Week 29; Film 81 - Field of Dreams [1989]

Maybe it was my expectations—created by overwhelmingly positive word of mouth and my enjoyment of other Costner performances—that led me to believe that “Field of Dreams” would be pure enjoyment for me. It wasn’t. I thought it was kind of dumb.

It’s actually a hard film to summarize with brevity, but I’ll try. Novice corn farmer Ray Kinsella hears a voice encouraging him to build a baseball diamond in his field. Despite the financial risk, he builds the diamond and discovers that the ghost/spirit/image of deceased player Shoeless Joe Jackson has come to play on the field with his fellow dead teammates. Following more voices, Ray embarks on a road trip with author Terence Mann as they piece together shared clues, convictions, and unexplainable connections. Back at the baseball diamond, Mann is enthralled with the ghostly game and Ray learns that all of his work wasn’t for Joe Jackson but for his estranged, dead father. The film ends with Ray playing catch with his dad’s ghost while people flock to the field to watch the ghost game (solving the financial problem).

I KNOW I didn’t sell that, but I was unconvinced by this film. I can happily accept a ghost/spirit/faith/magic movie as much as the next person, if the story is told well but I maintain that this story was not. I don’t think the filmmaking sold me on the silly choices everyone was making, from Ray risking his family’s wellbeing to build the diamond, to his skeptical wife accepting the choice after a short conversation, to author Terence Mann accepting his friendly kidnapping. I get it, the point is that each of these characters experienced and acted upon some unexplainable conviction—a leap of faith—but I don’t accept that this was portrayed well.

Then throw in the film’s lack of conflict. There are zero consequences to all of this crazy. Sure, people think Ray is weird and wrongheaded. And sure, he almost loses the farm (though he doesn’t seem too choked up about it)—but all of these problems just disappear when the film’s magic extends to the nonbelievers (like grumpy brother-in-law Mark) or (in one of the worst deus ex machina moments I’ve seen) when hundreds of people flock to the field on the same hunch that Ray had. I understand, the “conflict” was Ray’s internal strife of losing his father without making amends. But other than the opening narration, the film never plays with this and resolution of “playing catch with dad’s ghost” felt pretty cheap.

I know this film means a lot to a lot of people. I also know it’s a modern-day fairy tale and not meant to be overanalyzed. But if I ever have a hankering for a nostalgia-laced baseball movie (which I never do), I’m reaching for the clearly superior film: “The Sandlot.”

Week 28; Film 80 - Blade Runner [1982]

Growing up as a young fan of sci-fi (and enjoying Harrison Ford’s iconic roles/wanting to be Indiana Jones), I definitely knew about “Blade Runner”. Still, my parents were actually pretty strict about moving ratings and by the time I could see a Rated “R” film, I had kind of moved on. But when “Blade Runner 2049” was released in 2017, I was reminded that it was time to visit the original. I finally got around to it!

Coincidentally, my two year delay was apropos as “Blade Runner” takes place in 2019 Los Angeles (in a setting somehow far more dreary than the actual thing). The film follows Harrison Ford’s Rick Deckard, a special kind of cop/bounty hunter who tracks down and “retires” (a.k.a. kills) replicants (androids that are not permitted 'on planet'). Deckard gets dragged back into the traumatic line of work when four replicants steal a shuttle to Earth. We see Deckard investigate and eventually off each of the replicants until faced with Roy Batty, the group’s leader, in a rainy and terrifying final showdown.

This movie was jam packed with style. From the perspective of world-building, the film is nearly unmatched for its era. The cluttered, filthy, asian-hybrid ‘future’ Los Angeles was dreary and trashed like a somehow-worse version of Hill Valley 2015. The “retrofitted” art deco Los Angeles greatly suited this futuristic film noir and the production design has clearly been influential, reminiscent of later films like “The Fifth Element” and “Minority Report”. And the casting was spot on, with a chilling performance by the recently passed Rutger Hauer and Harrson Ford in would could be his most gloomy, Harrison Ford-esque role yet.

After all this wait, this film didn’t entirely land for me. I suspect it was, in part, because it was a film noir—I generally can’t stand film noir. I think the film steeps in traditional sci-fi themes around genetic engineering, the nature of humanity, and the failures/ethical quandaries of capitalism but never really goes anywhere with this framework. The job is hard, Deckard is good at it, what he does troubles him, and everything sucks. It’s a typical “there are no winners in a future with androids” story that has been told more interestingly elsewhere. I’m sure I’ll get around to “2049” eventually—but for now, I’d rather watch Terminator 2.

Week 27; Film 79 - Glory [1989]

“Glory” is a film about the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment, one of the first African American units to be formed and fight in the American Civil War. The story picks up when Robert Gould Shaw, a white, Union Captain, is injured at Antietam, sent home, and takes command of the newly formed 54th. He struggles to balance discipline and trust-building until he properly outfits the troops and they deploy for battle. After insulting and demotivating months of manual labor, the unit finally gets a taste of battle. Proving that African Americans fight valiantly, they are deployed to lead the charge at Fort Wagner. I’m half mindful of spoilers and half cavalier about spoiling “history”—but I suppose I’ll stop my recap there!

The story is inspirational and beautifully depicted. It features a terrific cast, including Mathew Broderick, Denzel Washington, Cary Elwes, Morgan Freeman, and Andre Braugher, who mostly delivered stellar performances. The real breakout reveal for me was James Horner’s fantastic score, which grew with the self-realization of the regiment and came into full-force before the Fort Wagner battle. The whole thing is “The Land Before Time” meets “1812 Overture” and I loved it!

It’s pretty rare that I watch a 2 hour film and feel it could have ran longer. We could have further explored Shaw’s cowardice or the motivation of the men serving. I also felt like the film was too loose-and-fast with when it chose to adhere to historical record and when it chose to dramatize, with most of the main characters being manufactured around the very real Colonel Shaw. And finally, the storytelling is a bit inhibited by the battle sequences which didn’t technically live up to the drama.

Still, the film outshines these flaws to share a story about courage, honor, and leadership. America has always had a complicated relationship with the status and rights of those who fight for this country (just last week, it was announced that Trump wanted to end deportation-protection for family members of active military). The story of the 54th is as essential to our national heritage as the American Revolution or D-Day. I remain ever thankful to the men who fought for the individual rights of Americans.

Week 26; Film 78 - Amadeus [1984]

I think I’m going to lead with the ‘negative’ on this one—the biggest flaw of “Amadeus” is that it’s named after Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart at all. Sure, the film is a fictionalized biography of Mozart’s life, beginning with his brash, immature swagger, effortless talent, and daring rise. The film then grapples with his political missteps, struggles with money, family demons, and downward spiral, before settling at his eventual death. Still, the film is not truly ‘about’ Mozart. Rather, this film is about its main character and our narrator, Salieri.

In a wonderfully subversive opening sequence (for the uninformed, like me), we learn that the old man we have been following and listening to was not Mozart but rather Antonio Salieri, an Italian composer and the alleged rival of Mozart. He describes a youth of prayer and practice on a path to his station as the court composer of Emperor Joseph II. An early infatuation with Mozart’s work soon slips towards irritation and then jealousy as Mozart seemed to soar past him in performance and popularity. However, even amidst Mozart’s demise, Salieri never stops privately reveling in Mozart’s creation. The film concludes as a story of frenemies but with a fatal twist.

I ended up loving the film. It almost plays like the extravagant operas it prominently featured, marinating in orotund expression until evolving into revealing character moments. The art design is impeccable and the acting is top notch. But mostly, I loved this film for our narrator (and F. Murray Abraham’s excellent performance as him).

I can’t even recall or describe examples of why, but I found myself connected to Salieri’s story for all of the uncouth, sordid, and well, human reasons one could be. The notion of pouring energy so deeply into the pursuit of perfection—never quite getting there—and then seeing another so effortlessly seize what you seek is relatable. But how Salieri lost faith and grappled with purpose in an unfair world felt inglorious and yet unavoidably congruous with my darkest humanity. It’s pretty special when a film is able to shine a spotlight on something in yourself; scary and exciting at the same time. For that reason alone, despite the film's excess, fiction, and length, I loved it.

Week 25; Film 77 - The Great Dictator [1940]

“The Great Dictator” is a satirical comedy that pointed at and directly made fun of Adolf Hitler, during the reign of Adolf Hitler. The film was written, produced, directed by, and stars (in two roles!) the great Charlie Chaplin and is his first true-sound film. The story follows two fictional men who look nearly identical—a Jewish barber and the ruthless dictator Adenhoid Hynkel—and showcases Hynkel’s narcissism, insecurity, his inhumane policies, and the effect they have on the Barber’s life.

The film was immediately funny (there’s even a joke in the opening credits). Chaplin employs a wide variety of jokes, from his trademark slapstick to clever wordplay. He spends a great deal of dialogue assigning silly names (General Smellawful) and speaking gibberish German (“See cheesen in krackers undt!”). In fact, I found the spoken humor to be hilarious and surprising, considering Chaplin is known for his silent films; a real delight!

The film was so funny that the occasional pivots to drama or distress gave me whiplash. Chaplin sought to make fun of Hitler and raise awareness of the plight of Jewish Europeans. In doing so, he was constantly jumping from “dangerous but silly, effeminate, and insecure dictator” to “discrimination and suffering”. There was a certain imbalance to it and yet, perhaps the sobering pivots were by design.

This tonal change carries through to the film’s conclusion in, what feels like a “Parent Trap” moment, the Barber is delivering an impassioned speech as Hynkel. In this famous speech, the Barber drops all pretense of comedy—hell, Chaplin drops all pretense of character and seems to speak directly to the audience in a plea for peace and democracy. It felt wholly separate from the film and yet was delivered with such desperation and intensity that I found myself absorbed by it.

Week 24; Film 76 - Dirty Harry [1971]

Last year, I had a bit more time on my hands (it was B.W., “Before Westley”) and I would make an effort to watch a few modern films among my classic screening list. It was then that I first watched “Zodiac”, the terrific film by David Fincher. In the film, Inspector Toschi (played by Mark Ruffalo) walks out of a screening of “Dirty Harry”, frustrated that the film modeled after his case made a mockery of due process (a great contrast with an investigation marred by bureaucratic road-blocks). This excellent use of film-in-film made "Dirty Harry" an immediate 'must watch' for me.

Loosely based on the actual Zodiac Killer murders, "Dirty Harry" follows Inspector Harry Callahan, a rough, cool, and creative cop who is always stuck with the “dirty” jobs. Harry takes up the case of “Scorpio”, a serial killer who prays on innocents from a distance with his sniper rifle. With several dead bodies in his wake, Scorpio is about to extort a ransom from the City of San Francisco when he is captured and tortured by Harry into revealing his secrets. This failure to follow due process returns Scorpio to the streets and Harry must choose between what’s legal and what’s right in dealing with the menace.

Let’s cut to the chase, Dirty Harry is so f*ckign cool. A founding member of the “loose-cannon cop” cinematic trope, Dirty Harry brought Eastwood’s classic anti-hero character into the modern age. The film was really well assembled, with dark, suspenseful sequences, quippy humor, and cool music. Eastwood’s delivery of his classic “'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do you, punk?” line is probably a top 10 line/monologue in all of American film. But it was the act three “twist”—the admission that Harry’s outside-the-law tactics actually hurt his case, that gave the film depth and plot-integrity needed to grant the final sequence's dramatic license.

For me, that is what was most exciting about “Dirty Harry”. This film is a relic of a time when America was afraid of rampant serial killers but is an enduring example of the conflict presented by our Constitution. Though we pride ourselves on our 230 year old body of law, “Dirty Harry” asks uncomfortable questions about how appropriately these legal traditions adapt to an insane psychopath. While I don’t ultimately agree with the reaches this film takes, I think it frames up the conflicts of our time—to what degree do we wish to preserve speech, or guns, or privacy, or due process in the era of disconnect, terrorism, misinformation, and insanity.

Week 23; Film 75 - The Longest Day [1962]

Nine years ago, I had the honor of touring around several of the D-Day points-of-interest in Normandy, France. In one of the bougier sentences I’ve ever written, we were escorted from site to site by a private guide who my father hired. At one point during the tour, he asked which movies about D-Day we had seen. “Saving Private Ryan”, we all answered, to which he scoffed and grumbled about the film’s accuracy. “The Longest Day” he mentioned, ’is the film I recommend watching”, and he would refer back to it as he explained the events of the day.

“The Longest Day” is a documentary-styled portrayal of the hours before, during, and after the June 6, 1944 D-Day invasion. The film takes great care to reenact this pivotal moment in history from every perspective available: from Allied soldiers waiting in anticipation of battle, to the French hoping for liberation, to the parachutists, to the beach landings, to the cliff-climbing, to the village skirmishes, and the eventual Allied foothold in Europe. Additionally, the film makes certain efforts to share the German-side of the day, from their assumption of a calm, non-event week, to poor decisions by leadership, and their eventual retreat.

The film is like the “Avengers: Endgame” of old war films—it’s huge, it moves, and everyone is in it. Seriously! There’s John Wayne, Richard Burton, Henry Fonda, Richard Beymer, and a whole fleet of character actors you’d definitely recognize. Hell, even Sean Connery shows up (one month before his debut as James Bond) to just be a charming Scottish guy who makes quips on the beach. The film employed 5 directors in order to shoot the different sequences (and in different languages). Editor Samuel Beetley cut the film from these different units in a manner that was fast paced and ever-evolving, with characters coming and going only as they suited the story.

Since I made the comparison, one critique of “Avengers: Endgame” is that if you haven’t kept up with the MCU, the character-moments are shallow; the film relies on audience knowledge to carry. This film suffers from that just a bit as well, with such an effort to tell a whole story that the audience is only afforded little vignettes into the characters’ lives. You didn’t get a sense of who they were—just that they were patriots. But I suppose that’s still a fair account for the Greatest Generation.

Week 22; Film 74 - Godzilla [1954]

I didn’t plan to screen the original Godzilla film in the same week that “Godzilla: King of the Monsters”, the 35th film in the Godzilla-franchise, was released. Still, I enjoyed the coincidence and admit that it was the character’s longevity that brought me to its origins. Godzilla is the ultimate monster movie and a supernatural commentary on the atomic age. The realization that this first film came out less than a decade after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki helped provide me a look into a country and culture still putting pieces back together again.

The film starts with boats disappearing off the coast of Japan and a crushing attack on Odo Island. A team of scientists travel to Odo to study the wreckage and see the dinosaur like monster return to the island. Back in Tokyo, citizens watch in horror as a series of defensive strategies fail one by one and Godzilla nears closer. Eventually, the monster reaches the city and begins the famous person-in-suit-stomping-on-models destruction we’ve come to know and love. Stopping the chaos would rely on the use of a new, controversial super-weapon. 

What impressed me about the film was how well developed the character drama was, amplified by the film’s place in history. Disaster films aren’t known for their dimensionality, but in “Godzilla”, characters face real internal conflict. Dr. Yamane wasn’t just some hippie doctor that didn’t want Godzilla killed; he was a man who witnessed the effects of radiation first hand and saw in Godzilla a cure. Dr. Serizawa wasn’t just a moody mad genius; he is a man making a choice between the wellness of his country and the soul of humanity, a choice made clear by watching the proliferation of nuclear technology.

I know it’s unfair to say, but for me, the film’s biggest flaw is its 65 year old special effects. I’d like to think that’s not just my presentism-bias speaking as I was impressed by the effects in even older films, such as “King Kong” or “Metropolis”.  “Godzilla” bites off more than it can chew on the effects-front and relies too heavily on toy cars and the man in the suit for me to take seriously. Still, the film stands somewhere between charming and horrific as a exhibit of the Japanese zeitgeist in the 1950’s and remains fascinating to this day.

Week 21; Film 73 - Before Sunrise [1995]

I can’t quite recall how “Before Sunrise” ended up on my film list. I know that I made a concerted effort to represent “Romance” as a genre, as I did last year, when assembling my schedule. I recall certain scenes from the flick being highlighted in film vlogs and its 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes probably steered me closer. For whatever the reason, I am so tremendously glad to have watched this film.

“Before Sunrise” starts with two young adults—Jessie (Ethan Hawk) the American and Céline (Julie Delpy) a Frenchwoman—who meet on a train in Europe and instantly connect. Jessie convinces Céline to get off at the next stop with him and they spend the evening strolling through Vienna before his flight back to America, in the morning. Walking, talking, and interacting with locals, the film shows these two fall in love and then contend with their rapidly approaching separation at dawn.

As a screenwriting study, this film is a perfect case for the “show, don’t tell” theory of filmmaking. Both spoken and silent scenes work to illustrate a simple story about complex feelings. And the spoken scenes are some of the most effective “falling in love” dialogue I’ve seen, thanks in part to input from Hawk and Delpy (who aren’t credited, but contributed to their own spoken words). Though mostly plotless, this film never lost me as an audience member because I instantly began rooting for the young love and felt the conflict of their impending separation.

Film is beautiful in that it opens us up to empathize with human experiences we couldn’t otherwise understand. But other times, film can reconnect us with a part of our own journey. In ways both melodramatic and nuanced, I just clicked with this film. It reminded me of a naive and complicated second of my own life. I suppose that’s the best you can hope for in art.

Week 20; Film 72 - Metropolis [1927]

When ranking my screening list by a measure of cultural significance, “Metropolis” stands at the top. Released in 1927, this German expressionist, silent film is considered to be the world’s first science fiction movie. It is also the only film to be inscribed on UNESCO’s “Memory of the World Register”, up there with other German entries such as the Guttenburg Bible and Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9! At 2 ½ hours (I didn’t know silent films ran that long), the film is sprawling, stylized, and ambitious. It’s also a bit heavy, dreary, and excessive. I liked it though.

“Metropolis” depicts city in which wealthy business tycoons work and play in towering buildings while a lower class of poor machinists work underground, fueling and operating the machines that make everything run. Freder, the son of the city master, is oblivious to this world until he follows the beautiful Maria to the lower levels. He is shocked and appalled at the conditions of the workers and sees Maria preach of a time when the working and ruling classes may unite. Freder’s father, afraid of this message, commissions a first-of-its-kind robot with Maria’s likeness to diffuse tensions but the robot provokes rebellion. The rebellion backfires and it’s up to Freder to forge a path to peace and union between the classes.

I need to start by acknowledging that “Metropolis” is an achievement. Its message is ambitious and, though a bit on the nose, the imagery evoked by the film remains relevant these 92 years later. For a silent film, it was fascinating to watch multiple plot lines and characters threaded together in such a coherent way. The music was intense and spectacular, the special effects remain watchable, and many sequences were gripping. The whole film feels like an experiment that *mostly* pays off.

Recognizing this, though the film captured my interest, it tended to lose me for whole moments at a time. The film was simply too long and could have benefited from more purposeful editing. Incidentally, it has been cut down a lot over the years to address this complaint but the modern, 148 minute rerelease I screened was too much. Furthermore, the film’s biblical symbolism hits you over the head a bit and the overall message lacks the nuance that its runtime could have afforded it. Ultimately, in the hands of modern talent, I think the story of “Metropolis” would be better served as an 8 to 9 minute Pixar short than a 2 ½ hour story.

Week 19; Film 71 - The Magnificent Seven [1960]

Last week, I screened Akira Kurosawa’s 1954 film “Seven Samurai”. Yul Brynner (who I just saw as Pharaoh in “The Ten Commandments”) saw that film and must have known that a tale about standing up to bullies crosses cultural lines. With his advocacy, "Seven Samurai" was reworked, filmed, and released as a Western movie in 1960. As “The Magnificent Seven” has since become known as a classic in its own right (spawning three further sequels and a modern remake), I figured it would be fun to screen this film immediately after “Seven Samurai” and it was a great choice!

“The Magnificent Seven” begins unabashedly in the same way that “Seven Samurai” does, with a village of Mexican farmers hiring seven gunman to defend their town against 40 bandits. The first half of the film is nearly identical to the original, depicting how the seven gunman agreed to the job. Once in town, they train the villagers on how to fire weapons and help set up booby-traps. From here, the story kind of diverges from the original: After an initial showdown with the bandits, the seven seem to be victorious until rouge villagers let the bandits in. The bandits (strangely) allow the seven go with no repercussions but they all, allegiant to their new-found purpose, return to the town to oust the bad guys—again, at a great personal cost.

In general, I thought that this film was a ‘nice’ and enjoyable retelling of the original story. Designed for American audiences, the story was less complex, less layered, and not as long. While this makes sense when averting Japanese cultural details, it did make the film feel—well, less. For example, while this version hints at the farmers mistrust of the gunslingers, this never really boils over into mutiny or disregard. The relationship between the town and the seven is generally simple and amicable, leading the film to lean more heavily on the second and third act gun-fight sequences, which I found a bit dull.

That said, there are actually things that I enjoyed more about this version of the story. I thought the general plot adapted really well to a western setting and the seven mains were just as superb (especially Yul Brynner’s Chris Adams, the leader of the seven). I also really like that this film fleshed out Calvera, the leader of the bandits. This character was sort of a one-dimensional, eye-patch wearing bad guy in the original and here, was played with clumsy wit by Eli Wallach. Finally, the film’s score was excellent and a great example of classic western music. I’ll probably check out the modern remake one day, but feel satisfied with this story for now!

Week 18; Film 70 - Seven Samurai [1954]

I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m a sucker for YouTube countdown videos. One of the clear influences on this project and the movies I screen is the YouTube channel CineFix and their well considered, somewhat pretentious film lists. A name that constantly comes up in their countdowns is that of Japanese director and screenwriter Akira Kurosawa. Kurosawa seems to be one of those “influencer of influencers”, whose disciples include Lucas, Coppola, Spielberg, Scorsese, and next generation directors like Guillermo del Toro, J.J. Abrams, and Spike Lee. With such an artistic pedigree, I knew I had to watch one of Kurosawa’s classics.

"Seven Samurai" is about a village of farmers who hire samurai (seven, if you were wondering) to defend their yield and their lives against a hoard of bandits. Though their plan is dubious, veteran samurai Kambei becomes sympathetic to the villager’s cause and assists with curating a team. Once at the village, Kambei and the other samurai lead the farmers through basic combat training and the construction of defenses. They learn of the bandits’ hideout and stage an offensive attack to ease their task, losing one samurai in the process. The final act is the fateful showdown that would leave the village mostly intact—but at a high cost.

Like other film’s that make my list, “Seven Samurai” is almost unremarkable in that the plot and characters feel oddly familiar. Unremarkable, until you realize that each of those familiar moments, characters, and tropes are copying this film! You don’t get “The Avengers” without this film laying the groundwork for how to assemble heroes in a first act. What about introducing our action hero in a conflict unrelated to our main plot, like “James Bond”? Check. The reluctant hero, like Han Solo? Check. Intercutting between establishing battle shots and close-up guerrilla-styled filming units, like every action film ever? Check. That’s not to say that this film invented these things, but it certainly helped codify them.

But outside of its influence, "Seven Samurai" was a tremendously enjoyable film. I was personally skeptical of a 3+ hour, black-and-white, foreign language film but found myself engrossed in the journey of each character and the progression of the story. Like "Avengers: Endgame", which I saw a week before this film, the story moves with such purpose and intrigue than you hardly sense the passage of time. I give this film the highest marks, not because it is my new favorite, but because there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. I enjoyed it through and through and look forward to more of Kurosawa’s work.

Week 17; Film 69 - Do the Right Thing [1989]

This year, I proudly expanded my film project to more than just American films. But when I did this, it became embarrassingly obvious that there were American stories and perspectives that I still hadn’t really made room for. Most plainly, I failed at screening a predominantly African American story. Moving forward, I'm going to make an effort to correct this. With the interest and press behind last year’s “BlacKkKlansman”, my choice on where to start became simple.

“Do the Right Thing” begins as a character study, introducing you to the residents of a Brooklyn neighborhood on a triple-digit, sweltering day. Anchored by pizza delivery man Mookie, we witness a melting pot (or more aptly, in the heat, a pressure cooker) community with Italians, Koreans, Hispanics, White (police officers), and a diverse, black majority. The heat, disrespect, and a series of small uncompromising actions escalate over the course of the story until a fateful, climactic evening that ends with a black man dead, a pizzeria destroyed, and a civility shattered.

I thought that “Do the Right Thing” was a tremendously well told story. First of all, the production design and the way the film was shot goes a long way to convey a sense of heat and escalating tension. Bright colors, blinding light, and characters addressing the camera all add to this. Speaking of which, there are some unique, complex, and tragic characters. You have protagonists and antagonists, but it’s hard to paint any one character as uniformly good or bad. It’s just a bunch of real people with real motivations who, sadly, fail to 'do the right thing'. This comes into perspective when you realize that all conflict may have been avoided if a pizza man just put more cheese on a slice.

At the end of the movie, Lee compares quotes from Martin Luther King and Malcom X, the former highlighting the stupidity of violence to promote social change and the latter on the intelligence of violence for self defense. The two quotes feel at odds with one another and yet are both true. This movie does a great job of living in this space and attempting to play in that thin line between promoting the self and protecting the self. And while it doesn’t offer an answer, the film provides some guidance and even a path forward. 30 years later the film remains painfully relevant and worth a watch.

Week 16; Film 68 - The Ten Commandments [1956]

Last year for my film project, I cued up “Ben-Hur” to coincide with Easter. It ended up being a perfectly apropos nod to the holiday, even if I wasn’t the biggest fan of the epic. As I said then, I'm not religious but I still fully appreciated the religious symbolism wrapped up in Judah Ben-Hur’s story. Acknowledging this, I thought it might be fun to keep up the tradition with this year’s screening, “The Ten Commandments."

“The Ten Commandments” is a dramatization of the biblical story of Moses (pulling from several other sources to spice things up a bit). The first act is the journey of Moses’s growing self-awareness of his identity and the role he would play delivering freedom to the Hebrews. These two hours carry from his adoption on the Nile, to his role as a cunning and industrious prince of Egypt, to his growing sympathy for slaves and then, his eventual exile. It finishes with an encounter with the burning bush and a new resolve. The second act then turns to his mission to free the slaves and all the plagues that overcame Egypt, ending with a climax at the Red Sea.

I will try my best to be polite here, but I really struggled with this film. Not only for the gluttonous run-time, soap-opera acting, and unconvincing effects, but because of the story itself. I was reminded how positively medieval Old Testament stories can be, with a wrathful God sending to Egyptians (living at the whim of an absolute monarch) plagues, pestilence, and even murdering their children. Even the plight of the Hebrews, initially of anguish and suffering, became a weird false-idolatry fever dream that left me not quite rooting for anybody in the story.

That’s not to say I couldn’t appreciate things. I thought Yul Brynner’s performance as Rameses II, and his ability to take a character from arrogant to shattered, was brilliant. I’m also super intrigued by the story’s racial symbolism and comments on slavery, especially considering the film’s release in 1956. I am curious how this messaging intermingled with the growing Civil Rights movement and among white Americans who saw themselves in the Hebrew plight. Last but not least, despite slamming the special effects (mostly for some pretty flat rear-projected vistas), the classic parting of the Red Sea remains an excellent cinematic moment—just one not worthy of the 200 minutes it took to get there.

Week 15; Film 67 - Goldfinger [1964]

Like most kids in 1998, I was all about one thing—playing Goldeneye 007 on my N64! The game developed my lifelong fandom of the James Bond character and these formulaic movies. I grew up watching the Pierce Brosnan films through to the Daniel Craig ones and, when I could catch them on TV, have always enjoyed checking out the classic Bonds. It is for this reason that I’m embarrassed to have not watched the most classic Bond film ever—Goldfinger. This week, I corrected that.

Goldfinger hits the ground running with Sean Connery’s Bond destroying a drug lab in Latin America. After returning to Miami, he’s assigned to observe Auric Goldfinger, a bullion smuggler. After Goldfinger has Bond’s love interest murdered (in shiny gold paint), the mission takes Bond to Switzerland where he is captured at Goldfinger’s plant. Goldfinger is intent on killing Bond until 007 suggests news of the baddie’s plans would reach MI6 if Bond didn’t return alive. As is such, Goldfinger takes Bond with him to America where his plot unfolds at Fort Knox. I won’t spoil the film’s clever take on a bank heist but really enjoyed how it all came together.

Though the third film in the series, it is unmistakable how influential this film was on all future Bonds. From the title sequence, to the opening scene mission, to Bond’s reliance on tech and the Q-Branch, to the Bond girls (including the famously named Pussy Galore), the henchmen—all of it. It even features two of the most famous quotes in the Bond-verse: “Martini. Shaken, not stirred.” and “Do you expect me to talk?”; “No Mr. Bond—I expect you to die!” The film is a cornerstone of the Bond tropes that were loved, repeated, and parodied for the next 50 years.


And yet, I believe this film stands the test of time as being thoroughly fresh and enjoyable. The film’s tone takes itself seriously when it needs to and winks at the camera with delight when it doesn’t. Connery’s Bond is the best and Odd Job is one of the funniest henchmen/villain characters the series has to offer. The film is smart, sexy, thrilling, and stylish—everything I enjoy about these films. I know it’s one of the most self-indulgent film choices on my list this year, but I absolutely loved it.

Week 14; Film 66 - Aliens [1986]

Last year, I purposefully made a point to screen a sequel. I know that in today’s film landscape, dominated by sequels, reboots, remakes, and universes, the sequel can feel expected and unoriginal. But the sequel can be a special type of film, unrestrained by the toll of character introductions and world-building. Done properly, a sequel can really elevate a storyline. This was true for last year’s film, “The Godfather: Part II”, and is true for this year’s sequel, “Aliens”.

Now if you may recall, I really didn’t care for “Alien”. It was a claustrophobic and clunky space-horror film, burning most of its time on sequences that show you, “Oh, did you know the Alien can do that too?!??”. “Aliens” benefits from this initial grounding by wasting no time with exposition. 57 years of hyper sleep after the last film, the planet from the original has been colonized by humans but has gone radio silent—let’s send in the Space Marines (and Ripley)! We already know what damage one of these aliens can cause and now, there’s a BUNCH of them! #credits

But “Aliens” isn’t simply better for its pacing and action. The characters are far more clarified and fascinating. I loved annoying Bill Paxton, Paul Reiser’s company-man Burke, the classic sci-fi android tropes explored by Bishop, the inexperienced military leadership guys, and of course, Rebecca. Introducing a child into the mix was not only a brilliant choice for story’s sake, it really enhanced Ripley’s character from a one-dimensional ass kicker to someone with real depth, motivation, and pain.

I’m still not prepared to say that this franchise is necessarily my cup of tea. I found even this film to be over-the-top, overly-convenient, and ultimately too monochromatic for my taste. But I thought James Cameron did a good job of playing in this universe, lighting the film, and using the expectations we already have of these creatures to ’ratchet up the crisis.’ It was a great lesson in not writing something off and giving it another chance.

Week 13; Film 65 - Spirited Away [2001]

Part of this year’s directive is to expand the genres and sources of the films I screen. “Spirited Away” fits this bill, both by introducing my cinema project’s first Japanese film and, significantly, my first animated film (the first I’ve seen by famed storyteller Hayao Miyazaki). And I had to work for this one! After 64 successful digital rentals, this was the first film unavailable online. I had to buy a DVD for goodness sake! But, considering the film’s widespread acclaim, I was excited to shuffle my schedule and make the effort.

“Spirited Away” is the story of Chihiro Ogino, a young girl struggling with a move to a new home. On the way, her parents take a shortcut and begin to eat food left at an empty restaurant stall when a dark magic turns them into pigs. Lost and alone, Chihiro follows the advice of a young boy named Haku and attempts to get a job at a magical bathhouse for Japanese spirits, full of unique and vivid characters. This work is initially hard but through kindness and work ethic, she finds herself navigating the world. That is, until young love drives her to a grand adventure.

I really wanted to love "Spirited Away". Like other film’s I’ve seen with tremendous acclaim and huge followings (“2001: A Space Odyssey”, “The Breakfast Club”, “A Christmas Story”), I expected to be blown away and wasn’t. I found the plot to be meandering and implausible (not just the magic stuff, but how the humans reacted). The film heavily parallels “Alice in Wonderland” or “The Wizard of Oz” and like those film, leans heavily on fantastical characters without making much sense.

That’s not to say this film isn’t special, in a way. First of all, the character design is absolutely magical. The animation is stunning and as thorough as it gets and the musical score is top notch. I also am fully aware that there’s some pretty heavy symbolism about growing up and capitalism in Japan that fell flat on me through this first viewing. That’s the point of expanding to international films this year—to get exposure to the art of other countries without the assumption that I’ll immediately understand it. So acknowledging that, I liked this film! Just not “4th best animated film of all time”/“2nd best film of this century” liked it, as some have announced in praise.

Week 12; Film 64 - Full Metal Jacket [1987]

As the fourth Vietnam War movie that I have screened in the last year, I have to admit that I approached “Full Metal Jacket” with a bit of burnout. In an effort to sort through the mess that this war was, these films (“Apocalypse Now”, “Platoon”, and “The Deer Hunter”) all seem to end in the same disarray and disillusion that the war did. This makes for great art but is necessarily unentertaining. And while “Full Metal Jacket” feels like more of the same, it does so with a compelling cast of characters that kept me invested to the end.

The first act of “Full Metal Jacket” takes place entirely at boot camp in America and stands alone as a brilliant, 45-minute short story. Depicting the transformation that takes place in the psyche of young men at bootcamp, the recruits shed their Rockwellian innocence and are reprogramed (or deprogramed) to be killers. This is hardest on Private “Gomer Pyle”, who suffers a mental breakdown after weeks of abuse. Everything about this act is fascinating, from Kubrick’s methodical pacing, to R. Lee Ermey’s fiendish Drill Sergeant Hartman, to Vincent D’Onofrio’s evolution as Private Pyle.

The film then jumps to Vietnam where Matthew Modine’s “Private Joker” is a war correspondent for the “Stars and Stripes”, the American military newspaper. He mostly produces fluff pieces until the Tet Offensive begins and he is deployed to the Battle of Hue. For many, this seems to be where the film wanes and, while I agree, it does so no more than any of the other film’s I’ve mentioned. Where “Platoon” oversold a metaphor on good and evil in man, this film pokes fun at that duality—and yet still concludes in a way that lives with both truths, thoughtfully and meaningfully.

While I stopped short of loving this film, I certain liked it. I thought the imagery was beautiful and the performances were spot on. Douglas Milsome’s cinematography embedded the viewer in the mens’ experience and yet remained somehow distant and watchful. R. Lee Ermey was fantastic and this was probably my favorite of Vincent D’Onofrio's performances, which teetered between venerable and crazy. Finally, I loved that the story was told from the perspective of a military war correspondent. Considering many believe that Vietnam was lost, not on the battlefield, but in the living rooms of Americans watching the war on TV—to link the audience up with someone intended to draft military propaganda was brilliant. If I had to pick a Vietnam War film (that isn’t “Forrest Gump”…lol), I’d go with this one.

Week 11; Film 63 - The Jerk [1979]

Last year, I included “The Jerk” on my project’s film list but got cold feet before screening it. Fresh off of “The Godfather Part II”, I think I questioned if “The Jerk” was iconic enough to be on this list and, at the midnight-hour, swapped it out. That said, I felt a bit guilty for not giving this Steve Martin flick its due and made sure to correct the error, this year. And I can now say that I was wrong—this film is brilliant and ticks all the boxes!

Comedy plot summaries are a bit zany, but here goes nothing: “The Jerk” is about Navin Johnson (Steve Martin), a white man who was born a poor, black child (bear with me). He hits the road and gets a job at a gas station where he fixes a man’s glasses by attaching a handle on the front (over the nose). Then, a gun wielding mad-man chases him to a carnival where he gets a job and begins having sex with a daredevil motorcyclist. That is, until he meets and falls in love with Marie (Bernadette Peters). Navin then learns that, as the inventor of the Opti-Grab eyeglasses (remember the gas station?), he is rich. But as quick as his meteoric rise would come his downfall and Navin concludes the film by returning to his family in Mississippi.

“The Jerk” is a comedy, fully and completely. It employs nearly every comedic genre and technique in the book and I loved it for it. From slapstick to wordplay, naiveté, lunacy, parody, satire, musical comedy, and visual gags, this film worked overtime to be funny. And it was. Really funny! There’s even a brilliant, 4th-wall breaking moment with directer Carl Reiner that both resolves the film’s unresolvable plot and shows the lengths this movie goes to get a laugh. It was like a Mel Brooks film but slightly more refined (and with a lot of heart).

Which in a way, brings us back to Steve Martin growing up a poor, black child. Since I paused to criticize a racist caricature last week, I find the need to share that this joke was just different than that. Navin loves his family, follows their advice, and sends home as much of his earnings as he can. For as crazy as the film is, there's hardly a mean bone in it; it's kind of an allegory that if you remember your home, you will never be without one. I loved this film and hope you give it a shot!

Week 10; Film 62 - Breakfast at Tiffany’s [1961]

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” is a romantic comedy and a gradually revealed character story about a beautiful, eccentric, air headed, and inaccessible woman named Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn). Golightly (who with her little black dress and long cigarette holder is one of film's most recognizable characters) is a Manhattan socialite (and something of an escort, although sex seems off the table). She meets her new neighbor Paul Varjak (George Peppard), who we learn is an author stuck in an extended creative drought. The story then shifts to his perspective as, through him, we learn more about Golightly’s past. We begin to understand Holly’s eccentric lifestyle and why she so desperately pursues a sugar-daddy, both falling in love with her and growing frustrated by her choices.

I initially found myself hating this film. Early on, I couldn’t stand Hepburn’s Golightly, seeing in her all the air-headed, beautiful people that I have known and felt manipulated by. The film plays out as a series of disjointed chapters (it was adapted by a novel from Truman Capote and felt like it), with each sequence containing characters and situations that were vaguely interesting but often unbelievable. My final beef—and if you’ve seen the film you should see this coming—had to do with Mickey Rooney’s awful, racist caricature of a Japanese landlord. Product of its time or not, it pulled me right out of the story and the whole film suffered for it.

Acknowledging this, as the film progressed, I found myself warming to our main characters. As we learn about Holly’s troubled past, her erratic behavior begins to feel forgivable. But more so, her and Paul’s unintentional romance was charming and organic. Our two mains don’t go into their friendship looking for love—Holly is looking for a rich man to take care of her and Paul has an older woman to, erm…service his needs. They’re both kids, one from tatters and the other washing up from success, learning to meet in the middle despite their problems. I found something special and romantic about that.

At the end of the day, I don’t fully know how to feel about this one, but I think I liked it. This movie is clever, and ridiculous, and pretentious, and silly, sincere, sarcastic, sentimental, and trendy, and old-fashioned, and all over the place, and yet somehow a coherent character story. But ultimately, I bought into Paul as a proxy for the audience well enough to keep me grounded through the crazy. And Hepburn's frustratingly good performance tipped the scale towards me appreciating this as a decent film.