FaveFilms: Notorious (1946, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock)

Alfred Hitchcock is probably the single individual most responsible for my love of movies. My earliest introduction to his name and image was being terrified beyond all reason as a young child when the chilling “Funeral March of the Marionettes” accompanied by the massive film director’s silhouetted outline came onto my television screen. As a child I did not understand the irony in Hitchcock appearing with a noose around his neck and dryly saying “good e-vening … I’m … Alfred Hitch-cock.” All I saw was a macabre, death obsessed British gentleman prepared to take me to a world of pure terror.

As I grew older, I realized that Hitchcock was not just a television personality on Nick at Nite reruns, but also directed some movies too. I sought out such standard titles as Rear Window and The Birds. My childhood fears of the gloomy silhouette on the small screen morphed into an intense admiration, even obsession, for the techniques and themes of the greatest of all cinematic artists. My teenage years were accompanied by screenings of most of the Master’s great works. The first time I saw Vertigo was a real turning point in my life, the moment at which I understood that cinema is indeed an art form worthy of my utmost respect and admiration. For whatever reason, Notorious is the one great masterpiece of Hitch’s that I did not see until much later, after my tastes in cinema had largely already been formed. The film has been difficult to find on DVD for some time, existing for a while only on an expensive Criterion edition, and then going out of print altogether. I am happy to report that the film is now available for the entire world to see as part of MGM’s Alfred Hitchcock Premiere Collection. Wow, what a film it really is.

Notorious is important and magnificent for numerous reasons. One can point to the amazing performance by Ingrid Bergman, perhaps the most nuanced and sympathetic of her career. I was also blown away by the film’s incredible story, structured so tightly that you think it is going to burst in two. There’s the film’s overall atmosphere, the post-war paranoia that pervades every frame. Hitchcock’s films, though, are always about the technical virtuosity the director delivers from scene to scene. Notorious is perhaps the greatest of Hitchcock’s films in its impeccably-planned structure and cinematic technique.

Hitchcock was known for planning every last detail of a movie in his head before filming even began. We can tell that the Master most certainly employed this technique when he made Notorious. Consider the much-discussed scene in which Cary Grant and Ingmar Bergman kiss for three minutes, defying the censors and all sense of decency in 1946 filmmaking practice. Hitchcock gets away with it by having them talk, answer the phone, and engage in other innocuous activities in between passionate kisses. Consider the miraculous camera movement in which we start with an extreme long shot overlooking a private party and crane ever so deliberately to an extreme close-up of an important key clutched in Bergman’s hand. Or, consider the suspenseful scene in which Grant and Bergman rummage through vintage bottles in the wine cellar looking for the one that contains a radioactive substance before they are discovered by Bergman’s Nazi husband. These are the moments that make Notorious an absolutely thrilling ride.

Bergman plays a young woman who is hired by the American government to spy on post-war German Nazis. Her father was an American traitor, so she automatically has an “in” with the Germans, especially a wealthy businessman played by Claude Rains. The film is deeply concerned with questions of loyalty and patriotism, as Bergman must decide how far she is willing to go to serve her country. Is she willing to give up her body? How about her soul?

A cursory plot summary, though, doesn’t do justice to the overall mood and suspenseful emotion the film evokes. While Notorious is often named by critics as one of the greatest Hitchcock films, if not the greatest, it still seems to be underappreciated by the public at large. Make no mistake, Notorious is an absolute treasure and deserves to be ranked with Vertigo, Psycho, Rear Window, North by Northwest, and Strangers on a Train as the best of the best in Hitchcock’s massive oeuvre.

Movie Review: A Christmas Tale (2008, Directed by Arnaud Desplechin)

I’m trying to see as many of the end-of-the-year Oscar contenders as I can before they leave the theatres. This is not an easy task since film distributors find it wise to pack all the interesting and halfway-intelligent films into the month of December. Each year, I find myself waiting impatiently for eleven months until we reach the month of indie dramas, character-driven stories, and, invariably, a Holocaust story or two (or three or four). Don’t get me wrong, many of the hyped-up films in December are just that, pieces of pretentious Oscar-bait that wear melodramatic emotions and human suffering on their sleeves. Sometimes, though, you see a film that actually lives up to its critical hype, or at least transcends the Oscar-centric structure of contemporary cinema in a meaningful way.

In the spirit of experiencing such films, I sauntered off to an arthouse cinema for a screening of A Christmas Tale, one of 2008’s critical darlings. Don’t let the movie’s title mislead you. This is not a charming story of the joys and perils of the holiday season à la A Christmas Story or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Rather, it’s a French-language subtitled three-hour film about a dysfunctional family at Christmas time.

Don’t all rush to the theatre at once to see this film. I know it might not sound like your cup of tea. But, it’s actually pretty good. In fact, while the film is flawed in many ways, it has moments of absolute brilliance and clarity. I’m not going to talk much about the movie’s elaborate plot, because that’s not really the point of the work. I will say that the narrative focuses upon the family’s matriarch, who has a terminal disease, and her decision about how to deal with the sickness. In the process of watching her work through her own ethics and values, we meet the important people in her life, all fascinating characters themselves.

I don’t think A Christmas Tale is one of the greatest films of the year. It suffers a bit from a lack of narrative clarity at times and some melodramatic moments that feel out of place in the context of the work as a whole. Nevertheless, it offers a nice alternative to the mainstream (and predictable) Hollywood movies playing at a Cineplex near you. Like several other films of the year, we feel like we’ve really spent some time with these characters, as neurotic and messed up as they are. In the end, we feel the full force of the matriarch’s decision regarding her cancer. What better time than the holidays to meditate upon the nature of life and death and the role that one’s family plays in one’s existence?

Movie Review: Bolt (2008, Directed by Chris Williams and Byron Howard)

Bolt, the latest Disney family offering, is about a small dog who is convinced he has super powers, since he’s spent his entire life on a television show set. Bolt sets on a cross-country expedition to rescue his “person” Penny, whom he believes has been kidnapped. Along the way, he meets the cat Kittens and the hamster Rhino, who become his sidekicks for the journey.

Families looking to spend a night at the movies are faced with the fact that very few family-oriented films are released by the major studios on a yearly basis. Therefore, it is more difficult to be critical of the family-friendly films that do find their way to the local multiplex. Bolt is just fine as fun and harmless family entertainment. There have certainly been more creative and profound animated films released recently, though (see WALL-E and Ratatouille). The voice acting of Miley Cyrus and John Travolta leaves a lot to be desired. The visuals are competent, but not breathtaking in any way. Nevertheless, the animals are cute and there’s enough fun to keep both kids and adults entertained.

Movie Review: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008, Directed by David Fincher)

One of the great blessings and curses of human existence is that one is aware of the predictability of one’s life cycle from an early age. You are born. You grow. Hopefully, you find some purpose in this world and some people you care about to spend it with. Your body gradually breaks down. Then, you die. David Fincher’s latest film, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, features a protagonist who experiences life in precisely the opposite manner. Benjamin Button is, as he explains, “born old.” Then, he grows younger every day before dying as a newborn. My guess is that your reaction to this film as a whole can be predicted by your response to that brief plot summary. If you think this sounds like a fascinating idea and you can’t wait to see what profound insights about human existence such a story might provide, then you’ll probably like this film a lot. If you say, “wait a second … people don’t age backwards … this sounds like a stupid idea,” then you’ll probably hate this picture.

Personally, I fall somewhere between these two extremes. I admired the skill of Brad Pitt in portraying the character across the age spectrum (sort of Welles’ Charles Foster Kane in reverse). I admired Cate Blanchett as Pitt’s lover-under-strange-circumstances. I admired the creativity and skill it took to execute such an eccentric visual concept (making a 45-year-old actor “age backwards” for three hours). A few of the film’s many scenes struck an emotional chord with me in exploring the bizarre implications of a life such as Button’s. For example, Blanchett’s predicament of having to “raise” both her young daughter and the backwards-aging Button simultaneously provides a unique take on the nature of familial love. Overall, however, I didn’t feel that the film is nearly as profound as it makes itself out to be. Does viewing life backwards really help us understand what real life is like? What new insights does such a story add?

I’m also not completely enamored with the film’s central storytelling device. Button’s life is told as a “frame story.” An old and dying Blanchett has her daughter read Button’s journal in a New Orleans hospital bed. The presence of an approaching Hurricane Katrina seems to have little relevance to the central story, even though the film seems to harp on this particular plot point.

I have loved David Fincher’s work in the past, especially his dual masterpieces Fight Club and Zodiac. While Benjamin Button is not a total failure, it does not live up to the artistic successes of his previous work. The film does, however, show great range and creativity. I’m confident that Fincher still has many good films ahead of him. I’m just thankful that he doesn’t age backwards.

Movie Review: Valkyrie (2008, Directed by Bryan Singer)

It’s beginning to look a lot like Oscar season, which means it’s also beginning to look a lot like a flood of WW II films coming to a multiplex near you. Hitler and the Holocaust feature prominently in this year’s awards season, including such disparate films as The Reader, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Defiance, and Good. Then there’s director Bryan Singer’s latest effort staring a non-couch-jumping Tom Cruise, Valkyrie.

Singer’s new film tells the story of Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, the leader of an effort by German officers to assassinate Hitler. While Valkyrie presents nothing particularly novel or profound, the director is able to craft a well-constructed thriller out of the familiar material. I was never bored during the film’s two hour running time. For some reason, the pre-release buzz regarding this film has been overwhelmingly negative. While I don’t think Valkyrie is anywhere near one of the best movies of the year, it’s much more credible and entertaining than I expected.

Tom Cruise is actually not bad in the lead role here. The script doesn’t require him to do too much, and that’s probably just as well. He doesn’t overact or over-react to the perilous situations at hand. While he is not electrifying to watch, he succeeds in not taking the audience out of the story with over-exaggerated gestures and mannerisms.

The film does serve as an important reminder that not all people living in Hitler’s Germany worshiped the Fuhrer unquestionably. I wish the film had spent more time exploring the German officers’ motivations for forming a resistance movement. Nevertheless, Valkyrie gives an effective picture of several individuals’ willingness to stand in the minority. There are times, the film seems to say, when one’s loyalty to all of humanity is even greater than one’s loyalty to the policies of one’s own country.

FaveFilm Review: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966, Directed by Sergio Leone)

On occasion I plan on posting a review of one of my favorite movies of all time. My criteria for choosing films to review will be based entirely upon my own personal taste. I plan on picking films which I simply cannot imagine living without. Some will be critically-acclaimed “masterpieces,” whereas others will be underground films that very few people have heard of. Some will be acknowledged classics, whereas others will be generally derided films which I nevertheless have a soft spot in my heart for (I’m talking to you “Elizabethtown”). My comments on these films will hopefully provide some insight into my taste as a cinemaphile (for what it’s worth).

I don’t have a favorite movie of all time. There are way too many great films out there to narrow them all down to one artificial “Holy Grail” of the screen. Nevertheless, when people ask me what my favorite film is, I typically give one of about ten stock answers, depending upon my mood. On certain days (including today), The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is at the top of my list. When I consider why this film resonates with me on such a profound level, I’m reminded of the old adage in film criticism “it’s not important what a film is about, but rather how it’s about what it’s about.”

The plot of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is ridiculously simplistic for its three hour running time. Nevertheless, a simple plot summary doesn’t get at the reasons I love Leone’s spaghetti Western so much. Yes, it’s about three greedy men seeking a lost Confederate treasure following a Yankee raid. But, it’s really about Ennio Morricone’s electrifying score. It’s about Clint Eastwood’s stoic posture and subtle changes of facial expressions at key emotionally-charged moments. It’s about Eli Wallach’s Tuco, part Mexican clown, part maniacal monster. It’s about the opening shot, a simple image of a desolate ghost town energized by the sudden appearance in the frame of a blood thirsty bounty hunter. It’s about the film’s magical ending, featuring a Mexican standoff so long and elaborately-shot that even Quentin Tarantino starts to look at his watch.

One of Leone’s great accomplishments is the way he breathes new life into the hackneyed stereotypes of American Westerns. Leone reached the apotheosis of “Western deconstruction” in his other masterpiece Once Upon a Time in the West. Nevertheless, I have always found the latter film too cold for my taste. Perhaps it would make a great doctoral thesis on the images and character types from the American Western, but it lacks the primal energy and emotional gestures of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. When watching a Leone film for the first time, I sense that I have seen every image in the film before, but not in the exact same configuration. Something just feels a little “off.” This simultaneous feeling of familiarity and originality is, of course, one of the great pleasures of Leone’s work.

I’ve talked a lot about the style of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, but not much about the substance. I’m not sure that Leone is trying to say anything particularly profound in his Italian Western. Sure, some contemporary critics have insisted upon reading the film as a peculiar parable for the turbulent political and military happenings of the 1960s. I have a hard time buying into the notion that The Good ultimately presents an anti-violence message, especially considering the ways in which the film seems to glory in its more sadistic moments (for example, Angel Eyes’s cruel torture of Tuco, trying to get information from his regarding the location of the treasure). Leone’s film, though, is a predecessor of such later “style-over-substance” films as Kill Bill. I am fine with this approach, as long as the substance is interesting enough to hold my attention for three hours, as is the case with Leone’s film.

If Leone is trying to say anything, though, he might be hinting at the folly of Hollywood’s simplistic approach to good and evil. Leone not only titles the movie The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, but audaciously uses intertitles to unambiguously label each of the characters according to one of the above personal traits. Perhaps we can all agree that Tuco is “ugly,” but is Eastwood’s Blondie really “good”? Leone’s exaggerated reduction of complex characters to one simplistic defining characteristic calls attention to the fact that that Hollywood had participated in such dehumanizing simplification for years (“oh look, there’s the bad guy”). In fact, are we not still participating in this totalizing reduction (see “Joe, the Plumber”)?

Leone’s film, then, retains its relevance both in style and substance today. The quest for ill-gotten gold is as old as Beowulf and as new as the latest thriller in your local multiplex. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly has entered our cultural lexicon to a degree that few other films have. Who can hear the opening strains of Merricone’s score (oh ah oh ah oh … wah wah wah) without the accompanying flood of spaghetti Western images inundating one’s mind?

Movie Review: Happy-Go-Lucky (2008, Directed by Mike Leigh)

I’m fairly certain that Happy-Go-Lucky is the first Mike Leigh film I have seen all the way through. I really want to check out his other work though. This film is saturated with such truth, grace, and depth that I now feel I have known the characters for years.

Happy-Go-Lucky features several characters of note. However, a young woman named Poppy, played pitch-perfectly by Sally Hawkins, is the main focus of the film. Poppy is a thirty-year-old school teacher living in London. She approaches the good, the bad, and the ugly of life with a dauntless spirit of idealistic optimism. No problems, including tumultuous relationships and a Nazi-ish driving instructor, seem to phase her Pollyanna-like personality. You might think that this uncompromising glass-half-full mentality would make her character, and thus the entire film, nearly unwatchable. However, Sally Hawkins is charming in the way she brings out the character’s many colors. Leigh’s film is a nearly-perfect exploration of the consequences, both negative and positive, of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.

As I was watching this film, I thought about how stale and lifeless much of the cinema put out by commercial Hollywood has become. I see no connection between the characters I see on screen and the people I might encounter on the street on a daily basis. Happy-Go-Lucky is similar to Jonathan Demme’s film Rachel Getting Married in that both films feel incredibly organic. The actors infuse the characters with a heavy dose of reality. Therefore, I believe them. Hence, I have a wonderful time watching the movie.

I hope that young filmmakers are watching and studying films like Happy-Go-Lucky and Rachel Getting Married. These are the movies that remind me why I love the cinema. I agree with Hamlet that “the purpose of art is … as ‘twere … to hold a mirror up to nature.” Mike Leigh accomplishes this goal in ways that mainstream Hollywood directors can only dream of.