 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
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 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  One of the all time great onscreen duos; up there with Lemmon and Matthau Director: Elaine May Writer: Elaine May Cinematographer: Bernie Abramson, Lucien Ballard, and Victor J. Kemper Producer: Michael Hausman by Jon Cvack It was in a work meeting that I was told this film actually wasn’t directed by Cassavetes but Elaine May (not that you’d know). One of the craziest bits of history is that this movie shot three times as much film as Gone With the Wind ('39), which shot a legendary one million feet of film (which was cut down to a 20,000 reel). Mikey and Nicky isn’t some comparable epic film, but rather the filmmakers allowed for an extraordinary amount of improvisation, with Falk and Cassavetes going far off the deep end with the script, as May would let the camera roll and roll and roll and roll. The story involves Nicky (John Cassavetes) who has shelled himself up in a hotel room, scared out of his mind that someone’s going to kill him. He’s visited by Mikey (Peter Falk), who’s got a wife and kid back home waiting for him, as he tries to help Nicky and tame his paranoia and fear. I’ll say this might be the film I most regret not seeing before having made Road to the Well, as this is a brilliant story exploring the depths of friendship and betrayal. Mikey and Nicky have a night on the town, exploring movie theaters, black bars, white bars, and Nicky’s mother’s grave, while he’s hunted by mobster Kenney (Ned Beatty) who’s on a mission to gun down Nicky, confirming his paranoia. What we get is a profound exploration of friendship. Although very much is owed to Elaine May’s film, there’s no denying Cassavetes influence. This is an obvious follow up to Husbands ('70), which if I were to guess - being entirely improvised - Cassavetes wanted to ensure he could focus on the character while preserving a similar aesthetic. As makes any great Cassavetes film, it’s the rough style, shots that are out of focus, missing the subject, which while I use to think looked negligent, now seems deliberate. It all contributes to the incredibly real relationship between the characters. We learn bits and pieces of their lives, which fills in the amount of time that they’ve been apart. We know that Nicky has entered into an ignoble world, getting get caught on the bad side of a deal, taking up with prostitutes, having had his wife and child leave him. Nicky’s the opposite, calling his wife regularly to update her on where he is and when he’ll be home. While heading to the movie theater, Nicky demands to stop at the graveyard, located in a bad neighborhood, physically fighting with the bus driver to let them out. They get off and head over and so begins a hilarious scene, as the two argue about God, with Mikey an atheist and Nicky the believer, with no concern for the dead while he shouts and screams, and Mikey implores to him to be respectful, threatening to leave. The arguments continue through the night, as Nicky graduates to offending prostitutes and black men, with Mikey doing his best to keep them alive throughout the process. With the mountain of footage collected, you can feel as the editors John Carter and Sheldon Kahn worked with May. Straight out of Cassavetes's style we get a bunch of non-sequiturs, feeling as though we’re skipping ahead to the more interesting parts of the conversation. The dialogue flies at us, though we’re allowed to breath at the perfect moments. The two end up fighting in the cold wet streets when Mikey has finally had enough. I’ve been here with my own friends, when the kettle finally boils and pops. Back in high school I too fought with my buddy in the city streets. Granted, it didn’t result in how this film ends, but even that was such an unexpected and horrifying ending, especially compared to most other Cassavete work, that it became the perfect conclusion to this strange and intimate story. BELOW: Best scene of the film Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Best part’s the opening Director: Jean-Pierre Melville Writer: Jean-Pierre Melville Cinematographer: Walter Wottitz Producer: Robert Dorfmann by Jon Cvack This was the last film I had to watch from Melville, other than some three-star film called Manhattan where he’s also the lead character. Dirty Movie was rated a 3.7 and should have just missed the cut off, but with how much I enjoyed Melville’s other films, so I’d figured I’d take a look at what came after such his strong body of films - The Samurai ('67), The Red Circle ('70), Army of Shadows ('69), etc. These are some of the most beautiful and cerebral crime films I’ve ever seen. Still, from cover alone, I was expecting some failing evolution to more modern and popular styles, per the likes of 70s James Bond or The Getaway ('72); though I’m not sure why. While the narrative matches these expectations, Melville retains his cool blue aesthetic, offering a fun opening scene, and later one of the most ridiculous special effects sequences I’ve ever seen in my life. One of the first issues is that the movie is not called “Dirty Money”, but Un Flic which means “A Cop”, which is a little bit cooler, but I also think something is getting lost in translation. During a cool blue and hazy morning, four men rob a bank, botching the job up, leading us to Officer Eduardo Coleman (Alain Delon) as he hunts down one of the robbers Simon (Richard Crenna), while they share the same girlfriend Cathy (Catherine Deneuve). Like any cerebral crime film, there’s complexity and complication between the characters, but while Melville’s other movies have unique characters doing and saying interesting thing, shot with beautiful photography, this film felt more superficial in all aspects. Even after I accepted that this was simply one of Melville’s weaker works, it entered into one of the most absurd sequences I’ve ever seen. While Simon attempts to land on a train from a helicopter in order to steal drugs from somebody for reasons I didn’t understand, rather than abiding by the limitations of what looks plausible, Melville utilizes a model train and model helicopter to execute the wide shots of the wild stunt. It looks so goddamn terrible, seriously as though out of a thrift store trash pile - that my brain almost had to convince itself it was cool in order to suspend disbelief. Once Simon enters the train it recovers a bit, but phew - it was one of the most bizarre scenes I’ve ever seen from someone I consider one of the greatest filmmakers who’s ever lived. Turns out that this was Melville's last film, as he would die a year later of a heart attack. He’s the type of guy who you wonder what else could have been done if he lived through the eighties or even early nineties. It makes me want to revisit The Samurai, which was the first film I ever saw of his, watching it in my french class and not really understanding what I was seeing. Anything to recover from this one. BELOW: Best part of the film is the score Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Somehow featuring a Hitler cameo without feeling cheap Director: Steven Spielberg Writer:Jeffrey Boam; Story by George Lucas and Menno Meyjes Cinematographer: Douglas Slocombe Producer: Robert Watts by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... In this film, we learn that the mission is to retrieve the Arc of the Covenant, foisted upon Indiana by Englishman with a subtle Irish drawl Walter Donovan (Julian Glover) when he mentions that Indy’s father has vanished while on an expedition. He’s to meet up with Henry’s Austrian colleague Dr. Elsa Schneider (Alison Doody) in Venice in order to try and find both his father and the grail. Shortly after, Indy receives his dad’s journal in the mail, indicating he’s in danger. They fly to Venice and so we get our first map line montage, and while I won’t bore you over examining the details, even in this small sequence, Spielberg matches the pace of line being drawn to that of each of vehicles Indy travels upon. But so begins the main attraction, as Indy battles through betrayals and bullets and monstrous tanks. There’s no need to talk about the story so much as the vast amount of memorable images that extend throughout it. I remember how terrifying the German book burning was, with hundreds of its citizens throwing all the Jewish books they can find into a bonfire, marching around the towering flames. I never realized how much the grail played in combating Hitler, as after Indy and his Father escape the castle, Henry explains that retrieving the grail is for all mankind. In an age when so many films involve the end of the world, Spielberg avoids big explosions with wild scenes of exploding buildings and bridges, and instead focuses on the minute. The book burning demonstrated what was brewing. They needed to fight against what the world could be if fallen into the wrong hands. It’s a magnificent moment, in which this final film suddenly takes an even more realistic turn. It is all for something larger. I always loved the blimp scene, and really noticed the father/son bond - or lack of - in a way I hadn’t before. It’s a beautiful scene when Indiana wants to just have a drink with his dad and talk, complaining how they ever had. His dad combats the accusations by acquiescing, except Jones realizes they have nothing in common beyond archeology. But also that it’s fine, as they’re now sharing an adventure because of it. And then Spielberg uses shadows to indicate the blimp is changing direction. They steal the emergency plane, and Indy orders the father to shoot at the Nazi fighter planes attacking them. Unfortunately, he ends up shooting the tail fin off in the process. I always loved how it was such an innocent and easy mistake from a character who hadn't made any until that point, and that dad then lies any way, as any of us probably would. And in making up for all of it, he uses his umbrella to launch of seagulls into the approaching plane cause it to crash and burn. But that’s not even the greatest scene, as although I had remembered every bit of the tank chapter, I forgot how incredible it is; serving as one of the finest action scenes ever assembled. Although the entire scene could be deconstructed, it’s Spielberg’s ability to create a very logical and realistic setting that makes the scene so effective. I started Kingdom of the Crystal Skull ('08) immediately after this, and without jumping ahead, let’s just say the jungle chase sequence is the complete opposite of The Last Crusade. The scene takes place in two sections, with the driver of the tank as a goggled, large mustachioed man, showing that even the most minor character can become a highly memorable character. We cut between inside the tank where Marcus Brody (Denholm Elliott) and Henry sit, as they attempt to break free while Indy fights above. Each moment, from when Indy shoots through the five soldiers, to his head being rubbed against the tank treads, to his falling off the tank, catching a gun, and nearly being crushed to death, before falling off the mountain as he fights the Nazi to death - all intercut with Marcus and Henry as they try and steal a gun to escape and help. The two scenes are so perfectly timed, so simple in conception, and yet so intricate in execution that I almost had to stop the movie to catch my breath. I always enjoyed this scene, but as I’ve often mentioned, after making a movie, I’ve grown to appreciate the technical craft a great movie now possesses. Each decision and choice was so smart, with no moment causing me to doubt what I was seeing, or force me out of the story. To think it all concludes with Henry giving Indy an emotional hug, finally breaking from his emotional detachment, was kind of what I wanted to do to the person next to me, if I wasn’t watching it all alone. The film moves into its final sequence, where once again, I could remember all the details and yet was anxious as ever to see how they were done. I remember always wondering what blew the spiderwebs up as the men wandered through, and this time I didn’t care, figuring it was the sawblades or a draft or God. It didn’t matter. Having Henry shot in the stomach added such a great complexity to the scene, requiring Indy’s analytic mind to try and search for whatever faith he could find, before stepping onto the bridge - shot in one of the greatest dizzying effects I’ve ever seen. But it all culminates in the grail scene - when there are hundreds scattered about. It was here that I was connecting most to my old pre-teen self, blown away by how simple the puzzle was. Jesus was a carpenter and it of course would be the simplest cup. I had forgotten about the most important rule, though, and what a gorgeous rule it is - that to achieve immortality requires the cost of guarding the grail forever. After all the speculation and education and investigation, no one knew this one small thing. Indy goes on to save his dad, which when combined with sound, offers one of the greatest blood gags ever on screen. It’s a fascinating moment where the place begins to crumble, and the human desire for power is uncontrollable. Not just for Dr. Elsa, but Indy too forgets how it works, willing to die for the chance at immortality. Given the backdrop in battling Hitler, what a profound message. Even the heroes have weakness, with only a father’s word having any power. Call it cliche, they simply don’t make movies like this anymore. Even Spielberg would sacrifice logic and plausibility for flashy computer effects that sacrifice story for entertainment, losing both as a result. At no point did The Last Crusade feel old or uninspired. It held up as much as when I use to watch it every summer, and I was equally taken away. It’s a perfect movie. BELOW: More impressive than any CGI-infused action sequence out there Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Star Wars could take a lesson on integrating Easter Eggs Director: Steven Spielberg Writer:Jeffrey Boam; Story by George Lucas and Menno Meyjes Cinematographer: Douglas Slocombe Producer: Robert Watts by Jon Cvack Every year throughout my teens, all the way up through high school, I would kick off summer by watching the Indiana Jones trilogy on VHS. I didn’t really have a favorite film from the series, since as being a kid they all felt part of the same story. The Temple of Doom remains the film that I often first associate with the trilogy, as my mother and sister hated the bug scene, which etched itself into memory as one of the first scenes I recall anxiously expecting from a movie - in this case reaching your hand inside a bug infested hole in a wall - always hearing my mother’s voice say “Oh my god” when the scene began. The films epitomized summertime in youth, where alongside Back to the Future, they provided some of the greatest adventure stories a kid could ask for. Like most others, I found a jump rope to act as my whip, digging through my closet full of toy guns, and grabbing my revolver to battle the Nazis. Thinking back, it was films like this that must have planted the seed of my love for movies - offering exciting escape into a world that was both fantastical and unfamiliar, and yet which all felt so real. These films serve as one of the finest examples in demonstrating how the highest level of filmmaking craft can tap into anyone’s subconscious; where even young kids, who know nothing of how the films are technically achieved, agree that it’s an incredible film. It shows that craft of the highest magnitude is what creates widespread praise, allowing the piece to shift from an ephemeral moment and into becoming part of the culture. While I’m not positive, I’m pretty sure I haven’t watched either this film or The Temple of Doom since high school, having possibly seen Raiders of the Lost Ark when I was in college. I recall wanting to wait until I bought or had the DVD set, which then changed to wanting the BluRay, always putting it off and waiting for the right summertime moment. Given that it’s January 30 (at the time of writing this), I’m not sure why I wanted to watch the film, other than that I’ve been working long hours on a few deadlines and needed some old fashioned escape. I knew I hadn’t seen this movie in a long time when I thought I might have put on Kingdom of the Crystal Skull for a second, as I didn’t recognize any of the intro. We’re following some type of Boy Scout club, as a young Indiana Jones and his bloviated friend follow a group of treasure hunters deep into a cavern, where the men dig up and steal the golden Cross of Coronado. Calmly and collectively, Indiana Jones pulls a snake off his friend’s lap and tells him to get the troupe. The friend leaves and Indiana Jones jumps down, grabs the cross and runs out, finding the troupe gone. He hops onto a horse and gallops toward a train pulling a bunch of circus cars, thus entering into one of the greatest action-adventure intros of all time. As though straight out of a Buster Keaton movie - in wide we see a Indiana running from one of the men. Although the very real train is moving very fast, they’re held in center frame, running along the cars like a treadmill. It doesn’t cut until Indiana heads into the lizard car, where inside there’s a bunch of crocodiles and snakes. He hangs up on the rafters, and we know where this is going - and making us all the more anxious as we just saw that Indiana doesn’t yet have his snake fear. Of course he falls in, covered in the creatures, and then escapes. He then heads up to the train roof, and again looking all exceptionally real, not at all like it was done in some green screen, Indiana fights with a man while a rhino slams its horn through the train car. It all culminates in him heading to the magic car, where he makes a very obvious hiding choice in a magic box as the man comes inside, only to create one of the coolest shots of the movies, as in a single take, where again on a moving train - Indiana disappears through the magic box, the camera pans with the man and out the rear window where we see Indiana running off. It’s a scene like this where the moment, you realize you have launched off and are about to enter into a different world. Scenes like this are most similar to the grand musical numbers that often open the genre (and strange that fans of one side typically don’t like the other). What makes the scene work is that we are constantly moving through a situation that makes perfect sense, no matter how ridiculous the situation is. From the grand desert to the cavern to chasing a train and then onto a train, but not just any train, but a circus train whose every car offers a different obstacle. All so often action scenes seem to throw away the logic of simple movement - let alone story - constructing how a character gets from one place to the other in order to accommodate the next big scene. We can laugh and they’re fun, but the world immediately feels fake in such cases. The opening of Indiana Jones shows Spielberg’s magnificent ability to show rather than tell information, as so much of the scene exists without words, and yet the amount of information and story we get is as full as any great dialogue. This extends throughout the film, where Indiana Jones finally meets up with his father Henry Jones (Sean Connery) in one of the greatest father/son roles of all time. Meeting Henry for the first time, completely oblivious to Indiana’s safety or injury, he makes the boy count one through twenty in Latin. The Sheriff then shows up, demanding the cross back. After all we just experienced it didn’t matter. And in that moment of defeat, we receive the final piece that makes Indiana Jones who he is - the hat, received not from some great and noble man, but from a corrupt treasure hunter who inspired Indiana to do what he did. This could be watched as a short film and stopped right there. Luckily it doesn’t, though, as just as the young Indiana puts on the hat and bows his head, we cut with the Spielberg touch to Harrison Ford, head bowed, hat toward us, fighting men on a ship that’s about to explode. This was another great touch, as the white-suited mustachioed man was seen in the background during the flashback, now battling modern Jones, aboard a ship that’s about explode. Jones is victorious and he finally retrieves the cross that inspired his entire career. Check back for Part 2... BELOW: One of the greatest action movie intros Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  It all starts with a tiara Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Charles Lederer; based on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1949 musical) by Anita Loos and Joseph Fields Cinematographer: Harry J. Wild Producer: Sol C. Siegel by Jon Cvack It’s been a long time since since I’ve How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), but I really didn’t like the film’s overall message, which is that women should use their charms, looks, and sexuality to find rich and successful men who can lavish them with gifts and launch them into the upper echelons of high society. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a lighter version of this same philosophy, except with Marilyn Monroe being the sole proprietor of this twisted worldview. Monroe’s iconic look has marketed ad nauseum through places such as Hot Topic, Kohl’s, H&M and other mass chain stores. Given the continued success of all this stuff - ranging from posters to t-shirts to people continuing to dress like her, you can’t help feeling nostalgic for the days when celebrities could take on a such a high place in culture, and maintain it for nearly seventy years. In a time when entertainment extends beyond the big screen, allowing for famous tv stars, video gamers, musicians, reality stars, YouTubers and other social media influencers, I’m not sure anyone could ever hold the same place within culture, as we’re so over saturated with celebrity in all avenues of life, that it seems nearly impossible. The story revolves around two women Lorelei Lee (Monroe) and her dance song and dance partner Dorothy Shaw (Jane Russell) who travel to France for work. Lorelei’s engaged to the extravagantly wealthy man, Gus Esmond (Tommy Noonan), whose father refuses to let him get married, fearing that Lorelei is only interested in his money. Aboard the ship, Lorelei then grows enamored with diamond businessman, Sir Francis Beekman (Charles Coburn), who’s about 75 years old when the filming place, whose wife has a diamond studded tiara worth about $12,000 (about $107k in today’s money). Meanwhile, Dorothy meets and quickly falls in love with Ernie Malone (Elliot Reid), who’s a private detective hired by Gus’s father in order to spy on Lorelei, who later gets caught with Beekman - and while not showing or specifying what they’re doing, there’s heavy suggestion that Lorelei might have slept with Beekman in order to get the tiara, which then leads to the police getting involved, landing the two women in court, with a bunch of musical numbers scattered about. When Michelle Williams portrayed the legend in My Week With Marilyn (2011), we got to see a very confused woman, who struggled with her international stardom and sex appeal. Having seen most of Monroe’s more popular work, I’m increasingly blown away by how lascivious even the simplest seen with her can be. Looking at both this film and what I remember from How to Marry a Millionaire, Marilyn’s character of Lorelei Lee is about as far from a bluestocking as you can get, playing the traditional ditzy blond whose entire worldview revolves around money and diamonds; culminating in their classic “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” routine. Rather than looking for a partner that can provide a loving and interesting relationship, she focuses on rich and boring men who can provide all she materially desires. In one scene between her square fiance Gus Esmond (Tommy Noonan) and his father who directly accuses Lorelie of gold digging, we’re offered one of the few enlightening philosophies Lorelei possesses, which is that just as a man wants a good looking woman, women want rich men who they know can take care of her (Lorelei must have taken an evolutionary biology course or two). Edmond’s father isn’t really sure what to make of it, finally capitulating and supporting the engagement. The older I get the more I can see why Monroe soared to popularity, with movies such as The Seven Year Itch (1955) demonstrating the weakness of men when confronted with overwhelmly and salacious beauty. Such a character allowed men to live out their lustful fantasies. What I find strangest of all, though, and which seems to be much a more antiquated idea, is the puerile attitude Lorelei possesses. She feigns stupidity and dizziness, showing us how men created female characters back in the day; that women shouldn’t have high minded interests, as it’s better if they’re completely dependent on men, looking to material objects for their entire life’s purpose. I found myself getting frustrated every time Lorelie would put on the tiniest dress she could find and rely overwhelmingly on her sexuality to get what she wanted rather than any form of intellectual trickery. I suppose the point was to foil against Dorothy’s more analytic and thoughtful approach, but it remained just as frustrating, leaving me to turn back to the film Marilyn, which showed that even Monroe-herself had likely grown frustrated as being nothing more than a sex object for most men, with those in power demanding she preserve her whimsical character type all the way up to the end. It makes it all the more tragic to watch a film like this, knowing that its design likely contributed to Monroe’s sense of alienation. In some ways it offers an historical portrait of the woman, and what would soon lead up to her tragic demise. BELOW: Between ostensibly providing sex for money and calling her fiancé "Daddy", it's all very bizarre Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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