 Heck of a movie set Director: James Cameron Writer: James Cameron Cinematographer: Mikael Salomon Producer: Gale Anne Hurd by Jon Cvack This is the third time I’ve seen the film, and just like the second viewing, I forgot that it’s only in the Director’s Cut that the alien scene contains the prophetic video of Earth’s descent into Nuclear War. Although IMDb trivia says, much to the surprise of studios, James Cameron wanted the shorter version, it takes a massive drop, deeper than the miles deep canyon. After all the build toward discovering the aliens, Bud Brigman (Ed Harris) is taken aboard, sees the alien through a water wall or something, the ship rises from the ocean, the storm has ended, and everyone is saved. It’s when you see the Director’s Cut that you understand exactly what was explored, and why the aliens landed in the first place. Without it, the abrupt ending leaves you with far more questions than answers. In college I took a Sci-Fi CInema class, and during the section on the Red Scare 1950s alien invasion films, we learned the two camps - 1) fearful, pro-military, in which those in charge feared the aliens and wanted to destroy them (The Thing, Them!), and 2) empathetic, pro-science films in which the characters fight against the military in order to approach the aliens with diplomacy and understanding (The Day the Earth Stood Still). The entire discussion poses an interesting question in that why would aliens necessarily be malevolent? If the United States were to visit a planet with Intelligent Life, I can’t imagine NASA or its crew possessing any intent to harm (at least not initially, I assume - until private enterprise came in; think Avatar and what much of world history has shown; or read King Leopold’s Ghost). What I admire most about James Cameron is that he is one of the most politically AND financially successful filmmakers alive. Nearly all of his films contain a progressive message - about class in Titanic, colonialism and genocide in Avatar, militarism in Aliens, and pro-science and empathy vs. fear and aggression in The Abyss. The two sides are divided between Bud and his ragtag, begrimed and loyal crew, with his ex-wife Lindsey Brigman (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) joining the show at the last minute, having created the underwater drilling rig. Their mission is hijacked when after a nuclear submarine implodes, a group of Navy Seals, led by Lt. Hiram Coffey (Michael Biehn), joins the the crew in order to retrieve the sub’s nuclear warheads. It’s the perfect set up, and with Cameron’s vision at the forefront, with a lot of the movie taking place in diving suits and underwater, with Harris almost drowning at one point during production, like Hard Rain, it leaves you wondering when another practical FX-heavy film like this will come about. While the aliens look great, the fact that this film is nearly 30 years old allows you to forget all that. Similar to what Cameron would accomplish in Terminator 2, he’s able to use computer graphics as a supplement, rather than with full dependence. Given the aliens’ jellyfish-like bubble, they’re referred to “Non-Terrestrial Intelligence”, using water to take on shapes per the likes of T1000, or just preserve their jelly-fish selves, complete with neon glows and facial features. However, the Navy SEALs couldn’t care less about any peace gestures from the aliens, believing they could have been sent by the Russians, providing all the more reason to hurry and get the warheads off the submarine. While Cameron didn’t pioneer the modern roughneck sci-fi crew (first seen in Alien), he definitely made it his own. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth are so good in this film, providing a perfect amount of emotion, humor, and passion, all while alongside some of the most fascinating supporting characters in the genre. I loved how each person has a unique persona, with Lisa’s cowboy hat and good tunes, Alan “Hippy” Carnes’s pet rat (Todd Graff), Jammer’s extraordinary strength and teddy bear demeanor (John Bedford Lloyd), every character is sculpted and unique, allowing us to care about even the most minor of them. The combination of real people placed within this extraordinary situation allows it all to take on a realism usually lost in films from the genre. No matter how ridiculous things get, the characters keep it all grounded. Perhaps the best performance comes from Michael Biehn, who struggles to keep himself sharp while dealing with depth sickness, hyper paranoia, and inability to keep things under control. His demise is one of 80s/90s action films all time greatest battles, leaving you wanting the toy submarine, disappointed that they never existed. I’m not sure why the movie wasn’t as successful as Cameron’s other work, only making $90 million from its $70 million budget. I’d attribute a large portion of that to the rushed ending, which might have prevented word of mouth from spreading, as no matter how great a film is, a disappointing ending will leave a bad taste in any story. I’m even surprised how little attention this movie gets in the film community. While many people have seen it, it doesn’t at all have the following of Cameron’s other sci-fi films, or other popular blockbuster pieces. It’s smart, both with the content, characters, and message, allowing you take as much from it as you desire. Just make sure to check out the Director’s Cut. BELOW: It just doesn't work as well without this scene Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 On top of all else, makes you nostalgic for the days of seemingly blue-collar actors Director: Martin Scorsese Writer:Paul Schrader and Mardik Martin; Raging Bull: My Story by Jake LaMotta, Joseph Carter, and Peter Savage Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff by Jon Cvack Every time I think about this movie I picture the first Cinema Studies class I took in high school, in which our teacher Mr. Powers could only show us select scenes. When a student asked what it was rated, he looked at the box and said PG with a grin, leaving me furious over why we couldn’t watch the whole thing. Obviously, not seeing the movie, I didn’t really get the joke. Like any great film it gets better with age, as the idea of this coming out in 1980 blows my mind more now than any other time I’ve watched it. After my love affair with Italian Neo-Realism, buying Rossellini's Criterion War Trilogy and working my way through each movie from some book my sister bought me about Italian Neo-Realism (Bitter Rice was one of my favorites), I admire the genre’s ability to capture and document the history of post-WWII Europe and the devastating effect it had upon towns and people. The classic story of Rossellini using short ends of film to finish filming Rome, Open City might have been one of the first examples of Rodriguez/Linklater inspiration to aspiring filmmakers everywhere. The stories are often simple, focused on the poor and working class, which had largely been ignored up until that point. The classic note that Scorsese had written to film students contains at least three of these films. I recall an interview with the guy saying how he’d always get excited to buy the latest tv guide to find the Italian films he could watch on the small 10” television his family owned. When people want to say they’re pissed that movie theaters are going away and it’ll hurt filmmakers, consider that this is the format where one of the greatest fell in love with cinema. Seeing all his usual supporting performers - Joseph Bono, Frank Vincent, Frank Adonis - placed within a flawlessly recreated Italian Neo Realistic style left me in awe. And I know that that sounds like one of the most pretentious and uninspired things I could probably ever say in an essay about Scorsese, but to be able to understand what he accomplished is so fucking cool when you know where it stems from. It looks like you’re watching a European film from the early 1950s. And if that’s still pretentious, it looks like you’re watching a movie made in a completely different time period. A Christmas Story would accomplish the same thing three years later, looking like it was filmed in the 1950s. I actually think this is what a movie like Allied did so poorly, in that it didn’t try and make itself look like it was from its Hitchcock/Reed WWII spy thriller. It just took the storyline, but none of the style, when the equation needed to be flipped. Both A Christmas Story and Raging Bull are visual time machines. They brought in fresh stories and placed them within an older style. Thinking back, a few other films would accomplish this from then on: The Master, Buffalo ‘88, It Follows, and No are a handful I can name It leaves you wondering how that conversation must have gone, saying you want to make a boxing movie with a classical style, shot in mostly black and white. It’s an easy joke, but it’s faith in this type of material that leaves me thinking those were better days. The risk of making something like this today would just be too high. It then leaves me kind of sad thinking that there is another Scorsese out there who wants to do an equally ambitious project, and are things so bad that he can’t? It makes me appreciate the movie all the more so - for being able to even exist at all. Of course there’s the characters, and their fusillade of profanity and misogyny, which like Taxi Driver and Travis Bickle, leaves me wondering why so many people identify with this movie? It’s been so long since I’ve seen this that it provided that strange shift in perspective that some movies do, where once you related to one side of the story or characters and now the other. I always remembered a bunch of badass dialogue and incredible boxing scenes. I never really grasped how sad LaMotta’s character actually was. Contrary to all the discipline he has to train, Jake has an absolute inability to control his wandering thoughts about Vickie (Cathy Moriarty). He distrusts everyone, even Joey, where in that classic scene Jake accuses his brother of fucking his wife. Throughout all this, Vickie plays along, trying her hardest to be good to him, all while he continues to abuse her. I loved watching Moriarty explain herself truthfully, with a calm and objective tone, simply laying out the facts, which seemed to get under Jake’s skin even more. It almost goes with mediocre books making great movies; the same goes for past celebrities (whether Raging Bull or Boogie Nights). The movie is far greater than the man, and yet it’s scenes with that man that we celebrate. What is it about De Niro's performance that draws us in to watch, no matter how far it goes? He is an impotent man, and we’re watching him implode, with each scene between him and Joey taking our breath away. There’s a truth that’s captured; honoring the spirit of Neo-Realism (had to refer to it one more time), along with the photography, score, performances, style that all add up, capturing that vision, to something that feels so real; on the precipice between humor and tragedy, gently tottering back and forth between the two. Raging Bull is a movie that leaves you wondering if there’ll ever be another film like it. To hold such a strong place in culture - and for being built on such artistry and craftsmanship - deserve every bit of praise. It leaves me nostalgic. Not for a time, but for a possibility. Like the greatest films, it inspires you to want to make something. BELOW: Few filmmakers can combine such an obscure style with great performances and create a scene that ranks amongst the greatest of all time Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Looks like a fourteen girl, right...? Director: Billy Wilder Writer: Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett; Connie Goes Home by Edward Childs Carpenter; Sunny Goes Home by Fannie Kilbourne Cinematographer: Leo Tover Producer: Arthur Hornblow, Jr. by Jon Cvack Like any great filmmaker, Billy Wilder’s diversity of story is one of his most admirable qualities. Film noir, war film, rom-com, slapstick, adventure - he did it all; taking a rightful position as one of cinema's all time greats. The film follows Susan Applegate (Ginger Rogers), working as a scalp massages who had big dreams of stardom when arriving in New York, only to discover that the path to success is fraught with disappointment. Broke and alone, she decides to try and head back to her hometown of Stevenson, Iowa and return to a life of rural living. At the train station, she finds she’s short on the train fare, and decides to dress up like a little girl - adorable dress, balloon, and all - to get the discounted ticket price. The plan works and she boards the train, dealing with suspicious conductors who aren’t buying the adolescent costume. Susan escapes to Major Philip Kirby’s compartment (Ray Milland), who believing she’s just a scared twelve year old, let’s her stay in his room. Thus, the Major and the Minor. Watching this movie you can’t help wondering who in their right mind would actually believe that Ginger Rogers (who was 29 years old at the time of filming) could ever look like a twelve year old girl, leaving you to wonder why Wilder didn’t just write the character as a 16 year old, or even a college student (as students too could receive discounted fare). Even stranger is that the general public didn’t seem to find any of this weird, as the film was so successful that it was remade thirteen years later as You’re Never Too Young (1955) with Dean Martin. Perhaps it’s the simply the world we live in, where the media loves the bleeding headlines of an attractive teacher having relations with one of her younger students, but between the comedy, this movie contains countless numbers of uncomfortable moments. For instance, upon Susan meeting Major Kirby, and a thunderstorm breaks out, Kirby joins Susan in bed, holding her tight as the storm rages, rubbing her back and trying to comfort her, and it only got more bizarre from there. When the train is stopped due to flooding upon the tracks, Major Kirby takes Susan back to his military academy where he’s an instructor. This isn’t before his fiancee Pamela Hill (Rita Johnson) greets him at the abandoned train, seeing Kirby massaging Susan, who she assumes is the age she looks, though later discovers - and buys - that she’s only a twelve year girl. Susan is put up at Kirby’s house, where he meets his daughter; the precocious and aspiring scientist Lucy (Diana Lynn) who was about 14 years old when the movie was filmed, therefore - according to the film’s logic - older than Susan, but isn’t tricked by Susan’s game. Why Lucy is able to see what no one else is able to see is beyond me, but that’s just what’s needed to maintain the story. Of course, Susan is falling hard for Major Kirby, but given the fact that she’s at an all boys military academy - and given that it’s Ginger Rogers - she’s accosted and arguably assaulted by some of the boys who, amongst themselves, figure out some strange schedule that allows a bunch of cadets to take Susan out on dates in an orderly fashion. Given that all of these men are uptight, too-quick-to-grow-up children, the situation (aside from the weird assaults) provides some laughs. One awesome scene involves Susan and a student serving as the switchboard operators for the entire school, as Susan attempts to lure him away with music and sexuality in order to call Washington D.C. and prevent Kirby from being offered a new job. The mixture of using the frame’s depth, a switchboard, and Susan doing her best to maintain her act is Wilder at his finest, serving prelude to what we would see later on with his work. However, most disturbing is when Susan gets in trouble, having to sit down in Major Kirby’s office in order to get some discipline. In a scene that would never even make the script today, let alone the screen, Major Kirby struggles to avoid taking Susan in his arms and kissing her, expressing his undying love. Of course, Susan’s discovered by one of the cadets, who tells Kirby’s fiancee Pam, who admonishes Susan to leave immediately. Susan agrees and finally reaches her hometown. And yet, with Kirby still thinking that Susan is only twelve, he tracks her down. Believing he’s talking to Susan’s mother, who’s actually Susan (no longer dressed like a twelve year old), Kirby explains that his engagement to Pam is over and is heading back that night. Susan follows him to the station, and while some describe what happens in the closing moments as Susan’s confession, I didn’t see it that way. Although it was clear that the Major Susan was older, she didn’t explicitly admit she wasn’t twelve, which makes the point where Kirby finally kisses her the apex of uncomfortability. Although weird, the movie is entertaining. Not Wilder’s best, but definitely a preview of his talents to come. BELOW: Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Why is such a terrible person idolized by all walks of college students? Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Paul Schrader Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Julia Phillips and Michael Phillips by Jon Cvack Continued from Part 1... The entire political backdrop to the film is one of my favorite elements, providing such an eerie vibe throughout the story. Like The Game, it makes me want to experience the whole thing all over again, not fully grasping the details while getting lost within the world. Although I can’t recall what I felt the first time, I assume it was expecting Travis to kill the Senator. As he sinks further into despair, spouting off his nihilistic rhetoric, watching his mind melt away; as he believes the world is sinking into shit, you can’t but think he’d want to kill the Senator. Even after the first viewings, and even for a second on this one, I always wonder if he’s going to go off and do it. Like many great films (with Titanic being off the top of my head), the characters are so real that I feel as though hoping they’ll make a better decision this time around and change the film. I think it’s one of the most miraculous reactions to have when watching a movie; to retain hope that this thing which is unchangeable could maybe be different on a subsequent viewing. In the end, I’m left always wondering what it all means. I’ve compared great films to great music before, and it seems fitting again. You can’t put words to what a great song makes you feel, and the same applies to Taxi Driver. When I read about the film on Wikipedia and see that Travis is only 26-years old, it becomes a much more frightening tale. The way college students are attracted to the film is a kind of unnerving to think about. Many connected to his sense of alienation and view of the world, but even then, when you look up his quotes, most of it is homophobic and racist. He hates the city, seeing non-whites as amoral; easily comparable to a neo-Nazi, or any other far-right extremist pissed about where the country’s going. When you’re young and angry and feel like everyone’s an idiot for not knowing how smart you are, having a character this well developed allows you to connect. Deep down I think those who idolize Travis Bickle have some dark or even nightmarish desire of their own. Why else have the poster of the man, or dress up as him? He’s the type of person we hear about every other week on the news, who shot up a crowd, school, or church, completely deranged and ill; and yet people connect to that. I think that’s more interesting than anything the film might explore. It all attests to cinema’s “badass” ability to transport you into another world. The feeling that Scorsese conveyed was alienation, anger, and dissatisfaction. If this movie came out today, given the political climate, I’m sure it’d be equally as successful. This is that rare story where hardly anyone finds it to look or feel antiquated. It’s what happens when a genius filmmaker assembles his team in order to execute a vision, which ends up ushering in an entire lifetime of imitation. Many have attempted, but no one has made another Taxi Driver. And I think a large part of that is because no one wants to portray a horrible person with such humanity. The closest film to this is Downfall, where some criticized the film for humanizing Hitler. What most saw was a real and powerful portrait of a complex man, who just so happened to be a monster. Imagine a film coming out today with a white man ranting racial epithets into a mirror, holding guns? The Social Media warriors would attack that film with grand fury, citing it as a reason some person in real life kills someone, even though it’s been happening all along. The thing is, though, that people like this do exist, and they are complex. It’s only by opening them up that we could maybe understand. It takes a great mind to find the balance, and maybe that’s why only a few have ever come close to replication. BELOW: Dylan Roof, Nikoas Cruz, James Holmes - I suspect they all related to Travis Bickle (though no I don't think the movie affected their actions in any way) Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Martin Scorsese Writer: Paul Schrader Cinematographer: Michael Chapman Producer: Julia Phillips and Michael Phillips by Jon Cvack I think I might not have seen this movie since college, where I watched it at least four or five times (at about 7.5 years ago, I honestly can’t believe this is could be true). There was a 50/50 chance back then that any student apartment would possess a mohawked Travis Bickle posters where he’s holding the two guns pointed toward camera . If there was one thing that film snobs and the rest of the college body agreed upon was that Taxi Driver is a masterpiece, providing the perfect blend of great characters, depth, insight, and action; accessible by anyone - from novice to graduate student cinephile - wishing to watch a great story. If someone wanted to know what film can accomplish this would be one of five films I’d provide them. It’s the rare breed that acts as bridge between high brow art and popular culture, allowing the viewer to take its ideas as far as they’re willing to go. It opens up with that jazz score playing over the sewer smoke, as the cab drives through, and we receive our first close up of those observing eyes. Watching it after such a length of time has gone by, I was in some ways hoping to see something I hadn’t before, as typically happens with films I once loved and have revisited over the years. Except I think the problem is that I had seen this movie so many times back in college that, like anything else, the magic of discovery was gone. However, one section did leave me a bit more enlightened this time around, and that was the dynamic between Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) and Tom (Albert Brooks). For some reason I remembered their relationship as much more one-sided, with Tom acting as a creepy, borderline dork in order to try and get a date with Betsy. Instead, I discovered a genuine attraction between the pair, with Tom possibly using his position of power to woo Betsy, but still winning her over nonetheless. The relationship was much cuter and light than I recalled, which becomes all the stranger when Travis finally comes by. To this day I don’t really understand why Betsy goes out with Travis, who is so incredibly creepy in his approach, that her giving in felt a little too plot-serving. Perhaps she wanted to make Tom jealous, but it seemed like a stupid and dangerous way to do such. It all leads to the famous scene where Travis takes Betsy to a porn film, to which she quickly gets up to leave, and in a unique move, keeping her cool, she heads out and gets in a taxi and leaves, never to return again. It’s not often that a movie can introduce a girl as a possible subplot, only to abandon it when the main character makes the wrong decision. It’s like a scratch on a record jumping to the next song. In most instances this would never work, and yet it’s one of the most memorable parts of the film, giving us a taste of where Scorsese would go with later films, always interested in exploring unrelated tangent so long as it was about good character (Wolf of Wall Street, Goodfellas, etc.). In fact, the entire political backdrop to the film is one of my favorite parts, providing such an eerie vibe throughout the story. Like The Game, it makes me want to experience the whole thing all over again, not fully grasping the details. Although I can’t recall what I felt the first time, I assume it was expecting Travis to kill the Senator. As he sinks further into despair, spouting off his nihilistic rhetoric, watching his mind melt away; as he believes the world is sinking into shit, you can’t but think he’d want to kill the Senator. Even after the first viewings, and even for a second on this one, I always wonder if he’s going to go off and do it. Like many great films (with Titanic being off the top of my head), the characters are so real that I feel as though hoping they’ll make a better decision will change the movie. I think it’s one of the most miraculous reactions to have when watching a film; to actually retain hope that this thing which is unchangeable could maybe be different on a different viewing. Continue to Part 2... BELOW: Scorsese on Inside the Actor's Studio Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  In terms of lizards used as dinosaurs, this is one of the better sequences Director: Henry Levin Writer: Charles Brackett and Walter Reisch; based on Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne Cinematographer: Leo Tover Producer: Charles Brackett by Jon Cvack My mother had bought me the four-books-in-one volume of Jules Verne’s classic quad - 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Mysterious Island, Around the World in 80 Days, and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Similar to when I read a four-books-in-one from H.G. Wells, discovering that while the stories overall are appealing to young kids, the reading level can be fairly difficult, and best reserved for much later in life. I had read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea some time in grade school, expecting some type of wild adventure story where a submarine dives deep down into unexplored waters, 20,000 leagues beneath the surface, where terrifying creatures reside and attack them. Instead, similar to what makes Moby Dick so boring, are the, at times, unbearably dense taxonomy and geography passages that drone on for pages upon pages. For aspiring scientists everywhere, I’m sure it’s thrilling. To the lay reader, it’s distracting. Still, considering when the books were published I can appreciate what Vernes’ prescient writings, though I still think the movie is far greater than the book, as it takes out all of the boring parts. However, it was The Mysterious Island that really took me for a loop, allowing Verne’s imagination to soar in impressive and imaginative ways as he creates his Lincoln Island from scratch, walking us precisely through how a group of men would survive on the Island, along with a plot that leaves you unable to put the book down. It was one of the best books I had read in 2016, leaving me excited to take on Journey to the Center of the Earth, as it had to be the best book of the series. While not terrible, and containing some exciting puzzles, again Verne falls victim to his own gross knowledge, leaving us with more geology lessons than we hope for, though still better than 20,000 Leagues. I was excited for the movie version, expecting that like Disney’s 20,000, it would remove most of the boring elements and cut right to the action. Instead, it takes about 45 minutes of not all that exciting exposition until we finally begin the journey. It focuses on geologist Professor Sir Oliver Lindenbrook (James Mason) who’s given a piece of volcanic rock by one of his students. With the help of his assistant Mr Paisley (Ben Wright), they begin running experiments on the mysterious element and discover a plumb bob inside with a mysterious inscription. They soon discover it was made by the Icelandic scientist Arne Saknussemm who allegedly found a passage to the center of the Earth. The two then embark on a mission to Iceland in order to find the passage, joined by Icelander Hans Bejlke (Petur Ronson) and Saknussemm’s widowed wife Carla (Arele Dahl). However, they’re not the only ones who are determined to get to the center of the earth, with a villainous Count Saknassem’s (Ivan Triesault and Arne’s descendant) also making the journey with his band of cronies who will stop at nothing to make the discovery. Even after 45 minutes, it takes quite some time before we end up seeing anything all that interesting. By about halfway through, we see where Spielberg grabbed his inspiration for Indiana Jone’s boulder run. Later they discover a room with overgrown mushrooms that satiates their starving bodies, which quickly leads to discovering the book’s best section - the vast underworld ocean that’s guarded by dinosaur sized reptiles. It was here that that the classic special effects really shine, as they make the lizards they superimposed look fairly real - fitted with stegosaurus-like derma plates. The problem is that Verne’s commitment to staying within the limits of science prohibits the story from ever going to the places that you hope it will go. I’m not rushing to go check out the 2008 remake with Brendon Frasier, but I do think the set pieces could benefit from today’s technology, as the 1957 didn’t seem the best year to create extravagant designs that were dependent on the limits of science. It’s a film that fails to meet the expectations you have for a movie called Journey to the Center of the Earth. BELOW: Hate watching clips of people shooting clips on their tv but at least you can see the dinosaurs Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Garth Davis Writer: Luke Davies; based on A Long Way Home by Saroo Brierley & Larry Buttrose Cinematographer: Greig Fraser Producer: Iain Canning, Angie Fielde, and Emile Sherman by Jon Cvack This was one of the earliest Oscar contending films I heard about. It actually played at a few of the film festivals Road to the Well screened at, but in one instance, the screening was during the awards show, and the other was an issue of the festival having two separate theaters a 20 minute drive from each other, learning we were at the wrong theater. I had heard some incredible things, specifically regarding Dev Patel’s performance, which is pretty good, but what starts off as one of the most beautiful films I’ve seen in years, reminiscent of Satyajit Ray's Aparajito or Jean Renoir’s The River, took a quick nose dive toward melodrama, often failing to keep logic at the forefront. The film starts with the impoverished siblings, Saroo (Sunny Pawar) and his brother Guddu (Abhisek Bharate), who scrounge around town in search of coal and other items they could sell for some money to buy additional food and treats. One night, Guddu is about to go off his journey and Saroo begging to come along. The pair end up at the train station where Guddu has Saroo stay put and sleep while Guddu goes off to do something. Saroo later wakes up with Guddu nowhere in sight. Saroo eventually ends up on a train that locks up and takes him to Calcutta. There he nearly fall victim to countless sex trade hunters who wish to steal him. Saroo ends up in an orphanage where he’s soon adopted by an Australian couple, Sue (Nicole Kidman) and John (David Wenham). It was up to this point that I was absolutely blown by all the elements. Although many are raving about Dev Patel, I think Sunny Pawar stole the entire show, providing such strong moments of depth and reflection, in which I no longer saw a little boy, but a man behind those eyes, having to maintain the courage to keep on going. This was all portrayed with Greg Fraiser’s beautiful photography and Garth Davis’ impeccable direction. Much of the story shows us information rather than telling us a thing. Like Truffaut’s great kid films, we were in the point of view of a child, discovering the world and information as a child would. With the Indian backdrop, we got to see a world that is both exotic and terrifying. However, once it moves to twenty years later, it was as though someone else took the helm. Saroo is now in his late twenties, determined to become a rich hotel owner. He meets a girl from his class Lucy (Rooney Mara), and in an awkward dance number along the street, the two end up at a party where Saroo has a breakdown when seeing some candies. He explains to everyone his story, and they tell him to use Google Earth, in which he can look up the train speeds, draw a radius, and try and find where his parents are. This all happens so quickly that it contradicts the first third’s realism. We don’t really know much about Saroo except for his professional aspirations and that his brother is a drug addict. There was also something particularly stupid about this entire Google Earth plan, in that I refuse to believe that Saroo never thought about attempting to use a map to find his parents. It was here that the movie went from masterpiece to melodrama, sacrificing logic for what they think was a much better direction in having Saroo obsess over maps, destroy his relationships, and keep clicking around Google Earth in search of a water tower. Looking at the logic, he finds a range that his train must have been in, and then finds all the towns within that range. If I’m being generous, the total number of towns is about a hundred. Considering all he has to do is look at the city, find it on Google Earth, locate the train station and then use Google Maps street view to look for a water tower, I imagine each city might take fifteen minutes to examine but to better prove my point imagine each city takes an hour. That’s about 100 hours, of course. Given that he’s clearly working on this all day and all night, with a few hours of sleep, let’s say he spends a conservative 12 hours a day doing this. It’d take him about eight days to find and examine all these cities, in which the apparent weeks and months of searching doesn’t make any sense at all. This was a similar issue I had with Truth (2015), where when the team is attempting to call about twenty names on a whiteboard, there’s a long montage extending to what looks like weeks, with each person refusing to talk when in fact, if no one’s willing to talk, you should discover the lack of progress within maybe a day or two. Of course, Saroo finds the town, done in a way that was even more upsetting, in that it was like an inch outside his search radius, meaning even though he’s using the most general trigonometric concepts, he never thought to think that maybe he should search within the margin of error. He ends up heading to his town, meeting his mother, and of course I get some tears building up, and the story ends. While some might think I’m nitpicking the search aspect, this took up what felt like over forty five minutes of the film. I kept wanting to return to India, and continue following Saroo along. Instead, we’d go back to Google Earth, some people would cry, and then an argument would start. The second half felt as though they forfeited any type of arc to get Saroo back to India as quickly as possible. I guess dealing with the fact that it’s a true a story you can’t really embellish much. It simply never returns to the strength of that first third. BELOW: Movie would never have existed without Google Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Subtle hints of America's occupation; anything too overt would get the film banned by the American occupants Director: Yasujirō Ozu Writer: Kogo Noda and Yasujirō Ozu; based on Father and Daughter by Kazuo Hirotsu Cinematographer: Yuuharu Atsuta Producer: Takeshi Yamamoto by Jon Cvack While I love Ozu’s films, a mixture of their title and content leave many of them to get confused with one another. Early Summer, The End of Summer, Early Spring, An Autumn Afternoon, Late Spring, and you get the idea. As I work my way through his filmography I’m wondering why he chose such similar titles, which in many ways, are absolutely fitting and perfect, and perhaps it’s my own laziness that’s causing me to get so confused (yet I doubt I’m in the minority on this). All of these seasonal stories are intimate portraits of friends and family, living simple middle-class lives, often with a maturing woman on the verge of leaving home. American dramas from the period often fall into the melo category, with Douglas Sirk being the closest example beyond some westerns. Ozu’s films embody the spirit of film as history - appearing to capture life taking place, with no bells or whistles to punch them up; no extravagant plot devices, camera work, set pieces, of performances. The first Ozu film I ever saw was Floating Weeds whose title I think describes all the films; providing simple portraits of life going by, allowing us a view into these characters lives for a little while. It’s for this reason that I think many, more casual viewer find the stories boring, as people fail to understand that the beauty and excitement is being able to witness such intimate stories about a period long gone. Late Autumn follows widowed Professor Shukichi Somiya (Chishu Ryu) and his only, unmarried twenty-seven year old daughter Noriko (Setsuko Harris) who cares for him - cooking, cleaning, and providing all the duties that her mother no longer can. Contrary to most of the men she’s introduced to, Noriko eventually meets Satake who she thinks looks like Gary Cooper. She grows increasingly conflicted, feeling a responsibility to continue caring for her father. Eventually Shukichi implores her to marry Stake, professing that he’s been selfish by expecting him to continue her life. In one of the film’s most beautiful scenes, we watch as the father accepts that he must live the rest of his life alone in order for Noriko to begin hers. It’s this conclusion that makes me realize the purpose of “Late/Early [Insert Season]” titles that Ozu is committed to. Many of these films are about the journey of life, and Noriko is about to enter the summer of her own. At the time American forces still occupied Japan and had a significant role in censoring material they considered anti-western. In this case, the movie’s exploration of arranged marriages initially met this definition, requiring Ozu to have to limit or revise parts of the plot in order to honor their expectations. Nevertheless, the film possesses various suggestions of America’s occupation, such as a massive Coca-Cola in one of the shots before the characters ride their bicycles over the bridge - a bridge whose 30-ton weight capacity is mentioned, referring to the needs of the American caravans that frequently the rode. Additionally, is that Ozu’s focus on intimate family relationships was actually part of a genre developed by a studio president Shiro Kido of Shoihku Company’s Kamata Film Studios called the shomingeki genre, in which it was hope that urban females would be the primary audience. With Ozu hired early in the studio’s development, working his way up the ladder, he allegedly never left the company, embracing the new genre and adding his own social commentary within it. In some ways it’s kind of a disappointment to learn that this distinct narrative wasn’t Ozu’s creation; in others it’s impressive to think what he did with it. Similar to melodramas back in the States, this genre was embraced by various other filmmakers, but - like Douglas Sirk - it was Ozu who pushed the genre its very limits. In Sight and Sounds 2012 poll, the film placed 15th as the greatest ever made since the dawn of cinema. Although the film is great, Autumn Afternoon I think is more deserving of the praise, but overall, I think it’s difficult to divide up any of these seasonal films; at least the ones I’ve seen thus far. I assume by the end what I’ll have experienced is an exploration ranging from birth through death, and everything in between. Ozu has the rare gift where, at least with most of his films, if you like one, you will like most, as they’re all so similar in style and tone that to begin ranking them is to diminish the journey they take you on. Each provides a bittersweet conclusion, making you see how quick and frail life is, allowing you to remember that often it’s the small things in life that provide the most meaning. There are very few filmmakers that can profess such seemingly simple things with such depth so powerfully. BELOW: Hits you right in the heart Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Charles Laughton seems like one of few who could play a solid Donald Trump Director: David Lean Writer: Harold Brighouse, Wynyard Browne, David Lean, and Norman Spencer Cinematographer: Jack Hildyard Producer: David Lean by Jon Cvack Drifting from Daivd Lean’s usual fair, Hobson’s Choice is neither a romance nor a war film, but instead a type of chamber drama, movie-based-on-a-play, taking place within a boot making shop, owned by the tippling and officious Henry Hobson (Charles Laughton). Each day he barks orders to his three daughters and single employee, before heading off to the public house to get crocked, with Lean immersing the viewer into Hobson’s drunkenness, tripling up the frame and adding a spinning effect to perfectly capture what one too many does. In one brilliant scene, Henry chases the moon that’s reflecting on a bunch of puddles, before finally into a storage container, destroying a bunch of property and being slapped with a hefty lawsuit. Henry refuses to acknowledge that he has any type of drinking problem, worsened by the fact that once fully loaded, he starts deriding his friends with harsh personal attacks. As funny as the performance is at times, David Lean is a master at making us just as quickly feel embarrassed and pity the man. Given that most of his days are spent in bed, recovering from a hangover, before checking in on the books, and heading off to the public house once again, Hobson’s reluctant to marry off his three daughters who control the shop. His best weapon is refusing the dowry that any man would covet in order to marry one of the daughters, leaving them with few options. That is, except for Henry’s eldest Vicky (Prunella Scales), who wishes to open her own boot making shop when an elderly and wealthy patron enters, demanding the cobbler who made her boots; considering them the greatest pair she’s ever owned. She discovers that the artisan is the soft-spoken and passive Willie Missop (John Mills) who works in the shop’s basement. Vicky pursues Willie, much to his discomfiture, using sex as her primary weapon to lure him away from Hobson in order to create her own boot business. Willie and Vicky’s shop proves to be a wild success, with Vicky showing that Henry’s domineering attitude runs deep in the genes. She’s a formidable competitor, and within a year the pair attract most of Henry’s clients. Henry’s drinking eventually catches up to him, leaving him bedridden, to which Vicky and Willie offer a partnership between the stores. After a lengthy and entertaining argument, Henry finally capitulates and they shake on it. Charles Laughton’s performance is genius, with Mills and Scales following just behind, but I’m just not sure what the film was necessarily about. It didn’t seem to take on a meaning or scope the way Lean’s other films have. And while I can look past the lack of scope in that this is very much a film version of a play, the nebulous theme left me kind of disappointed. It felt far more about focused on characters than theme or message. In refusing to let his daughters marry off in order to preserve his drunken lifestyle, Henry seems to embody capitalist vice; to make enough so that you can make others work for you while reaping all the profits and benefits. Henry is entirely oblivious or even careless about his own selfishness that I found myself resenting the man far more than I did at the beginning of the film. Vicky continued this tradition by coveting Willie for his talent and profitability than any type of genuine love. With her complete teetotalism, it left me wondering if she too would one day fall victim to the bottle like Henry; except she seems so hungry for the work and in need of Willie’s abilities that it doesn’t seem likely. It all left me wondering what I’m supposed to take from this beyond a few great performances. BELOW: A nice taste of Laughton Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Best Santa of all time Director: Les Mayfield Writer: George Seaton and John Hughes; Story by Valentine Davies; based on Miracle on 34th Street by George Seaton Cinematographer: Julio Macat Producer: John Hughes, William Ryan, and William S. Beasley by Jon Cvack From its release in 1994 until I graduated high a decade later, this movie was on at least three times per holiday season at my house (and that's a conservative estimate). I haven’t seen it since high school - maybe once, but not in a long while - and yet I still remember most of the dialogue, how things cut together, and every twist and turn of the story. What I didn’t remember is how pro-religious this movie is as it’s very much is about maintaining faith that a possible crazy person won’t kill anyone. The movie opens up at Cole’s Thanksgiving Parade. They’ve been having to compete with Shopper’s Express, run by a ruthless German man who manages from a dark office with tin soldiers strewn across his desk. When Kole’s Santa Claus Tony Falaschi (Jack McGee) shows up drunk to the parade, Dorey Walker (Elizabeth Perkins), Director of Special Events, finds a strikingly realistic Santa-look alike on the street Kris Kringle (Richard Attenborough). She implores him to take on the role, charging up the end of the parade in his sleigh; even having his own suit. Kris is so popular that they offer him a full time job at Cole’s. Back home, we meet Dorey’s daughter Susan (Mara Wilson), who’s hanging out with the neighbor, attorney Bryan Bedford (Dylan McDermott). Although only six years old, Susan tells Brian that she knows Santa isn’t real; her mother told her. Eventually meeting Kris at Cole’s, Susan’s mind begins to change, and in order to disprove any imagining that Kris is actually Santa Claus, Dorey recommends she ask Kris for something she asks from nobody else. In this case Susan offers no modest order - she wants her mom and Brian to get married, a house, and a baby brother. One thing I hadn’t noticed before is the suggestive history between Brian and Dorey. Although never explicitly stated, it’s clear that the two likely had some type of lascivious rendezvous that Dorey now regrets. Brian is now in love and hoping to marry her, which is a perhaps a testament to Dorey’s sexual prowess. This isn’t to be crass, so much as what else could possibly cause a single man in the 90s to be so committed to marrying a woman? Nevertheless, Dorey wants nothing to do with it. Secondly, and far more interesting, is the fact that, ultimately, we never know if Kris Kringle is actually Santa Clause. Although close ups and various reaction shots do their best to suggest such, we never receive any evidence. Watching this as an adult, I found myself empathizing with Shopper Expresses’ pair of goons who hope to expose Kris Kringle as a lunatic and do away with the competition. In one bizarre scene, while Kris is talking to a reindeer at a New York Zoo, he’s offered a higher paid job at Shopper’s Express. Initially rejecting, they offer to take him home. Along the way, they ask him how Santa is able to deliver toys to everyone around the world, to which he says, “An interesting question! But if you can slow time down until a second is a day, a minute is a year and an hour is a millennium, then it’s not difficult at all. I remember, before the population explosion, I had time to deliver all my goods, and still have time for supper with the missus, and a round of golf with the Easter Bunny.” I think even most kids find the Easter Bunny a hard creature to believe in, and I always found the image of what the Easter Bunny must look like in order to play golf pretty terrifying. More simply, it does sound crazy. He’s then taken home to some cheap and dilapidated senior living home. I could embellish the logic in that maybe the Easter Bunny does exist, and that perhaps Santa wants to give to the seniors he once served as children, it’s just very odd, especially as, again, we never actually see Kris Kringle do anything magic. It’s all suggestive. One thing that doesn’t make sense, though, is the reindeer being in the zoo. Why wouldn’t one of Santa’s reindeer be in the North Pole? You could say that he rode the reindeer to NYC, but that would contradict what he says in the court scene. Which brings me to the entire procedural, where after Kris is accosted by the original drunken Santa (Tony) in order to get him to strike back, Kris is thrown into a mental institution and put on trial. For obvious reasons, the judge has difficulty in reaching a verdict due to the fact that Kringle meets the very definition of a disturbed person, in that he thinks he’s someone that he’s not. With Brian defending Kris, and Dorey handling the PR, launching a brilliant campaign as to whether or not fellow New Yorkers “believe” or not, Brian comes up with the brilliant refute by looking at his money clip containing a coin that says “In God We Trust.” It is a pretty clever way of reconciling the problem, but the authors seem to forget that this motto was adopted back in 1956, outdating the original film which was released in 1947. Point being - the motto was developed in order to differentiate the United States from the atheistic Soviet Union, and to that end, with Santa Claus more or less reflecting the epitome of socialism, it seems to use this motto to his defense is a bit contradictory. Added, I’m not sure the State of New York would appreciate that any schizophrenic individual believing themselves to be someone they are not can now refer to this case for vindication. I’m not trying to act as the Grinch here so much as highlight what I always failed to grasp as a child; namely, this movie kind of espouses an anti-fact, pro-religious sentiment. In the end, Susan gets all she asked for, including a huge fully furnished mansion, Brian and Dorey get married, and a baby brother seems to be in the works within seconds of the film’s conclusion. I still regard this as one of my favorite holiday films. It’s just always fun to notice things you never noticed before. In this case a pretty fucked up plot. BELOW: Sets a dangerous precedent when you think about it Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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