A Lot Of People Are Going To Think We Are A Shocking Pair: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (1967)

One would quickly assume that a film with such an invested interest in talking about the racial issues and dilemmas of an America still in the grips of a violent, troublesome and, more importantly, societally altering ear of the late 60's would prove troublesomely dated by the time I get around to watching almost fifty years later.  One would assume a lot of things about a film like Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, a work by the great Stanley Kramer and starring some of America's most well-established and well-regarded actors.  I had written the film off, primarily because I feared it would have a sensibility that was indicative of its time and the racial elements would be dealt with in a manner far too idyllic and concerned with political correctness to properly deserve the repeated recognition and devotion even years after its initial release.  Sure it may have been the fact that I had the great fortune of seeing this on a big screen or my adoration for a well made melodrama, but I can say with the utmost certainty that Guess Who's Coming to Dinner is not only the rare stroke of masterful filmmaking that results in a perfect piece of cinema (No Country for Old Men and Casablanca being two other examples from different decades), but one that proves more socially relevant today than it ever has in the past.  Indeed, as I was watching the "gimmick"of this film unfold I could not help but wonder that, if this film had not already existed in the cinematic consciousness of America that the notion of an interracial couple, one of a white woman and a person of color getting married, would have proved equally challenging to much of America today as it, undoubtedly, did in the hostile racial climate of 1967.  I am a bit disconcerted by the seemingly comfortable embraces by some on the film's more comedic elements as being the core to its continued adoration, because it is a searing indictment on both the ignorance spouted by those with foolish racist mind frames, as well as a careful consideration as to what a progressive mind really thinks when faced with the reality of "otherness" or socially revolutionary behavior stepping through their doors. Without a doubt, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner works on a structuralist level, but it works deeper on its pertinent and multi-layered consideration of race in America and teaches lessons far too great to be suppressed and should be required viewing on the ideas of race relations in America, much as the work of Mark Twain continues to exist as a similar frame of reference.

For a narrative that runs well under two hours, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner takes great care to include as much information and consider as many viewpoints on an issue as possible.  The story, of course, focuses on the newly engaged couple of Joanna "Joey" Drayton (Katherine Haughton) a recent college graduate who finds herself smitten with the successful doctor John Prentice (Sidney Poitier).  Indeed their relationship would be relatively normal were it not for the distinct fact that both were of different races.  This noticeable division and difference is immediately condemned by the world around them, but Joey, ever the optimist, believes that her parents will not only welcome John into their family, but they will also be open to their rather quickly thrown together wedding plans.  The first to meet John is Joey's mother Christina (Katherine Hepburn) whose shock is immediately and noticable although she quickly comes to her senses and is happy for the introduction to John, who she finds an upstanding and well-to-do man, although she expresses clear concern for how Joey's father might react.  This hesitation is justified because Matt (Spencer Tracy), the patriarchal figure of the Drayton household is indeed uncertain about the entire endeavor, first because he thinks it to be a hasty decision, and secondly, because he is quite aware of the social stigma the two will carry and the very violent way some of the world will react to such an engagement.  Nonetheless, John explains that he cares deeply for Joey and that he will only marry her should Matt give his consent.  A dear friend of the Drayton family, one Monsignor Ryan (Cecil Kellawy), attempts to assuage the concerns of Matt noting that a change in societal attitudes has to happen at some point, regardless of their liberal views, Ryan reminds Matt that they mean nothing if they cannot be backed up with quantifiable actions.  John faces condemnation from the Drayton's maid Tillie (Isabel Sanford) who finds John's actions reprehensible because he is stepping beyond his race.  Nonetheless, a dinner goes on as planned, only made all the more intense by the sudden invitation by Joey for John's parents to join in the dinner.  Invariably it leads to a serious of dialogues and discussions between the families all of which, ultimately, rest upon Matt's decision to give his blessing, which plays out with a stern sense of importance not only within the narrative, but as an extension to the world outside the film itself, almost as if to speak truth to an injustice that transcends the filmic universe and exists in the very spaces of cinematic encounters.

It is precisely the transcendent elements of this film that make Guess Who's Coming to Dinner a continually relevant film.  It is one task simply to create a (to use an earlier term) gimmick about an interracial couple announcing their wedding plans, however, it is an entirely different film and one that grapples intensely with the personal, social and political ramifications of such revolutionary actions for not only the couple of Joey and John, but for the larger state of their respective families and America as a whole.  Take for example the interactions between Tilly and John in the context of welcoming a new member into the family one would expect Tilly to be quite excited, ecstatic and embracing of the person, especially since John is such an upstanding gentleman.  The problem is, however, that not only does John represent to Tilly a privilege she has not obtained, but it also forces her to come to grips with her own racial oppression as a servant, which affords Matt and Kristina some freedom from the chores of house and home, which she undertakes, and likely returns home to continue undertaking well after her work day for the Drayton's.  Of course, this is a layered reading of the film, all be it an important one, and the real issue comes from deconstructing the notion that a person can separate their racist actions from their verbal claims to be nothing of the such.  If both Matt and Kristina were as open to equality amongst the races as they claim to be, nothing about John would have caused any red flags, certainly not his race.  Kristina, of course, snaps out of her foolishness rather quickly and realizes the two are madly in love and that her hesitation is indeed a result of her archaic views of the world, even if only out of the fear for her daughter and soon-to-be husband's safety.  Matt takes a considerably higher amount of prodding and self-reflection before he can come to grips with the issue, both in the shock that it leaves him in his own belief system, but also because he genuinely believes that the couple will face degradation beyond their worst nightmares.  Indeed it is not until he is reminded that love is a transcendent thing that is often lost with time, by of all people John's mother Mrs. Prentice (Beah Richards) that he comes to understand that his passion for equality will just have to fight twice as hard to help the love of his daughter and John overcome the vast ignorance and hate that they will invariably face.

Key Scene:  The entire movie flows like a wonderful stings concerto starting of simply, perhaps even playfully, but as things come together it is clear that like a concerto normalcy can only stand so long and things swell and swing accordingly, often clashing in purposeful disharmony.  As such, the scene where Tillie finally confronts John with her opinion takes on a layer of fury that is matched by a slanted camera angle and an extreme close-up and this is only one of many scenes where the filmic structure alters ever so slightly to convey a mood.

I was mesmerized by this film on the big screen and am not sure how it holds up when brought onto smaller proportions, as such I would suggest renting it before purchasing.

Nature, Mr. Allnut, Is What We Are Put Here To Rise Above: The African Queen (1951)

I has been roughly six full years since I have decided film to be my biggest passion in life and since then I have seen a variety of films and sought out both the masterworks of film, as well as obscurities and absurdities in between, always taking very seriously the earnest suggestions of individuals along the way.  During the first six months or so of my endeavors I was strongly encouraged to watch The African Queen by a person whose love for classic movies and John Wayne seemed to assure that I would enjoy this work very much.  At the time, however, The African Queen was very much out of print and quite hard to come by and it was something I had always hoped to visit but never remembered to go out of my way to obtain a copy for, which to view.  In the past year, however, copyrights appear to have changed and not only is this lovely film available in both DVD and Bluray formats, it is now also watch instantly on Netflix, making this long unavailable classic open to a whole new generation of burgeoning cinephiles, and this is a gift of a film, with value extending well beyond its more than a half-century of age.  At once a war, romance, travel and religious film, paired with problematic commentaries on gender and colonization, The African Queen is nothing short of cinematic perfection and the commitment to stellar acting on the part of both stars Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart quickly snatch viewers into the world of the film, never allowing their hold to loosen, even in some of the films most over-the-top and unbelievable moments.  I can now understand why the individual who recommended this movie was so adamant that I see it immediately, and while it only took me six years to get around to doing so I am completely grateful for the initial recommendation, it is quite obvious that films like The African Queen in all their earnestness and mass appeal only come along one in awhile its newest reemergence only speaks to its historical place and the necessity of it being revisited many times, both in regards to the growingly masterful of oeuvre of John Huston, whose films are always a pleasant surprise to me, as well as a fine piece of film regardless of time or place.

The African Queen primarily focuses on two characters, the first being Rose Sayer (Katherine Hepburn) a devout woman of the Methodist faith who, along with her brother Samuel (Robert Morley) have taken it upon themselves to bring the name of Jesus Christ to the native peoples of Africa, even going so far as to build a church in their village.  The second character is the carefree Charlie Allnut (Humphrey Bogart) who is willing to do anything to make money and assure the livelihood of himself and the functionality of his dear ship The African Queen.  Yet when the village is attacked by enraged Nazi's Samuel dies and the only persons left surviving, along with a few villagers who quickly flee are that of Rose and Charlie, who begrudgingly become companions in an attempt to escape the inevitable return of the German soldiers.  Using The African Queen as a means of navigation they travel down river, aimlessly until Rose suggest that they use the oxygen tanks on board, as well as other supplies to exact revenge upon the Nazi warship called the Louisa.  Charlie at first is dismissive because he associates his livelihood with the boat and sees Rose as a prudish simpleton, hoping only to escape their situation and unload her as quickly as possible, yet as many a story note, confined cohabitation can lead to forced intimacy, whether it be their need to get out of the rain or the necessary task of removing leeches off of a half-naked body, at some point animosity turns into admiration and eventually becomes adoration and Rose and Charlie eventually find themselves in the throws of passion, as best they could be shown circa 1951.  With a new drive and the companionship of one another the two take upon their journey to torpedo the Louisa, a task that proves a failure due to rain and unforeseen bouts of tumultuous water. They are at this point captured by Nazi sailors who have them set to hang, only to be saved at the very last moment by the sunken African Queen and its bunches of compressed air, which help to destroy the ship and afford Charlie and Rose an escape to safety.  They are shown swimming away in what can only be assumed to be a happy future together.

This film exudes sexuality, but that is not to to say that it is graphic or visually erotic, in fact, it exists entirely within the realm of metaphor and manages to use the sexualized image to a degree that would cause one to think of early surrealist work by Luis Buñuel.  Take for example the scene where Rose must clean herself in the river, it is not a scene of nudity, but certainly is a modest one by the standards of the era.  Viewers, however, share the same ability to see Rose as Charlie does, often only seeing her foot or hand peak above the boat or out of the side of the water.  It is a point of curiosity that has a certain degree of sexual curiosity about it, affirmed by Charlie looking way from Rose as she boards the boat, but as he does so his gaze become almost nearly direct with the viewer, allow those watching to see his eyebrows raise and eyes move about, clearly imagining what is occurring behind him, as do the viewers, because he blocks their line of sight.  Gaze is problematized because viewers are forced to ignore the next layer, while relating to the confrontation of Charlie's gaze which is reflecting the request for modesty on the part of Rose.  Nonetheless, the entire scene is frothing with sexual tension, only to be heightened by moments of removing leaches from Charlie's body, or the "release" of all the gin, which proves to be the upswing in regards to Charlie who takes a new liking to Rose despite being initially frustrated at her actions.  Other minor moments of Charlie repairing the boat, or Rose salting Charlie's leech bites have degrees of sexual tension, all leading up to the moment where they drown themselves in passion, working in unison to repair the boat motor, a choreographed moment of such intimacy that it is impossible to ignore, and should anyone be unsure about this, the monsoon scene that affords the two the final lift out of the river, undoubtedly, affirms their passion for one another, even if on an incredibly metaphorical level.  I mean, one could even see their swimming way from the exploded Louisa as a post-intercourse moment of ecstasy.  This of course is one reading, but a grounded one that I cannot help but support.

Key Scene:  The hanging scene is surprisingly jarring visually and reminded me of the very real crime that was going on during the particular period in which the film was set.

This well worth owning, but can easily be watched via Netflix.  For those who, like myself, will instantly fall in the movie, the bluray can be obtained for relatively cheap.

Free Your Mind, And Your Ass Will Follow: Platoon (1986)

Over the years Oliver Stone has sort of gained a reputation as being an abrasive director who often loses sight of making a good film due to his penchant for making politically scathing commentaries within his work.  Fortunately, on a few occasions Stone manages to keep the criticism focused enough to create a spectacular work, this is the case with Wall Street and is certainly the case with Platoon.  In the same vein as war movies like Saving Private Ryan and Thin Red Line, Platoon is loaded with a veritable who's who of emerging Hollywood actors, and a few veterans colliding together in brilliantly stacked performances, ranging from a smile-wielding Forrest Whitaker to a soft-spoken, yet suave Johnny Depp.  A film with a frenzied pace and incoherent editing structure, Platoon depicts a film about war as though the viewer is actually amidst the action, perhaps due to the fact that Stone himself was a Vietnam veteran, helping to explain the vehement and focused rage of his films.  At no point in the film does the narrative fall stale and having known the plot to this film well before its viewing, I found myself nonetheless blown away by its cinematic presence and general enjoyability.  Trying at times and poetic at others, the mix of cinema verite and exploitative grandiosity comprises what could well be one of the best war films I have ever seen, if it were not for the existence of Stanley Kubrick.  Platoon is an American classic and deservedly so, it like Citizen Kane or Easy Rider has a very real place in the historical landscape of American cinema and society.

Platoon introduces us to the hellish experiences of one enlisted soldier named Chris Taylor (Charlie Sheen), who has done the unthinkable and actually volunteered for service.  Along side a gang of lively soldiers, Taylor experiences the emotional and physical drains of war.  This includes amongst other individuals King (Keith David) a wise-cracking African-American man on the lookout for a means to leave the jungle, Sergeant O'Neill (John C. McGinley) who strives to gain promotions within his squadron despite being overlooked multiple times, as well as the less than authoritative Lieutenant Wolfe (Mark Moses) who is clearly scared by the entire Vietnam ordeal.  However, much of Taylor's war experiences are contentiously battled between two sergeants, one the hippy, hash smoking Sergeant Elias (Willem Dafoe) who clearly tries to befriend those around him and wants nothing more than to leave and Sergeant Barnes (Tom Beringer) who is ruthless and maniacal, seeing the war as a means to purge the earth of lesser beings.  Constantly confronting one another over the "soul" of Taylor, Barnes and Elias become incredibly confrontational to the point that Barnes kills Elias in cold blood during  a shootout, ultimately, leading to the squadron being disbanded.  After a short rest, Taylor is sent back out to war and, after yet another skirmish, finds himself with an opportunity to exact revenge for Elias and act he quickly undertakes, killing Barnes.  Ultimately, the film reminds us that war often pits allies against one another, leaving the enemy secondary, at least this is how Oliver Stone remembers Vietnam.

I could go into detail about how Platoon focuses on the intensity and sporadic nature of war, or I could talk about the racial vision of Stone's Vietnam.  More so I could talk about this film's political nature as it relates to other Stone movies, however, none of these approaches quite matches the idea of possessing souls as it relates to Platoon.  In this context, Barnes and Elias represent two reapers of souls, Barnes for the evil and Elias for the good, or so it seems, it could be said that both are simply corrupt soldiers seeking to validate their existences.  Furthermore, both Barnes and Elias have their assumed apostles, the various troops in the squadron siding with whom they find the most reflective of their own ideals.  It is saturated with religious metaphors and imagery from the presence of crosses, to somewhat ironic ankhs, as well as the now famous and oft-parodied death of Elias, which is all to Christlike.  Furthermore, it is, in my belief, no accident that Christ Taylor, becomes Christ T., a bit on the nose but quite fitting with Stone's religious study of war.  Overall, the film reads as a glorified study of The Golden Rule, one that is, ultimately, questioned, revisited and undermined in two hours of cinematic perfection.

Key Scene: Guns and smoke...and not from firing said gun.

This is a classic, and undeniable stamp on the greatness of American cinema, and while I watched it on Netflix, I would venture to say that the bluray is worth looking into, I know I intend to grab a copy.

Forming Love from Le Havre to Paris: L'Atalante (1934)

Arguably, L'Atalante is a film you hear about when people talk about pivotal works of cinema.  It is often mentioned alongside Citizen Kane, The Seventh Seal and Seven Samurai as the masterpieces of cinema.  However, unlike, the previously mentioned films, L'Atalante has been difficult to come by and often a film a person could only see at film school or an art house theater in urban areas.   Fortunately, Criterion, in a labor of love, has brought us the complete works of Jean Vigo, which includes his seminal work L'Atalante.  Upon watching the film, I feared from the get go that it would let me down as it is an incredibly loved movie and I was concerned the hype would be too much to justify the film.  Aside from some absolutely spectacular cinematography, this appeared to be the case.  Then as if by some force of magic, the movie instantly became perfect in a harmonious way.  The characters struggles, the allure of Paris and the simplicity of a voyage narrative all came together and I was hooked.  I am hear to testify the the perfection of L'Atalante and serve as yet another advocate to its place in film history.

L'Atalante is a surprisingly simple movie in regards to plot.  The film follows the captain of the ship L'Atalante Jean (Jean Daste) as he introduces his newly wedded wife Juliette (Dita Parlo) to ship live.  This lifestyle includes close contact with the veteran seamen and cat lover Jules (Michel Simon) and a wide-eyed young boy named Camelot (Gilles Margeritis).  Together the group is voyaging from Le Havre to Paris on some undefined business.  All seems content in the world of L'Atalante, particularly the relationship between Jean and Juliette, until Jean discovers Juliette having a rather informal and close conversation with Jules in his quarters.  This discovery leads Jean into a frenzied fit of jealousy as he distances himself from Juliette and assumes her to be cuckolding him at every opportunity she gets.  This tension reaches its highest point when Juliette and Jean visit a music club when Juliette is incessantly hit on by a street peddler.  Infuriated Juliette and Jean part ways, leaving Juliette broke and lost to roam the streets of Paris.  Distraught and disorganized she unsuccessfully attempts to find work.  Jean attends to things on the ship unsuccessfully, constantly longing for Juliette and seeing visions of her as he sinks down in the water of the river.  Jules realizes the dilemma occurring and attempts to soothe Jean's longing by playing music, however, this only exacerbates his desire for Juliette.  Finally, in an act of loyalty and friendship to Jean, Jules searches and finds Juliette in a music store and brings her back to Jean.  The film ends simply and poetically with the couple reunited.


The plot is short and the film is relatively realistic.  This makes sense given that L'Atalante is on the back end of the poetic realism movement in France; however, the film is anything but a exercise in poetic realism.  In fact, I could find little to do in regards to social criticism, minus passing class commentary.  Instead, the film felt like a transitory film between poetic realism and French New Wave cinema.  This may seem irrelevant, but in cases of transitory filmmaking, it is often lackluster or sloppily done.  L'Atalante executes its transactions perfectly and beautifully.  Examples of this occur throughout the film in pieces, whether it be the lengthy shot of Juliette walking across the ship dock or random jump cuts to kittens climbing about a phonograph.  To a casual viewer these moments will seem out of place, and justifiably so, because they are unconventional to the traditional narrative structure of the film.  To a cinephile, it makes one quickly realize the films influence of Truffaut and Godard, both who claim inspiration from the film.  However, this hybrid of poetic realism and New Wave hits its biggest stride when Jean is swimming through the river and longing for Juliette.  The film continually cuts to images of Juliette smiling as her visage fades in and out of the water in an oneiric illusion.  This dream sequence of sorts is neither the actuality of poetic realism nor the brash irrationality of New Wave.  It is, as stated before, a combination of the both, something that had never happened before in film and rarely has occurred since.  To me this transitory filming style  makes L'Atalante so brilliant, and if it is not this, then the story is so true and realized that it is still a brilliant landmark in movies.

This is certainly one of the highlights of Criterion's 2011 releases.  There is absolutely no reason why you should not own a copy of this on bluray.  It is the French equivalent of Citizen Kane and a corner stone in the history of film.

For Your Awareness: Greed (1924)

I am not feeling up to a full on review tonight and have decided to offer another reflection on a film that is rather hard to come by.  Many of those reading this will without a doubt be familiar with Eric von Stroheim given his notable roles in both the French classic The Grand Illusion and the American masterpiece Sunset Boulevard.  However, what you may not know is that von Stroheim was also a director.  His 1924 film Greed is an epic study of all that concerns monetary lust and the great lengths people go to possess financial power.  In its original form the film spanned well over 9 1/2 hours and focused on a large set of characters.  Tragically, at the suggestion of his friends and the demands of producers he was forced to cut the film to just over two hours in length.  This meant that almost seven hours of footage were left unsalvageable on the cutting room floor.  I only mention this, because what is left of the film is magnificent and film preservationists, historians and critics alike are beckoning their friends and all film enthusiasts to watch what remains.  The film often appears on critics Top 100 lists and receives rave reviews for its innovative cinematography and complexly heartbreaking narrative.

I too have had an opportunity to view the film in its most complete format and found it to be stunningly well made and an honest, yet brutal, study in human fault and the illusion of financial happiness.  Unfortunately, my route to finding the film was less than stellar and I was forced to rely on what little the internet offers in scenes from the film along with a combination of stills that TCM have provided to fill in gaps in von Stroheim's narrative.  My experience was like that of watching Ken Burns fill in the blanks to the films missing narrative, yet it was still spectacular.  The still imagery was fantastic and makes due to advance the story.  So I am sure you are wondering why the hell I am expounding on this film in great detail if it is forever lost to producers interfering with the complete film.  The answer is simple, and was discussed in my previous post on The Rules of the Game.  It is a sin that directors are told to cut their movies, or that their work is censored in the name of public decency.   In the case of Greed, the effects were dire and make the movie seem incoherent at times.  The fact of the matter is that its incoherence was due wholly to a director being told his vision was too grand and that viewers demand something far simpler.

The whole point of this post is simple.  Do not be a film viewer who promotes simplicity and mediocrity in filmmaking, because you will be given just that.  Do not be the individual at The Tree of Life groaning every two minutes, or the person who only attends the umpteenth installment of the Scream franchise (not that I am knocking it entirely).  We as moviegoers, and subsequently consumers, can demand greater things from studios and a tragedy like Greed will never happen again.  With that being said, watch what exists of this film by any means necessary, it is truly mesmerizing.

I Do Hope You're Going To Favor Us With Something Special Tonight: Singin' In The Rain (1952)

I mentioned this when I reviewed King Kong a few weeks back and want to take a moment to mention this again.  There are a handful of movies that I assumed I knew everything about before viewing and expected to find little enjoyment when watching Singin' In The Rain.  Was I ever wrong.  Stanley Donen, the genius behind Charade, brings forth something that is not just fantastic, but monumentally brilliant.  I can definitively say that I was, and still am, more enamored with this musical than anything made before or after.  It is the perfect combination of wit, musicianship and narrative that keeps the viewer occupied, and for being a musical made in the early fifties, it is pretty well-acted.  Gene Kelly is a hilarious actor and I am shamed to say that this is my first experience with the late actor.  If none of these elements were not enough, the film is magnificently shot in technicolor and edited to make the hectic and frantic narrative seem illustriously extravagant, while maintaining a very composed structure.  Somehow, Singin' In The Rain manages to adhere to all the traditions of a Hollywood Musical while simultaneously being one of the most avant-garde musicals ever made, excluding Guy Maddin's The Saddest Music In The World of course.

Singin' In The Rain, for those unfamiliar with its plot, is set up as a memory play of sorts, focusing on Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) a well-respected and much-loved silent film actor who is finding difficulties transitioning to a life in talking films.  Furthermore, his leading lady, and unwilling companion, due mostly to media speculation, Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen) is having greater difficulties transitioning given her grating voice and inability to adapt to new technologies.  Luckily for Don, his long time friend Cosmo Brown (Donald O'Connor) comes up with the idea to change their newest picture into a musical, allowing for Don to exercise his performance skills which granted him his breakthrough in Hollywood.  This is good news for everyone except, Lina whose singing and dancing are even worse than her acting.  Don, however, has recently discovered a young dancer named Kathy (Debbie Reynolds) who he thinks is perfect for the part and sees this role as a chance to return his own luck in Hollywood, as well as a chance to win Kathy's affection.  A problem arises when Lina explains to the producer that her contract allows her near omnipotence over the film despite her failure to perform up to expectations.  Realizing her control Lina demands that Kathy sing her vocals and voice over her acting scenes while receiving no credit for her actions.  Reluctant to do so, but realizing that she has no alternative, Kathy succumbs to the demands and rescinds to her leading role in favor of keeping the love and affection of Don.  The film, titled The Dancing Cavelier, is a huge success and both Don and Lina are asked to give encore performances.  In a moment of hubris, Lina blows her guise and it is revealed that not only has she been lip-synching, but that her voice is unbearable to the audience as well.  Don quickly rushes on stage and reveals Kathy to be the real star of the film to which the audience celebrates appropriately.  The film ends on a joyous note for everyone involved, excluding Lina of course who has learned a very valuable lesson about the ever-fading nature of beauty.

The real magic of Singin' In The Rain comes not in its story or musical numbers, but instead in its editing and post-filming elements.  Sure, it is well-acted and beautifully shot, but the composition of images and use of sound make this film something special.  I would imagine that audiences viewing this film in theaters had the same sort of awe-inspiring experiences as those who viewed The Jazz Singer, a film that is mentioned constantly within Singin' In The Rain, perhaps to let viewers know that Donen was creating an homage of sorts.  It was something new and amazing that lacked explanation, Singin' In The Rain is the truest example of magical cinema.  The perfect hybridity of editing with story telling occurs during the scene when Lina and Don are attempting to film, the then titled The Dueling Cavelier and find the burdens of recording sound unbearable.  The film track often drops out during their speeches to reflect the microphone being out of range and during one scene Lina moves back and forth constantly and the sound wavers with her movements, a moment that was undoubtedly very difficult to recreate in the sound studio.  Having a bit of experience with contemporary sound editing I can confess that this is still a difficult effect to recreate.  In fact, the only film I can recall that even deals with sound in a similar manner is Blow Out.  Furthermore, the entire pace of the scene is frantic, between the constant jump cuts and re-creating of the same scene it is hard to fathom how many takes this scene required.  Despite this, the scene seems flawless and is perhaps one of the most enjoyable moments of the film.  Such dedication to perfection reflects the work of Stanley Donen and he is slowly becoming one of my favorite directors despite having made mostly musicals. 

I am baffled as to why there is no Blu-Ray for this piece of art that is a film.  However, I imagine that they may do something in the upcoming year to celebrate the film's sixtieth anniversary.  I would suggest holding off until that release, but if not, purchase a copy, because it is a landmark film that I wished I had seen much earlier in my life.

It's Not Psychology, It's Metaphysics: Jules and Jim (1962)

Every romantic comedy involving an awkward and convoluted triangle love affair has Francois Truffaut to thank, his 1962 masterpiece Jules and Jim.  Truffaut's film, very much lodged in the ideals of The French New Wave, portrays two stalwart friends and a sexually free woman engaging in an intimate relationship in every sense of the word.  The stylistic nature of New Wave filmmaking allows Truffaut to portray the frantic nature of love between multiple people by undercutting dialogue, jumping to reactions early and even inserting long inexplicable shots of the natural world around the characters, all adding a genuine feeling of spontaneity to experiencing love.  Truffaut, as he does with many of his films, captures the essence of human nature, often focusing on the tragedies of existence, but always reminding viewers that even the most dire of situations can procure moments of happiness.  Jules And Jim is an unconventional look at the trials and tribulations that is at all times honest, absurd and heartfelt.  It should be no surprise that the film is tied very closely to Truffaut's own life experiences, a practice reflected in many of his works, most notably The 400 Blows.

The title characters Jules (Oskar Werner) and Jim (Henri Serre) are the ideal male pal combination.  Jules an Austrian novelist and critic and Jim a French poet find themselves enamored with each others intellect and love for the written word.  Throughout the early portions of the film they find themselves perusing the nooks and crannies of Paris, often translating the seminal literary works of each ones respective countries and relating it to their own seemingly mundane lives.  It is assumed that their rather repetitive existence promises to remain untouched, however, when both of them meet the quirky, yet attractive Catherine (Jeanne Moreau) infatuation occurs instantly, for both Jules and Jim find themselves attempting to win over the heart...and body of Catherine.  After a variety of humorous competitions, mostly of a verbal nature, it is Jules who wins Catherine over and takes her to live on the Parisian countryside.  Jim accepts his loss and succumbs to loneliness.  Both accept their situations and even fight a in a war that pits them against one another and all seems fine, however, a few months after the war Jules invites Jim to visit him at his country home.  While doing so, Catherine, whether inadvertent or not, seduces Jim and the two begin to confess their previous feelings.  After a series of miscommunications and letters, Jim discovers that he is to be the father of Catherine's child.  However, Catherine loses the child, but not her affection for Jim.  In a rather awkward moment, Jules catches Catherine and Jim in a moment of intimacy, but chooses to pretend it never occurred and instead passively asks for Jim to remove himself from their home.  Realizing that she is madly in love with Jim, Catherine drives herself and Jim off a bridge into water to assure that they can be together in death.  The film then cuts to Jules, narrating the funeral of both Catherine and Jim explaining that Catherine's casket was relatively small, while Jim's was quite large, reflecting his rather grandiose nature.  This final commentary by Jules says it all, the relationship that proved most important was the one between two friends, who know each others most intimate secrets and that Catherine, for all intents and purposes, ruined their bond both figuratively by becoming a romantic interference and literally by killing Jim, thus separating him from Jules indefinitely.

As I noted this film is a very intimate work on the part of Francois Truffaut, particularly because this film is quite reflective of his close, though brief, relationship with Jean-Luc Godard.  Godard and Truffaut share the spotlight in The French New Wave and film critics continue to debate which individual can claim rulership as the film movement's leader.  The duo built their close relationship while working as film critics for the Cahiers Du Cinema and began making short films as side projects; often incorporating each others help as it proved necessary.  The ultimate result was the creation of two distinctly different directors that just happened to use a lot of the same methods.  In fact, the two worked so closely that many actors appeared in both directors' films and both directors borrowed the others unused footage.  Their friendship proved most productive with the release of Breathless, a film written by Francois Truffaut and directed by Jean-Luc Godard.  Both Godard and Truffaut received international acclaim for this film, as did Truffaut for the previously mentioned film The 400 Blows.  It seemed as tough Truffaut and Godard were destined to be best friends for life and continue to work in collaboration well past the fall of The French New Wave.  This change, however, with the rise in workers revolutions in France during the early 1960's.  Godard and Truffaut found themselves promoting differing political ideologies during the revolts high points.  Their relative views became so severe that the duo broke off their friendship and ceased contact up to the point of Truffaut's death in 1984.  In my opinion this film reflects this occurrence in Truffaut's life, even if it predates the actual fallout between the two directors.  Jules is intended to represent Godard, particularly given the directors Swiss origins and Jim is undoubtedly Truffaut a fact that is only made more probable by Godard previously making a film titled Charlotte Et Son Jules.  Jules and Jim end their relationship and fail to rekindle it before Jim's death and the same thing occurred between Godard and Truffaut.  I know this all implies that Truffaut is a psyching, but I am not saying it is meant to reflect it perfectly; instead it just shows how much a director like Truffaut pulled from personal experience for his films.  Perhaps this helps to explain the intimate and very honest nature of the late director's work.

This is one of the staples of art house cinema and one of Truffaut's finest outings.  I highly recommend checking the film out and getting the Criterion release, because the supplements are phenomenal.

Life Is Much The Same; Sometimes Bitter, Sometimes Sweet: Sunrise (1927)

Sunrise, subtitled A Song of Two Humans is one of those gems that often separates a legitimate critics top film list from somebody who pretends to know what they are talking about when it comes to cinema.  I had yet to see this movie and felt as though I was missing something spectacular.  To be honest, as the film began I thought I was watching a rather dull film, but this notion ended quite quickly.  The moment director F.W. Murnau began overlapping images and incorporating bizarre camera angles, I was hooked.  This film is an expressionist masterpiece that pours out darkness almost consuming the the faint light that surrounds the characters, becoming a study in the blackest parts of the human psyche, most notably deceit and infidelity.  However, like any good film made before Citizen Kane, it offers redemption and viewers are left with a cinematic treat that is both rewarding and heartfelt, a feat that is becoming harder and harder to deliver in contemporary cinema.

I have mentioned in many reviews that some film plots are very simple and unapologetically plain.  Sunrise may  prove to have the simplest plot of any film I ever review.  With that being said, it may also have one of the deepest-rooted narratives of any piece of cinema I have encountered.  This simple story of redemption is so honest, emotional and beautiful that I could not look away, fearing that I would miss some subtlety that would turn the entire narrative on its head.  The narrative goes like this The Man (George O'Brien) is so deeply consumed by lust for The Woman From The City (Margaret Livingston) that he is making a fool of his wife The Woman (Janet Gaynor) and blowing his meager earnings to please the city socialite.  In an oneiric scene The Woman From The City demands that The Man kill her wife and move to the city with her, promising a world of razzmatazz and joviality that explodes off the screen in orgiastic joy.  Half-drunken on idealism The Man agrees and plans an elaborate method to kill The Woman whilst rowing to the city.  The Woman mistakes this offering of a trip to the city for a chance to rekindle their relationship, only to become shocked when The Man tries to kill her.  Unable to commit to the act The Man begs for The Woman's forgiveness as they dock on shore and approach the city.  Realizing the error of his ways, The Woman accepts The Man's apologies and the couple engage in a carefree romp through the city.  Their flame rekindled the couple heads back to their farm town by boat, only to get caught in a hectic storm that capsizes the boat.  Believing he has lost his wife, The Man goes into a severe depression while The Woman From The City believes his act to be purposeful.  Fortunately for The Man, it is discover that The Woman has indeed survived the wreck with little harm.  The Man dismisses The Woman From The City and refuses to continue his infidelities leaving the couple together in a happy embrace, thus ending the film, simply and poetically.

The film is full of critical analysis, Murnau was a director who was very self-aware about the images he projected and Sunrise is certainly no exception.  With a oeuvre that includes an adaptation of Tartuffe, as well as the critically acclaimed Nosferatu, it is clear that Murnau loved the study of human experience.  Sunrise particularly concerns itself with the tragedy of human desire.  The desire manifests itself in many ways throughout the film, whether it is The Man's desire for another lover, or The Woman's desire for normalcy within her family.  Even The Woman From The City desires the acceptance of the village people, despite engaging in infidelity which she fails to realize destroys this possibility.  These desires are rather blatant, but the larger issue of longing comes through in the form of capitalist desires.  Money is arguably its own character within the film, every main character is tied to it in some form and it is exchanged throughout the film.  In fact, the only reason that The Man and The Woman are capable of rekindling their love is because of an apparent excess of wealth produced by The Man.  It is implied at the films onset that The Man has no money, yet the couple spends lavishly in the city as though they had an unlimited well of finances.  It implies that happiness and the cessation of desire can only occur through monetary escape.  This argument helps add another layer to the film, particularly the possibility that the couple's trip to the city was actually a dream.  Many of the occurrences in the city are literally impossible, notably the instance in which The Man and The Woman walk through traffic without being hit, or when The Man plays the carnival game that appears to have a never ending supply of balls for him to throw.  The scenes are illogical and surreal, all indicative of dreams.  Contrast this with the literal stormy seas of reality that the couple must go through.  They are shot with close angles and become far more believable than any of the city scenes.  Furthermore, it is only in The Man's moment of severe loss that he realizes that the reality of nothingness makes the fleeting dreams of unlimited wealth ridiculous and that a life in poverty with love is far more rewarding than a life with riches that lacks love.  Sure, this particular reading of Sunrise is a possible stretch, but I cannot help but think Murnau has such ideas in mind.

This movie is on top film lists for a reason, it is perfect filmmaking and a shining moment in the silent film era.  I believe there was briefly a blu-ray copy of this released, but it is sadly out of print.  If you can drop money on that get it, if not a regular DVD will work fine.  The only thing that will not work is not watching this film, because you would be doing yourself a terrible injustice.

The Eighth Wonder of the World: King Kong (1933)

I am often wary of approaching the classics I have not seen, particularly ones that receive a constant stream of praise.  The original King Kong is one such film.  I was familiar with all the classic scenes and knew the whole plot, yet when I finally got around to watching this classic I was enamored by its incandescence and narrative mastery.  King Kong is often placed on top 100 lists alongside Citizen Kane and Seven Samurai and I was uncertain that it was deserving of such praise.  I was sorely wrong.  It is deserved of all critical praise, particularly is well-executed narrative, technological advancements and stellar cinematography.  In fact, my only criticism for the work is its acting, which while overly exaggerated only reflects the accepted style of the early thirties.  King Kong is the veritable beast of cinema and exudes all he elements of the magic movies can bring viewers.  King Kong is magnificent.

As many of you may know, from either the original or the many subsequent remakes, King Kong follows Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong) as he searches for the next big thing in cinema verite.  On a hunch, Denham hires a crew to begin filming on an unnamed island.  This crew includes the perfectly American John Driscoll (Bruce Cabot), as well as a very large amount of uncredited actors, including a rather racially insensitive Chinese cook, not to mention the pseudo-minstrel village people of Skull Island.  Denham's unspoken quest is soon revealed to be a quest to capture images of the elusive beast King Kong.  This entails using a young woman Denham has hired named Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) as bait.  The bait works and leads to King Kong taking Wray into his lair that is a literal pocket of the prehistoric era, complete with a variety of long forgotten monsters.  In an act of love, Driscoll enrolls himself, as well as Denham and the crew, in a rescue mission.  This portion consumes a considerable amount of the film and is a masterpiece of technical achievement and cinematic composition in its battles, multi-layered scenes and editing.  Eventually Denham and Driscoll rescue Darrow and manage to subdue Kong deciding that their best bet is to take the beast back with them and exploit it for monetary gain.  At this point, you are probably familiar with the story, it goes awry quickly and Kong attempts to take his prize in Darrow, unfortunately, Kong is quickly attacked by planes and falls to his death, a fatal case of beauty consuming a beast.  A simple film that is eloquently told and forever timeless.

I will exempt myself from critical analysis for this work, because I would only touch on the issue of exploitation of others as it occurs so obviously in this film.  Instead, I will offer up AFI's list of the best movies ever, which includes King Kong.  While it is not the best list ever composed it is rather respectable and one that I plan to knock out sooner rather than later.

Obtaining a Blu-Ray should be understood on this one, a copy is necessary or you cannot even consider yourself a fan of film.  Buy a copy and share it with your family and friends, they will thank you.

Top Ten Thursdays: Animals in Movies

As I surf the net with Dunston Checks In playing in the background, I was quickly inspired for a new Top Ten Thursday.  I have decided to focus on top ten animal characters from films.  Sadly Dunston did not make the list, however, the ten I choose are certainly their own beasts in the world of cinema.

10.) The Goats - The Men Who Stare At Goats (2009)

While they only serve a minor importance in teh film, the goats from this star driven comedy are an excellent addition to an expertly crafted comedy.

9.) White Mane - White Mane (1953)

An intensely sentimental film that is both achingly beautiful and heartbreaking.  For more info check my previous review.

8.) The Gopher - Caddyshack (1980)

Only a mechanical snickering gopher could stand counterpoint to the hilarity of Bill Murray.









7.) Mr. Fox - The Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)

He truly is one fantastic fox.

6.) The Creatures - Pan's Labyrinth (2006)

Sure they are not technically animals, but their bestial nature is justifiable for inclusion on this list.

5.) Kong - King Kong (1933)

"The eight wonder of the world!"

4.) Balthazar - Au Hasard Balthazar (1966)

The saddest movie involving an animal ever, Au Hasard Balthazar is an existential film about peoples triumphs and tragedies as seen through the eyes of a donkey.

3.) The Falcon - The Maltese Falcon (1941)

"It's the stuff that dreams are made of..."

2.) The Monkeys - 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Serving as a connection between the evolution of technology, the monkeys in 2001 are as human in their expression as they are barbaric in their understanding of the monolith.

1.) Gojira - Gojira (1954)

I picked Gojira almost entirely for his death scene, it is so oneiric and truly serves as an example of the tragedies present in nuclear proliferation, at least as they relate to the natural world.









Honorable Mention

Blanche - House (1977)
The Zoo - A Zed and Two Noughts (1986)
Dug - Up (2009)

Blood Brothers, Flowers and Crackling Ice: Flesh And The Devil (1926)

Every time I believe I have found the penultimate silent film something comes along to challenge all my assumptions.  The Greta Garbo driven Flesh and the Devil is one such example.  The acting, narrative and cinematography have brought me a state of awe that has not occurred since first viewing Metropolis.  What makes this particular viewing experience even better was that I was able to attend a viewing of the film with live organ music, giving me a faint idea as to what it may have been like to attend a film in the twenties.  Sadly, it was blatantly obvious that my girlfriend and me were the youngest couple there and were probably half the age of the next oldest person there.  I wish yet again that persons my age had a love for the beauty of silent era filmmaking, but as this events showed, it has yet to happen.  Regardless, I am enthralled by Flesh and the Devil and am making it a mission of mine to become much more versed in the MGM titles that were released during this golden age of cinema.

Flesh and the Devil follow a handful of characters as they interact in a lavish and old-world German village, particularly the relationship between two long time friends Leo (John Gilbert) and Ulrich (Lars Hanson).  They are shown as compatriots whose single concern is assure that they advance forward in unison, even if it means occasionally shoveling shit for the other, in the most literal sense of the term.  Their bond appears to be sturdy and incapable of divide.  This inextricable connection changes, however, with the emergence of Felicitas (Greta Garbo) a sultry women who exudes a sexuality so strong that Leo become instantaneously enamored with her.  Their budding relationship seems perfect, until it is brought to Leo’s attention that Felicitas is already married to Count von Rhaden (Marc McDermott).  In an attempt to assure Felictas’ love Leo duels and kills the count resulting in Leo’s exile to avoid severe punishment.  During his long leave of absence, Leo thinks fondly of Felicitas, literally envisioning her name in his dreams.  Felicitas, however, has moved on to wed Ulrich who is completely oblivious to the past relationship between Leo and Felicitas given its secretive nature.  Ulrich in a moment of celebration is able to bring Leo back early hoping to share his good news.  Much to Leo’s dismay he was hoping to marry Felicitas.  The film then focuses on Felicitas and her attempts to seduce Leo without leaving Ulrich.  As Leo, and the village priest make ever apparent, such a polygamous relationships is impossible and more importantly sinful.  The misunderstanding almost leads to Leo and Ulrich attempting to kill one another, an action Felicitas attempts to be indifferent towards.  In a climactic ending Ulrich realizes that Leo was only attempting to regains his love and that in reality it was Felicitas whose actions were tantamount to betrayal.  This deceit is punished, however, because while attempting to stop the shootout Felicitas falls through a thin piece of ice, leading to her cold and lonely death.  Ulrich and Leo are reunited as buddies once again to move freely through the world without the burdens of a competing sexual threat.

In a joking manner I left the screening saying that I had no clue why Brokeback Mountain was so controversial, this film was much “gayer.”  I meant that jokingly because the characters of Leo and Ulrich are very intimate.  The two are shown as an inseperable entitiy, often predicting the others actions and preparing to make each others movements go through with relative ease.  In such a scenario their coupling represents the finest example of the homosocial bond I have ever seen in film.  While the leading males never enter into a traditional homosexual act (they do come damn close at the end), they are obviously attracted to one another, in so much as they believe themselves deserved of one another’s blood.  Their attraction, according to the homosocial bond, is not sexual in nature but more narcissistic in their desire to be with some one that equally represents them.  Both Leo and Ulrich are white males who are relatively well to do.  It is not only desirous for them to partner with one another, but ideal in terms of survival.  In the simplest terms they are friends due almost entirely to likemindedness.  With this in mind, it completely changes the purpose and image of Felicitas.  Unlike the femme fatale the film portrays her to be, she is instead a threat to the power advantages of Ulrich and Leo’s homosocial bond.  She represents an opposing ideal, which would mean severing their unity that assured mutual safety.  Luckily for the duo and problematically for the film, their homosocial bond transcends Felicitas and her feminine interference.  Such an ending is obvious an early twentieth century equivalent of the rather degrading term “bros before hos,” but clearly represents ideals prevalent in the 1920’s.  Watch the film with this discussion in mind, seriously it is really obvious and almost tragically humorous.

I want to reiterate how spectacular this film is, particularly the acting and cinematography.  Both were revolutionary and far superior to many films that are made today.  It is well worth seeing and owning and I would suggest getting a copy as soon as possible, as it only exists in the outdated world of VHS.

I’m Here My Whole Life, And I’m Like A Disease: Sixteen Candles (1984)

In many cinephiles eyes, John Hughes is the ultimate eighties filmmaker.  His often raunchy and always sentimental teenage angst films film viewers with nostalgia for a simpler time when the woes of not being sexually attractive or popular outweighed the financial burdens of adulthood.  His small-town American imagery was always ideal and implied unity amongst the most unlikely of friends, and his 1984 film Sixteen Candles is certainly no exception.  However, what separates this film from his later works, particularly The Breakfast Club, is rawness.  The dialogue, cinematography and general feel of the film leaves viewers with the impression that Hughes made the entire film on the fly, apparently using improvisation and accidentally good footage as his inspiration.  In a way Sixteen Candles could be seen as Hughes’s Breathless, it is equally philosophical and certainly as problematic.  Despite having class, race and gender issues the film is the piece-de-résistance in high school, given that it precedes The Breakfast Club and contains actors who would soon become icons of the 1980’s, most notably the films star Molly Ringwald, who would find little success after The Breakfast Club (The comparisons with Jean Seberg seem eerily convenient.)  Ultimately, Sixteen Candles is sweet, quotable and a feel-good movie if ever one existed.

Sixteen Candles centers on the troublesome life of Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald), a distraught girl whose sixteenth birthday turns out to be every expanding disaster.  The film opens with Samantha claiming that she feels no physical change with her newly found age, noting specifically that her breasts are still unnoticeable.  This self-esteem issue is only heightened by her own family’s failure to acknowledge her birthday due to their preoccupation with their other daughters impending wedding.  Bewildered and depressed, Samantha heads to school and decides to fill out a secret sex survey, one in which she admits a strong desire to sleep with the school stud Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling).  Believing that she has passed the information to another girl, Samantha’s luck worsens when she realizes that the note in which she mentions Jake’s name has actually fallen into his hands.  She beliefs her chances with the dreamy senior ruined.  Beyond this, Samantha is incapable of shaking off the unyielding advances of a young man simply known as The Geek (Anthony Michael Hall), who, along with his posy, which includes a young John Cusack, attempt to win her heart.  In the meantime, Jake admits his own fascination with Samantha and confronts The Geek about his feelings, creating a rather unlikely duo.  The Geek agrees to end his pursuits of Samantha and accepts Jake’s attractive, but socially inept girlfriend as an exchange.  After all the shenanigans and sexual proclivity of a high school comedy, Samantha finally meets up with Jake and they are shown celebrating her birthday atop a coffee table in one of cinema’s most iconic moments.  All is happy, but not all is without problems.

John Hughes may be known for making brilliant films, yet his films suffer from a heavy amount of ethnocentricity, particularly in regards to white male ideology.  The film from its imagery to its dialogue seeps white middle class America.  It is difficult to spot any character who is not white, a problem that reemerges in The Breakfast Club.  This is of course excluding the stereotyped character of Long Duk Dong (Gedde Watanabe) whose exaggerated antics and misunderstanding of English is more of a hindrance to Asian-American actors than an advance.  Similarly, the film seems to applaud the objectification of females.  Jake and The Geek are obviously pursuing sexual conquest, the former for a new fling and the later for social advancement.  While Jake and Samantha are shown in a closing, moment of intimacy little is noted of Jake’s fidelity, particularly given his willingness to drop his previous girlfriend instantaneously, despite her rather outlandish antics.  The Geek is even more problematic given that his desire for acceptance leads him to lie about sleeping with Samantha, using her underwear as proof, making the importance of the act contingent on an object.  Furthermore, while it is never blatantly stated it is assumed that The Geek takes advantage of Jake’s ex when she is drunkenly incapacitated, which is tantamount to date rape.  Tragically, Samantha, the character capable of transcending this act, is equally inclined to these acts of objectification, gazing at Jake’s girlfriend in adoration desiring, not her personality, but instead her body.  This desirous gaze dually objectifies the girl, as well as Samantha.  The film lacks a voice of reprimand, a problem that arguably plagues the other works of Hughes.

So I know my critique makes the film seem unviewable, but to be honest it is still a good movie, it is just problematic.  It is a classic and a must see eighties film.  It is not superior to The Breakfast Club, but is still great and any film buff should own a copy.

Oh Professor, You're Full of Whimsy: Horse Feathers (1932)

The Marx Brothers were comedic masters, between the wry sexual innuendos of Groucho and the elaborate slapstick work of Harpo, they covered every possible avenue of humor and continue to serve as the pinnacle of how to make people laugh.  While Duck Soup is certainly their masterpiece, Horse Feathers is an equally hilarious romp through college life as seen through the Marx Brothers.  This of course means that the film has little to nothing to do with college and everything to do with winning the hearts of women and belittling the foolish people who attempt to exist in their presence.  Cohesive narrative is sacrificed for lengthy comedic routines, yet the film manages to flow nicely and offers a few moments of cinematic grace that can bring a new level of respect to the staunchest critics of comedic work.  Horse Feathers is how you make a comedy, ensure laughter first and a story will formulate in the process.

Horse Feathers begins with the inauguration of Professor Wagstaff (Groucho Marx) to the position of president at Huxley University.  The school is infamous for continually replacing presidents in the face of constantly loosing football games to a rival college. Wagstaff's son, and Huxley student, Frank (Zeppo Marx) suggests that he hire some local thugs from the local speakeasy to play for Huxley in the upcoming game, thus assuring their victory.  In desperation Professor Wagstaff agrees to pursue this plan and arrives in the speakeasy after a hilarious exchange of passwords.  Unfortunately for Wagstaff,  the two players his son had in mind are already hired out and he must instead settle on the speakeasy proprieties Baravelli (Chico Marx) and the mute dog catcher Pinky (Harpo Marx).  The duo are bumbling idiots who cannot exist in society with any sense of normalcy and certainly lack the athletic skills necessary to help Huxley win a football game.  The film then takes a tangent as the four men attempt to woo the college widow Connie (Thelma Todd).  After proving unsuccessful, the group plays their football game, which proves ill-fated until the shenanigans of Pinky allow them to score multiple touchdowns thus winning the game by a large margin.  This concludes the films narrative in a brief, but damn funny fashion.


I am a bit lacking in ideas for criticism on this film and would simply hope that this review inspires you to revisit the classic comedies.  Along with Keaton, Chaplin and The Three Stooges, The Marx Brothers are funny regardless of your age.  I was able to view Horse Feathers with a varied crowed  both of age and gender allowing to catch the full spectrum of jokes presented, some relative to thirties culture, others highbrow political critiques and some just plain raunchy.  If possible, watch this film with an older relative as they will make the experience more pleasurable given that you are being provided a window into what was considered funny over eighty years ago.  It is a comedy transcendent of time and one to be shared widely and regularly.  I am glad to have had the viewing opportunity.


Snag this film up, along with Duck Soup, a copy on any medium will work as it is not a particularly visual film, although the harp scene is rather beautiful.

Top Ten Thursdays: The Films of Stanley Kubrick

An autuer if ever one existed, Kubrick is well-known for his brilliantly bizarre genre pieces that defy logic and fascinate viewers.  Not only are Kubrick's works continually debated by film scholars and cinephiles the world over, but he also serves as an example of how one should approach film making: with unwavering passion for the message at hand.  I offer a humble, and debatable, list of my top ten films by the late master of cinema.

10.) Full Metal Jacket (1987)

Probably one of Kubrick's more accessible films, Full Metal Jacket is a brutal and often problematic view of a soldier's evolution from a soulful person to a killing machine lacking a cohesive identity.

9.) Barry Lyndon (1975)

Barry Lyndon is on part cinema and two parts movie art, and is as equally satirical as the Thackeray novel on which its based.

8.) The Shining (1980)

Easily one of the scariest movies ever made, and the film involves little to direct acts of violence and gore, but instead uses one mans fall into madness as its form medium for horror.

7.) The Killing (1956)

I also placed this hidden gem on my top ten film noir movies, and will mention yet again how well-made the film is, and how indicative it is of the spectacular filmmaker that Kubrick would later become.

6.) Paths of Glory (1957)

More scathing than Platoon and more cinematic than All Quiet on the Western Front, Paths of Glory is the quintessential anti-war film.

5.) Lolita (1962)

James Mason is lecherous as Humbert Humbert, and in making Lolita, Kubrick manages to craft one of the most true literary adaptations ever.

4.) Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

Critics often cite this as Kubrick's worst film, but I often argue that it will prove to be one of his most well-respected films twenty years in the future, it was simply ahead of its time.

3.) A Clockwork Orange (1971)

The cult classic in Kubrick's oeuvre, A Clockwork Orange manages to display aesthetic harmony in a world of depravity. 

2.) Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb (1964)

"Gentlemen.  You Can't Fight In Here.  This is The War Room!"

1.) 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

One of the trippiest films ever made, Kubrick's 2001 is one of a handful of flawless films and an unsolvable enigma to film scholars.






Honorable Mention

Killer's Kiss (1955)
Spartacus (1960) [This is HM by default, but I would strongly suggest avoiding this film as it was the only one that Kubrick did not possess complete control over.