Stagecoach (1939)

In 1939 Stagecoach came out and forever changed the Hollywood western.  Stagecoach marked the first collaboration between John Wayne and John Ford, a team-up that would spawn such other classics as The Searchers and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance.  This was an actor and director who clearly respected each other and enjoyed working with each other, and (better still) who brought out the best in each other.

Stagecoach broke new ground in just how stinkin' good a western could be.  It is fun to watch and enjoyably paced, keeping a good balance between action, humor, and drama.  It is well filmed, communicating the expansive scope of a landscape you could so easily get lost in, bringing the wide open spaces of the west into the movie theaters of the east.  But just as quickly the shot will change, and what had been wide open becomes the crowded, claustrophobic, confined space of the stagecoach itself.  Perhaps Ford wanted to make some statement about how we take the great big world and make it uncomfortable and crowded.

Anyway, Stagecoach also started a whole new movie archetype; it is the story of a small group of very different people who need to learn to work together in order to overcome large obstacles.  This is a much-copied story today, but in 1939 it was all but brand new.  

The story is simple: there is a stagecoach that must get from one town through another, in spite of the fact that Geronimo's Indians (not a politically correct term today, but I'll be using it because the movie does) threaten the wilds between the towns.  On the stagecoach in question we find 9 people, all on that ride for very different reasons.  The driver -the bumbling comic relief played by the John Ford staple Andy Devine -obviously he is along because it's his job, but he is sure to tell everyone he'd rather not be on that particular ride.  The marshal riding shotgun has arrested the outlaw the Ringo Kid (John Wayne) and wants to take him to jail.  There is a pregnant lady searching for her husband, and a notorious gambler who has offered to take her to him in safety.  Then there is a traveling whiskey salesman too meek to do anything but go along with the others, and a banker who has absconded with the payroll deposit.  Finally, there are two characters being run out of town; a drunk doctor and a prostitute named Dallas.  Claire Trevor plays Dallas so well the character has become cliched: the hooker with the heart of gold.

These characters are played off each other brilliantly, shining a penetrating light on the dysfunctions of society's norms.  Ringo immediately likes Dallas, though it is clear he is not aware of her past.  Everyone but him shuns her, and he thinks it is because of HIS past.  The doctor has the most to offer the group, but would rather drink than anything: evidently he regards the world a farce.  Altogether, the characters that are presented as most virtuous -the "heroes," if you will -are those that society regards as dirty or untouchable.  This is a movie that expertly flips our expectations and values, causing us to see all people as people, and not the pigeonhole they may have been forced into.  After all, perhaps Dallas is only a prostitute because she has no other option -she might instead become a good wife for someone.  If you believe Ringo, he's been falsely accused and condemned, forcing him into an outlaw life.  And the gambler -who the lady wouldn't even acknowledge in town -shows that he is a gentleman of the highest order.

Stagecoach proved that a western could be far more than cowboys and Indians, or sheriffs and outlaws.  This is a movie about how people need to be treated individually, as people and not as a representative of a group.  This is a film that questions the value of any society that so easily turns people against one another without learning the story behind the person.  This is a film that declares we all need a second chance.

And besides, it has one of the greatest lines of movie history: "Well, they're saved from the blessings of civilization."

Entertainment: 8/10

Artistic Value: 8/10

Technical merit: 7/10

Overall: 8/10

P.S. If you can, watch Stagecoach on the new Criterion Bluray release.  As with many films that are 80 years old it is hard to find this one in good quality.  Most releases today have fairly terrible picture and sound issues.  The Criterion release is probably the best you'll find, though unfortunately it still has a lot of dirt and visual issues.  

Rebecca (1940)

Have I mentioned that I love Alfred Hitchcock's work?  Given that fact, I guess writing a review of his only Best Picture winner seems rather a foregone conclusion.  And since I just learned that Hollywood will be remaking, and no doubt ruining, Rebecca, it seems incumbent on me to encourage as many people as possible to enjoy the original.

Rebecca is the story of a young, naive American girl played by Joan Fontaine who meets and marries a dashing widower named Maxim de Winter (the ever brilliant Lawrence Olivier) while in Europe. Maxim is of course very rich, owning an estate in the south of England called Manderley.  But of course not everything is ideal for the new Mrs. de Winter.  Maxim is still struggling terribly over the death of his first wife, named Rebecca, the year before.  Plus, the new life that Mrs. de Winter #2 finds is completely unlike her experience to date.  Everyone seems to expect her to be more sophisticated, a great hostess, have brilliant fashion taste, and so on.  In other words, everyone seems to expect her to be Rebecca.  Manderley is haunted by Rebecca.  Not in the literal sense of course; rather, the house simply breathes with the spirit of Rebecca.  The stationary still has her initials, the pillowcases are embroidered with her name, the servants still operate on the schedule Rebecca devised.  The entire world seems to circle around the new Mrs. de Winter with one overriding message: you aren't good enough, you shouldn't be here, Maxim would rather have Rebecca than you, you'll never measure up, you should leave because you can never replace Rebecca!

In the middle of all this is Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper.  Played to chilling perfection by Judith Anderson, Mrs. Danvers is so loyal to Rebecca that she takes a set against our young heroine.  In fact, I'd say that Rebecca effectively ruined the employment opportunities of any woman named Danvers for the next 15 years!  In every way that Mrs. Danvers can she tries to subvert and undermine the confidence of the new Mrs. de Winters.  She describes Rebecca in an almost worshipful way, seeming more a lovesick puppy dog than housekeeper.  She rebukes Mrs. de Winter for failing to live up to expectations, and she even seeks to drive a wedge between her and Maxim.  And then, in the film's ultimate scene, Danvers could take the role of the devil himself, whispering fear and death into the young bride's insecure and despairing ear.

I tell you, Mrs. Danvers is among the most memorable and evil villains of all time.  As is Rebecca actually.  Even though Rebecca is never seen and has no lines, her presence is all over the movie aptly named for her.  

This is a fantastic film.  It is well acted, moves at a brisk pace even though it is a character drama, and is (of course) superbly directed.  You feel for the insecure heroine as she struggles awkwardly to fit into a foreign world.  You puzzle over the brooding Maxim who seems so good, yet who can lose his temper at the slightest mention of Rebecca.  But the genius of the movie comes in one scene where in one deft move Hitchcock turns everything you thought you knew about Rebecca upside down.  

Rebecca was Hitchcock's first American made film, and his only to win Best Picture (though many of his later films richly deserved the honor).  It is not my favorite of his films, but it certainly showcases its director's blossoming talent.  Don't let any new remake tell you about Rebecca.  Hear the story first as told by the Master of Suspense.  

Entertainment: 6/10
Artistic value: 7/10
Technical merit: 9/10

Overall: 8/10

The Book of Eli (2010)

Sometimes it is just more fun to write about a movie you hated than about one you loved.  Over the past few years I've seen plenty of terrible movies, but none quite stick out in my mind quite like The Book of Eli.  Transformers 2?  Terribly awful, perhaps the worst train wreck of a movie ever.  But it didn't pretend to be smart.  Twilight?  Ghastly.  But again, it had no posturing, no pretensions of being anything more than an insipid movie about an insipid book.

The Book of Eli however wanted you to think it was smart and clever.  It wanted to be "meaningful."  It wanted to be memorable.  It succeeded at that I suppose, because I still think of it every time I think of the worst movies of all time.

Now, few movies get literally everything wrong (go Transformers 2!).  And so The Book of Eli does have some things going for it.  The action is top notch, bringing a somewhat comic book-inspired aesthetic to the visual flair and a gritty and brutal violence that is felt in the gut of the viewer.  The acting a bit above grade powered by Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman.  Other technical aspects are just fine.

But the story!  Merciful Minerva (Wonder Woman ftw!!), there are so many plot holes there is literally nothing left!  Warning to those who have not seen it and still wish to: here there be spoilers!

In the post-apocalyptic future, Denzel Washington plays a man walking across America carrying the last Bible.  All other copies of the Bible had been destroyed by bad guys except this one.  This leads to plot hole #1: There are right now more than 6 billion copies of the Bible in the world, so good luck destroying them all.  If the Roman Emperors couldn't do it 2000 years ago, chances are a Mad Max wannabe couldn't either.  So Eli has the last Bible, and he is walking from one side of America to the other, guarding his treasure with his post-apocalyptic ninja skills that he picked up somewhere somehow.  He's been at this for 30 years.  Why it has taken 30 years is not explained, as we can learn on Google maps that walking from New York to San Francisco can be done in less than 2 months.  Perhaps he decided to take the New York-to-Greenland-to-Panama-to-Seattle-to-San Francisco route.  Anyway, Gary Oldman finds out he has the Bible and tries to get it from him to use to subjugate the people.  Denzel fights him off with his super ninja skills, including his dead shot pistol skills.  Skip to the end, and you find out that the book he was carrying was a Braille Bible, and Eli has been blind the whole time.  That's right, a blind guy can shoot a bullseye at over 30 yards with a pistol and fight with deadly efficiency using a knife.  My friends, that's a plot hole you can lose an entire county in.

It doesn't stop there.  The following are just a few of my smaller gripes with Eli:

• Movies usually like to explain how people get out of locked rooms.  Not Eli.  Eli don't need no explanations.  Both he and the lead girl can walk through heavy locked metal doors without any clue regarding how they did it.  She's locked in there! Cut to next scene, where she's walking down the road!
• How does anyone in this wasteland survive?  There is only concrete and dust!  No plants!  
• Oh, so the Bible Eli has is Braille?  Did anyone tell the writers that Braille books are far longer than normal ones?  A Braille Bible is about 17-18 volumes and takes up 60 inches of  shelf space.  Eli apparently was carrying only part of the Bible.
• The apocalypse must be great for the skin, because every woman in the movie has perfect skin.  And teeth.  And great fashion sense.
• Eating human meat (cannibalization) does not make your hands shake, as this movie claims.  Don't ask me how I know this.
• I'm perfectly ok with the idea that the sun causes problems for people in the apocalypse, like blindness and such.  But why do the birds and animals seem to have no problem?  Is the sun only bad for people?
• Eli claims faith doesn't make sense.  Sorry Eli, this movie is the only thing that doesn't make sense.  Faith is a reasonable action taken based on evidence.
• For someone who can quote the whole Bible perfectly at the end of the movie, he sure can't quote it accurately during the rest of the movie!  He doesn't even summarize it well!  And he certainly hasn't learned "Thou shalt not kill" very well either.
• Eli has a bow.  In some scenes.  Tell me, where does Eli store that bow when he's not using it?  Does it fold up in his backpack?  
• We get that the iPod is important.  But does the movie care to explain why?  Nope.  Nor do we get any indication of how the thing can still hold a charge after all these years.

So that's The Book of Eli, perhaps the greatest example of stupid plot holes in movie history.

Entertainment: 5/10

Artistic Value: 1/10

Technical Merit: 5/10

Overall: 3/10

M (1931)

If ever there was a movie to show just how much of a geek I am when it comes to film, M by Fritz Lang is it.  M is now over 80 years old.  It is black and white.  It is one of the earliest films to make use of sound.  It is entirely in German (meaning English subtitles for me!).  On the surface you'd think that absolutely no one in my entire generation would even have heard of it.  But I own it.  And love it.

As a work of art, I do not think that M could be any more relevant and modern.  The writing of this film is flawless, the acting (especially that of Peter Lorre) is phenomenal, the direction a marvel, the editing seamless.  The way Fritz Lang edited certain scenes so that you see two conversations happening at once about a single topic is nothing short of groundbreaking for its day.  Lang used the new sound technology to his full advantage, making everything absolutely silent in one scene, and having the murderer whistle Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King" as he stalks his prey.  In every way the movie M is a delight to watch.

M is about a serial killer of children in Berlin, played by Peter Lorre.  This is a daring topic for its day, though one far overused today.  M explores the psyche of its sociopath, portraying him not simply as a monster but as a highly disturbed individual who struggles with his evil actions.  Thus morality is portrayed in shades of black, white, and gray.  The murderer must be stopped, certainly, but at the same time he is a sympathetic character.  Moreover, it is not only the police who are the good guys, but thieves, beggars, cheats, pickpockets, and all the criminal fraternity also team up to find him.   

Interestingly, as a movie to come out in the 1930's in Germany, M seems to anticipate the horrors of the Nazi emergence.  There are goose-stepping policemen, the repeated demand of "papers please," and a public all too willing to trade freedom and rights for security.  This is a film that hit the public mood of its moment, which is also a moment we seem to approach again today.

M is amazing.  By the time it is over you wonder about the depths of darkness in the heart of humanity, and wonder if justice ever could truly be done.  This is a masterwork of early cinema.

Entertainment: 7/10
Artistic value: 9/10
Technical merit: 9/10

Overall: 9/10

Chariots of Fire (1981)

Chariots of Fire is the best movie about running that exists, a fantastic character study, a wonderfully acted drama, a best picture winner, and the quintessential example of how 80's techno music wasn't ALL bad (just mostly bad).  And it is certainly one of my favorite movies of all time.

At its most simple, Chariots of Fire is about two rival sprinters from the UK who compete against each other and who both represent the same nation (Great Brittan) in the 1924 Olympic Games.

Of course, this is not that simplistic of a movie.  Far more goes on here than just two guys trying to beat each other to the finish line.  All in all, Chariots of Fire is about the reason people compete.  Why do we do the things we do?  What is a proper motive to aspire to greatness?  And ultimately, is there a right and wrong way to acheive greatness?  These two runners, so equal in talent and ability, each approach the sport of running in very different ways and for very different purposes.

Eric Liddell is a Scottish runner, dubbed "Scotland's finest wing."  He runs instinctually and with obvious pleasure.  His form is terrible -head back, arms flailing -but his speed is breathtaking and his spirit unquenchable.  He was also a dedicated Christian, raised by missionaries to China he eventually returned as a missionary to China himself and died during the Japanese occupation in WW2.  Why does Eric run?  Well, as Rev. Liddell (Eric's father) says to him, "You can praise God by peeling a spud, if you peel it to perfection.  But don't compromise.  Compromise is a language of the devil.  Run in God's name, and let the world stand back in wonder."  And as Eric say to his sister Jenny, "I believe God made me for a purpose.  For China.  But he also made me fast!  And when I run I feel his pleasure!"

The challenge to Eric comes when his faith is pitted against his running.  He is schedueld for a heat on a Sunday, but in his way of thinking the Sunday is the Sabbath and not a day for running.  Thus, Eric refuses to run on Sunday.  Now, I disagree with his theology of Sabbath, but I cannot do anything but admire Eric's stubborn insistance on doing only what he believed to be right, even in the face of being ordered to run by his future king.  Why does Eric run?  To glorify God.  He will not run if it means breaking God's law.  By the end we see how Eric's desire to honor God brings him honor as well.

In very high contrast to Eric stands Harold Abrahams.  Harold runs not for the glory of God but in headlong pursuit of personal glory.  As a Jew living in England Harold has always felt, as he puts it, "semi-deprived."  He has throughout life been ostracized, "led to water but not allowed to drink."  He thus regards his running as a weapon, a way to prove that he is just as much a man as any other.  He centers his whole identity around running; training night and day, hiring the best coach, studying his opponents.  Harold feels that if he doesn't win he will not prove his value. 

Yet even for Harold there is hope.  By the end Harold wonders if his determination to win will bring about everything he hopes.  Speaking to Aubrey just before his big race Harold says, "And now in one hour's time I will be out there again.  I will raise my eyes and look down that corridor; 4 feet wide, with 10 lonely seconds to justify my whole existence.  But WILL I?  I've known the fear of losing, but now I'm almost too frightened to win!"  Harold needs to wrap his head around whether there is more to life than winning, and what he hopes to gain.  That Harold avoids the limelight of glory at the end tells us that he has grown.

Of course there is more that goes on than just this.  Chariots of Fire is also about prejudice, the pathetic politics of national pride, the division between commoner and royalty, and the ideals of amateurism vs. professionalism.  It touches on the condescending nature of those who presume to judge the motives of other's hearts.  And it helps us to understand when it is appropriate to participate vicariously in the success of others.

It's a great movie.  With an unforgetable 80's musical score.

Entertainment: 8/10
Artistic value: 10/10
Technical merit: 8/10

Overall: 9.5/10

The Grey (2011)

I'm somewhat a Liam Neeson fan, along with half the world, so I watched his 2011 thriller The Grey this past week.  While I cannot recommend this movie due to the extreme language and violence, there is quite a lot good to say about it.

Neeson plays Ottway, a marksman and hunter hired by an oil company in Alaska to keep the rig workers safe from the wolves.  The problem comes when the plane he is on crashes in the arctic wilderness, leaving Ottway and a few other survivers miles from help and surrounded by wolves.  The movie is largely about their struggle to survive.

Really, the movie is all about Liam Neeson.  Ottway is an emotionally wounded man, trying desperately to deal with the recent death of his wife.  That Neeson himself lost his wife in a skiing accident in 2009 seems entirely relevant to his performance.  And his performance is quite good.

As far as entertainment, The Grey is hit and miss.  There are moments when the tension is built up quite well, such as when the survivers are staring down the wolf pack , and all you can see are eyes in the darkness glowing from the light of their torches.  But the film does become repetative as well; by the time the wolves attack for the third or fourth time you have a decided "This is like the last time" feeling.  Also, the survivers make one or two choices that even in my most charitable frame of mind I must call questionable.  Finally, many, many people -particularly Americans who like perfectly resolved, happy endings -will not care for how the film ends.

But what impressed me most about The Grey is the thoughtfulness it injects into the struggle to survive.  This is not just a movie about those trying to live; it is a movie where those trying to live begin wondering why they want to live.  There are many reasons given to survive, ranging from seeing loved ones again to the desire to have children to the simple fear of death.  Death as a philosophical problem underlies this movie.  What reason do any of us have for fighting off the wolves?  What meaning is there for us in our struggle for life in the light of the certain death that comes for all of us and the ones we love?  It's no surprise then that spiritual issues are also discussed; the characters wonder if there is a God, and the movie ultimately questions whether life without God is worthwhile.  It isn't enough to be competent or capable -it isn't even enough to be an action hero.  If there is nothing in this world beyond ourselves then all of life becomes a long defeat, a wait for the wolves.  That is a philosophy of true despair, one that Ottway understands all too well by the end.  All in all very thoughtful, if a bit heavy handed at times.

Entertainment: 5/10
Artistic value: 8/10
Technical: 5/10

Overall: 6/10

Historical Fiction, Disrespect, and National Insults

Historical Fiction is a much respected genre in this world.  It has been around as long as people have told stories about events that have happened in the past.  Even Shakespeare wrote historical fiction in his retelling of the stories of Henry V and Julius Caesar.  Anytime you diverge even a little bit from the brute and basic facts of what happened in the past you engage to that degree in Historical Fiction.

I love the genre.  I have learned so much history simply by paying attention to what happens in movies.  However, there is a right way and a wrong way to do everything.  Rightly done, Historical Fiction informs the audience about a historical event or figure.  In a movie we can see legends from history come alive and we can know them as they may have been: real people who made hard decisions or did something extraordinary.  The best Historical Fiction helps us understand that our heroes have always had feet of clay; saints sometimes sin, founding fathers fought, conquerors struggled, mighty kings had weak spots.

But when Historical Fiction is done badly.  Sometimes lines are crossed, when events and persons from history are treated with disrespect.  At worst, the movie can become a colossal train wreck that even borders on national insult.

With that background, let me introduce you to a movie that will release in America on Friday (June 22): it is called (and I swear I'm not making this up) Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.  Just so you believe me, here's the poster:

Now, I can't be alone when I say that the whole concept of this movie insults me.  As an American, I believe it is greatly disrespectful to any president to change fundamentally who he was simply to entertain.  Quite frankly, the real Lincoln who lived is enough of a hero for any movie: he exhibited great leadership, held a nation together, and overcame great odds throughout his life.  Do we really need to mar his memory by making him an action hero, and one that fights vampires at that?

Of course I've not seen the movie, just the preview trailer.  From that trailer I can deduce little except that all the filmmakers have to offer that separates this movie from the massive numbers of other vampire movies is the insult to Lincoln.  Honestly, how could anything the movie does change this fact?  How could anything the filmmakers do with their new version of Lincoln be anything but insult?  To those filmmakers I say this: you are crossing a line.  You've left Historical Fiction behind and are tramping without respect where angels fear to trod.


At this point I expect someone to object: "But you love Amadeus!  How is the portrayal of Mozart in that movie any less an insult?  What's the big deal?"  Allow me to explain the difference.  In Amadeus Mozart is portrayed as a brazen, somewhat abrasive, and immature man.  His character is surely over the top.  However, he is not portrayed in a way entirely inconsistent with what we know of him.  I know people like the Mozart of Amadeus, don't you?  To portray him this way makes a legend into a human.  Plus, it is clear the filmmakers had great respect for his talent and wonderfully depicted how brilliant he was.  The events of that movie most assuredly didn't happen, but they might have, and thus the rules of Historical Fiction are followed.

How different is Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter!  Lincoln here is portrayed entirely inconsistently from what we know and what is even possible!  To portray him this way makes a human into a legend, and not a good one at that!  The whole project makes me wonder how anyone could have respect for a man who, even if you disagreed with much of what he did, still deserves respect.  All we are thus left with is a mess of a movie concept.  No matter how technically good or entertaining the movie turns out, they have crossed a line.  Nor is it a small line: not only is a person from history affected, a whole nation is insulted.