 What more could have been done? Director: Steven Spielberg Writer: Steven Zaillian; based on Schindler's Ark by Thomas Keneally Cinematographer: Janusz Kamiński Producer: Steven Spielberg, Gerald R. Molen, and Branko Lustig by Jon Cvack During a Hollywood Reporter director’s roundtable, Michael Heineke criticized Spielberg for making entertainment out of the holocaust. It’s an understandable statement from the beginning and speaks to a grander question about storytelling ethics. What is the proper way to capture and immerse viewers into a tragic piece of history? Given Haneke’s style, I imagine he’d prefer a long, locked off camera where we are meant to watch the footage take place in the most subjective method possible. If so, it begs the question as to what makes one particular style of editing, plot, performance, photography, music, and set design more respectful than another. On Siskel and Ebert, Ebert mentions that the film has done surprisingly well at the box office, given how dreary the subject matter is, going on to say, “...when people say they don’t want to see a depressing film, what they’re really saying is that they don’t want to see a film that’s going to depress them by being bad. Because no good film is depressing. It can be about depressing subject matter, but the artistry, and the vision, and the ending of this film is exhilarating.” Schindler’s List is one of the great pieces of cinema ever created. It is craft of the highest order, providing a film that both spotlights and immerses the viewer within an experience. Writing this a week later, I still can’t think of a comparable film that has taken such a morbid and tragic history and placed it within an engaging story. Spielberg immerses within the world and all its horrifying and endearing moments; providing that classic unmatched touch in giving hope no matter the despair. We care about everything on the screen; both engaged and frightened. This is the type of film that I often put off writing about, simply for how much there is to dissect and how it essentially demands a shot by shot discussion. At three hours and fifteen minutes, literally every single scene is a work of art. The opening scene involves the Nazi clerks lining up the tables, complete with notebooks, pens, ink pads, and rubber stamps. They’re there to check the German Jews into the Krakow Ghetto; the Jews only able to take what they can fit in a suitcase and then crammed into tiny apartments. Oscar Schindler (Liam Neeson) is then introduced in a fancy nightclub. In a brilliant sequence, we see him buy a bottle of booze for some Nazi soldiers. Soon Oscar has a long table full of beautiful girls and Nazi soldiers, getting his picture taken with them all and introducing himself as a manufacturer. We learn that he’s in search of lucrative government contracts that could make him rich. Issue being that he doesn’t have the investors to construct the plant. In the Krakow ghetto, there is no money, opening up a competitive black trade market for goods. In temple, one man has a nice shirt and the others wonder how he got it; what he had to trade simply for a nice shirt, and where they could get one. It’s an interesting nugget of humanity - where even within a cordoned off area, some still search for the material goods that can make them feel better individually at best, or better than others, at worst. After playing hardball by exploiting their situation, Schindler soon finds his investors and recruits the help of Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley) to run his business which will use the Jews as minimally paid - and soon slave - laborers. The subtext of Oscar offers one cinema’s most fascinating characters. Was it always his intention to help the Jewish people? Did he know what their ultimate fate could be from the beginning, or was he actually out to make money? If the latter, how aware was he of committing a grotesque exploitation? Later, when his wife visits, he explains how he had always been a failure at his endeavors, making the initial model seem all the more wretched. He didn’t succeed at regular business, so he exploited the Jews for his own personal benefit. Then again, he came around and saved nearly a thousand. Does this make it worth it? Given the ending, Spielberg seems to say yes in that redemption, no matter the path, is a good thing. Soon the Nazis round up the Krakow Jews in the film’s most terrifying sequence. They break into the apartments, telling the Jews to drop everything. Some take the little they can fit in their pockets. One family sticks their family diamonds into small pieces of bread and forces everyone to eat them down, including the children. We watch as people hide in the floors and closets. Since I was a kid I found the idea terrifying. Of a government who’s supposed to protect its citizens coming by to round you up without explanation. To leave everything, board a truck or train, and be whisked away without any hope for justice; the sound of the boots striking the ground and whistles blowing, knowing the alternative is to live underground. The city clears out and the Jews board the trains to the concentration camp. In one scene, one of the Jewish cops, a small boy not much older than five, searches the house for Jews who hid away, finding the mom and then realizing he knew the woman. The daughter then comes out and we realize she’s friends with the boy. He hides them in the basement level and distracts the approaching Nazis to prevent them from getting caught and the whole thing is so bizarre and complex that this scene alone is better than most short films. It’s a mixture of betrayal, redemption, guilt, and thrills all within a brief three to five minute span. Even still, a few moments later, Spielberg cuts back to the same alley outside the house where a man escapes from the same building; thinking he’s free until he hears the Nazi troops closing in on his position. With the alley filled with luggage dumped from the windows, the man pretends to clean the bags. A band of Nazis led by Amom (Ralph Fiennes) stops him, asking what he’s doing and the man says he was ordered to clean the alley; clapping his heels together like a soldier. The men then laugh and continue on, calling him a good Nazi. It provides a paradoxical situation in which on the one hand we’re happy the man’s ruse went well, and yet grasp just how dark Amom’s heart is in figuring that the man was just being used as free labor to inevitably be shipped off any way; allowing the man to be exploited at every opportunity. It’s during the evacuation that we get the iconic image of the girl in the red jacket. Oskar and one of his girlfriends ride up into the hillside where they watch the Nazis round up the ghetto and kill countless Jews in the process. There’s a peculiar throwback to the Temple of Doom where one of the Nazis lines up about half a dozen Jews and shoots them through the stomach, killing all but the last two who they then shoot in the head. While seeming a bit offensive, you then realize it was Spielberg’s way of showing the horror. Unlike Indiana Jones (1981), it is not at all funny. It is not shot with a goofy wide lens, low to the ground, but a long telephoto up in the hills looking down, as though watching like a camera. It feels absolutely real. The Jews are moved to the Płaszów concentration camp where they’re stripped naked and put in prison garbs, ordered to build their own barracks. As Amom checks the work, one Jewish girl comes up to him, demanding they stop construction as the entire building is at risk of collapsing. Amom wonders why they should listen to her. She explains that she’s an engineer and Amom orders them to shoot her dead. They do and he leads them off, ordering them to tear down the structure and make the changes she suggested. It’s a taste of pure evil. It’s not done in the name of some law or moral code. It is absolute hate. It is us watching another human think another human isn’t human; whose life is expendable. It is the most evil character in cinematic history. There’s no clear moment Oscar decides to save the Jews. The closest we get is when Itzhak is accidentally thrown aboard the train; requiring Oscar to demand his release to every soldier he sees, each who shrugs him off with a grin before Oscar drops his political credentials and they do everything in their power to find Itzhak on the now moving train. Up to this point, there is only Oscar the greedy capitalist; a man who refuses to talk to his workers, who while at first appearing anti-semitic, is actually concerned for their fate. Sure enough when a one armed man visits him to thank Oscar for the job, as mad as he is at Itzhak for hiring a handicap worker, it’s also one of the first moments of pure gratitude. Each of these moments add up to where there is no need for some grand epiphany. Like any piece of enlightenment, it is an assembly of moments that finally shifts his mind; realize that he could use his riches to save, or at least put off the slaughter of hundreds of Jews. When the ghetto is cleared and Oscar loses his workers, he takes up matters with Amom who he schmoozes and bribes and the two soon form a genuine friendship. Amom gives back Schindler the Jews he lost to the camps and Schindler provides Amom jewelry, rare liquors, and women. Things intensify as Hitler passes on orders to exterminate the camps and in a horrifying sequence we watch as mothers are separated from their children who have no idea what’s going on, driven off as the rest are systematically executed; their dead bodies rounded to be buried in mass graves or burned in towering piles. We soon see the girl in the red jacket dead and carried in a wheelbarrow to be tossed into the fire. It is one of cinema’s most horrific sequences, in which Spielberg creates images that have burned into my mind since first seeing the film back in junior high. Word comes down that Oscar’s factory will no longer have an exemption. Oscar is to take the hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash and leave, now the wealthy man he always wanted to be. About the leave, Oscar and Itzhak share a final drink where Oscar tries to convince himself he accomplished his initial intention, knowing that Itzhak’s fate is death. Oscar opts to sell all he acquired in order to bribe Amom and the other Nazis to buy back his Jewish workers and create a munitions factory. Counter to pots and pans, Oscar refuses to create a single functional piece of ammunition, using all his capital to create Germany’s worst arms factory. The night before the Allies reach the factory, Oscar packs his car. A few of the workers got each other drunk in order to pull out their fillings and forge Oscar a ring which he accepts, emotional that he didn’t give up his few other goods to save a couple more Jews. His watch could have been one. His car two. And it’s the truth that tugs so hard at our hearts. He had saved over a thousand Jews, but even still held onto just a few items that ultimately cost the lives of others. The workers smother him with hugs and forgiveness, and share their gratitude for all that he’s done. He drives off and the Allies arrive the next morning, freeing the workers who walk off, unsure of where they’re going, but simply wandering on, as the nightmare seems to be over (at the time). It is said that this film is what brought the Jewish holocaust into the mainstream. It started a conversation and showed the audience a piece of history that had otherwise been unknown to most. To call it a cautionary tale fails to grasp the utter horror it captures. Schindler’s List shows the profound evil humanity is capable of. Not just to lead the execution or to indirectly participate, but to sit idly by and allow people with such hate to rise to power and destroy others. Currently, what appears to be a genocide is taking place in Myanmar against the Muslim people. People say never again, but it seems just something to make themselves feel better. Today there are more people in concentration camps than ever before, having their humanity stripped away and the world is doing nothing about it. They have forgotten. Schindler’s List portrays how far humanity is willing to go if their hate is strong enough. Whatever Oscar achieved doesn’t in any way outshine the fact that six million Jewish people died because a system and its people hated them enough. As of this writing, there are still children in cages in the United States with the most basic of hygienic products; deprived in order to dissuade other migrants. Hundreds of scholars have declared them to meet the definition of concentration camps. To think that nearly a third of the country disagrees and is fine with keeping people in cages with insufficient hygienic or medical treatment just goes to show how easy it is to convince the masses that other humans are deserving of such abject treatment. I rather be on the side of precaution; at least ensuring that we don’t strip children from their parents, provide ample blankets, soap, and toothpaste; and that everyone receives proper medical attention. It seems best to play things safe when it comes to rounding people up, putting them in cages and treating them like subhumans. Then again, think of how many agree and do nothing. How many of us, even people generally well informed, know nothing about what is going on in these prisons? It is not the holocaust, but just goes to show how easy it is for the pieces to assemble once again. And all we’re left with is hoping it doesn’t end with the same result. It is an incredible piece of ironic humanity that we could be enlightened about this event, observe the terror and the trajectory, and do absolutely nothing within our own borders. With some even going so far as to defend it. BELOW: No one has yet come close to matching Spielberg's use of showing information Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Similar but different Director: Terrence Malick Writer: Terrence Malick Cinematographer: Jörg Widmer Producer: Elisabeth Bentley, Dario Bergesio, Grant Hill, and Josh Jeter by Jon Cvack Prior to The Tree of Life (2011), and with the exception of the 1980s (which would have been interesting), Terrence Malick made about one film per decade. From 1973 through 2011 he made five films. From 2011 to today he’s made another five. Notoriously avoidant of the press and Awards show, you can’t help wondering what made the man suddenly immerse himself into telling one story after another. His study of philosophy is felt in every scene and it doesn’t seem too far a reach that at the age of 76 he’s growing increasingly aware of his own mortality. Perhaps distraction. Perhaps the need to tell his remaining stories before it’s too late. To the Wonder (2012) was his first film that felt as though it had failed to meet the grandeur of his prior work. It was a very good movie, but something was missing. It felt small, experimental, even. Aside from the few scenes with Javier Bardem in church, few images have remained with me the way his other stories have. Knight of Cups (2015) followed and suddenly there was a shift; in which Malick’s style became too apparent and ill-fitted; feeling as though an imitation like so many others have done. Waves (2019), most recently. It’s a topic that Tarantino has mentioned in declaring he’ll only make ten films; not wanting to fade out the way his favorite directors have and leave a tainted filmography. Having won a Golden Globe for Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood (2019) I’m left wondering if he would do it. This was the first year that I thought my generation’s most revered filmmakers lost some of the magic the way Tarantino described. The Irishman, Tarantino’s film, and A Hidden Life were all very good films, but didn’t provide that Earth-shattering experience the directors previously created. Put differently, these movies are better than the vast majority of cinema, but in terms of individual filmographies, these are on the lower half. A Hidden Life is the true story of rural farmer Franz Jägerstätter (August Diehl) who works in the Austrian mountain village of St. Radegund as the Nazi’s expand across Europe. A title card tells us that Germany demanded Austrian men to fight for them and swear an oath to Hitler. He’s joined by his wife Franzika (Valerie Pachner) and three daughters. Franziska and Franz are that endearing duo, sharing the work equally while always making time to show affection and love. When Franz quits the service and returns to the farm, ostracized from most of the town; made all the more problematic in that he works with people everyday, depending on them for trade and assistance. Franziska supports him the best she could even though it means working all the harder to make up for it. Soon Franz receives a draft notice, ordering him back into the military. He heads back but again refuses to take an oath to Hitler which then lands him in jail. Franziska manages the farm with the help of her sister Rosalia (Karin Neuhauser). She receives letters on occasion, unsure whether she’ll ever see Franz again, all while dealing with the town’s animus. According to IMDb trivia, the film took over three years to edit; making me wonder if Donald Trump was even a real possibility at the time of Malick writing or even discovering the story. The parallels are striking in how the town increasingly commits itself to Hitler, shunning anyone who fails to tow the party line. One question both sides of the aisle can agree on is how the Nazis were able to convince so many people of their cause? We forget that there was idealism and hope; a return to the great Prussian Empire, allowing them to ignore the pains and death caused to others in order to achieve that goal. The one issue I had with the film was in wondering how Franz knew enough about the Nazis to refuse an oath to Hitler. We never get a sense of information being exchanged. Only discussed. Given that it takes place in an idyllic rural Austrian mountain village how could any information be trusted? Were there newspapers or an underground press? I assume it was when Frazn was watching the news footage and heard the Nazis cheering on the destruction. Turns out the real Franz was a pacifist, and thus like Desmond Doss from Hacksaw Ridge (2016), it wasn’t even about politics. Something that feels like Terrence Malick deliberately left out. I’m left wondering how interesting it would have been to hear the Nazis debate Franz’s religious objection. As Franz rots in prison, Malick keeps teasing us with sounds of planes and soldiers coming in; making us think he might last through the Allied invasion. The time stamp is enough to suggest otherwise, and when Franz is sentenced to death in August 1943 we know there are few chances for survival. A lawyer tries to convince him to sign the oath, going so far as to return to St. Radegund to find Franziska and bring her back. She does and with few words, she knows his mind is made up. I’m left wondering if Malick saw The Death of Stalin (2017) as he follows Franz up to his execution. In the film’s most brutal scene we watch as he’s positioned fourth in an abandoned factory yard, waiting his turn to get into the dark building and what awaits him; soon discovering a guillotine. It’s here where Malick mastery shines as he somehow places us into the mind of Franz and the other soldiers. Some cry, others panic, and Franz looks around, up at the beautiful scattered cloud sky. What does one think of in those final moments, knowing that each thought and image could be your last? We at least get a taste of how time and mind functions in such a situation. The weekend I saw this I watched Schindler’s List (1993), more confident than ever in declaring it as one of the greatest pieces of cinema - and works of art - ever created. I was left thinking of The Thin Red Line (1998), which serves as one of the greatest war films ever created. At three hours long, A Hidden Life was simply too much for such an intimate story. There were only so many images of Franziska and her sister working the fields, the children running around, and Franz sitting in his prison cell or wandering around the yard. The story itself is simple enough to have been a phenomenal two hour film. Instead, it feels unable to let go, combined with losing Lubezki, it couldn’t achieve the magnificence to justify its running time. Three hour films about the Nazis demand action; if not in physical action then in dramatic. BELOW: One of the best scenes of the year Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The performance outshines the film Director: Marielle Heller Writer: Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster; "Can You Say ... Hero?" by Tom Junod Cinematographer: Jody Lee Lipes Producer: Youree Henley, Peter Saraf, Marc Turtletaub, and Leah Holzer by Jon Cvack This is the type of film that I wanted to wait to see what people thought of before I jumped to the theaters. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2019) is such a fantastic documentary that I feared this narrative was simply taking all the juice it could get. The movie opens up with the Mr. Rogers set, filtered as though we’re watching it on our old televisions. We see the model town and move into the set where Tom Hanks then opens the door and within seconds I was completely taken away. In terms of people from history, there seemed no better match for Mr. Rogers and Hanks takes us completely away, reciting the opening song, tying his shoes, putting on the vest. It seems so easy to have broken and bombed, but Tom Hanks resurrects the spirit. Without anything beyond the usual intro, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I’m not at all sure why. Mr. Rogers holds up a tall board covered in doors; opening them up one by one, introducing Daniel, King Friday XIII, X the Owl until landing on the last door where he opens it up to find his friend Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys) as a beat up newspaper reporter with a large gash across his nose. Immediately my attention snapped, away from the beauty of seeing a person recreate another human being and fully immerse me within their world and into a story gimmick. In seconds, I learned that the movie was not at all a biopic about Mr. Rogers but rather Lloyd’s story about his estranged dad whilst dealing with a newborn baby and middle age. The story isn’t terrible and I’m left wondering if another viewing with the proper understanding would create a different approach. The last time Lloyd saw his father, Jerry (Chris Cooper), was at his sister’s wedding where they got into a fist fight. At work, Lloyd is gaining a bad reputation as a harshly honest reporter. When Esquire wants a feature done on 100 Influential People, Lloyd’s editor gives him Mr. Rogers. Lloyd refuses, seeing himself as above it. His editor explains it’s not a request. In a fun movie, director Marielle Heller created various Mr. Rogers-esque NYC and Pittsburgh model sets that served as transitional elements for Lloyd flew. He ends up at Mr. Rogers show, seeing Mr. Rogers in action as his endearing, polite, and charming man. His team is frustrated as he’s over 90 minutes overschedule, though Mr. Rogers doesn’t flinch a muscle. It’s a bizarre scene as we get the feeling of what it’d be like to be both Lloyd the character and Matthew Rhys watching Mr. Rogers and Tom Hanks performing on stage. It’s a scene so fascinating that we completely buy why Lloyd’s interest is piqued. He’s seeing a national treasure in the process of creation. The pair form a friendship. Fred sees something damaged in Lloyd and Lloyd sees a larger story in Mr. Rogers. Both question and pry one another. Lloyd is confronted with failing to resolve issues with his dad and Fred admits that he’s far from the perfect man he portrays on television. Soon Lloyd is again visited by his dad who brings his new girlfriend over. His wife, Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson), holds her baby while she passes out plates for pizza. Lloyd snaps and with a bit too heavy of a scene, explains how Jerry cheated on their mom while she died from cancer. Jerry gets so worked up, he keels over, having a heart attack. The situation changes nothing for Lloyd, who again flies to Pittsburgh against his wife's request that he stay with the family. He later learns his father has cancer and the two reconcile their ways and Mr. Rogers pays them a final visit. Mr. Rogers talks about the need for forgiveness; a concept most only grasp when you’re older. It is not necessarily for a wrong committed, so much as a quality required when dealing with those you disagree with. No matter who is right or wrong, I’m left wondering how things would be if people simply forgave the other and - with humility - attempted to understand. Perhaps I should forgive the movie. I was so hungry for Mr. Rogers and Tom Hank’s performance that I think I failed to accept what the movie was really about. It wasn’t the idealism preached on the show. It was the real complication of adults trying to adopt his lessons. BELOW: Going... going... going... and... Soto pulls it in Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A perfect Scrooge Director: David Jones Writer: Peter Barnes; A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens Cinematographer: Ian Wilson Producer: Dyson Lovell by Jon Cvack In 2019, Christmas FX released the latest version of A Christmas Carol with Guy Pierce. I haven’t yet seen it, but heard it was amazing, and so the contest for top honors continues. Patrick Stewart takes up Ebeneezer Scrooge this round, further supporting my hypothesis that one of the most important character traits is a subtle and intrinsic gentleness. Something George C. Scott and Jim Carrey’s animation character couldn’t provide (though again, if Zemeckis’ film wasn’t animated it might have worked). Each film often contains a fresh scene (or style) and in this it’s the idea to show Scrooge at Jacob Marley’s cremation; joined by only a few others who crack jokes about the man. We then follow Scrooge out into the cold and to his office where the camera lands on the “Marley and Scrooge” sign. It holds and the sign rusts and we move to next Christmas. I’m unsure if Scrooge attending the funeral is in the book, but it’s such a simple and effective way to set up Marley. Richard E. Grant plays Bob Cratchit in an equally engaging role, in which the filmmakers dive deep into his home life where we get to meet his wife (Saskia Reeves) and the crippled Tiny Tim. What was missing from the Zemeckis version was spending so little time on this scene which is the most urgent and pressing matter that could flip Scrooge. It instead focuses on his long lost love and doesn’t even include a scene of Scrooge visiting the Cratchit’s on Christmas Day. In fairness, this version doesn’t either, but it again comes up with a clever conclusion (though maybe from the book) in having Bob and Scrooge not meet until December 26 where Bob comes in nearly fifteen minutes late and Scrooge pretends he’s about to fire him; instead offering a raise. This version spends the least amount of time on his old love, opting to put Scrooge’s nephew Fred (Dominic West) in the second tier; following his slow fade from the family and Fred’s wife and their friends’ disdain for Ebeneezer. Aside from a weird dynamic between a man who’s creepily pursuing one of their friends, it works fairly well, if not feeling a bit dry, at times. I was wondering why such wealthy people would have such a cold home, figuring such a thing would better foil the Cratchits. From there it provides everything you want from the story with the added bonus of endearing 90s television movie visual effects; aided by its 4:3 format. I’m left thinking of all that’s preserved in the film. The tiny moments of Bob’s daughter hiding and pretending she can’t make it for Christmas; the door knocker turning into Marley; the dance at Ebeneezer’s old company; throwing the coin to the boy for him to buy the turkey; the kids sliding through the ice or throwing snowballs. So many pieces are replicated. Scrooged (1988) aside, I suppose no one wants to risk straying too far from the formula. Whether film noir, gothic, thriller, or horror story, it seems ripe for the picking. BELOW: Great Marley's ghost scene Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Other Men's Women shows the horror of a train yard Other Men’s Women Director: William A. Wellman Writer: William A. Wellman; story by Maude Fulton Cinematographer: Barney McGill Producer: unknown by Jon Cvack A quick 70 minute flick that’s a bit less risque than you’d expect from a pre-code film, in which the alcoholic train yard worker Bill White (Grant Withers) is kicked out of his boarding house for boozing, taken up by his buddy Jack Kulper (Regis Toomy ) whose wife Lily (Mary Astor) soon develops an attraction to Bill, and the pair enter into a love affair. Things come to a head when Jack discovers their relationship, culminating in a fist fight in the train engine car where Bill takes Jack down, who falls and bangs his head. He wakes up blind. Lily gives up on Bill, hoping to renew her commitment, but Bill sends her away, wanting to avoid any temptation. A rainstorm comes in, the cars are loaded with tons of concrete, and the flooding puts an old steel bridge at risk. Wanting to prove himself, the blind Bill stumbles through the rail yard to drive the train loaded with concrete off, ostensibly a suicide mission as the bridge likely won’t hold the weight, which it doesn’t, collapsing into the rushing waters. The story is comparable to Wings (1927), though with a much lower budget, in having a woman come between two best friends. Granted, the couple in this case is married, and it’s likely this dynamic that led it into the “Forbidden Hollywood” box set. We don’t really see Bill and Lily do much more than flirt, offering more a suggestion of what’s going on, than anything else. Jack’s blindness is gawky at best, and the final sequence is comparably awkward, as Regis Toomey isn’t all that great at playing the disability, stumbling around, tripping over, but clearly able to see these minor stunts. As to why or how he finds the engine loaded with concrete is beyond me, but it’s made up for by a great miniature steel bridge with roaring rapids beneath. It’s quite the climax for a movie about infidelity and just brief enough to be enjoyable. The Purchase Price Director: William A. Wellman Writer: Robert Lord; story by Arthur Stringer Cinematographer: Sidney Hickox Producer: unknown by Jon Cvack The second film included on “Forbidden Hollywood’s” disc three, shared with Other Men’s Women. An awkward and confusing beginning, featuring an early Barbara Stanwyck as New York lounge singer Joan Gordon who’s left her criminal boyfriend Eddie Fields (Lyle Talbot) for the more honorable and respected, Don Leslie (Hardie Albright), but when Don’s father finds out about Joan’s past relationship, and not wanting the family name tainted, he demands Eddie break off the engagement. With no protection, she has to Montreal, she gets word Eddie knows her whereabouts. Joan learns that one of the hotel maids has been using Joan’s picture as a way to communicate with a mail order bride service, with some man living in North Dakota. Joan pays the maid $100 for his address where she’ll just continue the ruse; figuring it the best chance for her safety. This all takes place within maybe five minutes or so and seems needlessly complicated, but the set up is effective enough. Joan arrives in the middle of nowhere, picked up by the maid’s former beau, Jim Gilson (George Brent), who’s blown away by Joan’s beauty. He takes her back to the cabin where she gets the bedroom and he gets the floor. Frustrated and clearly aroused, he enters the bedroom and forces a kiss on her and she slaps him. The next night, the community comes raging in with barrels of hard cider and gets completely smashed. The farm is in dire straits, though Jim had allegedly come up with a variety of wheat that can save the ailing farm which is about to be foreclosed; with some interest from a local man, Bull (David Landau) who’s interested in buying up the property and unhappy when Jim avoids the sale. Joan soon comes around to Jim, and learns the ways of the farm, eventually falling in love with him. But when a snow storm comes in, Joan returns to find Jim had brought in a man stranded - Eddie. A fight breaks out as he demands to bring Joan back home, and Jim beats him down. Joan begs for Eddie to help pay off the bank, and Eddie agrees, but Bull then attempts to burn down the harvested wheat. They put out the flames before total destruction. They live happily ever after. It’s fast, and similar to Other Men’s Women, a bit too fast to be effective. The foundation is needlessly confusing as I’m not entirely sure why Joan needed to dump Eddie and shack up for literally minutes with Don who then plays zero role in the rest of the film. Why not pull a Sister Act (1992) and have her witness a murder or something thereabouts which causes her to rush off? From there, the story is your usual arc of city-girl meets country-boy, resistant and then coming around. But with only about fifty minutes or so to explore the dynamic, it just doesn't provide enough room. Granted, Stanwyck is a bombshell, and while there’s nothing all that scandalous beyond her reveal in a tight nightgown, it’s far more revealing than anything you’re used to from the period. BELOW: Wish I could find the train disaster from Other Men's Women, but oh well Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Great for Mamet fans Director: William Wyler Writer: Robert Wyler and Philip Yordan; Detective Story (1949) play by Sidney Kingsley Cinematographer: Lee Garmes and John F. Seitz Producer: William Wyler by Jon Cvack The first films that come to mind are David Mamet’s Glengarry, Glen Ross (1992), except with police detectives instead of real estate salesmen, leading you to those select scenes from Mamet’s Homicide (1991) where all the Chicago cops gather in the office. Expecting a film noir, Detective Story somehow escapes the tropes, offering a live-time chamber drama, shot almost entirely in a police bullpen. Kirk Douglas plays the tough as nails Detective Jim McCleod (Kirk Douglas). We meet Jim outside of the precinct, bringing in a middle-aged, nameless woman shoplifter who acts as us the viewer; the fly on the wall watching it all go down. Jim’s wife Mary (Eleanor Parker) arrives to meet up for lunch and Jim pays off a cab driver so that the two could make out in the back seat, possibly having sex (though I’m not entirely convinced). What seems like a passionate and romantic gesture will later point to Jim’s hypocrisy. Jim views law as strict; that there is no gray zone between right and wrong. When he returns to the precinct we meet a young and attractive embezzler Arthur Kindred (Craig Hill) who stole from his employer in order to provide for his supermodel girlfriend, Joy. Rather than Joy coming to Arthur’s help, Joy’s sister Susan (Cathy O'Donnell) arrives, begging the detectives to let him go; that it was done in the name of foolish romance than criminality. Soon one of the detectives approaches McCleod, asking if they could just let the kid go to which McCleod refuses. Next is the lawyer Endicott Sims (Warner Anderson), representing doctor Karl Schneider (George Macready) who’s wanted on murder chargers, which we later learn is due to his performing abortions. McCleod is especially incensed at Endicott’s willingness to accommodate Schneider who’s a clear cut criminal. When a witness drops out of identifying Schneider in a line up and one of Schneider’s patients dies in the hospital, McCleod ramps up his rhetoric, leading Endicott to threaten to release damning documents about McCleod’s methods. Third comes the film’s alleged comedy relief Charley Gennini (Joseph Wiseman) and Lewis Abbott (Michael Strong) who’re a pair of lowlife thieves caught with nearly two thousand dollars and a firearm. Abbott is the tough guy and Gennini is the loudmouth who thunders through each scene; giving everything he’s got, constantly on the hustle. And so McCleod cycles between the three stories until McCleod’s wife comes to the office when Lt. Monaghan (Horace McMahon) gathers evidence that she might have been one of Schneiders patients. McCleod soon finds out and melts down, demanding to know how many others there were. They part and McCleod’s partner tries to calm him down, urging him not to give up the best thing he’s got in life. In the film’s most gripping exchange, McCleod begs for forgiveness and the two embrace for only a moment before McCleod; declaring he can’t unsee the images of Mary with other men. Mary officially storms out, vowing to leave him forever. While McCleod’s in a daze, Gemini grabs his gun, shooting him multiple times in the stomach. Knowing it’s the end, he opts for a priest instead of a doctor where he begs for contrition. Before dying, he orders his partner to tear up the charges on Author who then learns that Susan - his girlfriend’s sister - loves him and the two embrace. The story leaves you full as from a great meal. Weeks later, I’m left hungry to revisit, realizing how many minor details I missed and failed to connect. Until halfway through, I had no idea the whole film took place in a single location, or that rather than a hard boiled noir thriller it’d be a drama that just so happens to involve police detectives and criminals. It’s ridiculous that I have to go all the way back to Glengarry, Glen Ross to think of a comparable film. An initial take is that the film is about the flexibility of laws and morals. McCleod is on the absolutist side of the spectrum. Some of his partners join him and others, like Brody, are more flexible. They see the difference between Arthur and Geminni and Abbott. One made a mistake, perhaps even caused by his experience from the war, and the other two have been criminals all their lives. It’s an easy enough concept to differentiate from 10,000 feet, but we get to see how the sausage is made. The process is complex and bureaucratic. It’s the initial stage of justice. I was left wondering how bias could have fit into the story; where a person’s skin color or religion creates debate amongst the officers. The harder part to figure out is McCleod’s state of mind and how it leads to contrition. Throughout the film he mentions his “criminal mind” father who drove his mother to the insane asylum, how he’s going to end up in the institution himself, portraying his damaged mind as he obsesses over the images of his wife with other men, no matter the situation. He despised that she wasn’t pure when he met her. These images are easy to see - the virgin woman and the father figure. Except in this case, the alleged virgin is McCleod’s wife, who wasn’t even a virgin anymore (at least not since the taxi cab). Here it gets muddy. Is McCleod supposed to be a Jesus-like figure? If so, he sure was an asshole. I’m guessing that none of this connects all that well; that rather, we were watching a man who wanted to be the exact opposite of his criminal father. The law was king. It was his idol. Insert even more religious symbols here. But from a secular standpoint, he inherited some form of mental illness. He wasn’t crazy, but suffered from some form of compulsive anxiety, exploding at his colleagues, boss, or wife no matter the consequence. It was a battle between commitment to the law versus an obsessive struggle to demand everyone he loves stick to it, rather than bending toward them. Although in an honorable job, he too pushes people away. And by the time he makes the realization, he’s dying. The complexity is in the sacrifice. He would be remembered as dying in the line of duty; saving everyone’s lives. But it doesn’t seem from the criminals so much as from McCleod himself. By leaving the world he can ease the pain he brings on all those who love him. To rid the world of someone who can’t forfeit his views of the world. What it all means beyond that is only something another viewing could provide. BELOW: Love and crime Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Been awhile since we had a warship thriller Director: James B. Harris Writer: James Poe; based upon The Bedford Incident by Mark Rascovich Cinematographer: Gulbert Taylor Producer: James B. Harris and Richard Widmark by Jon Cvack The Bedford Incident is a great follow up to Run Silent, Run Deep which I watched just a couple weeks back; except rather than pure war film it’s more fitting for the cynicism of Seconds (1966), Fail Safe (1964), or Dr. Strangelove (1964). It involves the photojournalist Ben Munceford (Sidney Poitier) who boards a battleship in order to document the infamous Captain Eric Finlander (Richard Widmark) who patrols the waters near Greenland at the peak of the cold war. Munceford is joined by a Navy reserve doctor Lt. Cmdr. Chester Potter (Martin Balsam) who’s been brought aboard in order to assess the crew’s physical and mental health. Finlander is a tough captain who’s struggling with the mandate that he shouldn’t strike any enemy ship unless permitted. As of late, he’s been tracking down a Russian submarine which flirts between international and protected waters. Finlander runs a tight ship, though his crew is exceptionally loyal. The dynamic is odd, yet works. Given Poitier’s series of racially charged films, I kept expecting his storyline to shift over. Finland would reveal himself as a bigot and Munceford would have to earn his place on the all-white ship. Insead it’s the complete opposite. I can’t recall one moment where a character addressed his race. It’s a role that makes you grasp Denzel Washington’s frequent admiration. Given the period, it’s difficult to think of an African American actor who so successfully asserted himself into a film. You can’t help but predict how the dynamic will evolve; the intrusive photographer against the old school sea captain, and yet it never does. Throughout most of the story Finlander respects Munceford’s role (whether for his own personal credit or not). It’s then combined with Chest Putter’s role as a new medical officer, who after conducting an initial round of interviews, reports to Finland that the soldiers need to take better care of their physical and mental health. He offers a goofy calisthenics routine and opts to track each crew members’ health one by one, but Finland rejects the idea. Instead he demands Putter read about a dozen books about the updates to Navy code on medicine before prescribing a remedy. It’s the one section of the film that feels a bit too loose as compared with the other plots. I was imagining a scene with one of the soldiers going through a breakdown; perhaps smoking too much and becoming increasingly volatile. In fact, Donald Sutherland has a brief cameo as one of the hospitalman who’s conducting research on trash found in the ocean. Again, I was thrown for a loop, figuring him to play a far larger role before realizing it was one of his earliest parts. Still, imagine if he started having a breakdown and offered the direct evidence of Putter’s hypothesis. So we got a photojournalist doing a story on Finland, Cutter attempting to assess the crew’s health who’s in some type of power struggle with Finland, and Finland who’s trying to track down the submarine and accommodate the strict parameters of what constitutes lawful engagement. I’m struggling to think how they all relate. On the one hand could be Finland’s vanity, but I’m not sure how this compares to his reluctance to look after his loyal troops. It’s an engaging setup, it’s just not the most coherent. Finland is joined by a bizarre NATO commander and former U-boat captain Wolfgang Schrepke (Eric Portman) who, being a former Nazi, sympathizes with destroying the Russians, advising Finland on just how close he can get. Soon they end up in some glacial waters outside of what I believe was Greenland, where the Russian sub drifts in and out of international waters. When a radioman who’s been working over 24 hours straight passes out, the crew grows weary of the pursuit, but not wanting to appear weak, Finland persists. They chase the submarine down within the enemy territory as it pops up on occasion to get air (revealing only a few tiny pipes, for lack of a better description). Knowing that it can’t stay down forever and that it’s simply trying to get to international waters, Finland orders the crew to run over the submarine as it mounts for air. The crew abides and they strike. Expecting the submarine to then rise, Finland orders them to prepare weapons. Munceford steps in, arguing he cannot destroy the sub. Amidst the heat of the argument, Finland shouts, “If he fires one, I’ll fire one” which the crew member mistakes as an order and fires a missile. Finland races to cancel and we watch - in that amazing documentary footage that’s often blended so well with old black and white films - as the missile rises up, unleashes a parachute and falls back to the ocean. We assume it’s safe and everyone waits and it then explodes; unloading a thunderous blast of water. Within moments, the Russians fire three torpedoes in their direction. Finland freezes, having no evasive maneuvers planned. The torpedoes close in and just as we realize what’s happening- the ship explodes. Killing everyone. It’s a grim ending, comparable in tone to Seconds, Fail Safe, and Dr. Strangelove; portraying a world on the brink of total destruction. Given the similarities, it serves as another example of how pervasive the cold war paranoia was. Today we are experiencing similar instability, and for some reason the threat of nuclear weapons seems distant from more immediate concerns. What this film achieves is the sense of anxiety in unstable times. There is something haunting about a ship and its crew in the middle of the arctic ocean, chasing an unseen enemy. I’m not sure what it all means exactly but the feeling itself - extending throughout the film- is palpable enough to make me anxious for a return. It’s not a large story of worldwide disaster so much as what could begin it and how it can come down to a single individual. BELOW: Oops Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  One of the best father/son dynamics of the decade Director: Trey Edward Shults Writer: Trey Edward Shults Cinematographer: Drew Daniels Producer: Kevin Turen, Jessica Row, and Trey Edward Shults by Jon Cvack My friend has been telling me to see this movie for weeks. Not knowing anything about it beyond that it was made by the director It Comes At Night (2017) in a fascinating shift. The moment he said Trent Reznor did the soundtrack, I was determined to find a screening on its last week. I’m halfway through Euphoria. Visually, it’s the most exciting show on television, but in terms of story, it plays like a jumped shark of any teen drama. The story is beyond belief, and while combined with the style, it helps capture an essence of high school, there’s so little in specific that I can relate to. Everything is to the extreme, creating a melodrama that’s less accessible. I knew nothing of Waves beyond it being a domestic drama, getting hints that something significant happens early on that sets the family on a particular path. We meet Tyler Williams (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) driving in a car with his girlfriend Alexis Lopez (Alexa Demie). The camera spins around in circles per the likes of Children of Men (2006), creating a tension that something was about to happen. They’re kissing, Tyler’s foot is out the window, and we wonder if they’re about to get in an accident; fall off the bridge, get hit by a car, lose control. And then the film cuts. We watch the pair in the Florida ocean, kissing in the water and playing in the sand. We flash back and find Tyler at wrestling practice, running the track where he sees his girlfriend who eyes him down and the two start seeing each other. The sequence is exactly what I was hoping Euphoria would be, leaning on a brilliant style and rhythm but never taking the story beyond reality. Terrence Malick is all over the film and while it’s a bit too obvious at points, I’m coming around to the idea that what Saving Private Ryan did for the war film, Malick did for using images to push a narrative and convey emotion. Back home we meet his father Ronald (Sterling K. Brown) who demands more than a single word answer when he asks how school went. Ronald is a demanding, though loving father; adhering his son to a strict workout regimen and pushing hard on academics. After experiencing discomfort in his shoulder, Tyler starts taking some of his father’s painkillers to numb the pain on occasion, later going to the doctor and learning that he has permanent damage in his tendon which could lead to an irreversible injury that should forever end his days of wrestling immediately. Tyler ignores the doctor’s advice and takes on the next match where in one of the most excruciating displays of pain I’ve ever seen, we watch his opponent take him down, sending a bolting shock of pain through his body. He loses the first match and goes again, again taken down, his arm dragged behind his body until the pain grows so severe he blacks out. He wakes up and reveals the truth to his parents, turning to pills and booze. He learns that Alexis is late, and failing to grasp what it means, parties more and more with his family. She reveals she’s pregnant. Vowing to do whatever he needs to do to support her, the scene cuts to them cruising to an abortion clinic, where in a fascinating sequence, the camera stays in the car, catching just glimpses of the protestors outside. We move in and the security guard introduces himself, warning of how extreme and vitriolic the protestors could be, and while we think it’s continued from outside, Alexis then enters the room and we realize she already had gone outside. They cruise off and Alexis reveals she couldn’t go through with it. Tyler tries to offer his support as the reality strikes him. It’s a brilliant portrayal of youth, in which the inability to handle such altering news causes both Tyler and Alexis to explode; each committed to their side and unleashing a tirade of insults and profanity as Alexis jumps out of the car and refuses to take a ride home. The pressure continues and Tyler further turns toward pills and alcohol, trying his best to return to working out. One night he returns home drunk, ending up puking on the bathroom floor where his sister finds him, worried that he’ll wake their parents. Things culminate in one of the most dramatic and realistic text scenes yet created as Tyler attempts to play nice guy to see if Alexis is going to keep the baby, cutting between nothing but his close up and the messages and yet providing a thrilling sequence as he loses all control, even over his ability to type lucidly before going on to destroy his entire bathroom. By now the movie’s chugging full steam ahead. Tyler has lost his girl who’s going to have his baby, can’t wrestle any longer and he turns further and further to booze and drugs. It’s here that the parallels between Euphoria and Waves is most apparent. Yet while Euphoria asks us to accept characters as they are, Waves show how characters become what they are. It’s of course melodramatic, but it captures a mood. Just today I read that millennials and subsequent generations are more depressed, anxious, and less healthy than Gen Xers. Waves’ plot itself isn’t all that unique, but the way in which it’s told is. The style isn’t as extreme as Euphoria and that’s what makes it work. Shults takes us through scenes by first focusing on what feels real rather than on what’s the most visually pleasing way to do it, and as a result, makes the film feel far more true to life. Things come to a head when Tyler follows Alexis going to prom on Instagram; pounding vodka and taking more pills while he watches alone in his room until he finally heads down to leave. He’s stopped by his step mom who he scolds until his father comes in who Tyler pushes down some steps and they kick him out. He heads off to the after party where in a brilliant and thrilling scene - as of this writing, the best of the year - where Tyler sneaks into the house and approaches Alexis, begging for forgiveness before he strikes her, causing her to collapse and crack her head open on the ground. Tyler takes off, heading back home, but quickly gets apprehended by the cops. He’s sentenced to life in jail. At two hours and fifteen minutes, I’m guessing this scene takes place at about 100 minutes in. Yet instead of allowing this climactic moment to end, the story continues on and fails to ever gain the same steam it had for the first two thirds. We then follow the sister Emily (Taylor Russell) who soon ends up with Tyler’s classmate Luke (Lucas Hedges) and they begin dating. We follow them on a similar journey, soon learning that Luke’s estranged dad is dying of cancer. The pair take ecstasy, later have sex, and appear to have a seemingly normal relationship. The film ends shortly after the pair visit Luke’s dad in the hospital which felt a bit jarring The first film that comes to mind is Place Beyond the Pines (2012) which takes a similar shift, in which I struggle to remember much from the second half and so much from the first. I’m left wondering what the reasoning was, as unfortunately, I kept experiencing that expectation that the film would end, only for it to keep on going for twenty more minutes. I’m sure another viewing is in order, as the connections could become more apparent, but Kelvin Harrison, Jr. is so good and his plot so riveting that it felt like this movie could have been near flawless if ended by the hour and forty five mark. It’s still an amazing piece of work, as even the hanging-chad has some beautiful moments, but it does show the danger in providing the climax just a third before the conclusion. BELOW: One of the best scenes of the year Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Not sure what animating the entire film accomplished Director: Robert Zemeckis Writer: Robert Zemeckis; based off A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens Cinematographer: Robert Presley Producer: Steve Starkey, Robert Zemeckis, and Jack Rapke by Jon Cvack I’ve been my way through the various Christmas Carol adaptations. As of this writing, I have Patrick Stewart’s 1999 television version left and sure enough FX released a new adaptation just last week. It’s my very favorite repeated adaptation - up there with the ancient classics, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and others; an incredibly rare achievement in creating a story that stands the test of time; people drawn back time and again, always finding a fresh connection to the material and demonstrating how timeless art can become. A good Scrooge fits any age, a person who can just as easily play a charmer as well as an asshole. Ideally, we see tiny slivers of a good person between the bad. It’s why Reginald Owen from the 1932 version, Alastair Sim from 1951, and Bill Murray from Scrooged (1988) are all so good. And it’s why George C. Scott in 1984’s version fails to work, let alone when Scott breaks into song and dance; he’s just too intense and serious a person. This marks the beginning of Robert Zemeckis’ peculiar shift away from an absolutely dominating reign in cinema in which he created classic after classic film. The split year of 2000 marks an immediate wedge between his two ears - Cast Away (2000) earned another position in our popular cinema pantheon and What Lies Beneath (2000) marks a failure to reimagine Hitchcock. He wouldn’t make another movie until 2004 with another classic The Polar Express. From there on out he spent the next half decade making only animated films, culminating in A Christmas Carol. As mentioned in other thoughts, the 2000s is becoming an endearing turning point in spectacle cinema. Just as the 50s sci-fi introduced cheesy monsters, aliens, and other creatures and the 80s would master them, the 2000s is when tentpole films leaned into underdeveloped special effects; most of which are aging horribly. See my thoughts on Lord of the Rings (2001) where while most of the film still works, there are a few special effects which are shockingly awful. Filmmakers should remaster these films, not just release higher definition copies. Sometime in the last few years, as I played a few video games here and there, I realized that we are not - yet - in danger of CGI characters taking over in narrative films, but that video games and CGI narrative have so successfully merged that it demands filmmakers use style to differentiate themselves. It’s why Pixar is successful and Paddington (2014) works. But I’m left wondering if it could ever allow for what Ghost in the Shell or Akira accomplished; allowing actual people to exist within an animated world. A Christmas Carol doesn’t feel like a movie so much as watching the B-Roll of a video game. At points, it even feels as though it’s setting you up to play a game. It follows the traditional story in the classical era with Ebenezer Scrooge played by Jim Carrey (along with performing the three ghosts of past, present, and future). Ebenezer is designed as a frightening and intimidating man; tall and hovering over people, failing to have even an ounce of kindness anywhere in his body. Although played by Carrey, the filmmakers opted to remove all humor. Perhaps at the time, when Carrey was at the top of comedy, there’d be an irony in how serious the performance came across, but I was left wondering how much better it could have been if Scrooge made subtle jokes and remarks under his breath that at least provided him a sense of wit. Instead, it was dry and cold. The story follows the normal trajectory. We meet Bob Cratchit (Gary Oldman, who also plays Scrooge’s old partner Jacob Marley), Scrooge’s nephew (Colin Firth), and his former fiancee Belle (Robin Wright Penn; who also strangely plays Scrooge’s younger sister as well). Each scene is absolutely beautiful and stunning with some interesting visual effects to mix things up, but for the most part, the whole time I was wondering why this wasn’t live action. Before the future segment arrives, most of the scenes involve normal looking people in normal locations. I was left imagining Jim Carrey’s makeup and the kinds of visual and practical effects that Zemeckis has perfectly blended in the past. So many frames were gorgeous, but fell far short of what an actual set with real people could have provided. It’s the type of film you wish would get remade Psycho-style in order to prove that CGI isn’t meant to recreate life but the imagination (wild visual effects aside). BELOW: I'd love someone to explain to me why going through all this was somehow a better idea than live action Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Movie about making movies without saying it's a movie about making movies Director: James Mangold Writer: Jez Butterworth, John-Henry Butterworth, and Jason Keller Cinematographer: Phedon Papamichael Producer: Peter Chernin, Jenno Topping, and James Mangold by Jon Cvack Continued from part one... One of the first lessons I learned in production is that if people have input on the creative then most will gladly make it. As I’ve mentioned, Stephen Soderberg gave a speech on the state of cinema at the San Francisco Film Festival, mentioning that he deals with executive who don’t particularly enjoy movies beyond the big franchises, let alone the history of cinema. Coincidentally, Soderberg compared the process to a bunch of marketing executives telling Mercedes engineers how to build a car (making me wonder if Mangold might have heard the speech). In my experience, art by committee turns into hackneyed ersatz. Trust the people in charge of the project, and if the project doesn’t work, replace the people. Unfortunately, both cars and entertainment make getting into the details appear sexy. Shelby explains that he needs to be in completely charge and they need to let Ken drive. Ford acquiesces and agrees, ensuring that Shelby will now report directly to him. Shelby reconciles things with Ken in a fight scene that I was sure was going to be stupid, but given their relationship is absolutely perfect; neither wants to seriously hurt the other, but they take it up to the line. Their relationship frames another fascinating relationship between cinema and cars. Leading up to the fight, Shelby kept explaining the need for Ken to play well with the suits; knowing that if he kept up the crass sarcasm and profanity that he’d get terminated. In a brilliant scene after Ken embarrassed himself in front of Beebe, Shelby gives a speech while staring right at Ken in the audience, talking in wild praise of what Ken and we think is about him; before Shelby then looks away toward Ford and mentions his name specifically. It’s a brilliant moment of Shelby explaining how things need to work for them to do what they’re doing while also giving gratitude. I’ve worked as a professional producer/director now for four years of my life. It is a surreal experience because it is even more fun and satisfying than I imagined an aspiring kid. However, the part that is less fun and that I never even anticipated was the range of personalities that you must get along with. It ultimately comes down to trust. Everyone wants to be trusted to do what they’re going to do. My best friend always said it best, “Don’t say no to those who cut your paychecks.” Nobody in charge of you, whether justified or not, wants to be told no. It requires you to be diplomatic. You have to swallow pride and ego and enter in a constant stream of negotiations, which if you respect the person and they respect you, can be fun. In the case of Shelby, he accommodated the dynamic. On the other hand Ken refused to do the same. Then again, they both end up winning. While I wanted to say the dynamic reminded me of a producer/director, it applies to any creative relationship. Director/Cinematographer, Producer/Talent, Showrunner/Writer. They all demand a particular sensitivity to the other person; especially if there’s a history. No one wants to be told what they’re doing is wrong, but disagreements are inevitable. Shelby and Ken share a mutual respect for one another that transcends friendship. It is a respect for the other’s craft and how great they are. Ken respects the cars Shelby builds and Shelby respects Ken’s way of driving them. Shelby receives carte blanche on the next build and Ken comes around, and if I had one problem it was around this point it was when Ford visits the factory. Ford announces he’s promoted Bebee as Director of Racing (or some silly title), meaning that they now have to again go through Bebee who’s first order of business is firing Ken. In a fun little scene, they lock Bebee in the office as Shelby gives Ford a test drive; stopping across the track to demand that Ford keeps Ken in the position. After Ford cries at the machine’s power, he deflects the demand and says Bebee will remain in charge. Shelby then gives another speech, betting his company against Ken winning. It’s good, but the whole thing felt like an exact repeat of what we just saw in the first half. Even if autobiographical, I think the final moment - when Bebee demands Ken slow down - could have been made all the more powerful, given that we think Ford is still the go to man, rather than reneging on his agreement once again.. They arrive at La Man and it’s the scene we’ve been waiting for. Other than the taste at the start, the last couple hours were simply watching a machine get tested, which was thrilling enough. Both Ford and Ferrari have four cars on their team. There is a fascinating use of rules for the races. In the first scene, Ken learns his trunk hood is too low and he’s disqualified. He cites the previous year’s rules, learns they’ve been changed, and proceeds to pound his trunk with a hammer to meet the qualifications. During the build, the one issue Ford couldn’t overcome was having the brakes burn out. As is, it’d require them to replace the brake pads which could take up to an hour. They design a type of removable caliper connected to the wheel and brake pads all bolted into the axel. I believe the rule prevented the crews from building on the car, to which they argue that they’re not building but replacing the entire wheel apparatus. It’s these details and others throughout the film that make you appreciate the details behind the machine and the way it needs to operate. There are even moments of questionable cheating, such as when Shelby tosses one of his lug nuts near the Ferrari curb, making them freak out as to whether they forgot to attach it. It also makes the race itself all the more interesting as we comprehend how the machines work. For instance, in the opening scene, Ken disparages a potential customer for buying an expensive fast car, but failing to drive it the way it was designed to drive - a common criticism seen in such series as Jay Leno's garage, where picks up rich celebrities in their expensive rides only to discover they’re uninterested in driving the cars how they should be. From there on, we hear Ken in the car assessing what he thinks is working and what’s not; the feel of the engine, the shift, the grip, the suspension and turning. We hear him go through each element and while I don’t necessarily follow what everything meant, it opened the complexity of a high performance car. I recently have gotten into debates with friends about whiskey, wine, and cigars and the ability for experienced people to differentiate good from bad. What all tastes the same to one person, has vast differences to another. Compared to cinema, most viewers do not know precisely what makes a particular scene great or engaging. They might talk in generalities - I liked the look, I didn’t like the performances; I like bourbon, I don’t like rye; this is sweet, that is sour. Ken talks about the vibrations, sounds, feel, and control in ways most would never understand; both because they haven’t driven race cars and probably haven’t even driven high performance cars. I was fortunate to work for Motor Trend for a few years on their digital shows, and got to drive just one Hemi-charged Plymouth Fury and I immediately understood the appeal. There is fun in driving a machine like that that is unlike anything else I know; everyone has the same reaction - pure, child-like laughter. The race is one of the finest I’ve seen, where the line between real and effects had completely blurred. I could feel the rumble in my stomach. Mangold stated that he wanted to put the audience in the cars; something you hear so often in the same films but fully delivers. After surviving burnt out brakes, pouring rain, and dodging countless crashed competitors, Ken ties with Ferrari. Another detail we learn is that the cars can’t handle 7000 RPMs for long periods of time. It’s too much heat and demand. It’s a perfect set up as Ferrari and Ford test their limits, pushing it down the straightaway, gaining top speed until Ferrari’s engine busts. Ken is in first place by miles and the race is his. Sure enough Bebee strikes again, demanding Shelby tell Ken to slow down and tie with the other two Ford drivers where they can then cross the finish line together; coming straight from Ford himself. Shelby knows it was Bebee’s idea, but also knows there’s not enough time to do anything about it. During a pit stop, Shelby tells Ken it’s his choice. It’s a fascinating sequence from Mangold and Bale as they make us first agree with Ken’s initial rebelliousness, going full speed and seeming not to slow down, to him then driving down the straightaway; his face changing. I can’t recall another scene where with minimal dialogue an actor pulled us through the thought process and changed our minds. It’s his pride that’s making him keep going, knowing that it could cost Shelby the job. He slows down, figuring he’s still in first place and waits for the team. Sure enough, Bebee was right, as there is a particular magnificence to the image. It’s an American symbol we try and aspire toward; doing what is honorable rather than what is selfish. It wasn’t about beating a record, or one driver taking first miles ahead of everyone else; it was about an American company competing to show it was the best. Unfortunately, for a reason I wish the film better explained, Ken’s partner received first place; shocking Ken who figured the act alone should warrant the medal. Turns out that because McClaren and Amon started nearly 60 feet in front of Ken, they theoretically finished first. A bone up that’s all the more fascinating in Ken failing to take account of it, and leaving you wonder if Bebee knew. Ford would go on to win the next three years up to 1969, though from then on since, no American car company has taken the prize. Ken would later die in an auto race track accident after placing second in Le Mans the following year. By the end of this writing, I’m more convinced than ever that this movie is inspired by making movies. It operates almost like a poem if that poem came in the shape of an action film. It shows that ego doesn’t have to be removed so much as controlled and respected, and that fights are inevitable and good so long as they lead to something better. The 90s had some great action cinema, but rarely has one combined with such a profound meditation on the process of creation. BELOW: Watch this if you still disagree Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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