 I'll never get any filmmaker's fascination with the Oedipus myth Director: Volker Schlöndorff Writer: Rudy Wurlitzer; Homo Faber by Max Frisch Cinematographer: Giorgos Arvanitis; Pierre Lhomme Producer: Eberhard Junkersdorf by Jon Cvack Honestly, until I put this in my queue I didn’t even know Volker Schlöndorff had even made an English film, let alone one with Judi Delphi and Sam Shepard. Nearly all the films I’ve seen of his involve politics in some or another, I knew this involved traveling, so I was hoping for some type of global political thriller. I was pretty off, as this his most cerebral - and bizarre - film. The story involves engineer and self-proclaimed technologist Walter Faber after he crash lands an airplane in one of the most awful crash scenes I think I’ve ever seen in my life. While stranded, he learns that a fellow passenger is the brother of his old friend, Joachim (August Zirner), who just so happened to have married Walter’s ex-girlfriend Hannah (Barbara Sukowa). He learns that Hannah had gotten pregnant when her and Joachim got together. Joachim then proposed to her and she refused, threatening to get an abortion. Walter decides to visit Joachim over in Mexico City where he owns a tobacco farm and discovers Joachim had hanged himself. Walter heads home, where his recently dumped girlfriend Ivy waits for him with dinner prepared. He doesn’t want her there, and decides to head back to Paris for a business conference. He takes a ship, where he meets a bunch of beatniks and intellectuals, including Elisabeth Piper (Julie Delphy), whose only nineteen years old. Given that I just watched Claire’s Knee as it was randomly next in my list (I never read what either movie was about), I’m noticing a strange coincidence here. Walter has a brief and interesting argument with the group about how the only art in the world worth anything is engineering, as it’s the one thing that’s allowing them to all be on that exact ship to begin with and debate the matter at all. He’s unable to see what creativity offers that engineering cannot. Later he ends up hooking up with Elisabeth. The two begin to drive across France, with Elisabeth determined to see every bit of art each city has to offer, while Walter reads his newspaper, disinterested. They talk in a graveyard while Walter peels an apple. After Elisabeth goes swimming, she naps by a tree and gets bitten by a snake. We start to notice some symbols and then find out that Elisabeth is the daughter of his ex-girlfriend Hannah, who returns to town; that Joachim didn’t get Hannah pregnant, but rather Walter.. Walter nonetheless confesses his love for Elisabeth. They then have sex in Hannah’s house and Elizabeth dies from the bite. Reading additional material, I came across the New York Times article on the director, which said: "What's German about the film is the whole mentality of the piece," the director [Schlöndorff] continues. "It's not a question of language. You know, culture goes more insidious ways." While some may see the film as a story of a man who entraps himself unknowingly with his daughter, Mr. Schlöndorff says the film is really "a very private story, telling you that you cannot, say, at 50, pick up your emotional life where you left it at 25. "You may say it's too bad she happens to be his daughter, otherwise they'd be a happy couple forever after. But the story would not work even if it were not incest. The point is that he is denying his age, denying his experience. He is denying the fact that, as Max Frisch put it, that life is a curve. It's not a vector that goes on and on in a straight line." Roger Ebert said it in that the end doesn’t really leave us with much. I agree. The NYT goes on to say it’s a modern day Oedipus story, and while I guess I agree, I still don’t really know what the point of any of it is. Oedipus Rex spans far beyond incest, but this story is about that taboo specifically. I actually figured that this movie might be pretty good if it just ended with Walter having to say goodbye upon learning the news, discovering his carnal desire for someone half his age panned out poorly (in that she died); rather than having to discover it was his daughter. Instead, the ending creates an uncomfortable vibe that pulls the entire film down. If you like Schlöndorff it’s worth checking out. If you know don’t know who he is, I don’t recommend starting with it. BELOW: Nothing on YouTube, so here's Volker Schlöndorff's Criteron picks interview Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Worth seeing for this trio alone Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Leigh Brackett; The Stars in Their Courses by Harry Brown Cinematographer: Harold Rosson Producer: Howard Hawks by Jon Cvack From the opening frame, I was absolutely blown away by the transfer. This is one of the best looking classic era HD films from the period that I’ve seen, utilizing 1080 to make it look as though it was just shot today and taking on the western aesthetic. It was particularly during the night scenes that emphasized the beauty, as the men wandered along the city streets, with the glow from inside the stores striking across the characters, with other pools of cool blue light coming either from the moon or a different source. When done well, the best part of westerns is their ability to transport you back in time, where you don’t just think you’re watching a moment from the past, but actually feel it. Watching this film (followed by The Sons of Katie Elder, which while not as close, was an incredible transfer as well), I felt as though I was rediscovering the genre, in which all too often, the poor look would diminish the experience. If I watched this on DVD, I’m sure it’d play like just another western. In HD, it was like seeing the world come alive; an experience I’ve rarely had with BluRay. The story involves Cole Thornton (John Wayne) as a professional gunslinger, hired by a ranch owner Bart Jason (Ed Asner) to help him in a range war in El Dorado. He heads over, discovering his old friend and tosspot sheriff J.P. Harrah (Robert Mitchum), who warns Cole that the range war will likely force the two old friends to fight against each other. Cole then quits. Bart Jason hears the news, fearing that Cole flipped sides. He puts his son on guard who tries to shoot Cole dead, missing. Not knowing who the shooter is, Cole returns fire and strikes the son. Cole brings the boy back, explains what happened, but the well has been poisoned. In vengeance, Bart Jason's daughter ambushes Cole, landing a bullet right near Cole’s spine. He lives and let’s the girl go, but the bullet can’t be removed without a better surgeon, which begins to affect his motor skills. Months later, Cole returns to town, meeting the young knife-slinging hothead Mississippi (James Caan). The duo pair up to help out Thornton, who after a love affair gone wrong, has turned even more to the bottle. Fearing that Thornton will be killed by the Jason and his family, the trio return to town to help him out. First off, it's important to take a moment to appreciate that Robert Mitchum, James Caan, and John Wayne were all in a movie together. Reading the plot on Wikipedia, I’m actually a bit surprised at how complex it is, as the story plays with such grace and ease - often going off on tangents that are enjoyable and fun, before heading back to the action - that you never get the impression of a complex web.* We get to explore the characters of this powerhouse cast, rather than rushing to the next shoot-em-up scene (of which there are many). For instance, when returning to the town, Thornton has become so inebriated, that Mississippi concocts a disgusting black sledge of sauces, herbs, and pills that Thornton's unable to drink without requiring the bathroom.** The whole scene is equally hilarious and sad, especially when Thornton basically just waits until the potion subsides before looking for his bottle once again. He heads over to the local saloon, his clothes torn, his five-o’clock shadow heading to midnight, and sweat pouring out of his every pore as he struggles to control his shakes. Entering the bar, he has no respect, chastised by the men, who send him home, pathetic and disgraced. Later, Wayne and Mississippi will return with him to the bar, and provide the movie’s greatest scene, up there with any Tarantino oeuvre. It’s here that the transfer really lent its power, demonstrating the ability of film from fifty years ago to compete with anything today, if not exceed. There’s a mixture of antiquity and superiority, in which that classic western anamorphic and technicolor frame is utilized to the fullest, blocking characters to make each shot looking like a painting. It’s the finest example of how lackluster transfers diminish the power of a scene. For reason beyond my understanding, if something looks old, it’s hard to appreciate it as equal to what’s modern. This shows you what happens when the two are matched. I often enter into and out of infatuations with genre - the most recent one being mumblecore. I’ve never loved westerns, and I think it’s because I never really was able to see them the way they’re supposed to be seen. I watched The Sons of Katie Elder after this, providing another great transfer that provided just as much depth and detail in each frame, and now I want to find as many remasterings as possible. Recently, I watched How the West Was Won which is one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen. If I was a betting man, I'd count on a revival. * In fact, Mitchum later said about the film, "When [the director] Howard called me, I said, 'What's the story?' and he said, 'No story, just characters' and that's the way it was. Did one scene, put it away, did another, put it away." **The ingredients include (among others) Cayenne pepper, ipecac (an emetic), mustard, croton oil (which induces diarrhea), asafoetida (often misspelled acifedida) and gunpowder. BELOW: James Caan and John Wayne in a really badass scene Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Best comedy-duo of all time Director: Billy Wilder
Writer: Billy Wilder and I. A. L. Diamond; based on The Front Page by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur Cinematographer: Jordan Cronenweth Producer: Paul Monash by Jon Cvack Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau serve as one of the greatest comedy duos of all time. To this day I think one of the great tragedies of cinema was that the pair couldn’t return for My Fellow Americans (1996). Yet it wasn’t just the duo’s return that got me excited, but that Billy Wilder shot a movie about Chicago newsmen. The story involves Chicago Examiner Editor-in-Chief Walter Burns (Walter Matthau) as he’s covering the execution of Leftist and communist-sympathizer Earl Williams (Austin Pendleton), who given his affiliations, the public is ready to see put down. Burns is hoping his ace reporter Hildy Johnson (Jack Lemmon) will cover the story, but as the scaffold is being set up right beneath the Examiner’s office, Hildy heads to the office, offering his resignation. He’s done with the cutthroat, bleed-it-reads newsroom, opting instead to take up a more lucrative advertising position from the uncle of his fiancee Peggy Grant’s (Susan Sarandon). Burns is furious over the decision and enters into his first of many profane tirades. We know where it’s going, where just as Earl Williams escaped in a heated gun battle, Hildy returns to the office to pick up some things to then discover what could be the hottest scoop of the century. With Burns admonitions, Hildy agrees to write up something quick and juicy for the story, and while doing so, Earl enters the newsroom, shot in the arm, professing that the cops are trying to kill him and the public has the whole story wrong. Hildy hides him in the desk, as the colleagues make their way back into the office to get on the phone, and thus your typical “bomb under the table” slapstick ensues, all while Peggy is outside waiting for Hildy to come back down. While we eventually get outside the office for an epic and hilarious police chase, the material’s basis on a play I think is what limits the film’s efficacy. It all seems like it’d work so much better as a play, never really seeing what’s beyond the newsroom, as with the exception of a few expository scenes, anything that extends beyond it feels a bit forced. Beyond any of the slapstick is the analysis of news. Given that the original play was written in 1928, a bit more than a year before The Great Depression, I think in an era of ‘fake news’ and growing distrust with national media that this movie allows to remember that newspaper use to take on a similar echo chamber as today. Once upon a time there could be dozens of newspapers in major metropolitan areas, all competing for the latest scoop, and creating the most gripping headlines to attract readers. Walter Burns is not out to win a Pulitzer Prize so much as break purchase records. We see him salivating over Earl Williams death and escape, with little concern for who was shot or injured. The closing scene especially illustrates this point, as even when Walter shows his sentimental side, we see it’s all a con to get Hildy back. The movie is cynical, as the only positive aspect is Pegg’s hope that Hildy will actually quit and move away from the cutthroat business. In an era where so many are quick to mention the demise of newspapers as a primary factor in our current search for truth, we need to remember that not all newspapers are honorable and many deserved to crash for creating similar problems. The film had me keep thinking back to Teacher's Pet (1958), and Clark Gable’s great monologue talking about how economy with words is not just for the reader, but to ensure that the newspaper can receive as much advertising revenue as possible. As Doris Day mentions in her class, writing a news story isn’t just about providing information, but doing so in a way that entertains. To write a concise and economic story goes back to Mark Twain’s attitude toward short letters. Hildy has the talent, addicted to the thrill of breaking news to the nation. He also understand that it’s all consuming power prohibits much of a life outside the newsroom. BELOW: Can't find nothing beyond the trailer. You can't helping smiling in imagining all these dudes reuniting in 1974 Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Heck of a movie set Director: James Cameron Writer: James Cameron Cinematographer: Mikael Salomon Producer: Gale Anne Hurd by Jon Cvack This is the third time I’ve seen the film, and just like the second viewing, I forgot that it’s only in the Director’s Cut that the alien scene contains the prophetic video of Earth’s descent into Nuclear War. Although IMDb trivia says, much to the surprise of studios, James Cameron wanted the shorter version, it takes a massive drop, deeper than the miles deep canyon. After all the build toward discovering the aliens, Bud Brigman (Ed Harris) is taken aboard, sees the alien through a water wall or something, the ship rises from the ocean, the storm has ended, and everyone is saved. It’s when you see the Director’s Cut that you understand exactly what was explored, and why the aliens landed in the first place. Without it, the abrupt ending leaves you with far more questions than answers. In college I took a Sci-Fi CInema class, and during the section on the Red Scare 1950s alien invasion films, we learned the two camps - 1) fearful, pro-military, in which those in charge feared the aliens and wanted to destroy them (The Thing, Them!), and 2) empathetic, pro-science films in which the characters fight against the military in order to approach the aliens with diplomacy and understanding (The Day the Earth Stood Still). The entire discussion poses an interesting question in that why would aliens necessarily be malevolent? If the United States were to visit a planet with Intelligent Life, I can’t imagine NASA or its crew possessing any intent to harm (at least not initially, I assume - until private enterprise came in; think Avatar and what much of world history has shown; or read King Leopold’s Ghost). What I admire most about James Cameron is that he is one of the most politically AND financially successful filmmakers alive. Nearly all of his films contain a progressive message - about class in Titanic, colonialism and genocide in Avatar, militarism in Aliens, and pro-science and empathy vs. fear and aggression in The Abyss. The two sides are divided between Bud and his ragtag, begrimed and loyal crew, with his ex-wife Lindsey Brigman (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) joining the show at the last minute, having created the underwater drilling rig. Their mission is hijacked when after a nuclear submarine implodes, a group of Navy Seals, led by Lt. Hiram Coffey (Michael Biehn), joins the the crew in order to retrieve the sub’s nuclear warheads. It’s the perfect set up, and with Cameron’s vision at the forefront, with a lot of the movie taking place in diving suits and underwater, with Harris almost drowning at one point during production, like Hard Rain, it leaves you wondering when another practical FX-heavy film like this will come about. While the aliens look great, the fact that this film is nearly 30 years old allows you to forget all that. Similar to what Cameron would accomplish in Terminator 2, he’s able to use computer graphics as a supplement, rather than with full dependence. Given the aliens’ jellyfish-like bubble, they’re referred to “Non-Terrestrial Intelligence”, using water to take on shapes per the likes of T1000, or just preserve their jelly-fish selves, complete with neon glows and facial features. However, the Navy SEALs couldn’t care less about any peace gestures from the aliens, believing they could have been sent by the Russians, providing all the more reason to hurry and get the warheads off the submarine. While Cameron didn’t pioneer the modern roughneck sci-fi crew (first seen in Alien), he definitely made it his own. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth are so good in this film, providing a perfect amount of emotion, humor, and passion, all while alongside some of the most fascinating supporting characters in the genre. I loved how each person has a unique persona, with Lisa’s cowboy hat and good tunes, Alan “Hippy” Carnes’s pet rat (Todd Graff), Jammer’s extraordinary strength and teddy bear demeanor (John Bedford Lloyd), every character is sculpted and unique, allowing us to care about even the most minor of them. The combination of real people placed within this extraordinary situation allows it all to take on a realism usually lost in films from the genre. No matter how ridiculous things get, the characters keep it all grounded. Perhaps the best performance comes from Michael Biehn, who struggles to keep himself sharp while dealing with depth sickness, hyper paranoia, and inability to keep things under control. His demise is one of 80s/90s action films all time greatest battles, leaving you wanting the toy submarine, disappointed that they never existed. I’m not sure why the movie wasn’t as successful as Cameron’s other work, only making $90 million from its $70 million budget. I’d attribute a large portion of that to the rushed ending, which might have prevented word of mouth from spreading, as no matter how great a film is, a disappointing ending will leave a bad taste in any story. I’m even surprised how little attention this movie gets in the film community. While many people have seen it, it doesn’t at all have the following of Cameron’s other sci-fi films, or other popular blockbuster pieces. It’s smart, both with the content, characters, and message, allowing you take as much from it as you desire. Just make sure to check out the Director’s Cut. BELOW: It just doesn't work as well without this scene Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  On top of all else, makes you nostalgic for the days of seemingly blue-collar actors Director: Martin Scorsese Writer:Paul Schrader and Mardik Martin; Raging Bull: My Story by Jake LaMotta, Joseph Carter, and Peter Savage Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff by Jon Cvack Every time I think about this movie I picture the first Cinema Studies class I took in high school, in which our teacher Mr. Powers could only show us select scenes. When a student asked what it was rated, he looked at the box and said PG with a grin, leaving me furious over why we couldn’t watch the whole thing. Obviously, not seeing the movie, I didn’t really get the joke. Like any great film it gets better with age, as the idea of this coming out in 1980 blows my mind more now than any other time I’ve watched it. After my love affair with Italian Neo-Realism, buying Rossellini's Criterion War Trilogy and working my way through each movie from some book my sister bought me about Italian Neo-Realism (Bitter Rice was one of my favorites), I admire the genre’s ability to capture and document the history of post-WWII Europe and the devastating effect it had upon towns and people. The classic story of Rossellini using short ends of film to finish filming Rome, Open City might have been one of the first examples of Rodriguez/Linklater inspiration to aspiring filmmakers everywhere. The stories are often simple, focused on the poor and working class, which had largely been ignored up until that point. The classic note that Scorsese had written to film students contains at least three of these films. I recall an interview with the guy saying how he’d always get excited to buy the latest tv guide to find the Italian films he could watch on the small 10” television his family owned. When people want to say they’re pissed that movie theaters are going away and it’ll hurt filmmakers, consider that this is the format where one of the greatest fell in love with cinema. Seeing all his usual supporting performers - Joseph Bono, Frank Vincent, Frank Adonis - placed within a flawlessly recreated Italian Neo Realistic style left me in awe. And I know that that sounds like one of the most pretentious and uninspired things I could probably ever say in an essay about Scorsese, but to be able to understand what he accomplished is so fucking cool when you know where it stems from. It looks like you’re watching a European film from the early 1950s. And if that’s still pretentious, it looks like you’re watching a movie made in a completely different time period. A Christmas Story would accomplish the same thing three years later, looking like it was filmed in the 1950s. I actually think this is what a movie like Allied did so poorly, in that it didn’t try and make itself look like it was from its Hitchcock/Reed WWII spy thriller. It just took the storyline, but none of the style, when the equation needed to be flipped. Both A Christmas Story and Raging Bull are visual time machines. They brought in fresh stories and placed them within an older style. Thinking back, a few other films would accomplish this from then on: The Master, Buffalo ‘88, It Follows, and No are a handful I can name It leaves you wondering how that conversation must have gone, saying you want to make a boxing movie with a classical style, shot in mostly black and white. It’s an easy joke, but it’s faith in this type of material that leaves me thinking those were better days. The risk of making something like this today would just be too high. It then leaves me kind of sad thinking that there is another Scorsese out there who wants to do an equally ambitious project, and are things so bad that he can’t? It makes me appreciate the movie all the more so - for being able to even exist at all. Of course there’s the characters, and their fusillade of profanity and misogyny, which like Taxi Driver and Travis Bickle, leaves me wondering why so many people identify with this movie? It’s been so long since I’ve seen this that it provided that strange shift in perspective that some movies do, where once you related to one side of the story or characters and now the other. I always remembered a bunch of badass dialogue and incredible boxing scenes. I never really grasped how sad LaMotta’s character actually was. Contrary to all the discipline he has to train, Jake has an absolute inability to control his wandering thoughts about Vickie (Cathy Moriarty). He distrusts everyone, even Joey, where in that classic scene Jake accuses his brother of fucking his wife. Throughout all this, Vickie plays along, trying her hardest to be good to him, all while he continues to abuse her. I loved watching Moriarty explain herself truthfully, with a calm and objective tone, simply laying out the facts, which seemed to get under Jake’s skin even more. It almost goes with mediocre books making great movies; the same goes for past celebrities (whether Raging Bull or Boogie Nights). The movie is far greater than the man, and yet it’s scenes with that man that we celebrate. What is it about De Niro's performance that draws us in to watch, no matter how far it goes? He is an impotent man, and we’re watching him implode, with each scene between him and Joey taking our breath away. There’s a truth that’s captured; honoring the spirit of Neo-Realism (had to refer to it one more time), along with the photography, score, performances, style that all add up, capturing that vision, to something that feels so real; on the precipice between humor and tragedy, gently tottering back and forth between the two. Raging Bull is a movie that leaves you wondering if there’ll ever be another film like it. To hold such a strong place in culture - and for being built on such artistry and craftsmanship - deserve every bit of praise. It leaves me nostalgic. Not for a time, but for a possibility. Like the greatest films, it inspires you to want to make something. BELOW: Few filmmakers can combine such an obscure style with great performances and create a scene that ranks amongst the greatest of all time Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Looks like a fourteen girl, right...? Director: Billy Wilder Writer: Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett; Connie Goes Home by Edward Childs Carpenter; Sunny Goes Home by Fannie Kilbourne Cinematographer: Leo Tover Producer: Arthur Hornblow, Jr. by Jon Cvack Like any great filmmaker, Billy Wilder’s diversity of story is one of his most admirable qualities. Film noir, war film, rom-com, slapstick, adventure - he did it all; taking a rightful position as one of cinema's all time greats. The film follows Susan Applegate (Ginger Rogers), working as a scalp massages who had big dreams of stardom when arriving in New York, only to discover that the path to success is fraught with disappointment. Broke and alone, she decides to try and head back to her hometown of Stevenson, Iowa and return to a life of rural living. At the train station, she finds she’s short on the train fare, and decides to dress up like a little girl - adorable dress, balloon, and all - to get the discounted ticket price. The plan works and she boards the train, dealing with suspicious conductors who aren’t buying the adolescent costume. Susan escapes to Major Philip Kirby’s compartment (Ray Milland), who believing she’s just a scared twelve year old, let’s her stay in his room. Thus, the Major and the Minor. Watching this movie you can’t help wondering who in their right mind would actually believe that Ginger Rogers (who was 29 years old at the time of filming) could ever look like a twelve year old girl, leaving you to wonder why Wilder didn’t just write the character as a 16 year old, or even a college student (as students too could receive discounted fare). Even stranger is that the general public didn’t seem to find any of this weird, as the film was so successful that it was remade thirteen years later as You’re Never Too Young (1955) with Dean Martin. Perhaps it’s the simply the world we live in, where the media loves the bleeding headlines of an attractive teacher having relations with one of her younger students, but between the comedy, this movie contains countless numbers of uncomfortable moments. For instance, upon Susan meeting Major Kirby, and a thunderstorm breaks out, Kirby joins Susan in bed, holding her tight as the storm rages, rubbing her back and trying to comfort her, and it only got more bizarre from there. When the train is stopped due to flooding upon the tracks, Major Kirby takes Susan back to his military academy where he’s an instructor. This isn’t before his fiancee Pamela Hill (Rita Johnson) greets him at the abandoned train, seeing Kirby massaging Susan, who she assumes is the age she looks, though later discovers - and buys - that she’s only a twelve year girl. Susan is put up at Kirby’s house, where he meets his daughter; the precocious and aspiring scientist Lucy (Diana Lynn) who was about 14 years old when the movie was filmed, therefore - according to the film’s logic - older than Susan, but isn’t tricked by Susan’s game. Why Lucy is able to see what no one else is able to see is beyond me, but that’s just what’s needed to maintain the story. Of course, Susan is falling hard for Major Kirby, but given the fact that she’s at an all boys military academy - and given that it’s Ginger Rogers - she’s accosted and arguably assaulted by some of the boys who, amongst themselves, figure out some strange schedule that allows a bunch of cadets to take Susan out on dates in an orderly fashion. Given that all of these men are uptight, too-quick-to-grow-up children, the situation (aside from the weird assaults) provides some laughs. One awesome scene involves Susan and a student serving as the switchboard operators for the entire school, as Susan attempts to lure him away with music and sexuality in order to call Washington D.C. and prevent Kirby from being offered a new job. The mixture of using the frame’s depth, a switchboard, and Susan doing her best to maintain her act is Wilder at his finest, serving prelude to what we would see later on with his work. However, most disturbing is when Susan gets in trouble, having to sit down in Major Kirby’s office in order to get some discipline. In a scene that would never even make the script today, let alone the screen, Major Kirby struggles to avoid taking Susan in his arms and kissing her, expressing his undying love. Of course, Susan’s discovered by one of the cadets, who tells Kirby’s fiancee Pam, who admonishes Susan to leave immediately. Susan agrees and finally reaches her hometown. And yet, with Kirby still thinking that Susan is only twelve, he tracks her down. Believing he’s talking to Susan’s mother, who’s actually Susan (no longer dressed like a twelve year old), Kirby explains that his engagement to Pam is over and is heading back that night. Susan follows him to the station, and while some describe what happens in the closing moments as Susan’s confession, I didn’t see it that way. Although it was clear that the Major Susan was older, she didn’t explicitly admit she wasn’t twelve, which makes the point where Kirby finally kisses her the apex of uncomfortability. Although weird, the movie is entertaining. Not Wilder’s best, but definitely a preview of his talents to come. BELOW: Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Why is such a terrible person idolized by all walks of college students? Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Paul Schrader Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Julia Phillips and Michael Phillips by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... The entire political backdrop to the film is one of my favorite elements, providing such an eerie vibe throughout the story. Like The Game, it makes me want to experience the whole thing all over again, not fully grasping the details while getting lost within the world. Although I can’t recall what I felt the first time, I assume it was expecting Travis to kill the Senator. As he sinks further into despair, spouting off his nihilistic rhetoric, watching his mind melt away; as he believes the world is sinking into shit, you can’t but think he’d want to kill the Senator. Even after the first viewings, and even for a second on this one, I always wonder if he’s going to go off and do it. Like many great films (with Titanic being off the top of my head), the characters are so real that I feel as though hoping they’ll make a better decision this time around and change the film. I think it’s one of the most miraculous reactions to have when watching a movie; to retain hope that this thing which is unchangeable could maybe be different on a subsequent viewing. In the end, I’m left always wondering what it all means. I’ve compared great films to great music before, and it seems fitting again. You can’t put words to what a great song makes you feel, and the same applies to Taxi Driver. When I read about the film on Wikipedia and see that Travis is only 26-years old, it becomes a much more frightening tale. The way college students are attracted to the film is a kind of unnerving to think about. Many connected to his sense of alienation and view of the world, but even then, when you look up his quotes, most of it is homophobic and racist. He hates the city, seeing non-whites as amoral; easily comparable to a neo-Nazi, or any other far-right extremist pissed about where the country’s going. When you’re young and angry and feel like everyone’s an idiot for not knowing how smart you are, having a character this well developed allows you to connect. Deep down I think those who idolize Travis Bickle have some dark or even nightmarish desire of their own. Why else have the poster of the man, or dress up as him? He’s the type of person we hear about every other week on the news, who shot up a crowd, school, or church, completely deranged and ill; and yet people connect to that. I think that’s more interesting than anything the film might explore. It all attests to cinema’s “badass” ability to transport you into another world. The feeling that Scorsese conveyed was alienation, anger, and dissatisfaction. If this movie came out today, given the political climate, I’m sure it’d be equally as successful. This is that rare story where hardly anyone finds it to look or feel antiquated. It’s what happens when a genius filmmaker assembles his team in order to execute a vision, which ends up ushering in an entire lifetime of imitation. Many have attempted, but no one has made another Taxi Driver. And I think a large part of that is because no one wants to portray a horrible person with such humanity. The closest film to this is Downfall, where some criticized the film for humanizing Hitler. What most saw was a real and powerful portrait of a complex man, who just so happened to be a monster. Imagine a film coming out today with a white man ranting racial epithets into a mirror, holding guns? The Social Media warriors would attack that film with grand fury, citing it as a reason some person in real life kills someone, even though it’s been happening all along. The thing is, though, that people like this do exist, and they are complex. It’s only by opening them up that we could maybe understand. It takes a great mind to find the balance, and maybe that’s why only a few have ever come close to replication. BELOW: Dylan Roof, Nikoas Cruz, James Holmes - I suspect they all related to Travis Bickle (though no I don't think the movie affected their actions in any way) Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Paul Schrader Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Julia Phillips and Michael Phillips by Jon Cvack I think I might not have seen this movie since college, where I watched it at least four or five times (at about 7.5 years ago, I honestly can’t believe this is could be true). There was a 50/50 chance back then that any student apartment would possess a mohawked Travis Bickle posters where he’s holding the two guns pointed toward camera . If there was one thing that film snobs and the rest of the college body agreed upon was that Taxi Driver is a masterpiece, providing the perfect blend of great characters, depth, insight, and action; accessible by anyone - from novice to graduate student cinephile - wishing to watch a great story. If someone wanted to know what film can accomplish this would be one of five films I’d provide them. It’s the rare breed that acts as bridge between high brow art and popular culture, allowing the viewer to take its ideas as far as they’re willing to go. It opens up with that jazz score playing over the sewer smoke, as the cab drives through, and we receive our first close up of those observing eyes. Watching it after such a length of time has gone by, I was in some ways hoping to see something I hadn’t before, as typically happens with films I once loved and have revisited over the years. Except I think the problem is that I had seen this movie so many times back in college that, like anything else, the magic of discovery was gone. However, one section did leave me a bit more enlightened this time around, and that was the dynamic between Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) and Tom (Albert Brooks). For some reason I remembered their relationship as much more one-sided, with Tom acting as a creepy, borderline dork in order to try and get a date with Betsy. Instead, I discovered a genuine attraction between the pair, with Tom possibly using his position of power to woo Betsy, but still winning her over nonetheless. The relationship was much cuter and light than I recalled, which becomes all the stranger when Travis finally comes by. To this day I don’t really understand why Betsy goes out with Travis, who is so incredibly creepy in his approach, that her giving in felt a little too plot-serving. Perhaps she wanted to make Tom jealous, but it seemed like a stupid and dangerous way to do such. It all leads to the famous scene where Travis takes Betsy to a porn film, to which she quickly gets up to leave, and in a unique move, keeping her cool, she heads out and gets in a taxi and leaves, never to return again. It’s not often that a movie can introduce a girl as a possible subplot, only to abandon it when the main character makes the wrong decision. It’s like a scratch on a record jumping to the next song. In most instances this would never work, and yet it’s one of the most memorable parts of the film, giving us a taste of where Scorsese would go with later films, always interested in exploring unrelated tangent so long as it was about good character (Wolf of Wall Street, Goodfellas, etc.). In fact, the entire political backdrop to the film is one of my favorite parts, providing such an eerie vibe throughout the story. Like The Game, it makes me want to experience the whole thing all over again, not fully grasping the details. Although I can’t recall what I felt the first time, I assume it was expecting Travis to kill the Senator. As he sinks further into despair, spouting off his nihilistic rhetoric, watching his mind melt away; as he believes the world is sinking into shit, you can’t but think he’d want to kill the Senator. Even after the first viewings, and even for a second on this one, I always wonder if he’s going to go off and do it. Like many great films (with Titanic being off the top of my head), the characters are so real that I feel as though hoping they’ll make a better decision will change the movie. I think it’s one of the most miraculous reactions to have when watching a film; to actually retain hope that this thing which is unchangeable could maybe be different on a different viewing. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Scorsese on Inside the Actor's Studio Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  In terms of lizards used as dinosaurs, this is one of the better sequences Director: Henry Levin Writer: Charles Brackett and Walter Reisch; based on Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne Cinematographer: Leo Tover Producer: Charles Brackett by Jon Cvack My mother had bought me the four-books-in-one volume of Jules Verne’s classic quad - 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Mysterious Island, Around the World in 80 Days, and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Similar to when I read a four-books-in-one from H.G. Wells, discovering that while the stories overall are appealing to young kids, the reading level can be fairly difficult, and best reserved for much later in life. I had read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea some time in grade school, expecting some type of wild adventure story where a submarine dives deep down into unexplored waters, 20,000 leagues beneath the surface, where terrifying creatures reside and attack them. Instead, similar to what makes Moby Dick so boring, are the, at times, unbearably dense taxonomy and geography passages that drone on for pages upon pages. For aspiring scientists everywhere, I’m sure it’s thrilling. To the lay reader, it’s distracting. Still, considering when the books were published I can appreciate what Vernes’ prescient writings, though I still think the movie is far greater than the book, as it takes out all of the boring parts. However, it was The Mysterious Island that really took me for a loop, allowing Verne’s imagination to soar in impressive and imaginative ways as he creates his Lincoln Island from scratch, walking us precisely through how a group of men would survive on the Island, along with a plot that leaves you unable to put the book down. It was one of the best books I had read in 2016, leaving me excited to take on Journey to the Center of the Earth, as it had to be the best book of the series. While not terrible, and containing some exciting puzzles, again Verne falls victim to his own gross knowledge, leaving us with more geology lessons than we hope for, though still better than 20,000 Leagues. I was excited for the movie version, expecting that like Disney’s 20,000, it would remove most of the boring elements and cut right to the action. Instead, it takes about 45 minutes of not all that exciting exposition until we finally begin the journey. It focuses on geologist Professor Sir Oliver Lindenbrook (James Mason) who’s given a piece of volcanic rock by one of his students. With the help of his assistant Mr Paisley (Ben Wright), they begin running experiments on the mysterious element and discover a plumb bob inside with a mysterious inscription. They soon discover it was made by the Icelandic scientist Arne Saknussemm who allegedly found a passage to the center of the Earth. The two then embark on a mission to Iceland in order to find the passage, joined by Icelander Hans Bejlke (Petur Ronson) and Saknussemm’s widowed wife Carla (Arele Dahl). However, they’re not the only ones who are determined to get to the center of the earth, with a villainous Count Saknassem’s (Ivan Triesault and Arne’s descendant) also making the journey with his band of cronies who will stop at nothing to make the discovery. Even after 45 minutes, it takes quite some time before we end up seeing anything all that interesting. By about halfway through, we see where Spielberg grabbed his inspiration for Indiana Jone’s boulder run. Later they discover a room with overgrown mushrooms that satiates their starving bodies, which quickly leads to discovering the book’s best section - the vast underworld ocean that’s guarded by dinosaur sized reptiles. It was here that that the classic special effects really shine, as they make the lizards they superimposed look fairly real - fitted with stegosaurus-like derma plates. The problem is that Verne’s commitment to staying within the limits of science prohibits the story from ever going to the places that you hope it will go. I’m not rushing to go check out the 2008 remake with Brendon Frasier, but I do think the set pieces could benefit from today’s technology, as the 1957 didn’t seem the best year to create extravagant designs that were dependent on the limits of science. It’s a film that fails to meet the expectations you have for a movie called Journey to the Center of the Earth. BELOW: Hate watching clips of people shooting clips on their tv but at least you can see the dinosaurs Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Garth Davis Writer: Luke Davies; based on A Long Way Home by Saroo Brierley & Larry Buttrose Cinematographer: Greig Fraser Producer: Iain Canning, Angie Fielde, and Emile Sherman by Jon Cvack This was one of the earliest Oscar contending films I heard about. It actually played at a few of the film festivals Road to the Well screened at, but in one instance, the screening was during the awards show, and the other was an issue of the festival having two separate theaters a 20 minute drive from each other, learning we were at the wrong theater. I had heard some incredible things, specifically regarding Dev Patel’s performance, which is pretty good, but what starts off as one of the most beautiful films I’ve seen in years, reminiscent of Satyajit Ray's Aparajito or Jean Renoir’s The River, took a quick nose dive toward melodrama, often failing to keep logic at the forefront. The film starts with the impoverished siblings, Saroo (Sunny Pawar) and his brother Guddu (Abhisek Bharate), who scrounge around town in search of coal and other items they could sell for some money to buy additional food and treats. One night, Guddu is about to go off his journey and Saroo begging to come along. The pair end up at the train station where Guddu has Saroo stay put and sleep while Guddu goes off to do something. Saroo later wakes up with Guddu nowhere in sight. Saroo eventually ends up on a train that locks up and takes him to Calcutta. There he nearly fall victim to countless sex trade hunters who wish to steal him. Saroo ends up in an orphanage where he’s soon adopted by an Australian couple, Sue (Nicole Kidman) and John (David Wenham). It was up to this point that I was absolutely blown by all the elements. Although many are raving about Dev Patel, I think Sunny Pawar stole the entire show, providing such strong moments of depth and reflection, in which I no longer saw a little boy, but a man behind those eyes, having to maintain the courage to keep on going. This was all portrayed with Greg Fraiser’s beautiful photography and Garth Davis’ impeccable direction. Much of the story shows us information rather than telling us a thing. Like Truffaut’s great kid films, we were in the point of view of a child, discovering the world and information as a child would. With the Indian backdrop, we got to see a world that is both exotic and terrifying. However, once it moves to twenty years later, it was as though someone else took the helm. Saroo is now in his late twenties, determined to become a rich hotel owner. He meets a girl from his class Lucy (Rooney Mara), and in an awkward dance number along the street, the two end up at a party where Saroo has a breakdown when seeing some candies. He explains to everyone his story, and they tell him to use Google Earth, in which he can look up the train speeds, draw a radius, and try and find where his parents are. This all happens so quickly that it contradicts the first third’s realism. We don’t really know much about Saroo except for his professional aspirations and that his brother is a drug addict. There was also something particularly stupid about this entire Google Earth plan, in that I refuse to believe that Saroo never thought about attempting to use a map to find his parents. It was here that the movie went from masterpiece to melodrama, sacrificing logic for what they think was a much better direction in having Saroo obsess over maps, destroy his relationships, and keep clicking around Google Earth in search of a water tower. Looking at the logic, he finds a range that his train must have been in, and then finds all the towns within that range. If I’m being generous, the total number of towns is about a hundred. Considering all he has to do is look at the city, find it on Google Earth, locate the train station and then use Google Maps street view to look for a water tower, I imagine each city might take fifteen minutes to examine but to better prove my point imagine each city takes an hour. That’s about 100 hours, of course. Given that he’s clearly working on this all day and all night, with a few hours of sleep, let’s say he spends a conservative 12 hours a day doing this. It’d take him about eight days to find and examine all these cities, in which the apparent weeks and months of searching doesn’t make any sense at all. This was a similar issue I had with Truth (2015), where when the team is attempting to call about twenty names on a whiteboard, there’s a long montage extending to what looks like weeks, with each person refusing to talk when in fact, if no one’s willing to talk, you should discover the lack of progress within maybe a day or two. Of course, Saroo finds the town, done in a way that was even more upsetting, in that it was like an inch outside his search radius, meaning even though he’s using the most general trigonometric concepts, he never thought to think that maybe he should search within the margin of error. He ends up heading to his town, meeting his mother, and of course I get some tears building up, and the story ends. While some might think I’m nitpicking the search aspect, this took up what felt like over forty five minutes of the film. I kept wanting to return to India, and continue following Saroo along. Instead, we’d go back to Google Earth, some people would cry, and then an argument would start. The second half felt as though they forfeited any type of arc to get Saroo back to India as quickly as possible. I guess dealing with the fact that it’s a true a story you can’t really embellish much. It simply never returns to the strength of that first third. BELOW: Movie would never have existed without Google Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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