 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
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 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  They need another movie 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 When Ford v Ferrari ended I was left nostalgic. The movie reminded me of the types of action and action-dramas I watched growing up - Apollo 13 (1995), Gone in Sixty Seconds (2000), fragments of Con Air (1997); the type of movie that took place within the realm of reality and not about blowing up as much shit as possible and puking out the most extravagant visual effects pieces possible (climax of Con Ari not withstanding). They’re all relatively small stories. Space capsules, cars driving around the city, a plane, a prison, and yet they all felt gigantic. In an interview during its screening at TIFF, James Mangold mentioned that in addition to the obvious, the story was about the creative process. There are the suits who represent the money given to a creative team to create a product and win a top prize. It’s not a stretch to say that this is one of the best movies I’ve seen about the process of making movies. The story involves the 1966 Le Man held yearly in France in which a team of drivers sponsored by the leading sports car manufacturers raced their designs for 24 hours straight. At this point in the story, Ferrari has won the previous three or four and back in the states, Ford Motor Company, led by Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts), is introduced years earlier by shutting down the assembly line and chastising his workers for failing to give enough passion. Vice President Lee Iacocca (Jon Bernthal) knows it’s because rather than attempting to create a sexy product competitive with burgeoning European sports cars, Ford has continued with bland and cheap designs that cater to the masses. Iacocca gives a presentation showing James Bond and his Aston Martin, explaining that the GI’s who’ve come home have gotten homes and found success and now want to spend their money on better toys. Ford and his worm-tongue sycophant executive Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas) laugh off the idea, refusing to sell by cars by using sex or power. Iacocca doesn’t back down. Ferrari has captured the world’s imagination. Again, they laugh, explaining that Ford spends as much on toilet paper as Ferrari spends on their entire fleet. Iacocca then tells them about their losses to Ferrari in the last few years of Le Man which captures Ford II’s attention. Having worked in production start ups for the last ten years I struggle to think of a better film that catches the condescending and pompous conservatism of business people. There’s an old phrase out in entertainment - to paraphrase, the easiest way to retain a job is to say no to big change or risky endeavors. When it comes to film - sequels, prequels, remakes, and bottomless franchises have dominated the space. As rogerebert.com’s Glenn Kelly says, “...a movie like ‘Ford v Ferrari’ would be a staple of studio fare. Nowadays, it’s actually considered a risk, despite being, by an older standard, about as mainstream as mainstream gets. ‘Ford v Ferrari’ delivers real cinema meat and potatoes. And its motor show spectacle deserves to be seen in a theater.” It all connects back to cinema. Ford could be seen as any of the major studios continuing to lean into franchises, averse to taking any type of risk. Then again the risk is actually high, as the number of original films within the same category which have failed is enough to make anyone cautious. Perhaps it’s not that studios are so risk-averse so much as waiting for the proper director to make it happen; such as Mangold did with Logan (creating one of the handful of MCU movies I enjoyed). It’s a demonstration of trust and it’s what makes Henry Ford II such an interesting character; he wants the profits but he also wants the respect and accolades. Just like any great studio head. Ford rejects the race, but instructs Iacocca to visit Italy and make Enzo Ferrari (Remo Girone) an offer to buy the company. Scuderia i surrounded by his own obsequious executives, one who secretly calls Fiat who counters with a far greater offer to buy Ferarri out. It was a con; Ferrari used Ford to up the bid. Humiliated, Ford agrees to race and win the Le Man, no matter the cost. Around all this, we meet Ken Miles (Christian Bale) as the sharp witted and irascible mechanic and race car driver with an endearing and beautiful wife Mollie (Caitriona Balfe) and equally charming kid Peter (Noah Jupe). He’s underwater with the IRS who soon swoop in and foreclose his business. I’m fairly certain this whole story was apocryphal, as it had that taste of a demand for extra stakes. It’s more interesting for Ken to race in order to provide for his family than just deciding to ignore his own safety. It’s also that type of scene that works in this type of film. If the point is to tell a great action-packed drama, then embellishing these details are for the greater good. Iacocca recruits Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) to build out the race car, who in a uniquely Matt Damon kind of monologue in which we’re not sure if he’s serious or bullshitting the other characters, he talks about how difficult it is to build a car and complete the race, let alone safely. Iacocca offers him a blank check and Matt Damon immediately hires Ken as the driver. There is a great majesty to how Mangold films these scenes, where even the smallest dialogue scenes feel large and part of a massive and exciting world. The colors are vibrant, of teals, whites, and salmons, often against a desert backdrop. The pace is fast, as when you see the movie is two and a half hours long, you wonder if it could maintain the story. Yet it immerses you within a tale of sport, business, mechanics, and philosophy where each scene rips you through the ideas. Arriving at a Ford event to kick off the challenge, Ken and his son find the newest mustang model as the public pines over it. Peter opens the door and checks inside and Leo Bebee demands he back up from the car, pissing off Ken who - not knowing the man - proceeds to state precisely why Mustang’s are just pretty ornaments disguising mediocre performance; a point I recall wondering about in the documentary A Faster Horse (2015); part history and part reality show as we watch Ford engineer’s design the next year’s Mustang model. One of the most fascinating moments is when all of the department heads get together in order to discuss how much power they can squeeze out of a small budget; again, comparable to a film production in attempting to create as good of product as they can within their limitations. Leo’s fractured ego demands he vindicate himself. After Ken demonstrates his skill, Leo takes Shelby aside, explaining that he needs to replace him, explaining that Ken doesn’t fit the image of Ford; that is, tall, built, charming, and American. Being the night before the race, Leo breaks the news. Crushed, Ken accepts like a gentleman, working in the garage throughout the next 24 hours, listening to the race on the radio. Ford loses big, and although it was Leo Bebee’s call he continues to move up the chain. In the film's best non-action scene, Shelby meets at Ford’s office, hanging outside and watching the team of his secretaries answering phones, responding to messages, and exchanging a red folder, soon ending up with Leo Bebee’s hands who leads him into the meeting where Bebee hands over the folder to Ford who wants to know why he shouldn't fire Shelby. In another incredible Damon monologue - this time fully authentic - Shelby explains how he watched the red folder exchange hands, assuming over twenty people probably touched it, each lending their thoughts and opinions until everyone can agree on what’s appropriate to present to Ford; a watered down mess of data that essentially boils down to minor changes and the status quo. Although I can’t find the specific quote, I believe he says “You can’t win a race by committee”; again, a shout out to the infamous problem of Art by Committee which plagues entertainment. Continue to part 2... BELOW: A movie where everything goes back to sex 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 noir's greatest villains - Richard Widmark Director: Henry Hathaway Writer: Ben Hecht and Charles Lederer Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine Producer: Fred Kohlmar by Jon Cvack The more time wears on and memes deconstruct every piece of popular art in lightning speed, the more fascinated I become with film noir; a movement that didn’t even seem aware of itself until years later. The common trope being the hard boiled detective in his office when a drop dead gorgeous woman enters, asking for some help; a trope that, while common enough in neo-noir and beyond, isn’t found too often beyond the Chandler and Hammond adaptations. In college the debate was whether film noir was a genre or movement, given how many other genres it crossed into. When someone refers to a film noir, however modern, most cinephiles will know exactly what to expect. In that case, it’s a genre. In terms of the classic era, when the stories had no specific angle or parameters, it reflected a collective post-WWII ideology; of a generation coming home to alleged perfection after gross amounts of destruction. Also shot on location in New York City like Call Northside 777 (1948), Kiss of Death opens up at heist, in which a trio led by Nick Biano (Victor Mature) attempt to rob a jewelry store a dozen or so floors up in a skyscraper. They arrive, get the gems, and leave when the clerk trips the alarm. In a thrilling scene, they board the elevator and head down, stopping at each floor until they arrive at the ground level, hearing the cops and the crowd dispersing. Nick makes his way through the post office, thinking he’s in the clear and heading out into the actual New York streets where the police open fire, catching him in the leg and he’s apprehended. Nick’s visited by the Assistant District Attorney Louis D’Angelo (Brian Donlevy) who offers Nick a lighter sentence in exchange for turning over his accomplices and the boss that hired them. Nick’s visited by the syndicate’s attorney Earl Howser (Taylor Holmes) who advises him to be quiet and his wife and daughters will be taken care of. If not, who knows what might happen. Nick agrees and three years into his term he receives word that his wife has committed suicide; later learning she was raped by the a man named Pete Rizzo. Enraged, Nick gets in touch with D’Angelo who doubts Nick’s testimony is any longer reliable with the news. Howser gets in touch with Nick who explains the situation and Howser hires one of the greatest criminals in film noir history, Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark). Widmark would go on to receive an Oscar nomination for his portrayal of a young and completely unhinged murderer; the type of generic sounding character that only the rare actor can pull off. Udo agrees to take out Rizzo, and in one of the most terrifying murders I recall seeing from the entire period, he finds Pete Rizzo’s mother alone in her apartment, unsure where her son is. Udo then ties her into her chair, wheels her out into the hallways and tosses her down the stairs; shown in a long wide over the shoulder angle where an actual wheelchair is tossed down the stairs, obscuring the mother’s face. It’s a brilliant use of cinema, up there in shock value with the bird’s eye murder from Pyscho (1960); conveying just how psychotic Tommy Udo actually is. After Nick spills the beans, D’Angelo releases him on parole. Nick ends up at Nettie’s to find he’s still doing work for D’Angelo. He soon meets up with Tommy at a club who admits to the murder, and just as things seem all good and D’Angelo releases Nick who ends finding and job and getting his girls back. Things seem to look on the up and up until D’Angelo indicts Tommy and the city demands Nick testify. Knowing it’d likely mean his death, he still takes the stand. But after going after the jury, Tommy is released. Nick, Nettie, and the girls head out to the country to seek refuge, though Udo hunts them down. Cornering Nick, Udo demands Nick go with him on the next hit or be killed. Nick agrees and manages to tell D'Angelo about the job, but he’s reluctant to move on the recently freed man. Nick tells D’Angelo his location and to look out for Udo’s silver plated pistol. D’Angelo agrees Reading Pauline Kael’s "5001 Nights at the Movies" (1982), she called the film a melodrama and nails exactly the type of noir this is. When considered and broken down, the plot is fairly sensational and packed with emotion. Place within the film noirs confines, it’s a unique discovery from the movement. To think that Richard Widmark received an Oscar nomination just goes to show how far Hathaway pushed his characters. No matter how ridiculous the plot gets, all of the leading characters are so good that they pull it back to raw grit; honoring the inevitable doomed fate found in noir’s greatest titles. It’s one of the more thrilling conclusions I recall. BELOW: A movie where everything goes back to sex Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Wish these two did more together Director: Robert Wise
Writer: John Gay; Run Silent, Run Deep (1955) novel by Edward L. Beach, Jr. Cinematographer: Russell Harlan Producer: Harold Hecht by Jon Cvack I mentioned my love for the submarine subgenre in my thoughts on The Hunt for Red October (1990) and Crimson Tide (1995) - two great films that have yet to be topped in over twenty years. Das Boot (1981) is the masterpiece and The Enemy Below (1957) is unappreciated. U-571 (2000) is the younger brother to all of them; serving as that rare movie experience where the sound design is worth the viewing, and after a decade, has aged particularly well with some surprising faces. It’s the film most similar to Run Silent, Run Deep, involving an American submarine crew led by Commander P.J. Richardson (Clark Gable) who’s determined to destroy the Japanese destroyer “Bungo Pete” whose sunk four of his submarines in the Bungo Straits. Richardson demands submarine command be led by an Executive Officer straight from active sea patrol. In other words, Richardson is willing to leave his cozy office in order to get revenge via submarine. The premise is perfect in brevity. Richardson meets the Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Jim Bledsoe (Burt Lancaster), who while admiring Richardson's record, is annoyed and offended by the move; evidently with his eyes on command. Richardson leans on Bledsoe to whip the crew into shape, specifically by its ability to dive and raise periscope to fire within thirty seconds, no matter how many times they have to try. My favorite aspect of submarine stories is that, if done well, you get to see the division of labor. We see the mechanics, missile control, the radio men, cooks, and engineers all working together in order to accomplish the mission and stay alive. They take us throughout the ship where we learn the geography and how they do what they do. We witness the bonds they share which makes any great war movie part family film. Although Richrdson’s superiors banned him from the Bungo Straits, he ignores the order and shocks his crew when he avoids taking out an enemy cruiser in order to enter. They arrive in a long convoy where they find Bungo Pete. They take out a destroyer and attempt to hit Bungo Pete, but enemy fighter planes swoop in, followed by another ship dumping depth charges. It’s a scene that could be just as thrilling today; containing all of the elements that provide a great submarine movie - the Captain waiting to get the enemy in sight; hearing the torpedoes as they close in and narrowly miss; and most surprising, the classic silence while depth charges drop, rumbling the entire ship, or in Run Silent, Run Deep’s case, killing three. Going even further, they stuff the dead bodies into the launch tubes as a decoy. Richardson is knocked unconscious during the counter attack and led to the infirmary. Recently I wrote in The Misfits (1961) that Gable would die later that year from his alcoholism. While not nearly as haggard in this film, Gable still shows signs of decay. There’s a madness to the role that feels far more personal than you’d find in an action movie. Believing he can recover, the crew assembles privately, inviting in Bledsoe and requesting that he take over as commander. Reluctant and enraged, he later capitulates and explains that Richardson is done. There’s a great mythological quality about the movie; of a former cocky Knight who wishes to return to the Dark Forest and fight the kingdom’s enemies. It’s this classic plot that allows the filmmakers to focus on the action and characters while providing just enough juice to keep the story flowing forward. It is a film about individual moments, in which each scene matches or outdoes the previous, building and building until the ride comes to an end. BELOW: A movie where everything goes back to sex Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The technology just wasn't there to pull off playing drums with a scarf Director: Zhang Yimou Writer: Li Feng, Peter Wu, Wang Bin, and Zhang Yimou Cinematographer: Zhao Xiaoding Producer: William Kong and Zhang Yimou by Jon Cvack This is the first action film I’ve seen since getting into Yimou Zhang as the art house Chinese filmmaker who made Raise the Red Lantern (1991), Coming Home (2014), Not One Less (1999) and about a half dozen other acclaimed movies. He’s also made Hero (2002 with Jet Li), The Great Wall (2016) with Matt Damon, and a movie I had never even heard of with Christian Bale called The Flowers of War (2011). It might be the greatest example of the “one for you, one for me” filmmaking philosophy. I had always thought House of Flying Daggers exploded in America, but in fact it was Hero which was made two years prior and made over $175 million from its $31 million budget. House of Flying Daggers followed it up, offering that unique 00s vibe of special effects that looked pretty good at the time, now in dire need of remastering. Remembering nothing about Hero and therefore only having his beautiful dramas in my mind, I figured that it’d at least be a gorgeous movie to look at. And it is. But damn do the effects bring it down. The film opens by explaining that as the oppressive Tang Dynasty fades, various factions have risen up in revolt, including the House of Flying Daggers. Later, we meet a blind dancer Mei (Zhang Ziyi) who’s been captured by police who suspect she’s connected to the organization. The set looks fake, the colors feel empty, and I got that immediate sense of alarm; made all the worse when somehow the situation leads to the blind girl being surrounded by drums and the judge or policeman says she has to recreate the sounds of dried beans hitting the instruments where she’ll then use her scarves to somehow recreate the sounds. The beans look fake, the scarves look fake, the slow motion looks tacky, and I knew I was watching a film from an era not quite able to pull off the effect; the way it’s hard to watch Futureworld (1976) and how much it leans into the 70s. This is made using the nascent technology from the age which would progress and look exponentially better in less than 20 years. The story moves on from there with reversals and deaths, but ultimately it’s all about the fights - featuring everything from a sequence in a bamboo field that was pretty cool, in which using the whistling sound the plants would make when soaring through the air, along with the pliability of the stalks, Yimou made a mostly believable sequence as a few of the characters are chased down. The final scene is a bit more difficult to swallow, involving this hyper stylized knife throwing throughout the rest of the film that simply doesn’t look good; by now closer to a video game than reality. Knives are tossed back and forth and slow motion shots dominate the sequence. The final stand off in the snow has its moments, but is mostly forgettable. Writing this a little over a week later, there were few other scenes that stand out. The thing is, very few films from this era have aged well. Even Lord of the Rings (2001 - 2003) needs a major remastering of about 25% of its material. It’s an interesting era in allowing us to anticipate where it was all going to go, but the film’s themselves are now becoming museum pieces. Perhaps one day they’ll take on the vintage feel of a Universal classic horror or 50s monster movie. Then again, these are also some of the first films sharing a comparable experience with video games, where it seems like these sequences could have found a better home. I might try out Hero one day in the future. If not, I’m completely satisfied with his dramas. If anything it makes me wonder why he can’t find a better balance between the two, as I’m entirely confident Yimou would create a modern Ran (1985), if given the proper opportunity. As is, it seems best to stick with his smaller stories that contain enough heart to battle and win against any epic. BELOW: A scene that works with the available tech Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Highly recommend watching Taikia Waititi on talk shows, awkwardly describing the plot Director: Taika Waititi Writer: Taika Waititi; based on Caging Skies by Christine Leunens Cinematographer: Mihai Mălaimare Jr. Producer: Carthew Neal, Taika Waititi, Chelsea Winstanley by Jon Cvack I’m confident that Nazi films will be around forever. In an acting class, I once said I was fascinated by Nazis, failing to clarify what I meant before making that statement. Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism (1973) and Richard Evans’ Third Reich Trilogy (2003-2008) are two of the most terrifying books that I’ve ever read in my life. To learn how a regime came to power by using a combination of racism, nationalism, and the system itself to rise to power and attempt to destroy entire groups of people. There’s a quote I keep seeing on Facebook about how the rise of fascism is due to a breakdown in thirds - a third supports, a third opposes, and the final third watches as it shifts, failing to see the significance. I no longer feel all that embarrassed to compare to Trump to the rise of fascism. Of course he’s not a brutal dictator, but he is showing how a more politically subtle and calculating figure could rise to power by using our system. Yes both sides pack the courts with their own ideology, but the right wing Federalist Society has a very conservative position on most issues and there’s nothing comparable in power to that. Every single Supreme Court Justice appointed by a Republican has come from the Federalist Society. Currently, there’s a case before the conservative court about the government’s ability to regulate the environment. The more conservative justices, the likelier it is that far right positions could be made precedent and prevent congress from enacting any form of law. Combine that with a court that has made both liberal and conservative presidential power stronger, and it could lead to a disproportionate dynamic between branches. However unlikely, it’s not impossible to imagine and it’s what makes the rise of the Third Reich all the more alarming. It is about one third that tried to fight and make a difference while the other third ignored them - hiding themselves or others in closets and abandoned streets, hoping to avoid detection, unsure when it would ever end. JoJo (Roman Griffin Davis) is a member of the Hitler Youth. He’s a klutzy kid, though hopes to be a great Nazi soldier. He’s encouraged by his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler (Taika Waititi) who’s straight from The Office but somehow not distracting. JoJo’s cared for by his mom Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) who’s the type of mom-as-friend that sticks its claws into your heart. They’ve lost contact with JoJo’s father who was last head at the Italian front, now left alone with each other. Taking place in the heart of Berlin, they’re relatively safe compared to the rest of Europe, assisted with JoJo’s indoctrinated insight toward Germany’s campaign. At camp, JoJo meets his drill instructor Captain Klenzendorf (Sam Rockwell) who’s a famous soldier who lost an eye in battle, now training Hitler’s future soldiers. It all felt so odd at first, as I wasn’t sure if the movie was a satire of Nazi Germany, or attempting to make odd comedy out of a horrible moment in history. Then during a grenade experiment, as the boys throw potato mashers into a field and JoJo runs off through the woods, straight toward the grenade which explode and the film shits into a disturbing sequence demonstrating JoJo was severely fucked up and it’s not at all some cartoon or satire, at least not entirely. It’s comparable to The Death of Stalin combined with a Wes Anderson style, told entirely from a child’s perspective. Waititi opted for an unfamiliar though historically accurate rendition of Germany; abandoning the common pale blues, grays, and browns and instead embracing vibrant yellows, greens, blues, and reds; creating a bizarre world which felt welcoming while simultaneously orchestrating mass death. At first it doesn’t work, feeling like what some feared in keeping the content too loose, and then, once he discovers the Jewish girl in the closet, Elsa Korr (Thomasin McKenzie), it all comes together. The Last Metro (1980), Schindler’s List (1993), and Life is Beautiful (1997) all contain some rendition of this story. It is the ultimate horror of characters gambling with capture and certain brutal death; an idea so far from America that we as a culture fail to comprehend the dynamic. For as much as the country was founded on slavery and destruction of Native Americans, white Americans themselves have never dealt with such levels of government terrorism and uncertainty. It makes Rosie’s performance all the stronger, in realizing that her attitude is all a facade, and that in fact she’s willing to fight to the death to bring down the Nazis. Leading up to one of the most cinematically heart-breaking scenes, Waititi provides intimate moments between JoJo and his mother, often with JoJo sitting down in close up, leaving the left or right frame empty, and in close up we see Rosie’s red shoes feet dance into frame. Somewhere between that, Rosie and JoJo come across a public hanging of local members of the resistance. Later, JoJo finds his mother leaving subversive paper messages around town; realizing that his mother is both protecting his alleged enemy, and attempting to overthrow his philosophy. The Gestapo soon end up at their house where Inge appears, pretending to be JoJo’s dead sister in order to prevent them from finding his mom. Captain Klenzendorf soon enters and they ask for Inge’s passport, leading Elsa to Inge’s old desk, digging through and we’re left wondering the chances of escape. She removes the passport and Klenzendorf checks it, asking for Inge’s birthday, Elsa responds, seemingly correct and Klenzendorf leads the Gestapo out. Moments later, Elsa looks at the papers again and discovers she was a few days off. Later, JoJo walks through the town square alone, his head down, dejected and like the previous scene his mother’s shoes enter the squeeze; except instead of dancing, they’re still and without seeing the gallows, we understand. I can’t recall such an audible realization in the theater. It was cinema at its finest. An example of what the medium provides and where it can take you. Somehow placing you within the child’s mind and then pulling you beyond it. I’ve never heard so many people cry for so long. In a flash, I was left recalling that just an hour or so before I was wondering if the film was just some over the top crude comedy attempting to make light of Nazis. The choice seems deliberate, immersing you into a child’s perspective, using design, performance, and light and color to provide the hope and distraction before shocking us with this moment of realism. From my recollection, beyond the red - blood red - shoes, it’s one of the few times where the frame was desaturated and drained. For the first moment JoJo grasps the destruction around him. The Allies close in and the film takes an even more terrific turn where the Nazi soldiers recruit the Hitler Youth to take up weapons and defend their position. Comparable to Hitchcock never showing a knife penetrating skin in Pyscho’s (1960) shower sequence, Waititi never shows a child getting shot dead, but a mixture of sound and imagery make us comprehend it. The Death of Stalin (2017)provided a similar shift for its conclusion, abandoning satire and turning toward absolute horror. And somehow Waititi keeps it going, as after JoJo dodges the fight, now wearing a Nazi coat, he’s captured by the Soviets, rounded up to be executed where he meets Captain Klenzendorf who’s dragged out in his custom made bedazzled soldier garment. Knowing that JoJo fails to grasp his fate, he comforts the boy before removing the jacket and calls him a Jew. The soviets let him go, rounded the others up, and JoJo hears the gunshots moments later. It’s one of the year’s best scenes. JoJo returns to Elsa and lies about the Allies winning the war, fearing he’ll lose her. The act quickly breaks apart, providing the film’s one awkward hiccup; feeling like a dishonest prank for JoJo to play. I was left imaging if after Elsa asked who won they then walked out and danced in the streets. It’s easy enough to ignore as Elsa grasps her freedom and JoJo struggles with his reality; happy that the fighting is over, but not entirely sure for what it means for his Nazi worldview. As of writing this, the Golden Globes nominated the film for Best Comedy. For a film that had people in the audience crying for nearly a third of the running time, I’m left wondering about the ratio. Yes, the movie is funny, but the heart and drama is right up against it. It’s one of the best movies of the year, taking a story that seems like it’s been told over and over again and somehow providing a fresh take on the era both visually and within the narrative. This is another satire of the time; the way we’ll look back to The Death of Stalin and say that this is a movie about now - about how people ignore evil so long as it doesn’t affect them. Until people can empathize with the most vulnerable, history is doomed to repeat these mistakes. The movie makes you laugh, but days later you’re realizing how easy it is for the world to shift under bright colors and happy thoughts. BELOW: Always the most thrilling scene in a Nazi flick Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A Clark Kent just doesn't work with Ryan O'Neil Director: Peter Bogdanovich Writer: Buck Henry, David Newman, and Robert Benton Cinematographer: Laszlo Kovacs Producer: Peter Bogdanovich by Jon Cvack Peter Bogdanovich is one of the stranger figures in cinema history. The first image as Dr. Melfi’s dry and gawky therapist who drinks out of a netted water bottle, followed by remembering that he also directed one of the 70s best films, The Last Picture Show (1971) and then Paper Moon (1973) after this film. Further from that are the countless BTS and film history documentaries where he talks at length about the filmmakers, as much critic and historian as actor and director. What’s Up, Doc? Is Bogdanovich’s experiment with the screwball comedy, with a synopsis immediately bringing to mind Bringing Up Baby (1938). It involves Dr. Howard Bannister (Ryan O'Neal), a musicologist from Iowa Conservatory of Music, carrying a suitcase full of rocks that he believes possess particular music properties. He’s joined by his grating wife Eunice Burns (Madeline Kahn) who’s on the precipice of being unbearably annoying. Within seconds you struggle to buy that Ryan O’Neal is with this type of person, glasses or no glasses, and even though a joke, it’s just too much. I’m left wondering if instead of a nagging fiance, they went with someone completely self-involved or apathetic and oblivious. I struggle to recall a more annoying spouse in a film. Howard and Eunice arrive at the hotel for the science conference where they bump into Judy (Barbra Streisand) who has an identical bag to Howard’s, full of clothes and a dictionary, in addition to another man named Mr. Smith whose same bag is full of secret government files. ater, a fourth bag is thrown into the mix, owned by Mrs. Van Hoskins (Mabel Albertson) and filled with jewels. Judy starts following Howard around, serving as the rebellious free spirit to tempt and win him away from his boring trajectory. They soon end up together, providing a weird scene where because Howard and Eunice are staying in separate bedrooms, she visits Howard, jealous after Howard comes home to find Judy in his tub. He sends Judy out onto the window sill, high above the streets while Eunice searches the place and later Mr. Smith arrives, hoping to get back his suitcase. He fires his gun and provides a moderately funny action-comedy scene resulting in the television exploding and the room catches on fire. Howard is kicked out the next day, having lost Eunice and still missing his suitcase full of rocks. They end up at a ritzy party where another dopy sequence takes place as the mob arrives and people fight and throw pies and still grab the wrong bags. The film has the cheesy feel of 70s popular cinema. Where although authentic to the era, the costumes and set pieces look like parodies. I was left wondering why none of it seemed to work. It seems some combination of having a very real and sexy chemistry between O’Neal and Streisand; the insufferable Eunice; too many characters with too many bags, leading to a plot confusing to the point of distraction. It made the common mistakes of throwbacks, in trying to be the best of what came before, failing to realize that the originals remain the best because in nearly 80 years few have been able to recreate the classic screwball comedy formula. Someone will one day find a new spin on the genre, but in terms of the original structure, there is little to improve upon. Even still, the closing sequence which had to receive the majority of the budget is absolutely incredible to watch; up there with The Blues Brothers (1980) in making you wonder how they possibly did it before the age of computer effects. The scene starts with Howard and Judy stealing a three seated bike, cruising through a Chinatown parade, getting stuck in a dragon puppet, all while being chased by Mr. Smith, the mafia, and someone else I don’t remember. Taking place in San Francisco, the cars leap over the hills and through the iconic streets. In a tense and humorous set up, a man hangs a sign on a tall ladder while two men move a plate of glass; serving as a scene straight Chaplin and Keaton where no sound is even required. We know what will happen, it’s just a question of when. In another insane moment, the cars race off a giant staircase, literally flying off and shattering massive chunks of concrete when they land. It’s the type of shot that couldn’t even be possible today. It shocks you with how real it is, making you long for the days when films had the willingness to go this far. It keeps going as Howard and Judy hope to jump their car off a pier and onto a moving fairy; failing to even come close and they crash into the water. Serving far from the most original climax, that is until one of the mafia convertibles follows, speeding down the pier and a figure stands up, and in a single quick take, catches a bunch of umbrellas to the face before the car jumps off and he jumps with it and you wonder how close he was to being killed; like how many times could they keep trying that stunt until injury or death? The film starts to nosedive as all of the characters are brought before a pill popping judge, attempting to tell their stories, enraging the justice until Judy raises her hand and addresses him as father. Getting to this point takes about ten minutes, though, and aside from not knowing what was discussed, it felt like an early version of a joke that they forgot to remove after realizing how much better the car chase was. Eunice leaves Howard, the jewelry bagged woman pays off all of their damage and court fee expenses, and just as he thinks his life is over, he finds Judy in the seat behind him and they kiss. It’s a movie I’ll probably never watch again, other to perhaps show the car chase. I struggle to define why it failed. There was something a bit too goofy about the characters; leaning just a tiny bit too far away from reality. Ryan O’Neal as a complete dork, especially after coming off Love Story (1970) just felt ridiculous, showing off with a grandiloquent irony. We get it. He’s not actually this type of person, versus Eunice in which Madeline Kahn felt very much honest to her character. Even Streisand seemed off, as never before had I seen her in such a sexy and alluring role, which for someone who always kept more moderate, made it feel wrong for to view. her as a sex object; as though it was taboo. There were other characters, but it’s like they were all kept at a distance. Randy Quaid makes a small cameo, but few others stand out. The head of the music conference, Frederick Larrabee (Austin Pendleton) was a great face to see; that weird type of actor that you know you’ve seen dozens of times before but couldn't get his name off a multiple choice test. Everyone else is just a distant blur. A body and a face to react to Eunice, Howard, and Judy. Combined with a weak plot involving rocks and music, it didn’t feel like anything was at stake. Howard left Eunice by the first third and the remainder of the movie involved Judy and Howard running off. They don’t know they have the wrong bag. We’re not even sure they have the wrong bag. And if they knew they had the wrong bag it seems like a simple solution to exchange the bags for the right one, meaning that this whole movie was about four of the same styled bags being switched and if that didn’t happen Howard would present his music rocks. It forces the only tension to be sexual. With no other stakes beyond the bag, we were only left like dogs, wondering when Howard and Judy would finally get it on. Even that only ends with a kiss. It took inspiration from a fun place, but failed to establish the most important piece of a romance is to ensure that there is chemistry between the characters which can extend beyond sex; that we can picture them sticking around with each other when the lust wears out. I Googled best screwball comedies and the latest film they offer in their list of nearly twenty is 1942. It’s a cinematic movement that seems confined to a particular era, making you wonder what it is that prevents the format from working any longer. Bogdanovich made a bold move to try, but he joined the massive graveyard of all those who came up too short. BELOW: Worth checking out for the car chase alone Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Clark's seen better days Director: John Huston Writer: Arthur Miller Cinematographer: Russell Metty Producer: Frank E. Taylor by Jon Cvack Earlier this year I read Joe DiMaggio: The Hero’s Life (2000) which is one of the better pop icon biographies I’ve read. Aside from being a great ball player DiMaggio became involved with Marilyn Monroe, quickly developing an obsessive relationship with her. On the set of The Seven Year Itch (1955) during the iconic white dress flare up scene, a crowd gathered around and DiMaggio flipped out, demanding everyone look away. It’s one of those weird hybrids of art and history - in which it’s not just the amount of pop culture and products that extended from that scene, but that one of the most significant players in baseball history was obnoxiously present while filming. Although DiMaggio got violent with Monroe, contributing to their demise, he would continue to love her until his dying day; sending flowers to her grave for the rest of his life. The Misfits has a comparable Hollywood tragedy facade. Made only a few years before Monroe’s death, the film was one of those powerhouse productions that, on paper, seemed en route to become a Great American Movie. Monroe had left Dimaggio by this point, entering into a relationship with playwright Arthur Miller who joined up with director John Huston for this flick. It was a movie clearly written for Monroe where she plays a soon-to-be divorced Roslyn Tabor as gorgeous as she’s ever been; for the most part losing that naive blonde innocence and providing a more mature and damaged self. We meet her as she’s waiting for the mechanic to come and fix her car. Guido (Eli Wallach) arrives, talking to the landlord Isabell (Thelma Ritter) and anxious to get the job done as quickly as possible until he sees Roslyn in the window, immediately smitten. Guideo fixes the truck and Isabell takes Rosalyn to the courthouse to finish the divorce paperwork, where they meet Rosalyn’s husband Raymond Tabor (Kevin McCarthy). Raymond is distraught and saddened, desperate to stay together; clearly the DiMaggio of this situation. After the divorce is finalized, Isabell takes Rosalyn for a drink at Harrah’s Casino. While drinking, she meets a local cowboy Gaylord 'Gay' Langland played by Clark Gable. Similar to Monroe, though over 35 years her senior, Gable was in the throes of alcoholism. He’d die before the film’s release. At 67 years old he seems a decade older; slow, confused, and soft. The sharp charm we’re familiar with now is completely absent. Having just watched The Irishman a few days before writing this, I noticed the similarities between the two; that no matter how great an actor is, at a certain time, like any talent, age will slow them down. While Miller and Huston might have wanted the beaten down A-lister to match the elderly cowboy persona, the performance felt done by a man who was struggling to keep up, let alone able to give his best work. Gay offers up his cabin out in the middle of nowhere as a place for Robyn to stay and the four take off that night, immediately breaking out the rum. An immediate tension develops between Guido and Gay as he flirts and makes his moves on Rosalyn and soon wins the battle, all while Isabel is left alone drinking whiskey. Gay moves in with Rosalyn, and without specifying that the two are sleeping together it’s obvious enough; leading to the film’s most iconic moment as Gay wakes up Rosalyn up in bed, who soon turns over topless. In real life, Monroe hadn’t told Clark Gable or the other crew that she’d go nude; shocking and offending Gable. It of course didn’t make it into the film, but nevertheless became a kind of pre-Internet cult Hollywood story. Nevertheless, the viewer gets a shocking taste of movie star skin you just aren’t used to seeing from the period. Life is slow about the ranch. Although they try to sustain themselves with a garden, Gay battles rabbits, placing poison around the property which Rosalyn then forces him to pick it up; not wanting to kill the animals. Gay keeps talking about roping in wild mustang which they can later sell. His story has become mythological, as prior to government or private development of the land, hundreds of wild mustangs would roam the area; allowing him and his fellow cowboys to bring in a very pretty penny. Guido joins them with his truck and they head to a rodeo to meet up with another man for the job, Perce Howland (Montgomery Clift) who’s determined to become a great showman, but struggles to compete; getting kicked in the head by a second attempt at a bull riding competition. Rosalyn case for him, igniting jealousy in Gay and renewing tension with Guido. The next day, Rosalyn joins Perce, Gay, and Guido as they head out to round up the mustangs. Guido boards a crop duster, doing low fly-by’s to round up the horses and send them toward Perce and Gay. The sequence takes your breath away, as for as slow as the previous 80% the story is, Miller and Huston take us to the desert plains, where it sure looks like Gable, Wallach, and Cliff rounded up actual wild horses by roping their necks, bringing them to a stop, and then approaching the bucking animals determined to protect itself. It’s terrifying because it is real, and while I’m not exactly sure what it all means, the images are strong enough to burn the mind. It’s not too difficult to see what Arthur Miller was exploring. In the end, Rosalyn gets the horses free, returns to the ailing Gay while the other men - whether slime balls or sexy - are forced to remain alone. Not so subtle sexual innuendo is sprinkled throughout the film, from the bucking and untameable mustangs to an earlier scene when Rosalyn enters and exits the house, explaining how she’s going “in and out” over and over to an onlooking Gaylord, or when she tries the mechanical bull at the saloon. The movie is very much about Monroe as an object desired. While Miller updates her dumb blonde persona, there remains an oblivious ignorance in her character. We’re meant to buy that Rosalyn doesn’t fully understand that she has three horny men who’re on the precipice of self-control. It is a story that is entirely from a Man’s perspective. You can feel the talent behind the film believing this would be one of cinema’s greats. Instead, it’s a film that seems written from its author’s own insecurities. It serves as a historical document of Monroe’s allure. The story is about an independent woman who provides meaning and purpose to three alienated souls in search of American greatness. Gay hopes to go back to being a cowboy though they no longer exist as defined. Guido is blue collar to his bone, blaming everyone but himself for his economic failure. Perce covers fame, but without the heart, stands only to embarrass himself. Rosalyn excuses all of these obstacles. In their minds, she would make everything alright. She would provide meaning. And in many ways - for many men - that might have very well been the case. She is so gorgeous and beautiful and mesmerizing that any man failing to find their place in the world would believably abandon their dreams for her. The issue is that this isn’t a universal idea. Most people do not meet or know someone like Rosalyn (aka Monroe). There is no star in their lives to eclipse all else. The movie isn’t about some grand American idea, it is about an obsession toward a very specific person. It’s best to ignore the power behind this film; to instead see it as a supplement to the Marilyn Monroe Myth. Though I suppose this myth is as American as it gets. BELOW: A movie where everything goes back to sex Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Ushering in the modern crime thriller Director: Akira Kurosawa Writer: Akira Kurosawa and Ryūzō Kikushima Cinematographer: Asakazu Nakai Producer: Sojiro Motoki by Jon Cvack Stray Dog is the movie that brought the Detective film to Japan and joins the handful of other Kurosawa films that took place within modern settings - joining Drunken Angel (1948), High and Low (1963), Ikiru (1952), and The Bad Sleep Well (1960); formats which leave you wishing for more from the same period. The movie opens in close up on a rabid stray dog, panting for air under the hot son. We meet the rookie homicide detective Murakami (Toshiro Mifune) who lost his Colt pistol after being pick pocketed on the trolley; scared that he’s going to lose his job, or worse, that gun could be used in a crime. Reporting the issue to his superior, he heads out into the humid and unbearably hot streets to track it down. From the get go, the movie reminds you of John C. Reilly’s character in Magnolia (1999) who met a similar fate; replacing the Murakami’s cockiness with an aloof determination to get featured on Cops. Murakami is a desperate man, as much concerned for the consequences as losing his opportunity to be a cop; which being filmed just a year after surrendering to the United States, is one of the few secure jobs a man could find in the post-war country. Soon Murakami’s worst nightmare comes to life when he discovers the gun had been used in a crime - fired, though no one got killed. He matches the bullet by returning to the firing range and remembering how he caught a stray bullet in a tree stump. It’s a bit silly given how many bullets must have been fired, but the bullets match and Murakami gets all the closer. One of the first suspects he pursues is a girl he recalls from the trolley who’s part of the underground nightclub scene around town, soon leading him into an underground network of criminals and illicit arms trade. Hitting a wall, Murakami is paired up with frequent Kurosawa collaborator Satō (Takashi Shimura) and the two zero in on a suspect - a faceless man in a white linen suit who they track to a baseball game, providing - as a fan - one of the more exciting sequences of the film (Kurosawa would hire newsreel men to film an actual baseball game; going to show how long and how popular the sport is in Japan). They lose track of the suspect but end up getting in touch with a prostitute he’s been known to associate with, Harumi Nukami (Keiko Awaji) who inform them that the man’s name is Yusa (Isao Kimura); a former WWII veteran who struggled with adjusting back to civilian life, turning to a life of crime. They soon discover that the Colt has been fired again, this time meeting Murakami’s worst fear in being used as a murder weapon. Satō heads back to talk again with Nukami, hoping she’ll reveal some details. When she finally does and Satō tries to call Murakami, Yusa arrives, overhearing that he’s a cop and shoots Satō, leaving him to bleed out to death. The next day, Nukami finally comes around and confesses to Murakami on where to find Yusa; who’s taking a train out of town. Having been pursued throughout the night, Murakami says that Yusa would have dirtied up his white linen suit and sure enough, in an exciting sequence, as Murakami looks at each man who’re all dressed in similar pale or white suits, Yusa turns out the window, revealing the mud all over his clothes. In a brutal final sequence, Murakami chases Yusa through the forest before Yusa fires at Murakami with his own gun, catching him in the stomach. Murakami wrestles him to the ground and as he attempts to choke Murakami to death, a band of young school girls and their teacher wander far in the distance behind; lending that great irony that only the masters could pull off. The plot is familiar enough, and yet like most of Kurosawa’s work, the narrative is decades ahead of its era. Released in 1949, to consider this film was made while America still occupied Japan and that the filmmakers actually went out into the streets to grab the footage, all contribute to the grittiness not seen for another thirty years later with films such as Dirty Harry (1971), Chinatown (1974), or The French Connection (1971). It’s a film that would launch the entire genre in Japan; where like any historic paradigm shifting piece of cinema, Stray Dog created many of the archetypes and tropes still used today It’s not Kurosawa’s best film, but by far one of his most influential - at least in the realm of crime drama. BELOW: Best scene of the movie Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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