To Do Good Work, You Gotta Have Good Tools: Lilies Of The Field (1963)

Popping in to post a blog as it is yet another snow day here in Columbia, South Carolina.  Apparently these things are rather rare in a decade, but we have somehow managed to have two in the same month.  I knew last night that I would sit some time aside to throw together a blog, but was rather uncertain as to what film I would discuss, as my viewing has still been predominantly directed at all things related to Godzilla.  Indeed, I watched the marvelous Point Blank last night and was rather certain that it would prove the point of discussion, but earlier this morning, amidst my inability to justify being productive despite being given a full day to myself, I finally caught up with Lilies of the Field, a classic in cinema that I had long been meaning to view.  While I expected a few things going into the film, particularly a great performance by Sidney Poitier and some heavy handedness in terms of religious allegories, what I did not expect was to discover a deeply engaging and outright evocative look into the nature of humanity, when social connections and a desire to prove communal worth take on transcendent levels.  Indeed, if read at a very face value level, Lilies of the Field will come across as an idyllic look at persons from non-hegemonic groups coming together in the name of a collective vision and this reading is not of base at all, because that is what the narrative emphasizes.  I would tough contest that it is this and so much more, looking specifically at how individuals are willing to reappropriate and rationalize their own world views either in grand or simple ways to fit with a larger idea, one that might at first seem wholly abstract or completely built on faith, but if the work of anthropologist Anne Fadiman is any indication, eventually in these spaces the spirit will catch you, and you will fall down, although in a far less violent or physical way.  Here the falling down is more of a social realization, one that notes diversity and barriers as things that can and should be transgressed and perhaps the most frustrating blockades to unity are those we build around ourselves.  If all this can occur within the space of a rather succinct modernization of the Tower of Babel tale, I would call Lilies of the Field a rousing success.

Lilies of the Field begins with the arrival of Homer Smith (Sidney Poitier) to an unmarked nunnery, wherein he hopes to merely borrow water from the women there, in order to jumpstart his overheated engine and be on his way traveling.  This simple plan is quickly altered when the nunnery's head sister Mother Maria (Lilia Skala) asserts that the arrival of Homer is an answer to her prayers.  While Homer is noticeably and verbally reluctant to help, the insistence of Maria and the other nun's lead to him agreeing to fix a hole in the roof of the nunnery.  Assuming that this will suffice his duty and allow him to leave, Maria ends up convincing Homer that he must stay for dinner, a task that expands in to her blatant refusal to acknowledge his requests to be on his way.  Bizarrely intrigued by the constant insistence of Maria that he should stay, Homer decides to keep in residence at the nunnery, while also beginning work laying road for a local contractor.  During Sunday's Homer also serves as a chauffeur for the nun's to a local truck based Catholic church, run by the well-meaning but constantly intoxicated Father Murphy (Dan Frazer).  Refusing to be involved with the mass, as he identifies as a Baptist, Homer spends the time in a local tavern eating large amounts of food to make up for the minimalist breakfasts and dinners at the nunnery.  When Homer yet again attempts to leave, he is ignored the request by Maria, somehow becoming, instead, roped into working on building a church for the people of the area, including immigrants with little or no English skills.  Taking this task as a building of his own self-character, Homer pours his heart and soul into the endeavor, only to become roadblocked when he runs out of materials.  However, the desire of the community to see the church into fruitions results in communal donations of the materials required, a process that causes the group to learn to talk in a collective language and navigate their own understandings of spiritual endeavors. While Homer is offered a steady job in the process, upon completion of the church, he decides he must leave, although the town and the nunnery he has stayed with will be changed in noted ways, but clearly it is Homer who has advanced in the most considerable manner.

Building structures and creating faith are two endeavors that seem to involve similar rhetoric and it is little to no surprise that the filmmaker and the author of the original text are fixated on overlaying the themes within this film.  However, while this is key to the text, I am far more intrigued by the manner in which this film focuses on the troubles and benefits that emerge from creating semiotic understandings, or, more in-line with the previous sentence, language structures.  Lilies of the Field seems to be a film about the constant navigation of similarities and differences as they relate to talking and positively working in a collective manner.  Indeed, this is most telling in the initial engagement between Homer and the women of the nunnery at which he stays.  Whilst trying to teach the women proper English composition, he starts with a series of labeling of very subjective ideas, noting items in the room such as a phonograph and a record and suggesting them to be singularly of an item.  Yet when he moves out to explain the difference between his skin color as black and their whiteness, things become more complex as they repeat his statement, claiming themselves to be white.  In this rather humorous exchange, one begins to understand that the idea of blackness, or "schwarz"ness as it were to the nuns, only holds value when the language agrees upon a social ascribed implication.  Essentially, Homer's blackness holds no value in terms of language, when the women do not understand its societal implications and even when they do realize what he is suggesting it does lack a layer of societal problems that would emerge in other situations.  As fascinating as this exchange does prove to be, it seems a bit curious that the filmmaker does not navigate a similar language issue in regards to gender, but that already seems well established in the segregated space of the nunnery from the onset.  This language issue becomes even more intriguing when the building of the church becomes communal and the pictorial and gestural elements of communication take precedence over verbal suggestions, particularly ones of ideas, as the immigrant works listen to not Mother Maria, but Homer and his use of drawings and motions to complete the task.  Intriguingly, this reworking of language allows the group to build the space without the necessity of capitalist endeavors, denying the use of high quality bricks in favor of the adobe that had sufficed up until this point. Money holds far less value because their language in the space is barter and trade based, the bricks becoming removed from the term 'valuable' thus only being seen as fodder for a gravel walkway.

Key Scene:  The Amen song that becomes the point of bonding between the nuns and Homer is something I was aware of prior to viewing this film, however, it was far more engaging and delightful than I could have imagined.

I lucked out and obtained this as part of a large collection of DVD's.  It is currently rather pricy on Amazon and considering this I would suggesting renting it before making a commitment to dropping that much money on it, although it is certainly worth its price.

You Can't Fuck The Future, The Future Fucks You: Saturday Night Fever (1977)

The danger of planning a blog marathon is getting behind on posts because you realize that you have all kinds of other life events getting in the way, which means doubling down on viewings and blog posts some days in order to maintain any consistency.  Today is once such day as I earlier scrambled to piece together something on Yankee Doodle Dandy and am now writing about yet another musical, in a far different sense with Saturday Night Fever.  Aside from not being the show tune heavy films of decades earlier, Saturday Night Fever also manages to navigate a space that is distinctly different narratively than most films, far more in line with the films of a year earlier than the escapist cinema of its genre.  Indeed, where it not for the reality that the film does involve a heavy amount of disco dancing, I would be convinced that it was a direct shot-for-shot homage to Rocky, although the movie poster to the film in the main character's room does suggest a knowing borrowing.  I will admit that I was myself a bit presumptive as to what I would be given by way of Saturday Night Fever as it is most certainly attained a reputation for being that one film that heavily uses that one song by The BeeGees, unfortunately, this claim is often intended to be a degrading thing, both dismissing the genius of the Gibbs brothers and their musical while also cornering Saturday Night Fever into a genre box that is illogical and inconvenient.  The acting of John Travolta is one of many things to be fascinated with in this rather overlooked film, even if it does have a noted classic status, not to mention that it does pull from some great music of the time, The BeeGees included.  However, it has some elements about it that at their core may have been purely choices of budget and necessity, but, nonetheless, become indicative of deep considerations on viewership relations within cinema and further inquire as to what it means to be a body on display that is also in the process of objectifying while bizarrely respecting the bodies around themselves.  Saturday Night Fever works because it unconventionally deals with notedly conventional subject.

Saturday Night Fever focuses on the experiences of Tony Manero a man who by the very way he walks can suggest to people that he is a ladies man.  At least, that seems to be what he strives for in his young life, only shooting for the money to buy the latest and greatest in polyester fashions in the hopes that it will afford him the desires of the women and the animosity of the men he encounters at his favorite disco club 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Alongside his motley crew of friends Tony manages to exists as a point of deep female desire, handfuls of women throwing themselves at him in the guise that they enjoy his dancing.  Tony while incredibly flattered by the advances seems rather clear that he is not interested in them, although deceives their hopes by agreeing to serve as their dance partners nonetheless, especially being kind to a young woman whose clearly suffering from some minor mental issues.  Yet, life is also troubling for Tony as he must navigate a home space where his family denigrates him for not being more like his brother, an established priest who the family lovingly refers to as Father Frank Jr. (Martin Shakar).  Tony hoping that by throwing all of his drive and passion into dancing he can somehow come to understand the complexities of the world around him, but when he Stephanie (Karen Lynn Gorney) he manages to find a reason to pursue dancing even more as he immediately becomes infatuated by her ethereal charm and decidedly hard-to-get attitude. Mounting various approaches, he is finally able to convince her to get coffee a task that is juxtaposed with the falling apart of his own family life, particularly when Frank Jr. returns home and finds out that his brother has left the priesthood.  Paired with a variety of other forms of unfortunate news, Tony comes to reconsider his relationship with dancing, only to pour every last bit into a final act with Stephanie, one where they are clearly bested by a competing couple.  When it becomes clear, however, that their winning was predicated upon racial issues and not actual skill, the overly idyllic Tony awakes to the nonsense of his life and moves out of the negative world of his life in the process.

The social realist drama is quite hard to execute without becoming grandstanding or overtly detailed in a way that can be off putting to filmgoers.  I would further argue that this becomes doubly problematic when you make the realist picture within the constraints of a genre picture.  Finally, I would make an argument that it is damn near impossible to keep this a reality when you are creating a diegesis that involves music in a way indicative of a musical wherein the music, at times, manifests itself from beyond the narrative.  This would be a rare occurrence, but much to my amazement it is something that is pulled off brilliant.  More so, aside from the odd continuity error, Saturday Night Lever is a perfectly shot and edited film, one that tells a story in an intimate way without being predictable.  I say all of these things in unison, because somehow it manages to do the same things that made works like Taxi Driver and Nashville work a few years earlier, but few have sung the praises of Saturday Night Fever in the same rhetoric they afford it to the previously mentioned films.  I would argue then that the reason I for the longest held off to see the movie is that it was either implied that Saturday Night Live was nothing more than a disco film, or the alternative that the people who cling on to specific genres or constant themes invariably find the musical dismiss of any social legitimacy.  Indeed, as I work through more musicals this month I will undoubtedly watch this happen on different, but perhaps not so fatally as is the case with Saturday Night Fever.  Masked behind the assumption that it is a dance movie are some serious considerations about the role of body in looking and cinematic gaze, as well as a repetitive, but quite necessary barging against gender performance and including its more problematic final scenes, it does provide a visual into a life that is often swallowed up by other more powerful figures or entities.  If not for this one can still justify its status by the use of The BeeGees alone.  I know this is a ton of rambling, but I did only finish the film about an hour ago so my reactions are fresh and haphazard, mostly in relation to my own surprise by the film I saw as opposed to what I expected.

Key Scene: There is a scene where Tony makes a discovery about a hidden secret of another character, during which Travolta delivers a death stare for the ages.

Rental, this is that in a very real sense, but it is not terrible so purchasing it is not absurd.

I Haven't Lived. I've Died A Few Times: Harold and Maude (1971)

Harold and Maude has been one of the many films I was ashamed to admit to having not seen,  I intended to watch it some time ago, but then Criterion eventually announced that they would be releasing the film which caused me to wait even longer to view the work, not to mention actually purchasing the bluray which meant even longer of a wait.  Thankfully, and much to my elation, I have finally viewed what is perhaps the greatest dark comedy ever realized.  Harold and Maude is a harbinger of everything we as collective viewers have come to love about indie romantic comedies.  The influence on directors like Wes Anderson and The Duplass Brothers is not just likely, it is pretty damn obvious.  Within the narrative world of Harold and Maude we have two characters who simply cannot exist in a normal society for their actions and ideals are far to absurd and in some cases to dysfunctional to prove malleable with a strictly conservative social outlook, one that is brilliantly referenced throughout the film with various images of Nixon, Nathan Hale and a variety of pious religious figures.  Fortunately, for the films main characters, nobody else existing in Hal Ashby's world seems particularly normal either, even those who claim to the the torchbearers for respectable values.  Quirky is not the right word to describe this film, nor is off-beat quite right either, for the film is realized and is certainly aware of its rhythm and nature, all be it one that is not particularly traditional, however, I would argue that to be more of its historical place in American cinema than anything else.  Perhaps the Criterion put it best in the movie description by calling the film idiosyncratic, because it is essentially about two definitively idiosyncratic individuals coming together and learning not only to deal with their competing idiosyncrasies, but inherently different world philosophies, as well.  All heightened by some exceptional cinematography and a great, then Cat Stevens, soundtrack, Harold and Maude is a film that transcends its movie space into a greater vision.

Harold and Maude begins with title character Harold (Bud Cort), aimlessly wandering about his house, only to engage in what appears to be a hanging, an act that receives very little acknowledgement from his mother Mrs. Chasen (Vivian Pickles).  It is revealed that this is by no means Harold's first faux-suicide and much to the dismay of his psychiatrist and uncle the young man is quite obsessed death, going so far as to attend funerals in his free time and spending his inheritance money on what is perhaps the hippest hearst every filmed.  Realizing that her son is a social outcast, Mrs. Chasen attempts to set her son up with various blind dates, all of which fail miserably when Harold engages in various fake suicides while in their presence.  Finding no other alternative then to send Harold into the Army.  Along the way Harold meets a woman who also seems to have a penchant for crashing funerals, one who continually approaches him while at the various services.  The older woman, Harold comes to learn is an eccentric woman named Maude (Ruth Gordon).  Maude's carefree attitude and love for life instantly rubs off on Harold, who takes more than a liking to the old bohemian and begins spending a considerable amount of time with her, engaging in everything from the stealing of plants and cars to having picnics at wreckage sites.  As Harold begins to fall for Maude harder, he informs his mother of his feelings, leading her to completely reprimand Harold for his desires, sending him to various male figureheads to receive chastising remarks, the most unusual ones coming from a priest.  Fortunately, the two are able to spend a considerable amount of time together and on Maude's eightieth birthday, Harold throws a big celebration and opens up about the intensity of his feelings towards Maude, who informs Harold that she has taken poison and never intended to live past eighty.  Frantically, Harold attempts to save Maude by taking her to the hospital, only to get bogged down in paperwork.  Eventually, Maude dies and Harold is distraught.  The film juxtaposes him driving his hearst towards a cliff, only to exit right before the car flies over the edge.  Harold then plays a banjo he received from Maude as he walks back towards the road dancing.

The conservative oppressive commentaries are all to clear within Harold and Maude.  As noted the ever present images of Richard Nixon, Pope John Paul the Second and various other historically conservative figures inundate the mis-en-scene, often reflecting the issues facing Harold throughout the film, we see this quite uproariously in his initial conversation with his uncle about joining the armed forces.  It causes clear identity issues within the young man, particularly considering that he has some sort of detachment from his father, who we as viewers are to assume passed away prior to the point in which we are introduced to Harold.  However, another larger issue of maternal longing problematizes the narrative, something that is reinforced by a picture of Freud present in his psychiatrists office, as well as a unusual scene involving a wooden sculpture in Maude's train car residence.  Not only does Harold lack a father figure, his connection with his mother is so fractured, as well that he find himself constantly reflecting on death as a means to be buried and arguably return to the womb.  However, this is not to suggest that his relationship with Maude is a mother son one, because it does have a very sexual component to it that would make their relationship incestual and far less romantic.  It is by no means such a thing, if anything Harold is very much asexual and void of desires, the encounter between himself and Maude was a means of loving intimacy arguably transcendent of the act of sex.  Harold, and the same argument could be made for Maude, are seeking some sort answer to the longing in their lives, for Harold it is accepting life, while for Maude, despite seeing death while in the Holocaust, nonetheless, must accept that she cannot escape its inevitability.

Key Scene:  The moment where Harold and Maude share in a song at the piano might be one of the best filmed occurrences of two people falling in love ever .

Buy the bluray to this masterpiece, it is one of the best releases by Criterion in quite awhile and well worth owning to watch and revisit multiple times.

You Know Billy, We Blew It: Easy Rider (1969)

When the powers that be that controlled Hollywood from the onset of the silent era to well into the 1950's fell out of control, what happened to American filmmaking would forever change viewers understandings of cinematic narrative.  With non-linear narratives and Soviet style montage sequences American moviegoers, thirsty for something revolutionary were enthralled by the psychedelic and cool stylings of New Hollywood filmmaking and while Easy Rider was not the first film to offer such imagery and commentary it has, undoubtedly, come to represent the era more so than any of its contemporaries.  Between its drug-induced soundtrack, Odyssey-like quest story and its purely disparaging commentary on the state of youth in America, it represents the 60's masterfully and manages to still say something honest and uncomfortable about the state of society, regardless of being almost fifty years old.  One of the many contenders on my "coolest movies" list, Easy Rider makes you want to jump back in time and strap on an American flag leather jacket and simply cruise the highways of America, not because you are out to prove yourself a bad-ass, but because you truly hope to find the meaning of everything between a cup of coffee in a diner and a revelatory trip on lsd next to some cacti.   However, just like Jack Kerouac's prolific novel On The Road, Easy Rider takes away the coolness of nostalgia, by slapping on a harsh reality that the ideal world of the past is easily disrupted by those who interfere out of irrational hostility and a loathsome fear of change.  Easy Rider is hardly a story of redemption and it is certainly not intended to be taken lightly, but between the magnitude of such a low-budget film and the fact that it was ever produced in the first place is something to celebrate in itself and let us not forget that the film is in the AFI Top 100 film list for a damn good reason, it is with little argument one of the most American films ever released.

Easy Rider follows the exploits of Wyatt (Peter Fonda) who also refer to himself as Captain America, in honor of his motorcycle and jacket adorned with the stars and stripes and Billy (Dennis Hopper) a leather jacket long haired hippy who is preoccupied with making money and getting stoned.  After a successful drug sale, Wyatt and Billy decided to take their newfound fortunes and travel across The United States, with the ultimate intention of stopping in at Mardi Gras.  Along the way, they meet a variety of individuals who provide them with details about the American experience, one that is clearly muddied by disillusionment.  The first individual they encounter is simply known as The Stranger on the Highway (Luke Askew) and asks for a ride to his compound in the desert of the Midwest.  There Wyatt and Billy witness an "off the grid" community of youth that have left the city in hopes of ascending their corporeal existence into something more spiritual.  However, it is clear that their existence is more focused on orgiastic free love and heavy drug use than anything else.  Itching to get to Louisiana Billy cuts their stay there short and they continue on the road towards the southern state.  Along the way the are arrested for interfering with a town parade and are forced to spend a night in jail, there they meet a functional alcoholic named George Hanson (Jack Nicholson) who just happens to be a well known lawyer and helps the duo out of jail in exchange for tagging along with them on their trip.  Donning his old football helmet, George becomes a pseudo-guide through the south and all seems fine until they enter into a local diner, only to be ridiculed and ignored by the servers due to their unconventional attire.  Distraught the three spend the night in the woods outside the town and are eventually attacked by a group of locals, which results in the death of George and injuries to both Wyatt and Billy.  Enraged the two continue on their quest to New Orleans and eventually make it to an infamous brothel. There they meet two girls and spend the night together, partaking in acid and having a crazy trip.  After this experience Billy and Wyatt hit the road again and have become quite upset with the state of their trip and decide to call things off completely, however, before they can return from where they came they are gun downed by two rednecks who think it a fun game to fire a shot gun at the passing motorcyclists.  The film then ends not with a nostalgic remembrance of the two travelers, but instead, just an image of the flaming motorcycle as the screen pans out in an incredibly reflective moment.

Easy Rider is not the first motorcycle movie released by any means, nor is it even the first movie with either Peter Fonda or Dennis Hopper that places its central focus on the experiences of motorcycle driving rebels.  What Easy Rider is the first to do, however, is to condense all the concerns, commentaries and dilemmas that plagued young America post-1968 into one film and boy does it make a lasting impression.  While it is never fully acknowledged, we can come to assume that Wyatt is a Vietnam veteran, his choice to wear the American flag being an ironic homage of sacrifice to an ungrateful nation.  His relatively clean look suggests a man traveling cross-country in the hopes of finding an answer to his existential sense of loss.  He seems to interact earnestly with each person he encounters; hoping that they will provide him a reason to continue on, sadly this never seems the case.  In opposition then, is Billy, whose constant state of intoxication and anger suggest a man who is trying to outrun something.  If we find ourselves confused about Wyatt's past, even less is known about Billy aside from the fact that he really wants to get laid and retire with money in Florida.  In fact, it is quite clear that many of the characters within Easy Rider combine into a pastiche of the collective disillusionment of sixties America.  Whether it be the stranger who desires a complete disconnect from technology, or George who is so overwhelmed by his parental expectations that he spends his days drinking himself into oblivion, simply because he cannot stand to reside in the harshness that is reality.  The film is problematic in that it only focuses on the narratives of white males, but there is certainly a possibility that Hopper intended this as another layer of commentary on the issues of America during the time, it is impossible to say, but worth considering.

Key Scene: The drug trip scene in the New Orleans mausoleums, as filmed by Laslo Kovacs is hands down the best drug sequence in a movie ever....and I mean ever.

I was ecstatic when Criterion released its box set of the "America: Lost and Found" series and was finally able to purchase it about a month ago.  This is one of many films in the set and is well worth purchasing, the Bluray transfer of Easy Rider looks phenomenal.

Top Ten Thursdays: My Favorite Actresses

It has been some time since I have posted a top ten Thursday list, mostly due to my lack of a solid topic, but that has all changed with the realization that I had yet to do my favorite actors and actresses as a subject.  As such my next two Top Ten Thursdays will consist of such posts.  For this week I will do my favorite actresses.  I should not going into this that it is not a "definitive best" actress list, because I am not an expert of the craft of acting.  Instead I will just choose my favorite actresses by pure admiration.  Some for their presence, others for their relationships with certain directors and in other situations purely because of a clear mastering of the craft of acting, at least from what I and their countless awards can glean.

10. Nicole Kidman

Nicole Kidman is perhaps one of the most vibrant actresses working in Hollywood today, yet on screen her beauty is understated and often delivered in a very minimalist fashion.  For being a big name Hollywood star, she certainly earns my respect for being brilliant at her job.  Key Performance: Eyes Wide Shut

9. Sanndrine Bonnaire 

French actress Sanndrine Bonnaire has become synonymous with art house French films as well as her willingness to expose everything for a role.  It is a shame she has become less of a presence in the past years.  Key Performance: A Nous Amours






8. Keira Knightley

Like Kidman, Keira Knightley has become a staple of Hollywood stardom, however, it appears as though she will still have her time in big budget movies for at least another decade.  Key Performance: Atonement

7. Chloe Sevigny 

Indie darling and, at times, bad girl, Chloe Sevigny has become a thing of avant-garde in acting alone.  It is a safe bet that when you see her name attached to a product that what you get will be something dark, contemplative and uniquely its own.  Key Performance: Boys Don't Cry

6. Isabella Rossellini

Like Sevigny, the attachment of Rossellini most certainly assures an unusual viewing experience.  However, Rossellini has a penchant for engaging in some rather dark roles, particularly when working with David Lynch and Guy Maddin.  Key Performance: The Saddest Music In The World

5. Marilyn Monroe

Monroe is Hollywood's timeless beauty.  She represents everything one has come to understand about classic Hollywood starlets.  Deservedly so I might add, but also want to note the problem of placing Monroe into a category of the pretty blonde actress with no brains.  She was much more than that and was, in fact, one of the greatest actresses to ever grace film.  Key Performance: The Seven Year Itch

4. Setsuko Hara 

Ozu's muse, Setsuko Hara had an ethereal presence on film that has become like her American counterpart Marilyn Monroe quite timeless.  She became a staple of Japanese cinema for a few decades and is an engaging presence to any viewer today.  Key Performance: Late Spring

3. Meryl Streep

 Simply put, there is a reason she has been nominated for 17 Oscars, 3 of which she has won.  Key Performance: Doubt

2. Tilda Swinton

A more composed actress does not exist.  Swinton often known for her gender bending performances is an enigmatic presence in her films.  Often choosing complex and tough roles, she has become a defining marker for how to act in film.  Key Performance: I Am Love

1. Ingrid Bergman 

One of the first actresses to have a deadly combination of looks and great acting, Ingrid Bergman is everything a person could desire in a film actress.  She is quite simply the greatest female film presence to ever live.  Key Performance: Saratoga Trunk










Honorable Mention

Anna Karina (Alphaville)
Julianne Moore (The Kids Are Alright)
Marlene Dietrich (The Blue Angel)
Shannyn Sossamon (Wristcutters: A Love Story)

It's A Whirlwind, You're In It And You Can't Get Out: Young Guns (1988)

I will begin this blog post with a question: Is it possible for a western genre film to be totally 80's?  If you answered no, then you have clearly never seen the film Young Guns, which manages to be both a sturdy western and an example of everything we have come to both love and loathe about 80's filmmaking.  Rife with a group of the hottest actors of the late 80's, Young Guns has everything one would desire from the particular era of filmmaking, yet it manages to have solid shootouts and a considerable grasp of western elements as had been well established decades earlier.  Furthermore, despite having a set of actors who have by no means become synonymous with respected acting, the film is quite enjoyable and surprisingly engaging.  Young Guns, as a film, deserves recognition as one of the better offering from the back half of the decade and is certainly one of the standout Westerns made within the past twenty years.  The film is not particularly stellar in any of its execution; however, it is notably consistent and is a solid movie.  One will be hard pressed to find anything within the film that remotely justifies it as being cinematic, yet it is easy to find moments of enjoyability throughout the film, whether they come from Keifer Sutherland waxing poetic or Emilio Estevez attempting to out bad ass Charlie Sheen. Essentially, Young Guns is nothing more than a regular teen drama set with the Wild West as its backdrop, yet something about its composition manages to be engaging enough to keep the viewer around even if it is a terribly predictable film.

Young Guns, follows a group of gunslingers who have barely passed the threshold of puberty attempting to make their name in the ruthless world of the newly emerging west.  Their sole form of guidance comes in the form of a suave mentor and employer named John Tunstall (Terence Stamp) who in exchange for protection teaches the young men how to read and write.  These young men are a group of unique individuals that clearly trust each other, yet manage to pave distinct paths that would quickly mean loosing interest in one another’s desires.  The group of boys includes Charley Bowdre (Casey Siemasko) and Dirty Steve Stephens (Dermot Mulroney) the clear lackeys in the gang who rarely speak and simply follow the orders of the higher members of the gang.  Jose Chavez (Lou Diamond Phillips) a knife wielding Mexican who has ties to Navajo ancestry.  Josiah “Doc” Scurlock (Keifer Sutherland) the intellectual of the group who finds himself preoccupied with taking the hand of a Chinese immigrant.  Dick Brewer (Charlie Sheen) the clear leader of the back who adheres to the idea of letting his actions speak louder than his words, and finally William “The Kid” Bonney (Emilio Estevez) the newcomer to the group whose rebellious spirit and clearly high levels of angst continually place the group, know as The Regulators, in danger.  It is not long into their existence that the group is forced to test their limits as a ruthless politician named Lawrence G. Murphy (Jack Palance) starts trouble with John Tunstall upon the realization that he has his own political ambitions.  To assure his failed candidacy, Murphy has Tunstall killed, which leads the group into a vengeful fit that leaves many of Murphy’s men dead in the hill and streets of the Wild West.  Ultimately, with the aid of Tunstall’s friend Alex McSween (Terry O’Quinn) the group is able to hole-up in a house and fend off Murphy’s attacks upon the group, who have at this point in the film become criminals.  This comes, however, with a large amount of loss, most notably Dick Brewer, who dies much earlier because of a bounty placed on his head, when he is mistaken as The Kid.  Ultimately, most of the group is able to escape into hiding and continue with their life with little hassle, of course, the narrative notes that “The Kid,” as known in famous Wild West tales is in fact killed, but as the inevitable sequel suggests, that story is for another time.

I joked about the film being incredibly 80’s in its existence; however, the jesting does have an inherent truth to it below the surface.  Despite being entrenched within the dialogue and ways of the west, Young Guns is absolutely a social critique of 1980’s America, particularly one in which the youth of America had become disillusioned with their political system.  This particular time in American politics witnessed the problematic era of Reaganomics and hyper-conservative rule over The United States, only to be followed by the seeming certainty that an inept and equally conservative president would take their place.  The transfer of power from one corrupt individual to another seemed illogical yet impossible to end without force and confrontation.  However, despite the feelings many individuals found themselves too indifferent to affect a change and simply found themselves content complaining about the problems without engaging in their discontinuation.  Young Guns is certainly an attempt to create a zealous animosity towards such unchecked powers.  The aptly named Regulators are meant to take down Murphy, a conservative politician with deep-rooted political ties and seemingly endless amounts of money, while young Americans were believed responsible for taking down Right Wing oppression, which too had deep pockets of money and political power.  As is the case with the film, many people suffered from the revolution against such powers, but as would be the case only a few years later, politics did change, and while it may not have been for the better overall, it certainly did prove promising for the future of youth involvement in political change.  While it is quite possible that Young Guns is simply a western film intended for young adults and teenagers, it would be unfortunate to look over the clear societal influences affecting its production, as they add a clear element of the era’s political discourse.

Young Guns is certainly a contemporary classic that is to be seen.  However, it is not so brilliant that owning a copy is necessary, in fact, the current copy available is not the greatest of quality and suffers from a few dubbing issues.  As such, renting the film seems to be the best choice at the moment.

L.A. Is A Small Town, People Talk: Chinatown (1974)

Classic films are classic, because something separates them from being a normal movie.  In some instances, it is a single cinematic moment as is the case with Casablanca.  In other films it is for a memorable character, as is the case with Charles Foster Kane...and some movies are just plain gorgeous as every Kurosawa film shows.  In the even rarer instance a classic film is a hybrid of all these elements and becomes something grander and larger than simply being cinema, and in its wake, everything a viewer knows about movies changes.  Chinatown is one such movie.  I swore, prior to seeing this film, that I had seen the film noir genre done in every possible variety and that nothing could change its image in my mind.  I should have expected this to change upon approaching a film by Roman Polanski, because it too was he who changed my understanding of horror films through his infamous classic Rosemary's Baby.  Ideally, I would blog some startling new revelations about Chinatown, but instead I am simply going to dote on its wonders whilst offering a few thoughts that could loosely be considered theoretic criticism.

Chinatown, as many noir films do, begins with the introduction of a protagonist private investigator named J.J. Gittes (Jack Nicholson) who is reeling in cash from his most recent expose on a philandering wife.  It is only moments after this event that Gittes is approached by a woman claiming to be the wife of a prominent politician.  She requests Gittes servicesto investigate her suspicions concerning her husbands possible affair.  Reluctantly, Gittes agrees to pursue the investigation, only to discover that the woman's husband is not engaging in acts of infidelity, but instead is spending his time moping around dried up river beds.  Gittes out of equal parts desire and dedication to his job continues to investigate the man and discovers a plot much larger than extramarital affairs and certainly larger than his small time private investigation firm can handle.  Gittes quickly becomes involved in a murder plot that is fueled by greedy politicians and capitalist businessmen who desire wealth even in the face of destroying the natural world.  Amidst all this madness, Gittes finds himself becoming equally attracted to the "wife" of the man he is investigating, who is played brilliantly by Faye Dunnaway, only to discover that even she hides her own disturbingly dark secrets.  Ultimately, Gittes and the other characters are left disillusioned and stuck in Chinatown, realizing that their own faults and mundane activities are inherently meaningless in the face of corruption and death at the hands of those lacking any sense of "moral decency."

I could expand extensively on the green commentary of the film and its overt concern with pollution, but that would be too easy and it has been done already.  I instead want to focus on what helps Chinatown subvert the film noir tradition.  The first element of its subversion comes in the character of Gittes.  Even in the grittiest of traditional noir films, the protagonist proves to have some set of ethics to live by.  The Sam Spades of tradition film noir would bend over backwards to adhere to some code of ethics that meant saving women and not backstabbing their friends.  Gittes is not this type of individual; he is relentless in his endeavors and exploits those around him with the intent of advancing his own cause which is always at the most basic level personal.  Similarly, Faye Dunnaway's character is far from the traditional image of a femme fatale, often sexual and always vampiric, Dunnaway's performance as Evelyn Mulwray is that of a very insecure women who instead of using the protagonist as a stepping stone for personal advancement, chooses to fall in love with him making the spiderlike qualities of a traditional femme fatale futile.  Finally, and most obviously, is the film's setting.  Every film noir, with the exception of a few pseudo-western film noirs, is set in the city amidst skyscrapers and back alleys.  A majority of this film takes place by water and at the most extreme in suburbs, even take a short detour to a large estate housing retired persons.  It is the unlikeliest of settings for a noir film and it should be notable that only the films tragic closing on the streets of Chinatown does the scenery resemble a traditional noir film.  This scene choice makes closing scenes emphasis on Gittes arbitrary existence all the more relevant as the camera pans out to show the faces of countless other individuals moving through their rather mundane lives.  In essence, Chinatown completely subverts the traditional film noir genre only to return to it in the closing scenes, as a reminder that no matter how different or intriguing a story may be, it is still a single story that exists in a sea of other narratives that are insurmountable.

Chinatown is a classic and deservedly so, I strongly recommend purchasing this movie.  I would say get the masterpiece on Blu-ray, but apparently nobody has found it necessary to transfer it yet.  Until then a DVD copy should suffice, and try not to become to enthralled with Nicholson in this movie...trust me, it won't be easy.

You May Say That I Ain't Free, But That Don't Worry Me: Nashville (1975)

Robert Altman was one of the most prophetic filmmakers of the second half of the twentieth century and continued to make respectable films until his passing in 2006.  Critics claim his 1975 work Nashville to be his masterpiece and the statements are more than justifiable.  In a film that weaves between a nonlinear experimental film and a astute political satire, Nashville becomes something tragically real yet absurdly impossible.  As a viewer I was uncertain whether to take the film as a blatant social criticism or a preemptive parody of the political thrillers that would soon follow Nashville, most notably the works of Oliver Stone.  This hybridity of narrative makes the film incredibly enjoyable and makes the lengthy viewing seem rather brief, given that dispersed focus of plots and constant flow of hilariously tragic characters that result.  Nashville is its own film, by an auteur whose main concern is creating a seemingly illogical film that still has a very cohesive underlying statement, one that is quite cynical, yet seems to be proving truer as American politics evolve into the 21st century.


Given the rather sporadic nature of the narrative, I am going to approach my discussion of the plot through the various vignettes within the film, as Nashville is more about the characters as they relate involuntarily relate to a political movement much larger than themselves.  Altman makes it very clear that the film is about the actors and their characters given that the films opening credits are done in the fashion of a concert commercial.  It is made clear that this is a film about actors playing characters, one that just happen to be tied to political ideologies, whether by their own decision or not.  The political party discussed directly in the film is that of the Replacement Party, which proposes bizarre changes to politics.  This party throughout the film is led by the unseen voice of Hal Phillip Walker, whose image is obviously so important that he cannot afford to be seen interacting with the rather remedial characters that exist in Nashville.  In fact, the only semblance of an individual from the Replacement Party comes through John Triplette (Michael Murphy) who is obviously using this job as a stepping stone to his own political future.  Triplette has been assigned to create a fundraising event involving prominent Nashville musicians and understands both the delicacy of the situation and the necessity of it being a very broad night of music.  His first acquisition for the event is the Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson) a staunchly patriotic, sequin suit donning country star whose fading image is obvious to everyone but himself, particularly when he dismisses Opal (Geraldine Chaplin) the overzealous and misguided BBC reporter whom he believes to be sabotaging his recording session.  Opal simply desires to get a real image of Nashville, which in her mind is as faded as the garbage dumps she frequents.  Triplette also garners the help of a young musical folk trio that are constantly breaking up and reuniting without logic and seem rather lost as musicians in the god fearing and flag waving musical styling of the rest of the city.  The trio's most troubled member is Tom (Keith Carradine) whose womanizing tragically leads to his downfall, particularly as he takes advantage of a Linnea Reese (Lily Tomlin) a depressed housewife whose only joy appears to come from taking care of her two deaf children.  This depression also stems from her disconnect with her husband Delbert Reese (Ned Beatty), a real southern boy who is more concerned with advancing the image of his fading starlet Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakely) whose recent unexplained accident has left her mentally unstable and physically drained.  It is Barbara Jean, in fact, who proves the most important character in the film as she ultimately becomes the victim of an implied political assassination.  I have only mentioned a handful of characters, which fails to represent the entirety of the films twenty plus interacting major characters.  The characters all react to the assassination of Barbara Jean in various ways, however, each individuals actions are obviously for personal advancement and not a single one of the characters shows a genuine concern for the dying starlet.  It is terribly cynical but rather reflective of Robert Altman's worldview, particularly as it relates to politics.

Robert Altman's films posit a notion of futility as it relates to political movements and attempts to form grassroots revolutions.  He delivers this most effectively in his mini-series Tanner '88 which features Nashville star Michael Murphy playing democratic candidate Jack Tanner, a "for real' political candidate who is genuinely concerned with changing the corruption in American politics.  However, in the cynical cutthroat world of politics, Tanner is doomed from the start and is undermined not only by news media and other candidates, but by his own campaign team, who, like Murphy's character in Nashville, have their own ulterior motives.  In the end Tanner is left disillusioned about politics and realizes that people will only vote for the person they "like the most," which rarely has anything to do with politics.  Similarly, in Nashville, Altman creates a world in which politics are won by who you know, not what you know.  Hal Phillip Walker's image relies on his political ties, thus explaining Triplette's concern with accruing not only staunchly conservative characters like Hamilton, but allowing for their image to be mixed with someone like Elliot Gould, who makes a cameo in the film at a mixer for the Replacement Party.  This particular scene is brilliant because neither Hamilton nor Gould recognizes the other, yet they are at the same party, performing their believed duty to a political candidate.  It is precisely this act of performance, which Altman criticizes throughout the film, everything is done with imagery as an underlying concern.  For example, the films opening scenes involve Hamilton singing an obnoxiously patriotic song about the bicentennial celebration in the United States.  His performance is rather uninspired, yet he decides to criticize his hippy looking pianist for its terrible quality, as though the guys look will be reflected on the entirely audio.  Similarly, the Grand Ole Opery night shown is both riddled with ridiculous uses of advertising as well as a token performance by a black singer, which borders on minstrelsy, both to assure revenue for the dying musical venue as well as a new more politically acceptable image.  The brilliance in these images is that Altman is attaching them to the overarching issue of political actions claiming that they are nothing but a performance and those involved concern themselves with images and not ideas.  It may seem cynical, but it is proving rather pertinent in our previous political elections, and particularly so in our upcoming primaries as well.  The next time you watch a debate, keep this film in mind.

I am particularly fond of Robert Altman and this is right up there with The Long Goodbye and Tanner '88 as one of my favorite films by the director.  I cannot emphasize how necessary owning a copy of this film is, although I would also strongly encourage you to share it with your friends, as it is a brilliant and continually pertinent film.

For A Gunman, You're One Hell Of A Pessimist: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Sepia-toned Paul Newman is a thing of beauty, as is the rest of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  I had the pleasure of revisiting one of my favorite films last night with a few friends over a glass or two of scotch.  This film is a classic, and for being well over forty years old, it is comparable, if not superior, to the recent remakes of 3:10 to Yuma and True Grit.  The combination of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, paired with a Burt Bacharach soundtrack, makes for an unending adventure complete with robberies, shootouts and tense chase scenes.  While many westerns are by mere existence cinematic, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid allows for the venue of late sixties rebellion and unconventionality to turn the genre on its head.  The film thus becomes not only a western, but a dark comedy as well...although it could be easily missed amidst Sundance's quick draw skills and Cassidy's equally fast wit.  To sum it up, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is one of the coolest films you could ever hope to see.

The film follows the exploits of two members of the infamous Hole In The Wall Gang,  the stoic and stern Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) and the ever amiable Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman).  After a series of successful robberies, the duo is placed permanently on the run from a bitter bank owner.  After picking up their mutual love interest Etta (Katherine Ross) the group flees to Bolivia in hopes of finding shelter.  Once there Sundance and Cassidy grow restless, deciding that their own form of happiness comes in robbing banks.  Unfortunately, their decision to rob a few more banks places them on watch by the Bolivian leading to a shootout between the duo and a insurmountable number of Bolivian soldiers.  The film ends in a freeze frame of the duo drawing their guns against improbable odds.  Save for a few more details this is basically the plot of the film.  While it may seem short and sweet it is far from this, in fact it is one of the most well written, acted and shot films of not only its era, but the history of cinema as a whole.

The film is rather lacking in heavy social critique.  Instead, what Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid represents is a nostalgia for a yesteryear in westerns.  It is a buddy movie of sorts, focusing on unquestioned companionship.  The do is constantly at each other throats berating one another for stupid actions.  Yet when it comes to robbing banks or assuring their survival they work harmoniously.  It is reminiscent of the early work of John Wayne or even Bonanza...a notion that in a world as unpredictable as the Wild West...friendship is the only certainty.  The big factor making this film different, however, is the inclusion of a female into the group.  While brief, it implies the possibility a group unity existing without gender serving as a divide.  Simple in regards to filmic narrative, but huge in changing what was possible in the images of the Western.

Do what I did for this film.  Buy the Blu-ray and drink some scotch...it is a pair made in cinema heaven.

It Was Offered For Your Pain, Not For Your Pleasure: The Beguiled (1971)

As I have noted before, the late sixties and early seventies are my favorite era of American filmmaking.  A majority of the films offered during this time period play with narrative conventions to create radical films to challenge the oppressive demands of Hollywood and to use cinema as a voice of opposition to the political ideals of their time.  Don Siegel's film The Beguiled certainly offers such an example.  A trippy film with pseudo-narration, multiple voice-overs and sporadic cinematography, The Beguiled exudes all the rebellion indicative of New Hollywood filmmaking, not to mention it contains Clint Eastwood in one of his finer early non-western films.  The film is a period piece in the most liberal of terms and often incorporates imagery of the early seventies as an ironic juxtaposition to the Civil War being depicted on screen.

The film begins with a series of sepia photos of Lincoln, Grant and other Civil War icons as a way to imply the time period, which leads into a fade to color scene of a young girl named Amy (Pamelyn Ferdin) picking mushrooms in the woods.  While gathering the last few mushrooms a Union soldier falls to Amy's feet obviously wounded from battle.  This soldier in short urgent breaths explains himself to be John McBurney (Clint Eastwood) and pleads for help from the young girl.  This would not be a problem were it not for John being stuck dead in the middle of Confederate territory.  Oblivious to the consequences of harboring a Union soldier Amy brings John back to her all-girls boarding school much to the dismay of the schools headmistress Martha (Geraldine Page).  Martha is concerned primarily for the act of treason, as well as the inherent problem of bringing a young male into a school of young women.  What ensues upon John's stay is a jealousy fueled bout of sexual tension that involves young Amy, Martha, the boarding schools slave and one of the schools other teachers Edwina (Elizabeth Hartmen).  While tense, John is able to stay under the protection of the women, until he makes the mistake of sleeping with one of the young girls named Carol (Jo Ann Harris), who dons a classic seventies haircut, despite the films setting of roughly 1860.  Upon discovery of his act, Edwina shoves John down the stairs, yet again his leg.  Martha, also enraged, amputates John's leg claiming it a necessary act for his survival.  When John awakes and discovers his leg removed, he steals Martha's gun and takes control of the school while waiting for Union soldiers to arrive.  The young Amy, distraught by John's infidelity, as well as his outburst against her pet turtle, agrees to pick poisonous mushrooms to feed him for dinner.  This act leads to John's death and subsequent burial by the women, ending the film on an ominous tone, despite its rather notable moment of liberation for the females involved.

The Beguiled reeks of patriarchal criticism.  Everything within the film has an element of female liberation.  The method of poisoning of John occurs through a natural fungus implying a bond with Gaia or more simply Mother Nature.  Similarly, the entire school of women is a form of liberation, given that prior to John's arrival they had successfully fended off other male infiltration, and it is implied that they will continue to do so after John's death.  Furthermore, the women, led by Martha, take it upon themselves to figuratively castrate John by removing his leg.  John even goes so far as to claim a concern that they will cut of his other leg, pausing a moment before saying leg implying that he fears the loss of another appendage as well.  Even when John attempts to repossess power with a phallic gun, he loses out to his false sense of immunity at the hands of a clever pre-teen girl.  The film also posits a unified womanhood regardless of race or age.  The slave that lives with the girls is allowed free reign to voice her opinion and is careful to make the girls aware that no such thing exists as slave work in their unified commune.  The film even dabbles into images of lesbianism between the schools head teachers, the ultimate form of male exclusion.  The Beguiled is as much a Civil War period piece as it is a lesson in feminine independent sustainability.

The Beguiled is not for everyone.  I am partial to it for its similarities to other trippy New Hollywood films and recommend it to those who share my passion.  I know it plays often on television and is currently available on Netflix Watch Instantly.  Do not pass up the opportunity to view a truly bizarre Civil War film.