn’t need to see and understand a loving couple, as it was SUPAC’s understanding of their relationship that led to Virginia vs. Loving’s success; the country had already accepted this. What the country needs is to see that justice can prevail, no matter how difficult or impossible it may seem. The fact that we are only in the courtroom, hearing arguments for seconds of this two hour and change film is absurd. I wanted to see the hate and bigotry; I wanted to see the riots in the streets, demanding justice; I wanted to see other interracial couples fearing for their families and hoping it could change. History has a funny of way of making things seem inevitable, when in fact, there is nothing inevitable about it. Currently, economic inequality is boiling beneath the service, affecting all races and cultures, and right now it honestly seems impossible to imagine it ever getting better. But history has proven that it will. To think that bi-racial marriage was ever illegal, in which a state’s justice system would imprison individuals entering to a sacred bond that any rational person could emphasize with, is difficult for me to comprehend. Yet at the time, and over ten years as this film portrays, it seemed unimaginable that anything could ever change. It’s that struggle between hope and hopelessness that I was wishing to see. Instead, most of what I believed mattered most was left out. I understand that Richard and Mildred were portrayed as and might have failed to understand the scope of what their case meant, but I think that was unfair to all those who saw them as champions of an important cause. In a time when many are looking for more justice in the world, it was the broader implications that the story needed to explore. If even to intercut images or scenes of the civil rights movement, showing what was going on and what it all meant, it could have at least relieved some of the issues. Instead, all we saw were Richard and Mildred’s relationship, brought to life by two phenomenal performances, but never getting to the grand implications of what it all meant. BELOW: As close as it gets to the anger from Black Americans at the time. I get that they wanted to keep the characters removed from the larger protests to maintain the intimate story; I just don't get why Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The Tom Hanks of the 1940s Director: Leo McCarey Writer: Frank Butler, Frank Cavett; story by Leo McCarey Cinematographer: Lionel Lindon, John F. Seitz Producer: Leo McCarey by Jon Cvack I had seen The Bells of St. Mary (1945) not knowing it was a sequel, making me all the more excited to finally get to this film. In that essay I mentioned how rare these feel good movies are, where they’re much more about the good nature and spirit of people, than any overt religious message. And while I actually think The Bells of St. Mary was a bit better, Going My Way was as close a second as they come, with another great performance by Bing Crosy. The story involves Father O’Malley (Cosby; winning Best Actor) as he arrives at NYC church, having arrived from St. Louis, back when the team was called the St. Louis Browns. The elder priest is Father Fitzgibbon (Barry Fitzgerald; winning Best Supporting Actor), who’s a conservative hard ruler, who frowns upon O’Malley’s progressive ways. Unfortunate for Fitzgibbon, we learn that O’Malley is actually there to replace him. They get into a series of disagrees, starting with O’Malley’s golf playing, then escalating when O’Malley is caught playing piano to a very attractive runaway - and young - runaway Carol James (Jean Heather). This is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong, but some of Carol’s lines seemed to suggest that she was a prostitute. Although I kind of brushed it off as gold digging, it was when the Ted Hains, Sr. discovered her marriage to Ted, Jr., in which Sr. threatened to cut off Jr. and Carl proclaims she could make money regardless. Not to mention the strange vibe between O’Malley and Carol, which while sexual, seemed ominous and suggestive. Or maybe it’s because it’s so rare to see such a great feel good film like this that I’m too use to finding the darkest avenues possible. O’Malley’s big mission comes in the form of caring for the church’s youth, who under Fitzgibbon, and ostensibly due to his conservative attitudes, have shifted to the streets, led by Tony Scaponi (Stanley Clements, who has one of the greatest street accents I’ve ever heard); not to mention the church is falling into disrepair, and the low attendance prevents them from being able to fix it. O’Malley wins the boys hearts by taking them to a few ball games, then asking if they’d like to join in on a choir. Hesitant, they agree and we witness a perfect demonstrations of how a choir operates, allowing us to understand why the boys would enter into it so easily. In a former life, O’Malley was once a singer and songwriter, and across the film we get numerous numbers between him and others. Later O’Malley meets up with an old girlfriend Jenny Tuffel (Rise Stevens; now Gene Lockhart [look into this]), who’s now a famous singer, in town for a show. O’Malley plays her the title track “Going My Way”, which while a beautiful rendition, is rejected when Jenny passes it on to her record company; that is, until they hear another a different, snappier tune “Swinging on a Star” performed by the children in the film’s greatest scene. The song helps the church’s ailing finances, with Ted Henry, Sr. agreeing to forego the foreclosure (*note this at the beginning) Just as everything seems to be going well, with Fitzgibbon even joining O’Malley on the golf course, the church burns down. O’Malley has also been offered a new job. Still, they hold service in an old temporary church, where because of the song and O’Malley’s reforms, the community has gathered to give and help repair the church. Although I haven’t seen Sister Act in a long time, I’ve seen it enough to see the parallels between the two, serving as probably the eighth example of another 90s post-modern film - in which they’ve taken the same premise of an ailing church and completely flipped the stereotypes of those who would typically fit those roles (and creating one of the all time greatest feel good films as well; I’ll have to revisit this soon). In Sister Act (1992), Whoopie Goldberg is sent to the inner city for witness protection (this is very different, yes), where the community has abandoned its church, leading Whoopie to lead the nun’s church choir to stardom, rescuing the church. In fact, Reverend Mother Superior (Maggie Smith) is equally, if not more dour than Fitzgibbon. Other interesting facts I learned on the TCM DVD Intro is that this film had actually won Best Picture, making its success all the more revealing. It’s safe to assume that, near the end of WWII, the world needed a feel good film with a hopeful message. No matter how you feel about religion, this is a story about great people, and a great person who helps to inspire everyone to be better. As I said in The Bells of St. Mary, I hope Bing Crosby was a good guy in real life, as like Tom Hanks, he seems like the nicest celebrity you could meet. To hear that he was the most popular star of the time just goes to demonstrate his ability to unite the country together, connecting with his nice, accessible demeanor. BELOW: The beautiful title track Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A image burned into my mind Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Jay Cocks & Martin Scorsese; based on Silence by Shūsaku Endō Cinematographer: Rodrigo Prieto Producer: Barbara De Fina, Randall Emmett, Vittorio Cecchi Gori, Emma Tillinger Koskoff, Gaston Pavlovich, Martin Scorsese, Irwin Winkler by Jon Cvack There seemed to be two camps for this film - those that thought it was a masterpiece, and those who found it far too long and far too boring. I’m somewhere in the middle, feeling that it was about an hour too long (if being generous), while containing an incredible last hour that made the grueling pace all worth it. Learning about the twenty year mission to get this film made, I understood the delay, as contrary to The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), which examined Jesus’ struggle with his own faith, this movie was relatively small in scale, serving as a highly contained, if not drawn out story. It focuses on two Jesuit priests - Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam Driver) - as they head off to Hirado Island, Nagasaki in order to find their mentor Cristóvão Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who went missing after Japanese samurais tortured and killed his fellow missionaries who refused to apostatize. They’re led by alcoholic Kichijiro (Yōsuke Kubozuka) who renounced his Christian faith in order to save himself. Arriving at Hirado, they’re welcomed by the community, where they issue penitence and prayer for the members. Eventually, the Samurai come to town, and so we witness the people forced to renounce their Christian beliefs under threat of torture, or even death. One trio of men is hung up on a cross in the ocean, in which the high tide slowly drowns them to death, while Garupe and Rodrigues hide in the woods, watching in terror. Eventually they separate, with Rodrigues getting caught by the inquisitors, who later force him to watch Garupe as he attempts to save those who refused to convert; wrapped up in a straw mat, hands tied, and tossed over a ship. Garupe tries to save him and drowns. Thus after ninety minutes we finally get to the meat of the story, as Rodriguez is held up in prison and forced to witness the horrific consequences greeting his many acolytes that refuse to apostatize - including beheadings and some horrendous torture device where they hang the individual upside down, making a deep incision behind the ear so that the blood can leak from their head, prolonging a horrible death. Regardless of what the inquisitors do, Rodrigues refuses to give in to their demands. Eventually, and in the film’s greatest scene, we meet Ferreira, who we learn that, after all Garuse and Rodrigues had sacrificed, has abandoned his religion, converting to Buddhism and refocusing his life on a pursuit of science. He now has a wife and a child. The woman is a widow of her Christian husband who was executed. Garfield puts on one of his finest scenes, as Rodriguez struggles to grasp the reality of what he’s hearing. We watch as he reflects on all he had seen, and what happened to Garuse, wondering if it was all for nothing. By this point I had lost track of time, not knowing if there was another forty five minutes left, or it was was reaching the end. Ferreira demands Garuse step on a plate of Jesus and renounce his beliefs, or face the excruciating torture others experienced. I’m sure I’m speaking for many - Christians, specifically - in that most people would just put their foot on the Jesus Plate. If Jesus is an all-loving being, then he will understand that you stepped on it out of fear, and not at all as an indication of apostasy. And yet so many of these individuals refuse. It’s a noble gesture, but - speaking for most atheists and agnostics - it’s also a silly one. To face execution in one of the most brutal ways imaginable, or living your Christian life in private is just no question to me. I can’t fathom it. This film’s World Premiere was at the Vatican, screening for over 400 Jesuits. I went to a Jesuit college, and while I’m not particularly religious, I retain an interest in the history and tradition. From a non-religious perspective, it’s a fascinating culture. To have that amount of faith in something, where you’re willing to sacrifice even yourself for the belief, is something I’m, at times, envious of. To be able to finding meaning in God rather than creativity or knowledge is something I imagine does fill many voids and provides purpose in the darkest of times. While it might be offensive to even make the following comparison, I think this story is for anyone who’s passionate about a cause, whether for their own ambition, a value, belief, passion, or faith. How far are you willing to go and are you willing to let it kill you? In the case of Rodriguez, and what I liked about the ending, is he gave in and renounced his faith. Some might say Jesus spoke to him, but it could just as easily be said that it was Rodriguez speaking to himself, expressing the need to stop. Coincidentally, just as I was taking a quick break to look at Reddit there was a meme of The Rock, saying, “We all must suffer two things: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret.” Now before you roll your eyes at the shallow platitude, I’d ask you to consider how this is in any way inapplicable to Rodriquez. He either has to deal with the pain of watching people die because he failed to make this choice, possibly even die himself, or renounce his beliefs and give into the pain of regret in abandoning his faith. It leaves me wondering if he found absolution, whether he turned back to God personally, or his wife simply placed the crucifix back into his hand due. I'm a bit surprised that it was screened at the Vatican, as for as much as it’s a celebration of faith, it’s also a tragic turn of one man reaching the limits of his own, refusing to die like Jesus did. I’m then left wondering why so little time was spent on the years of his life after apostatizing, when so much could have been trimmed from the front to open room for this section and explore how his life had changed. BELOW: An absolutely brutal scene and, next to the ear bleeding, what I'll remember most Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of Bergman's better roles Director: Mark Robson Writer: Isobel Lennart; based onThe Small Woman by Alan Burgess Cinematographer: Freddie Young Producer: Buddy Adler by Jon Cvack This is one of the earlier versions of the white-person-goes-to-war-torn- foreign-country-and-saves-the-people-of-color I’ve ever seen (i.e., Dangerous Minds, Seven Years in Tibet, The Last Samurai, etc), featuring Ingrid Bergman as Aylward, a impecunious and real life Swedish missionary who’s determined to get to China in order to help the poor and spread the Christian word. She boards the Train-Siberian railway and heads to Yang Cheng, where she meets fellow missionary Jeannie Lawson (Athene Seyler) who begins working at an old Inn - newly named The Sixth Inn of Happiness - where in exchange for a meal, patrons will get Biblical stories and a free copy of the book. Soon Jeannie dies, leaving Aylward in charge of the place. The town is controlled by a type of mayor (I’d like to know the proper noun for this position), who provides us with our second white person, Lin (Curt Jürgens) - white in the sense that it’s a very white British actor playing a half white/half Chinese man in a way that leaves me wondering just how many other white men dressed up like Chinese people, as Mickey Rooney would go on to do the same thing just a few years later in 1961’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Alec Guinness would do in A Passage to India (1984). Jürgens’ comes to complete with a grating high pitched squeaky voice that makes his character almost as annoying as it offensive. And still there’s a third half white/half Mandarin man called "The Mandarin", also played by a white actor (Robert Donat). Not to go too far into the politics, but it really leaves you wondering whether it was that no one thought to cast an actual Chinese person, or that the studios forbid the possibility due to some racist policy, as regardless of which, it’s so glaringly offensive, that each scene was smothered by this fact, preventing me from being fully drawn in. Nevertheless, Gladys Ayward goes onto to complete some incredible work, reforming much of the town and gaining the people’s affection - much to the chagrin of Lin. She gets the town to ban foot binding, cares and educates the town’s children, and ushes in better prison conditions, dedicating her entire life toward helping out others. I recommend checking out Ayward’s wikipedia page, as her story is a pretty cool read. The Japanese soon invade China, during the Second-Sino Japanese War, heading straight for Yang Cheng, forcing the Mandarin to go join the military. During a bombing run, the town is nearly destroyed and Japanese forces just days away. With many of the townspeople gone, Ayward is left in charge of the dozens and dozens of children, leading them through the mountains and back to safety. While Ayward’s life and what she accomplishes is great, the white actors playing Chinamen is distracting. It’s a long film, clocking in a two and a half hours, and while I’m sure at the time it could have been a great movie, I’ve just felt like I’ve seen it so many times before. It’s worth checking out, as Ingrid Bergman’s performance is worth the viewing alone. BELOW: Pretty good final scene (also not finding anything else on the YT) Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Oh I wish I could have seen the play Director: Denzel Washington Writer: August Wilson; based on Fences by August Wilson Cinematographer: Charlotte Bruus Christensen Producer: Todd Black, Scott Rudin, Denzel Washington by Jon Cvack I grew excited for this film the moment I heard a question posed to Denzel Washington during THR’s 2017 Director’s Roundtable about how he chose to approach the material. Denzel Mentioned that it was really about preserving August Wilson’s base material and attempting to open up the location a bit more. I’ve been working on my own version of a chamber drama and seeing this film, with its incredible dialogue and phenomenal performances, provided one of the most motivational moviegoing experiences I’ve had all year. I’m not sure why there is even contention over whether Washington will take the statue, as I think this is one of the greatest performances he has ever given - making me wish I could have seen his revival of the role back on Broadway.* The story opens former ballplayer and now garbage man Troy Maxson (Washington) who’s walking home with his buddy Stephen Henderson (Jim Bonco) from the garage, about to crack open their weekly pint of gin. Troy says hello to his wife Rose Lee (Viola Davis), who he genuinely loves and remains passionate for, even if it means making a few too many ribald comments while company’s over. The floodgates open fast, as the moment Troy pops the gin, he unleashes a fusillade of life philosophies that will continue on throughout the film, chiefly revolving around how he’s a Man because he works, has a wife, a son, and a home. Throughout the film we’ll learn how brittle the foundation of each of these things really is. He’s soon visited by his son, Lyons (Russell Hornsby), birthed from another marriage, who’s a struggling jazz musician with a bit of talent, constantly in need of some extra cash. Of course, with Troy’s pride comes a long lecture for the $10 loan Lyons requests, and how if Lyons only acted like a Man and worked a real job he wouldn’t have to lie about coming over only to borrow some money. The brilliance in this scene is that we don’t really know whether Lyons is just fibbing his way to get the cash, or actually plans to repay the money back. Since we don’t know much about Troy at this point, I floated toward the former, as initially Troy’s lightening fast philosophies seem sound, honoring the principle of a self-made man who hadn’t relied on anyone. When Lyons leaves, we meet Gabriel (Mykelti Williamson), who’s Troy’s mentally disabled brother after WWII left him with a metal plate in his head. He carries a basket of vegetables, wears a horn, and talks about St. Peter. While Gabe now lives on his own, we soon learn that his disability left Troy with a $3000 payout, demonstrating that the house he takes so much pride in paying off was actually purchased in part by his brother’s misfortune. Finally, we meet Troys third child, Cory Maxson (Jovan Adepo), who’s a varsity athlete, recently receiving a football scholarship to North Carolina. However, when ordered to help Troy build the fence he’s been meaning to put up in his backyard, we learn that he quit his job in order to keep practicing football. This goes against everything Troy has ever believed in, demanding Cory get his job back, and refusing to sign for the college scholarship unless he does so. Troy’s insecurities prevents him from seeing any opportunity for Cory as a professional player, as when he was coming up as a ballplayer “...better than Jackie Robinson”, no team would take him. And even if Cory does get to the professional league, the white owners would keep him down. Cory agrees to try and get his job back and work weekends in order to keep playing football, later dissenting once again from his promise. One of the brilliant little nuggets that was sprinkled into the script is when Troy’s friend Jim warns Troy against talking to a new girl he’s been checking out. As with the uncertainty over whether Lyons will repay the money, I wasn’t sure if this was just an innocuous admonition, or serious issue. Of course we find out that it was very much the latter, as Troy later learns that the woman is now pregnant. And so comes one of the most powerful moments of the entire film, in which Troy explains to his wife what happened. Viola Davis goes onto the earn every bit of the Oscar she received, delivering one of the finest dramatic performances I can remember of the last few years where she explains that, just like Troy confesses to having needs and desires, she does too; the only difference being that her love for Troy prevented her from ever pursuing them. It wasn’t just men she might have found attractive, but the dreams she had for herself and the things she wanted to accomplish. It was one of the strongest moments I could ever recall in demonstrating that infidelity for reasons of boredom is often more hurtful than for love; as it’s a confession to how the person feels toward their partner and how little respect they have. Up until this point, we had seen Troy having a few too many drinks, becoming disrespectful toward Rose Lee as he gropes her in the front of the neighborhood, explaining what he wants to do to her, often reflecting his mega ego. What’s brilliant is that, as the two are portrayed as having a genuine affection for each other, Rose Lee is self-respecting enough to avoid drawing more attention to the awkwardness, never giving into his attempts. Once again, we see that for a man who brags about how he has all that a Man should - a wife, a house, and a kid - that all of those things are illusory and that, in fact, he’s very much still a child. It brings us to the last relationship between him and his son Cory, as after Cory dissents, quitting his job entirely and returning to football, Troy castigates the child for disobeying him; telling him he has three more strikes and that's the first, before he kicks Cory out of the house. Troy grabs Rose Lee far too hard during the argument and Cory comes to her rescue, leading to strike two. The third comes when, after Cory visits the Marine Recruiter, figuring any chances of pursuing his dreams as an athlete are over, he comes home to find Troy wasted on gin, with Stephen nowhere to be seen. Troy prevents Cory from coming inside, launching the pair into an argument, quickly elevating to a physical fight, as Cory explains that his entire relationship with Tory has revolved around fear; as much as Troy can brag about all he accomplished, everyone sees right through it all - Troy has weaknesses like anyone else, many worse. While I figured Cory would get the upper hand, we witness Washington’s apex of talent as he unleashes a fury of drunken defenses, trying with all his might to avoid killing his son and retaining just enough of our understanding along the way. Such a scene demonstrates the power of a great actor; as they're somehow able to portray a side of humanity that you have rarely It all leaves you wondering about the title Fences - how some build them to keep people in, while others build them to keep people out. Given the racial component of the story, in which Troy conveys a very bitter and staunchly individualistic philosophy, it’s clear that Troy very much doesn’t want anyone looking into his life and see the hypocrisy he possesses. He’s afraid of what else is out there, or what his sons could become; that they could do better than anything he ever imagined. On the one hand, we want to despise Troy as we discover his despicable self-regard, and on the other we feel bad that he very much is a victim of the environment he grew up in - having been treated as a second class citizen most of his life, where his skills couldn’t get him anywhere beyond a life of crime or the garbage truck. We understand his pride, and pity the fence he put upon himself. Taking care of what becomes three children from separate women, we get the sense that he just couldn’t admit or humble himself enough to understand that what he created could be beautiful and better than anything that he ever was. It’s a film that I’m anxious to watch again, knowing that I’m only touching the surface of a very complex and profound story. It’s one of my favorite movies of the year. *I wrote this before the 2017 Academy Awards BELOW: Although I wanted to share one of the great scenes, Washington's speech from the NAACP is one of the finest Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Even the prop had CGI Director: Steven Spielberg Writer: David Koepp; story by George Lucas and Jeff Nathanson; based on Characters by George Lucas Philip Kaufman Cinematographer: Janusz Kamiński Producer: Frank Marshall by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... I was surprised to see Spielberg abandon his roots, forfeiting what had worked three films in a row, all becoming modern classics of the highest caliber, simply in order to try and wow audiences by a bunch of the generic CGI shots. And the thing is, this might have worked if Spielberg didn’t abandon his ability to have the characters pull us in. Take a look at the intro to Raiders of the Lost Arc or The Last Crusade (it’s also been about a decade since I’ve seen Temple of Doom), and what we get is a very clear goal - get the item and escape alive. In the case of Crystal Skull, Indy is taken prisoner, forced to lead them to what they’re looking for, and then attempting to retrieve the alien corpse that he wasn’t even looking for in the first place. While the escape sequence is kind of cool in that he ends up in a creepy life size model town used for nuclear weapon testing, it falls into trope as, naturally they’re about to test a nuclear bomb while he's there, leading Indy to hide in a refrigerator while the bomb explodes, and regardless of nuclear fallout, radiation, or how hot it’d be seconds after the explosion, Indiana just walks away. I honestly sat in disbelief that this was the world we were expected to believe. While TCL took me away into another world, within seconds of Crystal Skull I was aware I was watching an absurd film that had completely abandoned any sense of logic. The fact that this was made by Spielberg honestly breaks my heart, as this film almost seems like a pre-teenage boys overly caffeinated fantasy of what a cool Indiana Jones sequel could be. But it actually gets worse. From this ridiculous sequence and skipping ahead about an hour, we enter into one of the most ridiculous uses of CGI I’ve ever seen, in which there’s an initial deep jungle car chase that leads to a fire ant attack. It honestly felt as though Spielberg was the fox who found his way into the henhouse, as he unrelentingly depends on CGI for nearly every shot in this entire sequence. In a high speed chase through the middle of the jungle - not on a road in the middle of the jungle, but the middle of the jungle - in which somehow the cars fail to encounter the slightest impediment - not a log, puddle, or tree stump ever stands in their way, as they cruise forward. As if that’s not enough, Shia LeBouf somehow jumps off one of the racing jeeps and grabs one of the vines, climbing or being pulled up, to which he finds a group of monkeys, who then lead him swinging through the lianas as they return to the speeding jeeps. This finally ends when they crash into a fire ant mound, which pour out and start attacking some people, but not others, like when Indiana Jones pulls out the Crystal Skull, or when they for some reason skip Irina, going for her Soviet partner instead, even though there were more than enough ants to kill everyone. It was clear that any canon had been completely discarded, looking to The Mummy and Pirates of the Caribbean series for the extent of logical impossibility. By this point I couldn’t even grow nostalgic, wondering how Spielberg could have done this with his old style. It would have been impossible - the moment there was a car chase in the jungle with monkeys and thousands of fire ants attacking humans we were past any imaginings. I started to become confused, feeling a sense of betrayal, as though the character I had grown up with and loved abandoned all it stood for. I then remembered that Spielberg made Bridge of Spies last year - one of the greatest films of this decade and I calmed down. The film continues on this path, never really topping the jungle scene’s absurdity. It culminates in some type of CGI smorgus borge, involving aliens and old ancient ruins, where a Crystal Skull is put on a different alien corpse, allowing them to hypnotize people and then destroy the place with some of gravity-defying power that soon sends the entire cast up through a water well to watch a space ship launch. Except for the concluding epic CGI shot that was only kind of cool and the diner scene about thirty minutes into the film I don’t think I enjoyed any of this. For it to conclude on Mary and Indy’s wedding only reminded me how ridiculous her inclusion was - where in the middle of a South American jungle she just so happens to appear. And then in lightening fashion, the two look past the fact that Mary kept Mutt a secret and that they haven’t talked in over twenty years, suddenly rekindling their romance - where aside from how little sense that makes, leaves you wondering why they didn’t just get together sooner. I don’t know why this was made. I think if a fourth was made even in the 90s it could have better, as it couldn’t have relied entirely on artificial worlds. It left me disappointed and sad. While I was once excited for Chris Pratt’s possible revival of the role, if it’s told like this - and it likely will be - I’ll just stick to the originals. And it leaves me in disbelief. Relying on modern CGI is like buying a cool and expensive car that’s going to break in a few years versus a really cool and slightly more expensive car that could last forever. Films like this do not have a shelf life. Movies like the original trilogy have proven to last forever. BELOW: The last shot is infuriating Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Everything looks fake (except the diner) Director: Steven Spielberg Writer: David Koepp; story by George Lucas and Jeff Nathanson; based on Characters by George Lucas Philip Kaufman Cinematographer: Janusz Kamiński Producer: Frank Marshall by Jon Cvack I had put on this film immediately after I finished The Last Crusade ('89). I hadn’t seen TLC in nearly a decade, and the film was even better than I remembered, epitomizing Spielberg’s ability to converge craft of highest order with popular storytelling. Having always heard Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was terrible and made close to zero sense, I took my time getting to this one; not wanting to tarnish the first trilogy. But with TLC giving me hope that Spielberg’s prowess would at least provide some mildly entertaining sequences, I figured I’d put this on and give it go. What I experienced was one of the most heartbreaking moments I’ve experienced with cinema - as this is not just Spielberg’s worst film, but one of the worst sequels ever made, making Lucas’ Eps. I-III feel like Lord of the Rings. This film serves as the antithesis of what Spielberg stands for - relying on a barrage of computer graphics for extraordinarily illogical sequences, and obvious throwback elements to help try and relieve these problems. While with the original trilogy we dealt with magic and religion, this round we’re introduced to aliens, in which Spielberg forfeits any insight into any interesting questions whatsoever in order to provide us with a gaudy CGI fest that only leaves you more upset for how much better Spielberg is when he abandons the practice. The story follows a Golden Yeared Indiana Jones, whose hair has gone gray, and whose aging body has forced him to slow down. We open in the middle of the desert near Area 51 as a caravan of Russian spies dress as American soldiers in order to invade a warehouse where a strongly magnetized box exists. It was from nearly the opening shot, when we see the two actual American soldiers ask the Soviet spies to forfeit their weapons, when Spielberg cuts to a shot of the commanding officer who then dips to a knee, revealing the half dozen spies with guns behind them, opening fire, as though the American soldiers wouldn’t have seen the strange formation these soldiers were taking while getting out of the cars. I always resent this type of logical forfeiture in order to try and accomplish a cool shot, which it isn’t is. As happens when you watch enough movies for a long enough time, I knew I was in for the long haul on this one. Indy is then revealed and so is the evil Irina Spaiko (Cate Blanchett) who’s one of the most boring villains ever created, adopting the stolid Russian personality placed within Mia Wallace’s body. I can’t tell you one unique thing Irina does or says, and given what I mentioned in my TLC essay, in which a fucking tank driver was able to become a memorable character, I couldn’t help getting annoyed and fast. Still, I figured maybe this was a slow burn and Spielberg would surprise us. We then enter the warehouse, using gunpowder to try and find a heavily magnetized package, where they throw it up into the air and follow the direction it drifts toward. Eventually they find the box, which contains an alien corpse, and then Indiana attempts to escape and we get our first taste of Spielberg’s dependence on CGI rather than expanding on what he has demonstrably done with highest quality three times before. Let me pause to state that the primary problem with CGI is that, and the reason I would rather watch old films than many of these VFX-diarrhea machines is because I know that it’s not real. I know that Irina is not really driving a jeep through this warehouse that suddenly is about two miles long, even though it’s supposed to be the warehouse from The Temple of Doom. Time and again we cut to these great wide shots, showing the tens of thousands of boxes, as the car speeds the aisle, while Indiana Jones literally sprints across narrow rafters up across the ceiling, using his whip to swing down onto Irina, who’s still driving. None of this is real. It doesn’t look real, it doesn’t feel real. It’s like a video game or cartoon, in which case I rather just pick up a video game or watch an animated film. I honestly cannot comprehend how filmmakers today still refuse to understand that part of the spectacle for action-adventure films - and what makes them so effective - is that what we’re seeing looks as though it’s actually happening. Time and again, all we get is as much CGI as they can cram into each and every shot, rendering the whole thing completely unbelievable. Case in point is The Last Crusade, where not once in the entire film was I pulled out because something didn’t look real - with maybe the exception of the blimp’s establishing shot, which looked more like a matte painting and not trying to be the coolest, most amazing complex shot of a blimp ever possibly conceived! The story transports you because we’re seeing Harrison Ford actually hanging from a gun turret cutting into a mountain, or his face being pushed into a tire tread, or an actual tank - even if a model - actually falling down the mountain. There is no magic to seeing an ornate CGI shot. I don’t imagine what the crew must have done to achieve it, or what the actor risked to perform it, or how the director decided to capture it. I just see a bunch of people in a room on their computers working complex software. BELOW: Somehow driving unimpeded through the middle of a jungle, and it only gets worse Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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