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Judgment at Nuremberg (1961)
My life has become excrement for having walked with them
This great film reaffirms the importance of cinema to the world. As we ignore the cries of a suffering world be it the unwanted of Africa's war torn continent or the voiceless who find themselves but chess pieces in a power struggle over oil in the middle east or those who have no worth to a world which only finds worth in one's ability to consume, the simple truth that all of the world's ills and guilt can be found in the degeneration of a single human life is as sadly true today as it was when the world's first victim's cries went unheard by the "decent" who watched on in silent self satisfaction.
Judy Garland's is a stunning portrayal of a victim whose voice speaks for all victims, her character's willingness to stand for the truth both in the past and to stand for the decency and innocence of a decent human being in the present is not only an example of courage but one of true gratitude to a person who extended to her, benevolence. Hers was a performance which has helped in its small way to make me a better person and to truly appreciate what a wonderful actress she truly was. The pain we see in her character is also her pain as a human being. Burt Lancaster's acceptance of responsibility for his crimes and Spencer Tracy's bottom line belief that while the world may all share in the guilt that was Hitler, in the end, it is each one of us who must give account for what we did in the face of evil.
Today, as my voice remains silent in the face of so much despair, suffering and depravity, I must share in Janning's condemnation of his participation in what was Nazi Germany. My life has become excrement for having walked with them, for having known the truth and stood silent finding excuses in the face of the shadows of hate and greed which will one day consume the light I have basked in.
The horrors of Nazi Germany continue to this day. Someone, somewhere is being beaten, killed, starved and oppressed for one or all of the things the good people of Nazi Germany found abhorrent in a human being. The fact that a movie such as this has 107 comments and Iron Man has too many to count, the fact the Hulk can be made twice in a decade and this film couldn't in today's America is a sad commentary and does not bode well for the fate of the world's dispossessed. Perhaps the best that can be done is to try to show this movie to our friends and loved ones and to in some small way try to make a difference. At the very least we can lift our voices with those who cry out from the present and the past and realize that we are not immune to scourges that made Judgment at Nuremberg necessary.
Blade Runner (1982)
To Save Falling Man
After reading the many opposing views of Blade Runner, seeing the many different versions of the film and enduring the dismissive opinions of several of those I know who've no love for the film or its creator, I can still say that for me, my introduction to Blade Runner a quarter of a century ago was one of the defining moments in my enjoyment of film. Rachel's first and second visits to Deckard's apartment which features one of cinema's great merging of image and music, the fleeting movement of shadow in Rachel's childhood photo, the truly moving revelation of Rachel's realization that her cherished memories are as cold and calculated as the world she inhabits, Zora's desperate and futile effort to survive and of course, Roy Batty's roof top moment of knowing what it means to be human (experiencing mercy, memory and the reality that it is all ultimately fleeting "Tears in the Rain") and an ending that is ours to interpret (audiences have been trying for 25 years) "She won't live but then again, who does?"
I saw Blade Runner when it was the small type co-feature to "The Wrath of Khan". I'm sure the last dollar from "Khan" was spent long ago, still, this great and neglected film continues to find new audiences and challenge those who 25 years ago saw in it something special, something great. For me, Blade Runner is ultimately a religious allegory. The Son of God (Batty) fulfilling his ultimate destiny, to save falling man. Driving a nail through the very hand he will save Deckard with, the wind mills of man's futile search for youth, the dove (Holy Spirit whom he will release to the heavens upon his death), reaching out to save a falling Deckard with nail through hand, Deckard responds by spitting at him (as humanity spit upon Christ at Golgotha), Batty sharing the wonders his dying eyes had seen much as Christ shared the wonders of his Father in Heaven, "Time to die"-It is finished" and of course, Deckards salvation and his understanding of Graft's final words and the true role of the unicorn (how could Graft have known of Deckard's dream of the unicorn?). Lastly, Deckards subtle acknowledgement of who and what he is and that the future though unknown is already foretold for all of us, replicant and human alike. Just as Rachel is Deckard's bridge to his humanity, Graft's origami unicorn is the reminder that like Graft himself, Deckard is himself a replicant.
Like the Christian belief that man finds his true humanity through Christ (not to be mistaken for the Schuller, Hinn, Graham, Roberts, ad nauseum brand of heresy), so to, the replicant's begin to find their own humanity through love, mercy and finding meaning in their existence. Of course this is all supposition and opinion, but in the end Blade Runner's ultimate greatness may lie in its ability to have tilled such fertile soil for thought, opinion and enjoyment.
McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)
Traveling Lady.....
Al Pacino called Julie Christie the most poetic of actresses. In Mcabe and Mrs. Miller she again proves him right. In spite of the mud, grime, cow dung and general crap brown color scheme of the film, Ms. Christie glides through the film with her intelligence, beauty, grace and biting sense of humor bringing the town of Preysbeterian Church to life. While Warren Beatty's John Mcabe has provided a foundation of ambition to build a future on for the budding frontier town, it is Constance Miller for whom he will ultimately sacrifice himself for and in her find a quality of character that can be found only in courage. In that sad and haunting ending, it will be only her beautiful eyes that truly mourn for Beatty's foolish dreamer. "I'm just a station on your way" to be sure but one worth hurting for. John Mcabe had found something worth living for and in the end, worth dying for.
A whore to be sure, Constance Miller still wears her wedding band with never a word devoted to her past and why she is were she is. There is no gold to hold her heart together rather it is held together by secrets, regrets, smarts and for a short time the possibility of something better. Just as she brings the civilized concept of hygiene to an uncivilized frontier town so too she brings a sense of possibility into the "always on the hustle" life of John Mcabe. Like all great films, "Mcabe and Mrs. Miller" allows its audience to find its message and what it attempts to leave future generations of viewers. For me, it is a love story and like the doomed Evelyn in "Chinatown", Mcabe too would never live to have that something better, to truly say to Constance the things he had said to himself and to the audience. Like "Chinatown" every new viewing of "Mcabe and Mrs. Miller" allows the viewer to think "maybe this time".
Perhaps the true irony of the film is that while the village idiots attempt to save an empty church, their true hero faces down a trio of killers alone. As they "atta boy" one another for putting out the flames consuming their hallowed house of hypocrisy, the father of their town dies alone in the snow his life slowly being extinguished like the flames in the church. There can be no doubt that his final thoughts like his final words centered on her, his Constance. In the book upon which the film was based Mcabe's final words to Mrs. Miller are "tell them that I loved you".
The laughter in Mrs. Miller's opiated eyes in her first scene of intimacy with Mcabe and the compassion in her voice in her final night with him will touch me as powerfully the last time I see it as it did the first time. For me they are in the pantheon of greatest moments put to film. My only regret for Ms. Christie's career is that she didn't play the role of Jill Mcbain in Leone's "Once Upon A Time In The West". Morricone's theme for Jill would have been as haunting as Cohen's "Winterlady" was for Constance. Just as Mrs. Miller brought the possibility of a "new" world to Mcabe, so too Ms. Christie's Jill would have brought a "new" and civilized world to Leone's mythical west, making the greatest western even greater.
Lolita (1997)
A Great Film That Will Find Its Audience
Perhaps the best film of its year, "this" Lolita is everything Kubrick's wasn't. This isn't a funny/weird story, it is a tragedy. Sad and haunting with a real monster not a "Sellers" clown (although some will say that Kubricks's Quilty is more faithful to the book, there is no menace in him and yes, Langella's Quilty does have a measure of whimsy (many monsters do).
For those of you who are going to use big words like pedophilia, take the time to understand the pathology. Humbert is NOT a pedophile, his love of Lolita never changed (did you see the ending?) "heavy with another man's child, I loved this Lolita". When his child-love died, he too died. Emotionally the man remained a boy (did you see the beginning?)"but I continued to search for her, I should have joined the priesthood". A pedophile would have had no use for an adult Lolita. His killing of Quilty was a violent rejection of such monsters. The killing didn't need to be included, Humberts final admission in spite of his love for Lolita was justice enough. "Victims aren't we all", Eric Draven's words were written for these tragic characters.
Had Lolita demanded that Humbert wait until she was of age, he gladly would have. She was the "lost" child, his love, his life. In a country that cherishes the on screen butchering of children and finds entertainment in watching predators ply their trade (we justify it by their being caught on Dateline), we have consigned this beautiful, sad film to the graveyard of the censures.
But...This film will find its way like so many before it. The American film-goer is the one cheated. And yes, the film contains one of Grand Maestro Morricone's greatest scores. Shame on you America, and we send our kids to Iraq to die and be maimed for freedoms we don't even believe in.....How sad.
C'era una volta il West (1968)
Once Upon A Time........
It seems that today there are two kinds of films being made. Those that have huge budgets, big names, release dates that are planned to exploit box office, awards and expected weekend earnings. Then there are those that are made for a "certain audience". These films wear their pretensions on there sleeves and in doing so attempt to be branded as something "daring" or "special" simply because they don't have "studio" support. I don't mean to imply that some of these films (large or small budgets) don't have merit and are not good or even great films, as there are many that most certainly are. 30 years ago, Paramount wanted to capitalize on the "Dollars" being generated by the Leone/Eastwood/Morricone trilogy. With a blank check and Henry Fonda, Sergio Leone succeeded in making a western that would fail to ignite at America's box office, garner mostly negative reviews and end up being hacked up by its parent, Paramount. What Leone and Parmount could not have known at the time was that Leone's 3 hour homage to cinema would take its place in the company of films like Welles's "Touch of Evil", Laughton's "Night of the Hunter", Capra's "It's a wonderful Life" and Scott's "BladeRunner", etc. These films and others were rejected, disowned, chopped and forgotten. They would join that small group of masterpieces from all mediums of artistic expression with the magic to transcend time and find faithful and loving audiences decade after decade.
Today, Leones beautiful and sad meditation on the end of an America that never was, takes its place in the pantheon of greatest films ever made. See the accolades on the "IMDB" top 250 films, reviews from critics coast to coast on "Rotten Tomatoes", film makers from Tarantino to Scorsese and most of all, those of us who have seen and been touched by this great film through the years since its creation. Today we have a beautiful representation of a great directors gift to the myth that was America. Now more than ever we need films like Once Upon A Time In The West to remind us that the nobility of the myth that gave birth to our America is worth cherishing if only through the lens and music of these pioneers of postmodern cinema. It seems that Paramount has at last done right by Leone and in a sense so has Hollywood in finally paying its respects to Ennio Morricone, Leone's cinematic soul mate and the greatest living composer we have. Wherever Sergio Leone's spirit roams for a day or an eternity, "he must be a happy man".
Fat City (1972)
Tully vs Lucero
Lucero, Sixto Rodriguez (real life former light heavyweight) vs Tulley, Stacy Keach (real life former contender for title of great actor). Boxing as metaphor for life was nothing new to film in 1972 but this sad tale of lives on the margin and dreams forgotten might be the finest most underrated boxing film ever made. The world of fighting in John Houston's tale finds it's metaphor not in the game itself but in the fight between Tully (Keach) and Lucero (Rodriguez). Tully, his time nearly gone, skills eroded from bad food, bad women and bad booze and Lucero his skills gone from too many blows in too many towns with names he could never pronounce or spell. Tully, disheveled, filthy, broken and by film's end reduced to wondering if he too had ever been young. Lucero, though now reduced to being broken in the ring, could never be broken or bent out of it. Walking with dignity and holding himself as a champ, Lucero comes into and leaves the film with the quiet grace that Tulley's character never had nor would ever know (how many of those nameless towns did Lucero ply his trade in, alone?). The great irony of the film is that while he is only in the film for a few scenes, and has perhaps five minutes of screen time, Lucero's battle with Tulley represents Tulley's battle with himself and thus is the only true ring war Tulley engages in. Another minor irony is Tully's calling Jeff Bridge's young fighter and father "soft" in the middle. Truly, it is this "kid" who gives Tully one of several examples of what it truly means to have "heart". Bridge's keeps coming back to the ring even after several brutal beatings and never waivers in his effort to be a father. At first it seems that he will be as much a failure at fatherhood as he would appear to be a fighter. In the end, like Lucero's stoic dignity, Houston's forgotten film stands quietly in the pantheon of cinematic treasures. A true champ can only lose his title in the ring and "Fat City" will stand a Champion, head held high as long as there are those to cherish great cinema. Lastly, I found this DVD for 3.00 @ a local Big Lots, could the irony be more poignant?
Laura (1944)
That was Laura and she's just a dream
Great film, Gene Tierney at her most beautiful. The portrait of Laura itself together with the music create another Laura, the one that I believe never made it into the finished film. I guess I'm not alone in believing much of the film to be a dream. As several other viewers have noted and the song "Laura" states, Laura in fact was a dream. The "it was just a dream" plot line hadn't been done to death in 1944 and in any case the mood, music and portrait of Laura lent themselves as a statement to the obvious.The dream context would also make issues such as heads being blown off by both barrels of a sawed off shotgun (and no mess) less difficult to ignore. Had the weary, drink too much, love too little detective simply "come to" from his alcohol induced dream/fantasy, the film could have been an all time great and perhaps the best of its kind. In spite of the "feel good" ending, the film still leaves me haunted by the same emptiness that would have been felt by Andrew's character at the end of the "true" film. In the end, it's all just a dream isn't it? The beauty of Laura/Tierney and rugged decency of Mike/Andrews are gone forever, and regrettably it is the one thing we all share on this sad little planet.
P.S. Laura was re-made in part as "Sharkey's Machine" with Burt Reynolds and a stunningly beautiful Rachel Ward. It's one of Reynold's better films.
Casino Royale (2006)
The greatest Bond film/The ultimate Bond
James Bond like Batman, Superman and Spiderman is without a doubt a cinematic icon. Unlike the aforementioned, he was not created as a cartoon, inhabiting a fairytale world of monsters and competing super heroes. Rather, Bond was a creation of post world war 2 and (then)present day cold war tensions. Cold and cunning a government sanctioned killing machine, Bond would ply his rough trade in a world where love was a scar, trust a deadly mistake and violence as much a reward as a hazard of that trade.
Some measure of Fleming's character was inhabited by Sean Connery and until now the measure of all the Bonds who would follow. For myself and untold millions of others, the early films i.e. "Goldfinger", "From Russia With Love", "Diamonds Are Forever" "The Spy Who Loved Me", were able to catch that special cinematic magic that allowed these films to transcend their potboiler like genre trappings and become etched in memory. As for most of the Moore and other Pretender Bonds, I for one haven't seen a Bond film from start to finish since "Moonraker".
"Casino Royale" left me with the same feeling as that which I was left with after seeing "Goldfinger" for the first time 40 years ago. James Bond, the world's greatest spy, transcending time and no less than seven other Bonds(only one of whom was more than a pretender), has been reborn, not as an heir to Connery but as the embodiment of Fleming's hard as nails creation. If there is any doubt as to this fact, the much talked about torture scene should dispel any comparisons with any other Bond. Daniel Craig has taken an icon which had been turned into a cartoon, re-invented him and created a character that is as much his own as it is Fleming's and yet remains Bond to his audience. Isn't this what great acting is? Isn't this what should be revered and awarded? Certainly there must be more to acting than a marquee role in a cheesy soap opera.
During Craig's torture scene I was reminded of De Niro in his great Russian roulette scene in "Deer Hunter". In addition to the action sequences there is a poignant love story (the great interaction between Craig and Eva Green could only have been realized with fine acting and writing)which is more than can be said for most of the blockbuster trash being passed off as tear jerker's. Again, there are several magnificent scenes requiring "Great Acting" i.e. the shower scene and the "revelation" in one of the final scenes. Sure, a touching revelation in a love story is nothing new, but in this film's context and the poignant "acceptance" by Bond/Craig it is truly something special. The score by David Arnold is pure John Barry and better for it(does anybody miss Barry like I do?)
There are several wrong turns which made the film an 8 rather than a 9 or 10. The opening title song was horrid (Chris Cornell), "Black Hole Sun" would have had more impact. Judy Dench(is there a more overrated actress?) her "What the hell is he up to?" line still makes the hair on my neck stand up. I watched Helen Mirren's final "Prime Suspect" last night and can't help but wonder what she could have done with a better written role for "M" in her Jane Tenneysen mode (think of the sexual tension she and Bond would have generated). Bond's ability to spot anyone, anywhere in any crowd was a bit of a throwback to the clownishness of Moore/Brosnan but the crowd that made their films a mint need a bone too. Beyond those quibbles, this is the greatest Bond film and Craig is the ultimate Bond. "James Bond will be back" and I for one can't wait.