Et Cetera, Et Cetera, Et Cetera: The King And I (1956)

Appropriation has been a rather significant point of conversation as I have navigated through this month of musicals, most notably as it relates to the American South and the pictorial depictions both post-War African-American communities, or more commonly the lack of depictions in favor of things like blackface and hyper-performative elements by the few black actors and performers who were able to make a name for themselves in a white entertainment business.  Not known for their particularly subversive depictions of gender, race and by extension class, I knew that the engagement with the Rodgers and Hammerstein fare that was to be The King and I would not be the most ideal of situations.  While Yul Brynner does an exceptional job in the film, met with an equally paced performance on the part of Deborah Kerr, the film does suffer a bit from a dated insight into how to properly depict a country that is less than familiar to the Western world.  There is a high sense of absurdism at play in the film, where joking passes and barbarism on the part of the Siam persons on display takes on a rather blatant and unfortunate level of Orientalism.  I say unfortunate because much like the blackface performances of eras earlier, The King and I is a visually perfected film that happens to incorporate rhetoric and performance that would, and should, be considered racist and sexist in a contemporary setting.  Like The Jazz Singer though, the film represents a considerable shift in the language of cinema, here not so much as a matter of technological advancement, but is instead in direct relationship to shifting understandings of narrative construction and what place a musical interlude can play into a narrative.  I would place this in a similar space as Black Narcissus although that Powell and Pressburger film exists in a world all its own, the only real significant connections being the lead actress and a considerable layer of Western encounters the East through institutionalized colonial movement.  Watching The King and I with a critical eye can prove a rewarding experience, one that is accepting of its ethical problems, while also enamored with its visual audacity.

The King and I centers on the life of Siam dignitary and decided egomaniac King Mongkut (Yul Brynner) whose recent dirge of children, 106 altogether, paired with an expanding world of Western influence, cause him to agree to hire on a teacher for his various children and wives.  The woman hired is Anna Leonowens (Deborah Kerr) who along with her son Louis (Rex Thompson) take to Siam only to discover a world far apart from their demure British life.  Mongkut is a highly assertive figure, demanding complete humility by all those involved, including the equally confrontational Anna, seeing her status as a woman as a thing to serve his male privilege. Furthermore, considering the rather solitary space of Siam, Mongkut has a very limited understanding of the Western world, pulling much of his knowledge from The Bible, whose words are confounding and particularly confusing, when Anna begins to teach his children and wives about the world of science, contradicting the religious text blatantly.  Mongkut is further frustrated by Anna's use of Uncle Tom's Cabin in her curriculum, both in its message about slavery, as well as in the realization that it was written by a woman.  Nonetheless, through some sacrificing of dignity, Anna is able to convince Mongkut of the benefit of her education, while also preparing the somewhat brutish king for a visit by other British dignitaries, one that requires considerable posture training on his part amongst other points of etiquette.  Indeed, it is during their visit that both Anna and Mongkut come to realize that they want similar things, both for themselves and their children to be respected, leading to a unified effort to impress the British by what Siam offers.  Mongkut's various wives and children then put on an ballet adaptation of Uncle Tom's Cabin that is complete with replacing the figure of God with that of Buddha, although the entire performance nearly derails when one of Mongkut's more outspoken wives calls attention to her own status as servant.  While this is corrected, the remainder of the even goes off successfully and Mongkut comes aware to his own aggression and oppressive behavior, which is fortunate as he is very close to dying.  It is indeed in this moment of death that Anna agrees to stay on as an educator, while the previously male-minded king appoints one of his daughters as the new leader of Siam, her first act to remove any act that would create a stander of lesser than another.

While much of the narrative is about issues of appropriation, it is equally so about bargaining with powerful forces, or more specifically patriarchy in a Western context.  Both Anna and Mongkut represent figures who are oppressed in various ways.  As a widowed mother, Anna is allowed very little mobility, particularly in 1860's England, where her economic privilege is inherently tied to a male figure and little was placed on the issue of divorce, death or any situation that might remove that access.  As such the seemingly absurd act of seeking out employment in Siam is met with necessity.  While Mongkut might also seem like a figure of power, it only extends to the space of his incredibly small kingdom, one that is sheltered from the Western world and subject to the eyes of greedy colonizing bodies who see he and his barbaric land as a thing in need of reform to reflect the Christian, Western ideal.  Anna realizes that her financial safety is contingent on Mongkut continuing to keep her employed, therefore she plays into his demands for keeping her head at a lower place than his, while also knowing it is nothing more than a bargaining chip to remain employed, while also subversively teaching the various women in the kingdom of their ability to rebel.  Mongkut is not ignorant to all this by any means and does seem quite hesitant to embrace such a set of teaching, however, he is also bargaining with his own status as a body that is threatened by colonization.  He knows that to teach according to what he believes would make his family look foolish, but he also seems quite aware that he is working with a woman who will be capable of teaching he and his family to fend for themselves in the corrupt world of colonization and imperialist movement.  This all coalesces in the bargaining of the Uncle Tom's Cabin narrative to reconsider the element of servant in a colonial context, by reappropriating the image of the African-American slave to represent Siam, one that further extends to allegorically consider one of Mongkut's wives.  While he is initially frustrated by such a confrontation, he is able to come to a realization of his own problematic oppression in the process.  Here the bargaining is provided with a positive outcome, tragically such maneuvers do not always play out as successfully.

Key Scene:  The entire Uncle Tom's Cabin sequence is quite stunning and aside from its problematic elements, one of the more intriguing rewordings of a narrative I have seen to date.

This is an easy thing to obtain on DVD, but is probably worth renting before owning.

Doesn't Anything Work Around Here?: Westworld (1973)

While I intend to include one highly experimental western, as well as an acid western in this month of movies devoted to one of cinema's classic and severely under seen genres, I am quite certain that Westworld will prove to be the biggest stretch in terms of falling within the confines of the genre.  Of course, it does have a heavy western feel and centrally exists within the landscape of the traditional west, it is primarily a science fiction feature, therefore, affording it the opportunity to expand beyond this space, to which it does with great pleasure.  Again, it is a sci-fi film at heart, but given that it is decidedly centered in creating the world of the western, I would suggest that Westworld, at the very least does for the period piece, what Cabin in the Woods did for horror films, or considering that it was written and directed by Michael Crichton it would be just as easy to suggest that this is a sort of Jurassic Park version 1.0, although I would contest that the believability is slightly higher in this setting, especially since it involves robots and the false safety individuals place within their control over machines, as opposed to a dangerous landscape occupied by genetic recreations of some of the most ferocious and dangerous beasts to ever roam Earth.  Much like other sci-fi classics that consider the role that artificial intelligence will play within the future and what threats are faced when the machines move closer to sentience and an understanding of their role, of course, Westworld exists in multiple fabrications of fantasy worlds, but Crichton, who both wrote and directed this film seems to be doing something particularly intriguing by focusing primarily on the wild west in his narrative, considering why somebody would decidedly travel to such an unruly and dangerous world, further extending an inquiry as to why viewers desire the decidedly violent, unruly world of the western for escapism, as such becoming a meta-cinematic reflection on the very nature of viewership and gazing on the threat of death in a vicarious desire.  Westworld, like many classic genre films, manages to exist in a perfect space between various genres, subsequently, becoming a hybrid of all that is great about science fiction, westerns and to a brief degree horror films.

Westworld focuses on a time not too far in the future where the wealthy are afforded the opportunity to spend their money to escape to vacation spots not of exotic beaches or isolated mountain peaks, but, instead; of past worlds with a certain degree of intangible lure.  In this world a person with enough money can go to either the hyper decadent Romanworld and engage in various forms of condoned debauchery, or they can go to the lavish and extravagent Medieval world to engage in their fantastic whims of being royalty.  A third option exists for the particularly daring who seek a world of constant threat and danger in Westworld, a recreation of the desolate and wild world of the American west.  Two friends John (James Brolin) and Peter (Richard Benjamin) decide to engage in this trip based on John's assurance that it is a great experience and completely harmless, in fact, John confesses that he feels it to be the perfect opportunity for Peter to move on past his recent divorce.  Once in Westworld John and Peter engage in all the vices offered in the historical west, whether it be whisky or prositutes, however, this is not before Peter has a run-in with Gunslinger (Yul Brynner), to which he kills, realizing the power he has as a tourist in a world of cyborgs.  After this shootout, Peter and John move through Westworld with a carefree attitude enjoying their vacation in what is essentially a sanitized version of the past.  The film occasionally cuts to one man's vacation in Medievalworld, where he finds himself engaging in a relationship with a young chambermaid, although it appears as though the cyborgs begin going against orders.  At this point the narrative exposes the world behind the simulacrums, where scientist run through algorithms and tests to assure safety, stating specific concern for a recent spike in robots going against orders.  After a flat out refusal to briefly shut down the resort things take a particular turn for the worse when Gunslinger emerges again and kills John in cold blood, going against his orders completely.  This falling apart occurs simultaneously to the other worlds, even causing an electronics issue in the main room of the resort.  The breakdown leaves Peter solely on the run against Gunslinger a chase the breaks outside of Westworld and through the various other worlds, eventually leading to a final showdown with the robot which requires Peter to exploit his heightened technological features to destroy him a task that requires multiple fatal blows.  In the end, Peter has one final run-in with another non-threatening robot which causes him to reconsider his entire understanding of humanity, as well as its blind reliance on the good of technology.

Again, Westworld is not really a western primarily and is certainly concerned primarily with being a science-fiction centered consideration of the role technology plays in society and to what degree its reliance is productive and where to draw they line in regards to heavily exploiting its non-human nature, particularly in a highly destructive manner.  However, I am quite convinced that a second layer exists in which Crichton is considering what exactly draws humanity towards curiosity for the violent and unruly.  One could extend this critique in many different directions whether it be a direct attention placed on violence and war on television or a concern with physical violence in social settings, these considerations are certainly present in Westworld, but it is not unreasonable to think that the film also really wants to consider why a person seeks westerns as a form of escapism, particularly since, compared to other periods or fantastical settings they are particularly ripe with terror and danger.  The western film, to pull in a trope as planned, exists in a state of despair or sadness for most characters, whether it be isolation based paranoia or post-gold rush induced poverty all is rarely good in the world of the western, in which matters are only worsened when an individual is of a non-white race or non-male gender.  I would boldly posit that much of the enjoyment in the world of the western is its decided set of signifiers between good and evil as well as its embracing for the lack of certainty and understanding that chaos serves a better world model than oppressive regimentation.  The wealthy within the context of this film, as well as those who seek westerns as escapism, are attempting to grapple with their own existential issues about humanity and in the process seek the inherent seeming order and signifiers of authority or villainy which underlie even the most chaotic world of a western.  Suffice it to say, the western manages to be an insane whirlwind of a film genre, while also managing to create rather clear borders on ethical questions, even in the most antiquated of sense.  While I am fully aware that westerns are loved by many ages, there is a particular age group that seems to absolutely adore them, whose young life was inevitably defined by the trouble good guy making sense of a chaotic world, something they perhaps brought along with themselves to their adult lives, applying it to their psychological and philosophical world view.

Key Scene:  The last fight between Peter and Gunslinger is intense and has a ton of jump moments, proving to be a great closing element to an all-around solid film.

This is an excellent movie and well worth nabbing and the bluray while a bit pricy is worth the investment.

We Deal In Lead Friend: The Magnificent Seven (1960)

To call The Magnificent Seven a remake of Seven Samurai is not to correctly identify the type of film it exists as, particularly in its considerable reappropriation of the samurai motifs of the film in order to affect genre tropes of the Western.  Instead, I like the notion, that some people have applied to this film, as being an "Americanization" of The Magnificent Seven, one that stages and executes itself with clear similarities to the original, but making notable changes to the narrative and theatrics of the film in order to better examine themes and concepts within the fictional setting.  I am not literate enough in Japanese film to say with any certainty as to the degree of stardom associated with each of the actors playing the seven samurai in the Kurosawa film, but a considerable amount of the gunmen in The Magnificent Seven were either well established actors at the time, or would go on to build respectable careers.  The film includes some of the following actors, as some may not get mentioned in the plot synopsis: Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, Eli Wallach and Robert Vaughn as well as a handful of other notable performers.  Cement this already excellent cast and respectable remake with the attachment of John Sturges and you have a near-perfect film and a masterpiece of the Western genre.  I would venture to bet that some of the bombastic cinematic excitement of the initial viewing fades after rewatching, but I was astounded, this being my first viewing of this classic, by the sheer commitment to the film on all accounts.  While it is certainly no Sergio Leone western and fails to gather the magnitude of a John Wayne driven film, The Magnificent Seven is an honest adaptation of a cinematic gem, done with such care and compassion that it has earned its own place, deservedly, within the pantheon of great cinematic works.  A film like this represents a time in Hollywood where actors would jump at the opportunity to perform together, claiming a higher place on artistic output than on monetary compensation and while this certainly occurs in contemporary cinema, it does not have near the earnest appeal as this half-century old work manages to still exude.

The Magnificent Seven, much like its inspiration, finds it setting in a rural village, in this case on the Mexican border.  The locals, also, peasants farmers, continually suffer from victimization and oppression by a group of bandits who demand their food and money as a means of survival.  After the death of a villager who attempts to stand up to the bandits, the town decides it is due time to confront the bandits, a task that requires them to hire outside help, because they are simply outnumbered, as well as inept at using weaponry, particularly firearms.  In comes the principled hired gun Larabee (Yul Brynner) who agrees to take the considerably low amount of pay simply as a result of doing the right thing.  He decides that the task will require a set of expert gunmen, and one guy who is profusely good at throwing knives, however, the obtaining of an agreeable party proves rather tedious, particularly considering that most of the men refuse to help for such low pay and lack of other forms of pay off.  Furthermore, Larabee finds difficulty with a particular recruit, a young man who is a bit of a hothead and drunkard that, nonetheless, greatly wants to join in the fight.  After some testing and prodding, a group of seven is assembled and they undertake the task of training and prepping the villagers for the next encounter with the bandits.  At first the job seems hopeless, particularly when the villagers cower to the bandits and allow them into the village to upset carefully laid traps and storage facilities.  Eventually, however, the group becomes attached to the village, one man finding happiness interacting with the youth, while another seeks solace by taking a lover.  Even Larabee seems to find solace in  the simple ways of the villagers and the lack of concern for where his next meal may come.  Battle does ensue though and many of the men are lost, only leaving three in the end, one who decides to stay and build a life with a young woman he has fallen in love with, while the other two ride off into the proverbial sunset, undoubtedly, to find new adventures.

This riding off into the sunset trope is perhaps the most obvious departure from the original Japanese film, in that the three remaining samurai remain with the villagers, their lives now inextricably attached to the lifestyle.  In typical American fashion, the opposite occurs with The Magnificent Seven, everyone is a loner, except in the moment of fighting against an oppressive force of evil.  In this way, the film plays out much like a Hollywood war film, in which you have a diverse group of men coalescing on an agreed moral action, only to disperse after its completion.  As opposed to the Japanese film in which honor is a latent ideology that always and at once unifies the masculine group, to break such a code would have fatal results.  Self-sacrifice seems inherent within the Japanese context, while it is almost used as a form of pity within the American version.  Of course that is not to say that the film is to be condemned for such actions, after all the group did vanquish an evil oppressive group of thieves.  Yet, it is particularly interesting to consider that the film does not necessarily chastise the bandits, going so far as to suggest that their own hunger drives them to act in such problematic ways.  Another observation of note with this American version is that masculinity is a point of contention between certain figures in the group, particularly the hot-headed youth who seems set on proving his worth in the group constantly seeking to engage in a pissing contest with whoever will humor his requests.  Incidentally, it is no coincidence that he is the one who settles down with a woman, offering him a clear vantage point to assert his male power.  Some of these elements are also nonexistent in the Japanese original, yet it has been years since I have seen Seven Samurai so the possibility of incorrect memory is highly probable.

Key Scene:  While it is only title cards and an incredible score, I cannot recall a film in recent memory whose opening credits have managed to set a mood quite like The Magnificent Seven.

This is an awesome movie one well worth watching with a few drinks and some friends.  Owning it does not seem necessary, but I may recant that statement at some point, however, make sure to rent the bluray it really pops off the screen.