100 Movies … 100 Posts: #72. “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994)

MV5BODU4MjU4NjIwNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMDU2MjEyMDE@._V1_SX214_AL_

This is post #29 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #72 “The Shawshank Redemption”

——————————————-

“The Shawshank Redemption” is many things. It’s one of the most emotionally powerful films in the history of cinema. It’s arguably the greatest film adaptation of a Stephen King story (“The Shining” might be the closest competitor). It was nominated for Best Picture in 1995, along with fellow AFI 100 films “Pulp Fiction,” and the winner of the award, “Forrest Gump.” It’s No. 1 on IMDB’s top 250. It’s an excellent look at the problems that plague the U.S. justice and prison systems. Most importantly, it’s an education on how to pronounce “Dumas.”

The three big names involved with the film are a testament to its quality. Tim Robbins wasn’t a household name in 1994, though he’d previously starred in 1990’s “Jacob’s Ladder.” Since then, he’s got an Oscar to his name for his role in “Mystic River,” but “Shawshank” is certainly the first movie that comes to mind when Robbins’ name is mentioned. The role of Andy Dufresne was delicate and complex, but Robbins managed to nail it. The performance is obviously something special, as Robbins hasn’t been the most prolific of actors since 1994, but people still remember him. Morgan Freeman is one of the greatest actors in Hollywood’s history. In his most well-known films, he usually doesn’t star, and despite getting the costar label in this one, he does get his own arc at least, and it might be his greatest role. It’s always great to see him in movies, and it’s even a treat to hear when he gets work as a narrator, like in “March of the Penguins,” as he also has one of the smoothest voices you’ll ever hear. Lastly, there’s director Frank Darabont, who can also be attributed to the greatness of the first season of “The Walking Dead,” which went downhill after he left. The first episode is among the best episodes of dramatic TV you’ll ever see. He’s also responsible for two other great King adaptations, “The Green Mile,” and the underrated “The Mist.”

Robbins really does deserve special mention for bringing the character of Dufresne to life, as with his backstory, it could have gone horribly wrong if not handled to perfection. In the 1940s, Dufresne winds up at Shawshank Prison, a reformatory for the most notorious of offenders, for the murder of his wife and her extramarital lover. Since the film follows Dufresne, and expects the viewer to believe he is guilty of the murders, as due to the circumstances surrounding the crime, it appears highly likely that he was the one who committed them, it was up to Robbins to make the character someone the viewer is willing to follow and somewhat likable while also knowing that he’s guilty of a horrific act. So, it took a great actor to keep the film from falling apart. Freeman’s Red is somewhat similar, but even though he was admittedly guilty of the crime he’d been incarcerated for, it’s somewhat forgivable considering how long he’d already been in prison by the time Dufresne arrives. Obviously, the film is asking viewers to spend several hours only with people who’d committed horrible crimes (prison staff included), but that’s not something easily made into an enjoyable experience.

And the film certainly does plumb the depths of human depravity, though not from the criminals, as the viewer never witnesses the crimes they’ve committed, with the exception of Dufresne. Instead, the darkness of human nature is most exhibited in the prison warden and the guards. Clancy Brown as Captain Hadley is delightfully prickish, but also terrifying like when he beats a new convict to death because he freaked out about his first night in the slammer. Warden Norton (Bob Gunton) is great as a hypocritical white collar man who preaches obedience through the Bible while freely making backdoor deals selling the prisoners as a labor force while collecting all the profits. “Put your trust in the Lord; your ass belongs to me. Welcome to Shawshank,” he says to the fresh meat as they arrive.

Beyond the actions of the guards, the movie goes into just how bad U.S. prison conditions were in the ’40s. Prisoners are commonly threatened with rape from other prisoners, there are worms in the food, the guards take tremendous liberties with the prisoners, and overall, the goal of prison is to demoralize and dehumanize the criminals, not to rehabilitate them into functional citizens so they can be reintroduced to society, but to remove the rebelliousness, and therefore the humanity, so what’s left is an empty shell who can barely cope with life once released. Actually, that makes it sound like prison hasn’t changed much since the ’40s. Certainly, something needs to be done with violent people, as they can’t be allowed to be among the general population, but as seen in other countries with much lower rates of violent behavior, there must be a way to do it better than the U.S. is currently doing and has done for a very long time.

So, Dufresne, being an intelligent individual, a former accountant, learns quickly that the prison’s goal is to remove the humanity from its prisoners, and makes every effort to try to retain his own humanity, as well as that of his fellow prisoners. He befriends Red, as Red is a man who knows how to get things, to procure some simple items: a rock hammer and some stones so he can build a chess set … and Rita Hayworth (he procures a poster of her at least). Dufresne’s fight for humanity is a strong theme throughout the film, and the times when he has great successes are the peaks that counter the dark valleys of the film. When he procures beers for his fellow prisoners through a deal with the guards and when he locks himself in the warden’s office and plays Italian opera through the PA system for the entire prison to hear, it’s almost a divine experience. This theme can be relatable to everyone, as all people experience difficulties that threaten to steal their humanity, and there are life-sapping problems that are inherently part of every system (government, work, etc.) that people will encounter, not just prisoners. Darabont deserves major credit for masterfully orchestrating those highest points interwoven with the lowest ones.

“I understand you’re a man who knows how to get things…”

The reality of dehumanization crystalizes when the old man, Brookes, whom James Whitmore portrays beautifully, is released from prison. He threatens to kill one of his friends so he can stay, because he’s become so accustomed, even comfortable with life in prison, and he’s so old that he knows he will have trouble functioning in a world that has changed and sped up so much since he was free that it’s completely foreign to him. He doesn’t have anyone he knows in the free world. He gets a job in a grocery store but can’t keep up the pace the boss wants. He has no hope of anything other than a fractured life, and he kills himself rather than waiting to die.

When Dufresne isn’t stirring up trouble, he’s finding ways to get in good with the guards and the warden. As a former accountant, he understands taxes, and when he offers to help the captain with his taxes, word spreads quickly. Within a few years, he’s doing taxes for all of the prison’s guards, the guards on the opposing recreational baseball teams, and the warden himself. This allows Dufresne to gain trust and get away with things none of the others would have been able to. Mostly, he uses this as leverage to improve the prison for the other cons, and help prevent his fellow inmates, as well as future residents from losing their souls.

The film as a whole is incredibly well-put together. Darabont managed to capture the essence of the ’40s even though the film takes place almost entirely in the prison. The pacing is perfect, as there’s something important happening in every scene. Everything is timed perfectly, so moments are allowed to linger but the movie still keeps moving, and there’s no waste. The audience’s emotions are manipulated magnificently with how information is withheld until the right moments to reveal the truth, and the viewer will often expect the film to go in one direction, but then will shift into the opposite direction. The film has a very rare dramatic perfection that is difficult to achieve for a lot of reasons, yet it still manages to keep a sense of humor, though it is very dark.

The one moment where it stumbles slightly in terms of narrative, and this is probably nitpicking, but when the prisoner arrives at Shawshank who knows the truth that Dufresne didn’t kill his wife and her other lover, because he just so happened to meet the guy who actually did, it seems like such a convenient coincidence that it’s a bit off-putting. But that prisoner’s fate saves it from being too tacky. And the movie does have such that spiritual, ethereal, serendipitous King quality that makes it not so bad. Then again, it’s never really made totally clear that the transferred prisoner is telling the truth, even though everyone around him seems to believe it.

You wouldn't think some guys sitting around drinking beer would make for great cinema, but thanks to Darabont's direction, it's a heavenly moment.

You wouldn’t think some guys sitting around drinking beer would make for great cinema, but thanks to Darabont’s direction, it’s a heavenly moment.

There are also some aspects of the movie that are politically questionable. The black characters in other King adaptations actually fare worse (especially “The Green Mile”), but in this case, Red needs Dufresne to teach him how to not just be a prisoner but to hold out hope for release and to keep on living to maintain his humanity, whereas prior to their acquaintance and for most of the story until the end, Red appears to be content living the rest of his life in prison. Maybe he’s just resigned to the likelihood that he won’t ever get his release, but it shouldn’t take a white character to teach a black character that it’s okay to continue living. Even so, at least Red has his own character arc and narrates the story, and he’s still a good character, but there are some problems there.

While prison rape is still common today, the way it’s presented in the film likely promoted resentment towards gay men. It’s difficult because that’s an inherent part of prison life, and in an examination of the prison system, it’s important to address, and it’s something that needs to not happen. But a lot of heterosexual men fear gays. Many straight men view gays as predatory and think all of them want to rape the heteros and turn them gay or something, and with the popularity of this film, the portrayal of rape in prison undoubtedly must have contributed to that idea if not begun the perpetuation of it. There’s a part where Red warns Dufresne about some commonly known rapists, referred to derogatorily as the Sisters, which has ugly connotations. Dufresne asks if they’re homosexuals, to which Red replies that first they’d have to be human before they could be homosexuals. That’s a very problematic line for many reasons. The insinuation is that they’re dehumanized to the point that they feel no remorse about rape, and that’s probably an accurate assessment of prison rapists. But the viewer could just as easily connect their dehumanization to homosexuality. No doubt, this is how people in prison talk, and public attitudes toward LGB people have shifted drastically since 1994, but people probably didn’t walk away from this film with positive thoughts about gays.

When Dufresne finally hatches the plan he’d been working on the entire time, unbeknownst to the viewer, behind lovely Rita, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the warden. It unfolds like a masterfully planned heist. When Dufresne crawls through the wall, in and out of the shit pipe, and into the river in the rain, it’s one of the iconic images in film (so iconic, it’s on the poster). The warden gets what he deserved with an extra helping of shit from Dufresne, and Dufresne makes off with a new identity and the warden’s money. Everything comes together and every thread from throughout the movie is tied up to great satisfaction. After Red is released from prison, it’s incredibly difficult to keep the eyes dry when he finally meets Dufresne again, a rare moment where that sappy, sentimental ending is truly earned by the journey that preceded it.

One of the greatest

One of the greatest “oh shit!” moments ever.

“The Shawshank Redemption” is a masterclass in quality filmmaking. There really aren’t enough superlatives in the english language to describe it. There are many films that are great upon first viewing but start to unravel or lose their luster upon the fourth or fifth watch through. This is one of the few that’s a pleasure every single time. Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’, and whether you’ve seen it 100 times or not at all, get busy watchin’ this movie.

Luckily, Abe Koby escaped Shawshank Prison so he could write this post.

Luckily, Abe Koby escaped Shawshank Prison so he could write this post.

Next up, #71. “Saving Private Ryan”

MV5BNjczODkxNTAxN15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMTcwNjUxMw@@._V1_SY317_CR9,0,214,317_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #73. “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” (1969)

MV5BMTkyMTM2NDk5Nl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNzY1NzEyMDE@._V1_SX214_AL_This is post #28 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #73 “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”

——————————————-

The most popular genre in film is possibly the action-adventure. It’s easy to see why. The movies are usually pretty light, fun, very accessible, lots of action, can offer intellectual insights at times, and even if they don’t, they’re usually pretty entertaining. For the common movie goer, that type of film gives the most bang for their buck at the theater.

All of the best ones, or even all of the mediocre ones owe something to George Roy Hill’s 1969 film, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Sure, there were adventure movies before this, and there were better ones to come since, but this film acts as a template for modern action films, sometimes to a fault. The winning formula was set in place in 1969, so Hollywood owes a lot to those bandits.

It has all the hallmarks of your typical action-adventure. Two buddies, who share some quiet intimate moments together in divulging each other’s names over drinks and hookers, attempting daring feats to get out of sticky situations, and surviving against all odds, pulling off flashy heists, some silly hijinks, odd character quirks, like the Kid needing to make some weird movements in order to be the sharpshooter he is, general clowning around, and pages of witty banter. Look at everything from “Fast and the Furious” to Marvel to Jackie Chan to “Terminator 2,” and in each of them you’ll find some element of “Butch.”

Paul Newman as the charismatic leader Butch and Robert Redford as the quiet but brash Kid make for an entertaining pair to watch, as they get themselves into and out of trouble with loads of panache and quips. Many of the action stars today are more notable for how they look without a shirt on, sometimes more than for their personality. But Newman and Redford have plenty of character to spare.

The Sundance Kid can't swim. That could be a problem in this situation.

The Sundance Kid can’t swim. That could present a problem in this situation.

But the movie isn’t just action and jokes, it does have something intelligent to say. When Butch and Kid attempt one of their train heists, Butch and his hole-in-the-wall gang have the train stopped, and Butch threatens the man in charge inside the train that he’ll blow down the door if he doesn’t let them in. The guy inside the train refuses because he’s accountable for his boss’s money. Butch asks how could he work for a man who cares more about his money than his employee? The gang blows the door open, and Butch tells the guy his boss isn’t paying him enough. It underscores the corrupt nature of business, where workers are treated as expendable, and the only thing that matters is the company’s bottom line. And as Butch and Kid are bank robbers, it isn’t as if they’re any worse than the people they are stealing the money from. Train barons, as most business people, have hardly earned their fortunes without stepping on lots of little people along the way. A similar sentiment was a large part of last year’s excellent, indulgent “The Wolf of Wall Street,” where Leonardo DiCaprio’s Jordan Belfort painted himself as a Robin Hood of Wall Street, stealing from the rich, corrupt business men for his own benefit.

Unfortunately for Butch and Kid, on what they agree will be their last run, the train baron has a surprise waiting for them, which turns out to be a posse made of the most notorious, most costly lawmen in the country, out to put a stop to the thieving. As Butch says, the group probably cost more than Butch and Kid have stolen on all their jobs combined. The posse has no intention of bringing the criminals back alive. The middle third of the film has Butch and Kid on the run, leading them to seek help from a sheriff whom they have in their pocket. The sheriff foreshadows their eventual demise, saying that their thieving ways have caught up to them, and they won’t be getting out of this alive.

So, they flee, along with Kid’s girlfriend, Etta (Katherine Ross), to Bolivia, because Butch says there will be lots of opportunity for business there. Although when they get off the train, they are greeted by some llamas and a small, sleepy, dusty town, they eventually learn their way around. The first bank job they attempt goes awkwardly, as they don’t have their Spanish down yet, but eventually, they figure out what they’re doing, but it isn’t enough to sustain them. They attempt to go straight and get real jobs, but their first job as security goes poorly as they get their employer killed.

This is the opportunity in Bolivia awaiting Butch and Kid after fled the U.S.

This is the opportunity in Bolivia awaiting Butch and Kid after fled the U.S.

Even though Etta is “only” Kid’s girlfriend, she is at least given some agency, something which is less common now. When faced with the prospect of having to move to Bolivia, she tells Kid that she’ll do anything he asks, except for one thing: she won’t watch him die. So, she makes it clear that she loves her man, but is strong enough to warn him not to be foolish. When it’s clear that the boys aren’t making any headway in Bolivia, she tells him she’s had enough and she’s going home, which she does.

Unfortunately, there’s a creepy scene between Kid and Etta near the beginning of the movie, where the viewer is unaware of the relationship between the two. Kid sneaks into her house, and makes her undress at gunpoint, as if he’s forcing her to do it, which is a pretty uncomfortable scene. Eventually, she chides him for being late, and the audience is let in on the “joke,” that they’re actually together. But even though a couple might have such a relationship where that sort of thing is playful and friendly, under the assumption the movie expects the viewer to make with this appearing to be a rape scene, it’s almost playing rape as part of the entertainment. Maybe it was an attempt to make the character and the movie seem “edgy,” but it comes off as more exploitative. Once it’s made clear that the characters are romantically involved, it’s a relief, but even playing on that assumption is rather tasteless in an otherwise, highly enjoyable movie.

The film does also glorify white crime, which is a pretty common trope in American entertainment.Historically, the duo weren’t exactly the worst of criminals, mostly knocking off banks and trains. It’s not like they were serial killers or anything. But in comparison, black criminals in movies made around the same time as “Butch” were pretty much treated as the lowest of the low, like human trash basically, as seen in “The French Connection,” for instance (with the exception of the great “In the Heat of the Night”). In more modern films, black criminals are always thugs. Even when black criminals are the protagonists of the film, it’s always a black character making the wrong choice because of the allure of gangs. Whereas white crime, a la Walter White or Butch and Kid, is cool and exciting, in “Menace II Society” or “Do the Right Thing,” (both directed by black men), the perpetrators are viewed as menacing gangbangers.

A lot of that comes from the viewer’s perception of course, and Hollywood has been improving more recently. It’s important to critique the roots of modern cinema even decades later, especially since “Butch” obviously still has a strong influence on the movies people spend the most money on. And especially with recent ongoing issues with cops and their highly questionable at best killings of black people, along with the riots, it’s important to look at perceptions of people through the media, and where those perceptions could come from. It’s not like watching “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” will make someone a racist, but it does show a huge double standard, which can be seen throughout media, public opinion, and especially Hollywood. It’s far from the only movie on the AFI’s list that glorifies white crime. And the juxtaposition of crime and race is such a major issue right now that it needs to be explored from many angles.

This is what Hollywood thought white crime looked like in 1969, apparently.

This is what Hollywood thought white crime looked like in 1969, apparently.

Butch and Kid never make it back from Bolivia. They don’t get caught during a robbery, they get caught with their pants down proverbially. Someone recognizes them as they’re eating at a restaurant, and they don’t even get to finish their steaks. You’d think that if there were some white people robbing banks in a South American country, those white robbers would be pretty visible, as they’d stick out like sore thumbs. They don’t get to go out with a bang on the biggest job of their careers. They get surrounded by what appears to be every last lawman in Bolivia, and though they go out with guns blazing, it’s not as if those Bolivian police/military would have let them go peacefully anyway with how much they’d stolen. Their thieving ways did catch up with them, and that’s the end of it. Cue iconic sepia tone freeze frame.

Even though “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” has been emulated and copied so many times since 1969, it still stands as one of the best of its genre. Though now, it might be a bit predictable, and technology and budget have helped more recent films surpass it in some ways, none quite have the personality Newman and Redford exuded, and it’s without a doubt a classic film that every cinema lover needs to see. It’s surprising now that the movie didn’t receive much acclaim from critics, but it probably did have a hand in making “lighter” fare being taken more seriously, which sounds strange. Certainly classics like “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “Star Wars” movies owe much of their success to “Butch,” and today, no one could deny its influence. If you’re into this summer’s blockbusters and you haven’t seen “Butch,” you’re due for a history lesson.

They might have been purtied up for the movie a bit.

They might have been purtied up for the movie a bit.

——————————————-

Next up, #72. “The Shawshank Redemption”

MV5BODU4MjU4NjIwNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMDU2MjEyMDE@._V1_SX214_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #74 “The Silence of the Lambs” (1991)

MV5BMTQ2NzkzMDI4OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDA0NzE1NA@@._V1_SX214_AL_This is post #27 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #74 “The Silence of the Lambs”

——————————————-

Nothing says “Oscar” like a deranged cannibal psychologist, right?

No, that’s not a reference to “Good Will Hunting” (RIP Robin Williams), it’s “The Silence of the Lambs,” the Best Picture winner featuring everyone’s favorite human flesh eater, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, played delectably by longtime British theater actor Anthony Hopkins, who would go on to play Hannibal Lecter and also Hannibal Lecter, but not on TV.

Although Hopkins threatens to steal the show with his incredibly unique role, the movie really belongs to Jodie Foster as Clarice Starling, the soon-to-be minted FBI agent, whom her superiors toss out there as bait to see what information they can catch from the not-so-good doctor.

It’s great to see a woman take the lead in a film like this one, as it’s a rare sight. Up until now, the only movie this site has looked at that could be considered to have a female lead is “Sophie’s Choice,” which despite featuring a career performance by Meryl Streep, still was told through the lens of a male character. There were some films where a man shared a female actor as a costar, such as “The Apartment” and “Titanic,” but in all three of those films, the woman still served as a love interest to a main male. This year, Hollywood has offered lead parts to women in a few big budget box office hopefuls, but it was pretty rare to see a female lead outside of romantic comedies prior to this year.

Many years before the world learned that she was “single,” Foster got her moment in 1991, and she ran with it, all the way to the Academy Awards. It’s great to see a film that not only has a female protagonist, but is also told from her perspective. It also does an excellent job of showing the types of struggles women might experience in male-dominated workplaces.

 

The film doesn’t hesitate to throw the audience into her world, by showing the diminutive Foster getting on an elevator with a bunch of burly male FBI recruits, all at least a foot taller than her. From the beginning, it’s clear that one of the obstacles Clarice will have to overcome over the course of the film will be men. When she walks past men, all the heads turn, and it’s not as if she’s dressed in some flashy, attention-grabbing outfit (which would be no excuse anyway). She’s wearing modest, professional attire. When she’s in a room full of badge-and-gun officers, her superior has to talk to their superior before they’ll listen to her, or at least that’s what he assumes. It’s not as if he consults her before the fact. On the contrary, he only asks her about it after they’ve left the scene. She politely but sternly tells him off saying “Cops look at you to see how to act. It matters.”

Jodie Foster is short.

Jodie Foster is short.

Clarice and Hannibal share a swirling duel, or perhaps a dance, over trying to track down the serial killer Buffalo Bill. Clarice gains his trust then brashly makes offers she knows she isn’t good for, while Hannibal picks his battles carefully, and enjoys toying with her as the clock ticks down to Bill’s claiming of another victim. It’s an interesting way to tell the story, as typically, the point of conflict between the protagonist and antagonist is mostly direct. But in this case, Clarice has her direct conflict with Hannibal, whom though dangerous and evil in his own ways, is not the enemy at the moment. As Clarice and Hannibal do their dance, Bill operates on his own, unaware the FBI is even tracking him.

All of Clarice’s success comes from her taking advantage of men underestimating her. Even her superior, who actually seems impressed with her from the start is skeptical of her abilities and plainly states that he doesn’t expect great results out of sending her to talk to Hannibal. Lecter actually gives her more respect than anyone else in the film. She’s able to gain his trust to the point where he takes the offer at a better situation in prison (which turns out to be false) in exchange for information, which otherwise he doesn’t owe her. Even Bill underestimates her in the end.

One other important detail is that Clarice doesn’t have a love interest. There appears to be no man in her life. So, the audience gets her story and hers alone. It’s an affirming angle for a female character to have, as she’s able to be truly independent, and the focus can be on her and her work. For once, a woman’s story doesn’t have to revolve around her appearance. Though she is attractive, she doesn’t look like a fashion model.

Both Foster and Hopkins give masterful performances. Foster subtly conveys the plucky Clarice’s strengths as capable, intelligent, and determined, but also her greenness as a rookie in her field and overconfidence at times, as she deals with Hannibal. Dr. Lecter is such a bizarre character that in less capable hands could have been way over the top and campy, but Hopkins in his masterful talent is able to ground the character with a calm, peaceful demeanor that actually underscores how dangerous and deranged Hannibal really is.

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor."

“Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”

Director Jonathan Demme imbues the film with a sense of unease. The film is not so much gritty as it is grimy. When Claire goes searching in Hannibal’s storage unit in the middle of the night in the rain, there’s something gnawing in the pit of your stomach knowing that things are not right (besides all the popcorn you just ate). There are few things in film as revolting as one of Hannibal’s neighbor prisoners flings his semen on Clarice. This is the type of film where about halfway through you’re already thinking about taking a shower afterward because you’re afraid you might have contracted an infection of some sort while you’ve been watching. It’s slimy and gross, but in the best way.

The only real problems in the movie all have to do with Buffalo Bill. Though it’s cool that Clarice is able to get her big heroic moment at the end, the showdown between the two is a bit standard. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but her finish pales in comparison to Hannibal’s.

The bigger problem is with Bill’s gender issues. At one point, Hannibal informs Clarice that Bill is a “transsexual,” which is kind of an outdated term, but was probably correct for its time. It’s cool that Clarice defends “transsexualism” as not being inherently linked with violent behavior. But Hannibal continues, saying that Bill isn’t a “real transsexual,” he just had a rough childhood, or something to that effect, which is an incredibly problematic thing to say, though that might have also reflected gender studies or lack thereof at the time. Gender is complex. The scientific world just can’t be allowed to encroach on societal construct in such a way that it doesn’t allow people to identify as themselves as whomever they are in terms of gender. And today, the scientific world seems to agree, if you read up on your gender psychology.

Worse, the character of Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) as a “transsexual,” despite not being inherently violent, is going to be remembered as a violent “transsexual.” Images speak louder than words. People see a person keeping a woman locked up in their house and skinning women to make a skin suit out of it and then a person tucking their penis between their legs, and the negative association is made, regardless of what characters may say about “transsexuals.” Transphobia is older than this film, and even as LGB people have gained some measure of acceptance recently, trans people are only barely starting to make any progress in the public eye. Jokes about trans people are for the most part still fair game, even as homosexual jokes are beginning to become taboo. It’s lazy comedy at this point especially, but you’ll still get a bit about trans people in nearly every comedy movie or sit com at some point. Most people have likely said or laughed at ignorant jokes about most groups of people at some point in their lives, myself included, but that sort of thing needs to be phased out in society, especially in pop culture. There’s no excuse for it now, and it doesn’t help anyone.

It seemed like Thomas Harris, who wrote the novel, was trying to write as dark of a story as he possibly could, but gender identity issues shouldn’t be considered dark material, that only serves to stigmatize. Anyway, it wasn’t bad enough that Buffalo Bill made flesh suits out of women’s skin?

Other than that, “The Silence of the Lambs” is a tightly well-written movie about a serial killer with one of the most original characters in the history of cinema, and one of the strongest female characters. This is a great psycho-thriller, with some horror elements as well. It might be a little too gross for some, but others really enjoy that sort of thing. It seems odd that this sort of movie was anywhere near Best Picture at the Oscars, but that’s a testament to its artistic quality and its portrayal of a woman trying to break out into a male-dominated profession. A win for the cannibals!

——————————————-

Next up, #73. “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”

MV5BMTkyMTM2NDk5Nl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwNzY1NzEyMDE@._V1_SX214_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #75. “In the Heat of the Night” (1967)

MV5BMTk3NjkxMDc1MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDIwMjI0NA@@._V1_SX214_AL_This is post #26 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #75 “In the Heat of the Night”

——————————————-

Earlier, I wrote that it was disappointing that the AFI included “In the Heat of the Night,” on its 10th anniversary list rather than “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” If there was only going to be one Sidney Poitier film on the list, then “In the Heat of the Night,” which was described as a buddy cop film about a black officer and a white officer who learned to put aside their differences to solve a crime, sounded like it dealt with less poignant subject matter than a movie about an interracial dating relationship. “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” still sounds more interesting, as the world is flooded with police dramas, but “Night” is an excellent entry for the list. Then again, why isn’t there room for both?

“Night” does hold an important place in history, capturing the strong racial tension in the Deep South during the height of the Civil Rights Movement in 1967. Martin Luther King Jr. would be assassinated the next year on the day the Academy Awards ceremony was scheduled, so it would actually take place two days later. Despite taking place in Mississippi, no filming was done in the South because Poitier feared for his life after several incidents in which he was targeted because of his race, according to an article on Slate.

The film delves into racial issues like few others did for its time. That’s not just social taboos, like the issue of blackface or awkward interactions between people from vastly disparate cultures (like in “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”). This movie dove headfirst into racial profiling and death threats from Confederate flag wavers.

Friends? Not exactly.

Friends? Not exactly.

In fact, the film doesn’t waste any time in getting to those issues, as Poitier’s Virgil Tibbs is introduced after the local police of the small town of Sparta, Mississippi, (a real town, though obviously fictionalized here) arrest him shortly after they discover a murder had been committed in town. The cop who finds him sitting at the train station waiting for a train pats him down and sees that he has about $100 in his wallet, which he must assume no black man could ever have earned. So, of course, Virgil immediately becomes a suspect and is arrested. Chief Gillespie (Rod Steiger) assumes he’s guilty once he’s been delivered to the station and begins interrogating him. It’s only when Gillespie asks “Where the hell’d you earn that kind of money?” that Virgil gets the chance to explain that “I’m a police officer.”

Virgil tells Gillespie that he makes $162.39 a week, which must have been a lot back then, but sounds like nothing today. Virgil’s not just a cop, he’s a homicide expert, and he was at the train station to catch a ride back to the North. Back where he’s from “They call me Mr. Tibbs.” So Gillespie gives Virgil’s chief a call and explains the situation, and Virgil’s chief decides he wants Virgil to stay in Sparta and help the department solve their murder.

The Sparta Police Department seems to be about as well equipped to handle a case of this magnitude as the Mayberry Police Department, but no one in Sparta has quite the machismo of Barney Fife. There’s no forensics expert there near the caliber of Virgil. Having just been detained by the police for no reason, and already sick of the town’s racism, Virgil can’t be faulted for just wanting to go home, but the chief insists he stay and help. Gillespie knows full well that he is in over his head without Virgil, which he takes as an attack on his pride, as he is already butthurt over the fact that Virgil both makes more money than he does, and is also black and has already made him look bad for issuing a false arrest. He takes a lot of shit from the town over the department’s ineptitude, so the ingredients are not there for a good working relationship between these two. But seeing Virgil work, Gillespie can’t help but begrudgingly show the least bit of respect for Virgil, even through back-handed remarks.

Some things never change.

Some things never change.

And make no mistake, Virgil demands respect. He doesn’t want to be here in the first place and threatens to leave every time Gillespie gives him shit or questions his authority. Virgil has nothing to gain from this, and he knows that Gillespie needs him, so he uses that to his advantage whenever he’s challenged. As Gillespie makes one false arrest after another (including an unrecognizably young Scott Wilson of “The Walking Dead” fame), he becomes more and more frustrated with Virgil’s determination to legitimately work the case. Virgil makes the white cops look like fools again and again.

But Virgil runs into instances where he nearly lets his own prejudices of white people and the South get in the way of good detective work. In one instance, Virgil’s investigation takes him to a cotton farm, where the audience is shown black people in the fields picking cotton, much like on a plantation, as if nothing had changed over 100 years. After he confronts the owner about the murder, and a brief physical altercation takes place, Virgil understandably wants to “pull that fat cat down,” and the world might be a better place for it. But some chiding from Gillespie makes him come to his senses, that this isn’t what he’s here to do, and he can’t let his disdain for the cotton farm’s owner cloud his work.

As the case progresses, Virgil gets into some trouble from the locals because, you know, he’s a black man in the South, and an accomplished one at that. Gillespie offers back up for him, and tells him he should leave for his own safety, but now that he’s committed to the case, Virgil’s pride won’t let him return home until his work is done. But by coming to Virgil’s aid, Gillespie is able to prove to Virgil that he can be of use. Look at that, a white cop has to earn the respect of a black cop, who woulda thought?

From the moment Virgil appears, racial tension drips from every frame of this film, and it’s spectacular. No punches are pulled. The complex dynamic between Virgil and Gillespie is riveting to watch, and the pair of Poitier and Steiger pull off a masterpiece. The supporting cast is great too. It’s good to see that the townsfolk of Sparta are presented realistically, rather than how racist Southerners are often stereotypically presented as stupid rednecks or hillbillies as they are in “Easy Rider.” The depiction of racism isn’t always overt in this film, but the power struggle between Virgil and Gillespie is often boiling beneath the surface rather than in strong outbursts. That’s important, as that’s how subtle racism often plays out in real life.

Yes, the two of them eventually get to a place where they can almost come to respect one another, which seems kind of silly, considering Virgil has every reason to distrust Gillespie from the moment the chief accused him of committing murder. But it’s not like they go out to karaoke together or anything like in “Rush Hour.” The two men do come to a point where they can understand the similarities between them and at least learn to respect one another on a professional level, but it’s obvious the tension between them would take a long time to heal. And once Virgil’s finished the case, there’s no reason for him to stick around that long.

The tension is so overpowering that the crime itself comes off as weak in comparison. It really only serves as a reason for Virgil to interact with the people around town through the investigation and demonstrate those social issues that exist between people of different races in society. The case even ends somewhat abruptly in an unsatisfying and anticlimactic manner, but it’s an adequate catalyst to push along the relationship between Virgil and the townsfolk.

For all the positives the movie accomplishes in telling the story of a black man trying to navigate a racially hostile environment, it seems wrong that Steiger won Best Actor that year, and Poitier wasn’t nominated. Poitier was the first black man to win Best Actor, but it was for “The Defiant Ones” in 1958.

In the wake of Michael Brown being gunned down by police in a different state that begins with “Miss-“, “In the Heat of the Night” is still of great importance, as it depicts the dangers black men and women face  not just in the South, but everywhere in the U.S. Racial profiling by police continues to be an all too common problem. If cops were even as civil toward black people as they were in this movie, it would be less of an issue, but it’s scary out there right now.

The film serves as a great history lesson for those who weren’t around during the Civil Rights Movement and also as a reminder to those of us who don’t have to worry about police harassment that we are quite privileged.

——————————————-

Next up, #74. “The Silence of the Lambs”

MV5BMTQ2NzkzMDI4OF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDA0NzE1NA@@._V1_SX214_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #76. “Forrest Gump” (1994)

MV5BMTQwMTA5MzI1MF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMzY5Mzg3OA@@._V1_SX214_AL_This is post #25 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #76 “Forrest Gump”

——————————————-

“Gump sat alone on a bench in the park
My name is Forrest he’d casually remark
Waitin’ for the bus with his hands in his pockets
He just kept sayin’ life is like a box of chocolates”

-“Weird” Al Yankovic, Gump, 1996

When “Weird” Al makes a reference to something, that’s when you know for certain that that person or work has become part of the Zeitgeist.

In the mid-’90s, “Forrest Gump” was everyone’s favorite movie. To prove it to you, they’d tell you “Life is like a box of chocolates” in their best Gump Voice. An actual Bubba Gump Shrimp Company serves food in coastal states. There may not be a more beloved entity to Gen-Xers than this film.

The first time I saw this movie was probably a year or two after it was released. My family got a copy of the VHS (that’s right) from the library, and it was rare when a movie you actually wanted to see was available off the shelf. Usually for movies that everyone wanted to see, you would have to reserve it and wait at least a few months before it would arrive. But the library is a great resource for families on a budget, since you can get everything for free.

The copy we got included descriptive audio for the sight impaired. This meant that a narrator would describe everything that happens on the screen. Again, this was a VHS tape, which meant you couldn’t just turn off the narration. It’s cool that that service exists, but if you’re not impaired, it makes for a trying watch.

For instance, in the opening scene, the narration went something like this:

“A feather blows across the screen. It flutters around a busy area of town, down to a man sitting on a bench.”

For those of you who are fortunate enough to have your eyesight, imagine sitting through 2 1/2 hours of that. Believe me, if you had, you would have a newfound appreciation for your ability to see.

“Forrest Gump” stars Tom Hanks in his iconic role about a man who goes by that name who has a different disability. Forrest has an intellectual disability. He’s lacking in intelligence so much that his mother, played by the likable Sally Field, has to sleep with the superintendent in order to get him into a normal school. Not only that, but as a child, he also had trouble walking without braces. He has a friend named Jenny (Robin Wright), who shows up intermittently throughout his life. The movie encompasses the life of this man born in the mid-20th century and shows how he interacts throughout the recent history of the United States.

As you can see, this isn’t the most politically correct film, which is somewhat ironic given it was made in the supposedly “PC” Clinton era of the mid- to late ’90s. Right off the bat, casting the able-minded Hanks as a man with an intellectual disability is rather problematic in itself. Yes, acting is about portraying someone who is not like yourself, but there’s no way to get inside the mind and understand what it’s like to be someone else who is disadvantaged in this way. It’s nearly impossible to play this sort of role without it coming off as something of a caricature. Most well-respected actors don’t take roles like this anymore. Insulting people who are disabled has become somewhat of a taboo, but in many circles, it’s still socially acceptable, which is kind of sad. Using the word “retarded” was cool around the time this movie came out, and although you probably won’t hear it in public, it will still get thrown out there in close company. Now that Breaking Bad has reached a zenith in pop culture, it’s shown that using actors who share their disability with the character they play works very well. So, if the script calls for that type of character, it’s not necessary to get an able-minded actor to play them, which is great. But in the ’90s, no one gave it a second thought, it just made for easily accessible comedic situations.

A semi-accurate representation of mid-'90s United States.

A semi-accurate representation of mid-’90s United States.

Much of the movie’s humor comes from Forrest’s involvement in many important U.S. events that took place throughout the mid-1900s, but most of the jokes are based around his disability in some way. He pronounces things oddly and whenever he’s given a task by an authority figure, he takes it literally and performs to the letter exactly what he’s told to do. This makes for some tragic moments, as he’s easily taken advantage of, especially by the military.

The reasoning for this character being the protagonist of the film seems to be for the sake of showing a person with either a blank slate or a child-like view of the world, to show how a person with a certain innocence reacts to heavily politically charged events. If this is in fact the point, then that’s also insulting to people who share Forrest’s disability.

Poor deadbeat legless Lt. Dan.

Poor deadbeat legless Lt. Dan.

But he does care about people, especially his friends, and he’s a loyal friend. There are positives to take away from this problematic character, and there are some clever moments in the film, despite the flaws. When Lt. Dan (Gary Sinise), Forrest’s former commanding officer from when they served in the Vietnam War, asks him if he’s found Jesus, Forrest replies “I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for him, sir.”

It wouldn’t have been much of a deviation to have made the character a man with just simple tastes a simple outlook on life. Being from Alabama, there are a lot of people from that area of the country who take pride in that sort of world view in a positive way. That sort of character would have served the same purpose, but without going for that cheap, offensive humor this film so strongly features.

For those who haven’t seen the movie since the ’90s, they might be surprised by how dark the film is. As mentioned earlier, Forrest’s mother has sex with the school superintendent so that Forrest does not have to go to a special needs school. But being told from Forrest’s point of view, that bit could easily go over people’s heads without them realizing.

Forrest is named after an ancestor of his who was a high-ranking officer in the Ku Klux Klan. The film doesn’t go into what the KKK represented, but Forrest, in his simple understanding, just believes they rode around on horses wearing funny masks. There’s nothing wrong with insulting that horrible organization, but to treat it as something silly without acknowledging the reasons they did what they did and what they actually stood for seems rather irresponsible. Although the group no longer holds the power or public view it once had, it does still exist even today, and their beliefs are still very prevalent in society, as evidenced any time the subject of race comes up in the news, such as the recent events in Missouri.

But the character who gets it the worst is Jenny. Early on, the film hints that her father, who doesn’t appear onscreen, had a history of abusing or molesting her in some way. It’s not clear exactly what he does to her, as the only evidence the audience is given is Forrest’s misguided explanation, and it’s clear that he’s unaware anything harmful even occurs between them. Pedophilia until very recently, similar to intellectual disability, and especially in the ’90s somehow was considered a joking matter, just something to be laughed at. It’s only been within maybe the past decade, when the scandal within the Catholic Church came out that some people began to treat pedophilia as a serious issue, probably because many people discovered that they knew people who had been molested as a child. But it’s somewhat ridiculous it’s taken this society so long to even consider it a legitimate issue, rather than comic relief fodder. Thankfully, the film kind of lends that issue the gravity it deserves more than most pop culture of the time.

As the movie follows Forrest throughout his life, it checks in on Jenny whenever the pair’s paths happen to cross. Forrest ends up (mostly by accident) joining the military, starting his own company, and stumbling onto investing in then fledgling company, Apple (Forrest must be a billionaire by now if he held onto that stock), all “highly regarded” positions. By contrast, Jenny becomes a stripper and a hippie, and she takes a lot of drugs and has abusive boyfriends. By the end, she contracts AIDS and dies. They both came from simple means, but Forrest was the more successful of the two. Though one would think this would make Jenny a sympathetic figure, instead the movie mostly treats her as though she’s one of those “bad girls” who sleeps around and gets herself into so much trouble because she likes the bad guys, and she’d be so much better off if she would just love Forrest, because he’s such a good guy, but she doesn’t realize it until it’s too late. It’s not until she learns to give up on her anger toward her father that she realizes she should be with Forrest, and that’s when she finally finds peace in her life. It’s a pretty ugly message that’s sent to women through this film.

Jenny's not ashamed of being a stripper, but we know that's because she's a "bad girl."

Jenny’s not ashamed of being a stripper, but we know that’s because she’s a “bad girl.”

It looks especially bad, as one of the film’s main themes is the whole “box of chocolates” thing. That is, you don’t know what you’re going to get out of life, you just have to be like Forrest and make the best of whatever you’re given. But if that’s true, then Jenny has mostly herself to blame for putting herself in so many bad situations. Her problem is that she holds on to that anger at her dad.

But anyone with any sense of compassion would agree that not only is Jenny not to blame for what her father did to her, but that she has every right to be pissed off at her dad and at the world in general for being so vilely violated at such a vulnerable age. She had no one to rely on early in life, other than Forrest, who wasn’t exactly in any position to support her in the ways she needed.

For some people who are in unfortunate situations, knowing that you don’t have much control over the hand you’re dealt in life, but all you can do is make the best of it, can be a comforting, empowering, and even hopeful message. It is true that the circumstances of one’s life are mostly out of their control, and they have to learn to be resourceful with what little they are given. It’s important to stay positive in life, even though it can often be difficult for many. That positivity can make the bitter pill that is life go down easier. But for others, having a chip on their shoulder and a healthy amount of “fuck off” for the forces that are trying to hold them down can be much more inspiring and rousing to action.

The “box of chocolates” idea is only true to a certain degree. A majority of people have relatively little control over the circumstances of their life. But people who possess more wealth or power have unlimited options. Not only do they have control over their own lives, but they often have control over the lives of many people. They might not do anything “meaningful” with those vast resources, but at the end of the day, even if they feel “unfulfilled,” the fact is they still have near-total control over their own lives. Less affluent people who don’t hit the right path, whatever that is, can find their lives passing them by because they missed out on something early in life. It’s not too late to make a change, but it’s much more difficult to do now. For the people who were telling this story, who were already at the point where they could do most whatever they wanted to with the rest of their lifes, to send this kind of message to us plebeians, is kind of condescending.

There’s nothing wrong with a “positive” movie, especially if it offers real inspiration. So often, however, the perhaps “well-intentioned” message rings hollow. If it rings hollow, that’s because it is hollow. The audience doesn’t have to be happy with whatever it’s given. Happy endings can be great and satisfying when they are earned, but if you’re going to insult them, then making them happy is going to be tough. “Forrest Gump” came out at a time when opportunities were plenty and the U.S. was trying to turn the corner on issues of poverty and racism (though those issues were really just swept under the rug). The U.S. was out of the Cold War and the war in the Middle East was on hold. Perhaps this movie made a lot more sense back then when the average American might have had more control over their life. There’s no question of its popularity, but perhaps its time has come and gone.

Asian sighting: Although one of the key scenes in the movie takes place in a combat zone during the Vietnam War, no actual Vietnamese or Asian or anybody actually appears onscreen to represent the Viet Cong military. There’s just a lot of bullet fire and explosions. Lt. Dan’s fiancee Susan (Teresa Denton, although in the credits, the character is listed as “Lt. Dan’s Fiancee,” rather than her actual name), whom he introduces at the end of the movie, is of some uncertain Asian descent, possibly symbolizing that he’s made his peace with his experience in Vietnam. Losing your legs and nearly dying isn’t enough of a reason to be angry either, apparently. You gotta find an Asian lady to make it all better.

They searched, but apparently the U.S. military didn't find any Vietnamese in Vietnam, only lots of gunless flying bullets.

They searched, but apparently the U.S. military didn’t find any Vietnamese in Vietnam, only lots of gunless flying bullets.

We don’t often reflect on pop culture from earlier in our lives enough to really think about how those things helped form the worldview we hold now. “Forrest Gump” was an influential movie for a lot of people. Many of the ideas espoused in this film that perhaps were meant to inspire are now used by those with greater means, like libertarians for instance, to shame people in less fortunate positions who are upset about their situation. Those who find themselves victims of heinous crimes are more likely to find themselves scolded for “playing the victim,” and told that they are too bitter. Sometimes, we need to take a look at things we have enjoyed in the past and examine them more closely, and sometimes, we might find we don’t like what we see the way we used to.

Some movies are ageless, and they’ll stand the test of time as long as people are watching movies, others become outdated and are looked at as a relic of their time. Having celebrated its 20th anniversary this year, “Forrest Gump” is already outdated, which is disappointing considering some of the classics that came before it that still continue to shine brightly.

A man who’s actually experienced a bit of a resurgence lately, “Weird” Al will carry us out:

——————————————-

Next up, #75. “In the Heat of the Night”

MV5BMTk3NjkxMDc1MV5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMDIwMjI0NA@@._V1_SX214_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #77. “All the President’s Men”

MV5BODAxMTc4ODcxNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNDY0NTAyMQ@@._V1_SY317_CR8,0,214,317_AL_This is post #24 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #77 “All the President’s Men”

——————————————-

Journalism in entertainment is often presented as being much more glamorous than it is in real life. If you take a look at movies made about reporting, you’ll get a rather strange picture.

One movie most people might think of when you mention journalism is “Anchorman.” In a way, it’s not all that far off from what TV news was like back in the ’70s, but writing for a newspaper is a much different story. For one thing, most journalists don’t get all that excited about buying new suits.

Nor is reporting like it’s presented in the backstabbing world of “House of Cards.” I’m not saying there’s never been a rookie reporter who has fabricated an affair with a politician in order to blackmail him to scoop her coworkers and move up the chain, but it’s not exactly common practice to do so in a real newsroom.

Nor is it like what you would have seen in “Batman” (the Michael Keaton one). I’ve never seen a reporter wearing a hat with a slip of paper in it that says “press.” And they don’t usually use such sensationalistic leading questions that border on accusation. Or at least the good ones are probably a bit more subtle about it.

Nor is a newsroom as melodramatic as Aaron Sorkin presents it in “Newsroom.” If there was that much family-style drama between reporters as there are in that show, at least the editor-in-chief or executive producer would ask their employees to kindly take it outside in not so many words (and not so kindly).

But if you are interested in what it’s actually like to be a reporter, Alan J. Pakula’s “All the President’s Men” will give you a pretty good idea. Sure, not everyone gets to break the Nixon Watergate scandal, so for most reporters, life is a bit more mundane than that of Bob Woodward (Robert Redford) and Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman). And considering how boring some of the work is that they do in this movie, that’s saying something.

Of course, every big story starts as something small. For instance, it might start as something as seemingly insignificant as a break-in at a hotel. But regardless of how minuscule that insignificant event might be, it always starts at the most convenient time: After the reporter has already gone to bed. Usually when they get the call in the middle of the night, it means throwing on some clothes and a quick but futile attempt to make themselves look presentable (especially on such short notice) driving out to a crime scene or an accident or a fire, then hurrying into the office to try and get the story out before the paper goes to press, if possible (or maybe they can get it in the next run) around 3 or 4 in the morning. Does reporting still sound glamorous? Woodward gets the call, and he’s ready to see what’s up.

But he has a lead on something, and so the next day, he’s going to do what any good journalist does, and that’s follow up on it. That means heading to a court appearance for the guys who did the break-in, trying to pump anyone for information who’s willing to talk (as usual, no one). But he gets the slimmest of clues from a lawyer, so now it’s time to make some phone calls.

So many calls to be made. So... many... calls....

So many calls to be made. So… many… calls….

Making phone calls isn’t the greatest. Of course, now that we live in the Google age, it’s not nearly as bad as it would have been back in 1972. If a source refers you to someone else, and you don’t know who that is, you just go on the Internet and look it up. Before the Internet existed, however, it meant asking around for a phone number and fishing around to find out who the hell this person you’re calling is and what could they tell you about the story you’re working on. One person tells you to call another person, and that person tells you to call someone else. No one wants to talk to you because they want to keep sensitive information quite, not blab it all to the media, who is going to give that information to the public (and typewriters, oh my!).

Much of the film is Woodward and Bernstein making the rounds, talking to everyone who might possibly be have some pertinent information and who would actually be willing to talk to them. Woodward is a by-the-book kind of guy who is more than a bit green, but he always wants to do what’s right. He does have that fire in the belly that makes a good journalist. He wants to know the truth, and he’s going to keep digging until he gets what he’s looking for. He’ll listen to all of the run-around calls, and he’ll persist. Bernstein is a bit more of a bulldog. He’s pushy. If his sources don’t want to talk to him, he’ll find a way to get something useful out of them. Secretary keeping him from speaking to a big-wig? No problem. He’ll just bypass the secretary and burst into the guy’s office demanding answers. Together, they make a team, sort of like a good cop-bad cop tandem, but they don’t have any real jurisdiction to be investigating things the way they are.

That’s one thing that’s fascinating about the film and the real people who lived the events of the film. These reporters aren’t police. They’re just reporters, but in this case, they end up doing the police’s job, as powerful people in the CIA were in on the scandal too. But the only motivation these journalists have is to report the truth. It’s a tough line when you’re trying to decide how far you should be digging, and how much time you should be spending on any one story. If you’re reporting something ongoing or working on something more in-depth, then there’s no real stop sign. But at the same time, you’re still fighting daily deadlines, and you have to come up with something to contribute to keep readers interested in your story. In WoodStein’s (as their editor calls the duo) case you don’t know going out for the day if you’ll have something to bring back. Some days, you just strike out and there’s no story. The movie does a superb job of capturing the frustration, as well as the victories, of the reporters as they go about following the news trail.

And sometimes, it’s incredibly tedious work. WoodStein spends an entire day rifling through book request slips at the Library of Congress to try and find some new thread to break through when the trail is going cold. Days don’t get much duller than sitting in a library sorting through paper slips. If there’s any reason not to watch this film, it’s because of the tedium of the work. How many phone calls can one listen to? How many face-to-face interviews can one watch? If you weren’t paying attention during the actual unfolding of the Watergate scandal, how many of these names can one keep track of? But if you have any interest in the journalistic process, this is about as real as it gets in a dramatic presentation. And there are some fun moments to break up the monotony.

"This thing goes all the way to the very top!"

“This thing goes all the way to the very top!”

And sometimes, you only get somewhere by a stroke of luck. It’s interesting how cartoonish and bizarre Deep Throat (Hal Holbrook) is made out to be. It would be pretty strange to have to go meet up with someone in a parking garage in the middle of the night and have to take the man’s word that, as Ken Jeong’s Chang from “Community” would say, “This thing goes all the way to the very top!” It’s very thoughtful filmmaking how the informant at first sounds like a paranoid conspiracy theorist, whom today most people would brush off without a second thought. But then again, this was one case where the conspiracy turned out to be real. As the meetings progress and that realization sinks in, the skepticism turns to actual paranoia, and Woodward begins to fear for his life, especially as Deep Throat tells him the reporters are being watched, and that they are in fact, in danger.

For a modern point of reference, the 2007 film “Zodiac” was very similar in many ways. David Fincher did use “All the President’s Men” as inspiration for that film, and you can see many similarities in the way Jake Gyllenhaal’s character carries out his own investigation of the Zodiac killer. It’s a similar process he goes through in spending his time talking to so many different people, chasing leads and hitting dead ends. There’s one scene in that movie where Gyllenhaal finds himself talking to a man in his basement, when he gets a feeling of claustrophobia, knowing that he could be flirting with danger considering the subject matter of the story he’s pursuing, and realizing he has put himself in a vulnerable position, with no easy access to an escape. It’s a similar creepy feeling that Woodward gets as he’s talking to Deep Throat in the parking garage, when he sees a car pull away, and he gets the feeling that he’s being watched and also realizing he may have put himself in the same danger that many of WoodStein’s sources are put in with their apparent gag order. Pakula did a great job of capturing a growing sense of fear and danger as the movie progresses and they get deeper into their work.

Hal Holbrook plays quintessential Shadowy Figure Deep Throat.

Hal Holbrook plays quintessential Shadowy Figure Deep Throat.

And it’s cool how the movie treats the audience as if they are right there with WoodStein as they uncover more and more information, rather than giving an overarching view of the aftermath at the beginning of the film, like some historical movies might. It feels a bit more organic, the way the audience learns about the details as the reporters do, and the case begins as something small, with only subtle hints that the Watergate break-in might be something bigger than it appears to be. The tediousness might make the movie hard to watch for some, but it also puts the audience right there with so much information being thrown at them at once, even if they don’t quite get all of it. After all, they do know where all of this is going in the bigger picture.

And the ending of the film is fitting, as it doesn’t offer a big finale or anything, it just kind of stops, as Woodward and Bernstein are typing away. That’s kind of how journalism works too, the story never really ends. It just keeps going. Where are all of these people be five years from now? How about 10 years from now? How does the past point to the future? A reporter’s job is never done, and when the reporter’s job is done, they just hand off their notes to the next one to take their chair. Certainly today, there are still echoes of the events of 40 years ago throughout the government and the public sector. It doesn’t end.

——————————————-

Next up, #76. “Forrest Gump”

MV5BMTQwMTA5MzI1MF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMzY5Mzg3OA@@._V1_SX214_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #78 “Modern Times” (1936)

MV5BMjMwMDA5NzEwOF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMzgwNDg3OA@@._V1_SY317_CR5,0,214,317_AL_This is post #23 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #78 “Modern Times”

——————————————-

Leave it to a Brit to accurately assess the problems the United States’ working class faces in a stinging yet humorous fashion.

No, not John Oliver, it’s the Tramp himself, Charlie Chaplin, and although the film was released in 1936, “Modern Times” is a remarkable look at what the average blue-collar worker in the U.S. faces. Though this isn’t generally regarded as science fiction, it might as well be, as Chaplin basically invented the dystopian society so commonly seen in literature and film for decades. It could also be called prophetic, as the corporate-driven world he envisioned basically became reality. Even though he saw society through the lens of the Great Depression, the film still resonates today, and maybe even more so, taking its age into consideration.

... although he's pretty fun too.

… although he’s plenty of fun too.

Chaplin plays a man simply known as The Factory Worker, and he’s apparently tasked with tweaking screws on an assembly line that goes a bit faster than he’s able to handle. The factory itself is constructed of a maze of levers and gears. The president of the company sits in his office and keeps an eye on the different areas of the plant through the use of two-way video screens he can control with a dial. Chaplin was generous in allowing the president to be kindly enough to afford his workers the courtesy of seeing him too, as factory surveillance only goes one way in reality. The boss even keeps tabs on the Worker when he’s taking a smoke break in the restroom, telling him to get back to work!

The Worker goes through a number of jobs over the course of the movie, never finding a place where he can manage to not wreak so much havoc and somehow get himself thrown in prison. Along the way, he meets a poor woman (Paulette Goddard) who steals for a living to provide for her two daughters after her father is shot and killed during a Communist protest. The “threat” of a Marxist uprising always looms in the background, as there are several flare-ups throughout the film. The worker even gets himself arrested for accidentally leading a protest.

At one point, the Worker finds he prefers prison to trying to make it out in the real world. That’s after he mistakenly shakes a bit of his fellow prisoner’s “nose powder” all over his food after the guy hid it in a salt shaker. The Worker is understandably a bit disoriented and gets himself locked out of his cell. Then, he stumbles his way into preventing a jailbreak, and the police name him a hero. Thus, he is afforded a more comfortable cell, and considering his situation, one can understand why he’s not so quick to return to the world.

So, of course, once he’s out, he makes every attempt to get himself put back in prison, but to no avail. He goes to a restaurant and has himself a feast, then declares he can’t pay. He goes to a cigar salesman, grabs a one of his wares and starts puffing right in front of him, but somehow manages to elude capture despite his best efforts. It’s obvious the world does not work in a way the Worker understands, as every attempt he makes at doing something he believes will improve his situation, ends up working completely counter to what he’d hoped. But meeting the woman gives him some direction, as they fall in love after he helps her flee after being arrested herself for her thievery. So, he becomes determined to work for a living in order to be able to afford a better life for the two of them.

So, in his attempts to find good work, he winds up back in jail a few times. By the end of the film, he finally discovers that he could make a living at singing, but the police catch up to the woman for fleeing arrest earlier, so the pair must once again go on the run. They head off into the sunset with the bleak, but hopeful belief that they’ll find a way to make it. Unfortunately, Charlie didn’t know World War II was just around the corner, which ironically, would be the catalyst to bringing the U.S. out of the Depression.

The film is extremely cynical of the idea of the free market, which the first title card describes as “Humanity crusading in the pursuit of happiness.” The first shot of the movie shows a herd of sheep trying to move through a narrow space, which then bleeds into men coming up a subway stairwell. An inventor comes to the worker’s factory touting a machine that would automatically feed the cattle workers, so they would never have to take a break for food. In testing it on the Worker, of course, the machine’s process goes horribly wrong, especially with the spinning corn-on-the-cob feeder, as you might imagine. Graciously, as far as the workers are concerned, the president sees that this contraption isn’t feasible and cans the idea. Today, if a company buys into a network or system or program built to improve efficiency, the company will continue to tout it and keep pushing it on its workers. If the workers complain that the thing doesn’t work, then the company will send out memos telling them they are doing something wrong, and it’s their fault the system isn’t working, even if they follow all instructions to the letter. So, even as cynical as Charlie was, he still wasn’t cynical enough for the real world.

When the machine serves pie, you know problems will occur.

When the machine serves pie, you know problems will occur.

For Chaplin, the film also likely represented his own misgivings about the industrial revolution and what it would mean for a silent film producer, like him, especially with the advent of talkies. Certainly, in many ways, modernization and technology can produce wonderful tools, but only for people who can afford them, while the rest are left in the dust because they can’t keep up for one reason or another.

The film is naturally presented with all of the glorious slapstick Chaplin is most known for, but even for people who don’t enjoy that form of comedy, it’s only window dressing for the intelligently plotted situations and the world that he has “created” for its resemblance of reality. Some of it is only funny because if you didn’t laugh at it, it would just be so depressing.

At one point, the Worker gets a job as a night watch at a department store. On his first night, a gang of burglars breaks in. One of them happens to be one of his coworkers from the factory. Recognizing the Worker, the coworker says “We aren’t burglars. We’re hungry.”

The film is a good depiction of the struggle of being poor in the U.S. although the Worker is much more clumsy and careless than the average employee. It’s unlikely anyone could manage to accidentally sink an entire ship while working at a shipyard. But work is not steady for everyone, and it’s not always easy to find. Unlike in “Modern Times,” when a company lays off its workers, it’s highly unlikely they’ll be called back in to work again, at least for that same company. Prison is probably not a preferable option anymore, but then again, at least your needs are taken care of there. One man did steal a single dollar from a bank a few years ago, just so he could be put in prison where he could get healthcare. Thankfully, that situation’s been improved since then.

“Modern Times” is a classic film that accurately represents the struggles of working people in a capitalistic society, with a wink and a nod and a pie to the face. It serves as an interesting bridge between silent films and talkies, as viewers can observe a man who was a master of his era as he struggles to adjust to the modern age.

Graciously, dear old Charlie has been reincarnated as a small cat, with whom I share an apartment.

Graciously, dear old Charlie has been reincarnated as a small cat, with whom I share an apartment. The Tramp is still as clumsy as ever.

——————————————-

Next up #77. “All the President’s Men”

MV5BODAxMTc4ODcxNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNDY0NTAyMQ@@._V1_SY317_CR8,0,214,317_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #79. “The Wild Bunch” (1969)

MV5BMjMxNjEyNDE4NF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODk2Njk3OA@@._V1_SY317_CR4,0,214,317_AL_This is post #22 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #79 “The Wild Bunch”

——————————————-

Before 1969, Hollywood was a safer place. Yes, there was murder, corruption, violent betrayals, domestic violence, and even bloodshed on occasion. But there was nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to upset anyone.

But then Sam Peckinpah and his “Wild Bunch” rode into town and took over.

Then, there was a new sheriff who took over the town, one with a murkier sense of morality and a thirst for blood. And he brought with him a band of outlaws that would change this place and upset that feeling of security and safety. In 1969, it was outlaws. Today, their descendants still run wild as gangsters and thieves. And … robots?

From most accounts, “The Wild Bunch” was the first to feature violence, not as a means to advance a plot or explore themes, but as a theme in and of itself. It was the first to feature bloody shootouts, with spurting blood and scores of dead bodies in their wake. Certainly, Quentin Tarantino and others have drawn their inspiration from Peckinpah’s most highly regarded film.

Violence in film is kind of a controversial subject. It’s important not to portray stylish violence in a way that glorifies it, but making it realistic should be a priority. As much as we’d like it to not be the case, violence is an inherent part of life. As the beginning of this film shows with the scenes of the ants killing a scorpion, violence is a natural aspect of the animal kingdom, which humans belong to on the evolutionary tree. Some societies have come to a point where violence doesn’t have to be a part of everyday life. Then again, as this past week’s events show, in some places, such as the Middle East and Eastern Europe, it’s an all too common occurrence.

Violence stems from a strong survival instinct. People kill to eat, and they kill to protect themselves from other people who would try to steal from them. As much as we’d like to hope and dream for a reality where there’s much less competition and ill will, violence has always played a role in humankind’s development since the beginning of human existence. We hope there are better means of solving problems, but certainly some people get to a point where they see no other option.

Is this too much? Was that the point?

Is this too much? Was that the point?

But as it pertains to film, the important thing is that violence serves as a reminder that these things really happen. Many directors have tried to clean it up, to make it more “family friendly.” But when it comes to real guns and weapons that can seriously hurt someone, toning it down not only seems cheap and fake, but it’s also somewhat irresponsible. People might find graphic violence in film disgusting or disturbing, and perhaps violent films are not for everyone, and that’s OK. But if we’re disgusted or disturbed by violent acts we see on a screen, that’s just a sign that we’re reacting the way we should. We should be disturbed by seeing violence, and if it’s just there to be “cool,” then all we’re doing is desensitizing ourselves and our reactions to the real thing.

In particular, Peckinpah makes a good point with the ridiculously violent opening shootout, where a band of outlaws is trying to rob a bank in broad daylight in a busy section of town, while a group of bounty hunters is trying to stop them. The outcome, of course, is that most of the people who get killed are the ones who aren’t holding guns, but the ones who were just going about their daily business who had no involvement on either side. This scene alone says a lot about the nature of violence in people.

One of the main ideas to take away from this is that in a war of any kind, the people who suffer the most are the innocents. Make no mistake, this is a war. Whether war is fought by opposing militaries or opposing gangs or opposite sides of the law, it’s still war. Obviously, that statement has different implications today than it did in the early 1900s or 1969, but it’s still true. Even though the bounty hunters are simple guns for hire, they still are paid by law enforcement, and so they do represent that kind of authority. Parallels can easily be drawn between this and the many acts of police brutality that still happen today. Whether law enforcement is willfully committing acts of violence against innocent people or is doing it out of a lack of regard for those people, the point is that the people with the weapons are the ones who do the killing. There’s no way around that fact.

The film was a departure from the norm in Hollywood in other ways as well. In contrast to other Westerns of the time, take for instance, Sergio Leone’s Man With No Name trilogy, the outlaws in “The Wild Bunch” act like outlaws. They aren’t nice guys. They adhere to some strong moral code but constantly break it as long as it’s convenient. As Ernest Borgnine’s Dutch says in regard to one authority figure, “We ain’t nothing like him. We don’t hang nobody!” He has a point, but the bunch has no problem taking people down when they’re in the middle of a robbery. Sure, the situations aren’t exactly the same, as the group isn’t in the position of power that some authorities in this film are, but they still should be accountable for their actions. They are bandits by trade after all.

In addition to the thrill of making that big score, the men live for booze and hookers. There’s no woman for them to come home to, just the guys and the road.

In this way, the film also serves as either a deconstruction or a celebration (maybe a bit of both) of that certain sort of macho masculinity especially characteristic of Westerns and other action movies. In keeping with the anti-violence theme, the film shows that the ultimate end for a violent lifestyle is generally a violent death. The guys aren’t invincible, and the lifestyle catches up to them eventually. As one man says, “We all dream of being a child again, even the worst of us. Perhaps the worst most of all.” That boorishness rears its ugly head in many ways in this film, and it’s an important takedown of that “manchild” mentality that is still too commonly espoused today.

Regardless of what you think of the film, you must admit there aren't many shots more badass than this one.

Regardless of what you think of the film, you must admit there aren’t many scenes in film as badass as this one.

Of course, although this film was considered excessively violent back in 1969, film connoisseurs would hardly bat an eye at it today. Back then they couldn’t get away with anything nearly as graphic as, say, “Saving Private Ryan,” or even “Pulp Fiction.” But the body count is rather ridiculous, though in this case, it serves as a reminder that violence begets violence, and sheer revenge for the sake of “honor” doesn’t really solve anything.

As in any good Western, there’s a great heist, involving, what else, a train. There are multiple opposing sides, each with their own agenda, and a detour into Mexico that turns into much more than the boys had bargained for. And of course, a dinner around a campfire’s worth of teasing and prodding jokes to help take the edge off. The Wild West serves as a good backdrop for many of Peckinpah’s ideas that were likely especially spurred on by the Vietnam War, which the U.S. was in the thick of at that time.

The film isn’t particularly friendly to women, unfortunately. Most of the women in the film who actually get any screen time are sex workers and are basically used as scenery. One of them is supposedly a former lover of one of the outlaws, Angel (Jamie Sanchez), and he takes offense to the fact that she is hanging around a certain powerful, corrupt individual, Mapache (Emilio Fernandez) when she’s supposed to be “his woman.” So he shoots her. It’s not totally clear who he was aiming for, but everyone else treats it like it’s no big deal that he just killed a woman. Mapache doesn’t even care, since he has lots of other women around anyway. Why be sad about just one? The leader of the bandits, Pike (William Holden) previously had a fling with a married woman, a relationship that ended when her husband killed her in the midst of their passion. That haunts Pike to some degree. The problem is that women in this film are mere accessories to the men, and although the film doesn’t necessarily portray the bandits in a positive light, it isn’t helpful when those women don’t have any personality or character of their own.

As the time of cowboys and the Wild West were winding down in 1913, it’s fitting that the old men of this group of outlaws were making their last score before their planned retirement into obscurity. But instead of fading away, they went out in somewhat of a blaze of glory. As the ’60s were winding down, a new era was around the corner. Thanks to Peckinpah, they went out with a bang (or many).

“The Wild Bunch” was incredibly influential for the film industry. If Peckinpah’s intent was to put an end to violent films, he succeeded in producing the exact opposite outcome. Contemporary directors, from Martin Scorsese to John woo, who love to stage stylish and bloody action sequences have this film to thank for their inspiration. And even Michael Bay, though he goes more the sanitary, bloodless route with his mounds of highly choreographed chaotic scenes, owes homage to this movie as well. So, if any of that is your sort of thing, you owe it to yourself to check out this movie. It’s rarely been done better since. Even as Peckinpah intended for it to be an ending of sorts, it also served as a beginning for a whole new generation of filmmakers.

For better or worse, the "Transformers" movies wouldn't be what they are without Sam Peckinpah's inspiration.

For better or worse, the “Transformers” movies wouldn’t be what they are without Sam Peckinpah’s inspiration.

——————————————-

Next up, #78 “Modern Times”

MV5BMjMwMDA5NzEwOF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwMzgwNDg3OA@@._V1_SY317_CR5,0,214,317_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: “The Apartment” (1960)

MV5BMTM1OTc4MzgzNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTE2NjgyMw@@._V1_SX214_AL_This is post #21 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #80 “The Apartment”

——————————————-

“The Apartment” is a movie about the everyman. You know, someone everyone can relate to. It’s the middle class, white collar guy who goes to work at a menial job, trying to move up the corporate ladder, but at the same time is just trying to keep his head above water. And in trying to get ahead, he winds up loaning out his apartment key to the corporate executives so they can have a place to have their trysts with women other than their wives in a private setting so no one who might object will notice, in order to keep it classy.

As one of those poor women asks “Do you bring other girls up here?” one sleazy exec replies, “Certainly not, I’m a married man!”

Everyman (approximation)

Everyman (an approximation)

OK, though there might be some people who still remember what it was like to be that “everyman,” that sort of life certainly isn’t as common as it was in 1959. Most of the ones who do remember those times probably didn’t ever slip their house key to a big shot executive. But life for working class Americans has changed, especially within the last decade. Since the economic recession, many middle class jobs have been eliminated in the U.S. Although since then, the economy has recovered the number of jobs lost, many of the middle-level positions have been replaced with more entry-level, lower skill positions, such as fast food and other food service jobs, as stated in the “Spartacus” piece. Even for entry level corporate jobs, there isn’t a lot of room for advancement anymore. Executives now are no longer promoted to their status, they are born into it. Mid-level employees are mostly aging veterans of the workplace, who are within spitting distance of retirement. They aren’t quite as focused on moving up the corporate ladder anymore, as they are mostly trying to pay off mortgages or their kids’ (or their own) school bills and saving up their money so they can retire when they are old enough. Hopefully, that happens before they get laid off.

For younger workers, the hope is less in moving up in the company they already work for, and more in moving to a similar, higher paying position in a better company, once they’ve acquired the experience they need at their current job. “Company men” aren’t as common anymore. It’s more about putting in your two years, beefing up the 401(k) and moving on to the next job.

And besides that, women are competing for the same jobs as men now, so “everyman” should be replaced with “everyperson.” It’d be nice to say there’s equal opportunity for all, but the reality is the men still outnumber women in the workplace and also make more on average, despite more equal opportunities at education. Men also don’t have to be concerned as much about sexual harassment in the workplace as women either.

But back in 1959, funnyman Jack Lemmon is that everyman named CC Baxter, and he’s alright with passing around the apartment key, because every executive who borrows it reminds him that they’ll put in a good word for him at the next board meeting. It’s never made clear what Baxter’s real job at this major insurance company even is, as he spends most of his time at work managing his calendar to make sure his apartment is available on any given night for his next client. He often stays late after work, not because he’s trying to get more done to please the boss (in any conventional sense, anyway), but because he can’t go home, as someone else is using his apartment. His normal deal is that they have to be out by 8 p.m., so that he can come home and go to bed, but occasionally an emergency will come up, and one of the bigwigs will need to use his flat late at night. Reluctantly, he always gives in, as the big men upstairs continually dangle the promise of his eventual promotion in front of his face, while in the next breath requesting that he keep his booze and cheese crackers well-stocked at home.

In the meantime, Baxter’s got a crush on Fran (Shirley MacLaine), the elevator operator at work (back when executives were well-off enough to pay for someone to operate the elevators for them), who is nice to him, and that big promotion is always around the corner, so things are looking up for him.

Baxter pines for Fran, but she's busy with other things at the moment.

Baxter pines for Fran, but she’s busy with other things at the moment.

Speaking of women being sexually harassed in the workplace, there weren’t any legal ramifications for that sort of behavior back in 1959. Fran faces this threat regularly from the lecherous executives, and she has to fend them off herself, which she has no qualms about doing. After not-so-discreetly lays a hand on her, she makes it clear to him that the next time he does it, he might lose that hand. But by the gesture she makes, it’s obvious that his hand isn’t the only part of him she intends to lop off with the elevator doors.

One day, Baxter finally gets that call from the boss that he’s been waiting for. This time, it’s Mr. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray), the man at the top. He’s so elated as he makes his way to the boss’s office that it’s obvious to the audience he’s about to be let down. The audience is right, but it has no idea just how much of a letdown this is. Sheldrake tells Baxter that he knows what Baxter is up to. But Baxter is not in trouble for this. As it turns out, the reason he got the call is that Sheldrake wants a piece of the action. In return for letting him use the apartment tonight, he offers Baxter two tickets to “The Music Man” on Broadway.

Although this isn’t what Baxter had hoped for, he accepts because, hey, now he’s got a ready made date to take Fran out for. He asks her, and she’s reluctant at first, because she’s meeting someone else for a drink. But eventually, she accepts, and Baxter is flying pretty high. But it turns out the person Fran was meeting for the drink was Sheldrake, with whom she’d previously had a fling with, and he wants to heat it up again. She’s reluctant, but she wants it too. Meanwhile, Baxter is left alone outside the theater with a cold. Seeing him pace back and forth before he walks away is rather pathetic, especially as the audience knows what’s going on at his apartment, while he has no clue. But the image of a lone tissue falling out of his pocket as he walks off adds a touch of touch of hilarity to the situation.

What follows is a twisty-turny soap operatic series of events revolving around this love triangle that keeps the audience guessing, but always with foreshadowing about what’s to come next. It’s a brilliant bit of storytelling that keeps the viewer always informed of what’s happening, while only offering the characters pieces of the truth at a time.

Meanwhile, Baxter’s neighbor, old, Jewish Dr. Dreyfuss (Jack Kruschen), hears someone in the room down the hall coming and going with ladies every night, sometimes several times a night. He and Baxter converse often, and it’s obvious from the way Dreyfuss talks to him that he incorrectly assumes the young man Baxter must be some kind of lothario. At first, he encourages Baxter to have his fun enjoying his youth and freedom. But after a particularly serious emergency that forces Dreyfuss to offer his help (he is a doctor, after all) he comes down hard on Baxter, telling him to stop treating these women the way he does, toying with them, dangling love in front of them, and treating them as expendable.

Although Baxter is actually doing none of these things, this verbal undressing of his supposed character serves a dual purpose. All but the biggest assholes among us can agree that the executives’ behavior is revolting, not only in how they see women and even Baxter as expendable, but in that they also have their own families whom they cheat on constantly and consistently. The audience never even sees them do any actual work, so it’s not apparent that they even do anything for their company, which is paying them the big bucks. Dreyfuss’ rant takes those dicks to task the way the audience would like to.

He plays a helluva good game of gin.

He plays a helluva good game of gin.

But at the same time, even as the doctor is tearing Baxter a new one for things he hasn’t even done, the audience can see that Baxter very much deserves it for a different reason. That is, he’s complicit in their sins because he’s the one offering up his apartment for the simple hope of getting a promotion. The audience can see Baxter as “likable” to some extent because he’s obviously not the same type of guy as these disgusting executives. He doesn’t really approve of what they do, and he wouldn’t do the same thing in their situation. But he isn’t a good guy here. In trying to become one of them, he becomes their partner in crime. He shares responsibility for their actions because he actively enables their behavior. The doctor tells him he needs to start being a mensch. That is, he needs to start being a human being. The doctor means he needs go grow a heart and stop treating women like toys, but to Baxter and the audience, it means that he needs to grow a backbone.

All the while, Baxter is starting to get those promotions in his company, as he’s finally scratched the right man’s (Sheldrake) back. Even after he finds out that Fran, the woman he wants to be with, is actually Sheldrake’s mistress, he does all he can to keep them together, because he wants her to be happy, and he wants to get ahead at work. But eventually, on the day Sheldrake makes Baxter his executive assistant, Baxter finally decides enough is enough, and he quits, giving all of it up. Fran finally wakes up and realizes Sheldrake is never going to settle down with her, and she gives up on him too.

This is a film that took a lot of risks for 1960, as it hearkens back to the squeaky clean image of older, similar romantic movies about life in the big city. Without being totally explicit, especially by today’s standards, director and writer Billy Wilder managed to fit in many suggestive double entendres and adult jokes for the time that appear relatively innocent on the surface. It also takes a turn into very dark territory that might not be so uncommon today, but he does so without ever losing that comedic tone, which is very much Lemmon’s element. Audiences today might remember him more for his lighter fare, like “The Odd Couple,” but “The Apartment” allowed him and the other two leads, MacLaine and MacMurray, to stretch their acting legs in dramatic roles. The more naturally comical presence of these actors serves as a surface-level persona for their characters, which occasionally gives way subtly to the darkness lurking within them in brilliant fashion. This might be a comedy, but it’s also serious film, and people who are serious about film should not miss it.

There are many smaller details about Baxter’s 1959 life that folks might find foreign today. Baxter has to heat up a TV dinner in the oven because microwaves don’t exist yet. This is a rare film that features the presence of the television dial, and to Baxter’s misfortune, there are only four channels, all showing westerns but on, and that one just shows commercials. He keeps a tennis racket in the kitchen, because he found a handy cooking use for it: straining spaghetti. That’s an invention bachelors today might find useful, if only tennis rackets were still affordable. Baxter’s rent is only about $85 a month in New York City, and he only makes $90 a week, though when accounting for inflation, that was probably a decent wage.

That Baxter is one inventive bachelor.

That Baxter is one inventive bachelor.

Even though 1959 was quite a different time, most people should be able to relate to Baxter’s plight in some way. Only today, people are more likely to do whatever it takes to keep their job, rather than to advance. The promise of a promotion is so rarely dangled in front of employees’ faces, because it isn’t really a possibility. Would they lone out their residences so the boss could get his affair on? If it came down to it, it could be a difficult choice to make, considering that jobs are hard to come by these days, and there are plenty of folks out there who would be glad to take your spot. Unlike Baxter, whose greatest fear was losing his progress in one company and having to start over at another, the prospect of losing one’s job today is a much bleaker one.

Mr. Sheldrake is quite the family man.

Mr. Sheldrake is quite the family man.

Asian Sighting: The bar that serves as Fran’s meeting spot with Sheldrake is a small Chinese restaurant, featuring a piano player who calls himself “Rickshaw Boy.” It’s a nice slice of New York ’50s culture. On Christmas, Fran thoughtfully presents Sheldrake with Rickshaw Boy’s record album. Sheldrake responds by giving her $100 and telling her to buy something nice with it. What a winner that guy is.

The indictment of capitalism and the promise of great comedy make “The Apartment” a must-watch for film lovers. The jokes still crackle more than 50 years later. This might be billed as a comedy/drama, but it has quite an epic feel to it with how brilliantly Wilder laid it out.

As you return to your run-of-the-mill, mundane life, let Fran’s wisdom accompany you on your way out.

“Some people take, some people get took. And they know they’re getting took and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

And

“When you’re in love with a married man, you shouldn’t wear mascara.”

——————————————-

Next up, #79 “The Wild Bunch”

MV5BMjMxNjEyNDE4NF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwODk2Njk3OA@@._V1_SY317_CR4,0,214,317_AL_

100 Movies … 100 Posts: #81. “Spartacus” (1960)

MV5BMTAzNDcwODQ1MjJeQTJeQWpwZ15BbWU4MDY3NTAzMTAx._V1_SY317_CR2,0,214,317_AL_This is post #20 in my series, 100 Movies … 100 Posts. In this ongoing series, I’m watching and writing about each film on the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies from #100 to #1. I’m not just writing a review of each movie. I am going to write a piece about whatever I find most pressing, as a critique of the film, an address of the issues it brings up, or my own experiences with the film. It will serve as an examination of the list itself and of political issues in Hollywood and the film industry. 

Without further ado, #81 “Spartacus”

——————————————-

For the soldier who asked which one was Spartacus, the answer is: Kirk Douglas.

It’s widely known throughout the film world that the Roman gladiator film “Spartacus” was Douglas’ movie, and even though director Stanley Kubrick got to play in it, it was Douglas’ playground.

Despite this, Kubrick is able to craft a decent story about the Romans’ oppression of the people around them, and how one man led a revolt on the idea that humankind deserves to be free and humans have the right to choose their own destiny.

Jean Simmons (left) plays Varinia in "Spartacus."

Jean Simmons (left) plays Varinia in “Spartacus.”

Unlike other gladiator films, like “Ben-Hur,” and well, “Gladiator,” this film does not depict the glory of the coliseum (in fact, only the promise of it) but rather the poor treatment of the men who are tasked to fight one another to the death for the entertainment of wealthy nobles. Spartacus was a slave who looked pretty buff, and was promised fame and wealth if he could put on a good show, so take up the sword, he would. Upon being introduced to the world of gladiators, he’s taught how to not only fight, but how to make killing another guy look really cool. He’s kept in a cell, and his trainers bring him a woman named Varinia (Jean Simmons, as opposed to Gene, no long tongue or face paint here) and watch through a grate in the ceiling, hoping to get a look at some good, sexy action. But Spartacus proclaims, “I am not an animal!” and Varinia responds, “Neither am I.” Despite both not being animals, they form a bond and fall in love, which is totally not what the Romans were going for.

Spartacus goes on to lead a slave revolt, build an army and present a serious challenge to Roman rule. But this is only around 70 BCE, and the audience knows the Romans will keep their thing going another 400 years. It doesn’t end well for Spartacus. After his army is defeated and the commander of the Roman soldiers asks for Spartacus to identify himself, so he can be made an example, those still alive proclaim their allegiance and love for him and his ideas by standing in solidarity with him and claiming “I am Spartacus!” Then they all get crucified.

Considering when this movie was released, in 1960, it certainly seems to have been in solidarity with the civil rights movement then. Black people in the U.S. were fighting for the right to be treated as humans as well, trying to gain the full right to vote. It’s frightening that even today, many are now fighting to keep that right, as some states want to hinder that right with voter ID laws basically for the sake of trying to win an election. Although slavery is no longer legal in the U.S., socioeconomic systems strive to keep the status quo, and the wealthier folks want to abolish minimum wage laws because they don’t want to pay their workers. Meanwhile, the opposition is trying to raise the minimum wage to a livable standard. Some get upset at hearing this, saying that people with low skill jobs, like food service workers, don’t deserve to make more money. But with the state of the U.S. economy, those food service and other low skill, low education jobs have become the majority. Now, young Americans who have college degrees and older people near retirement are competing for those low skill jobs because so many middle class jobs have disappeared due to the economy’s collapse from a few years ago and older people don’t have enough money to retire. So, if being treated as a human in the U.S. means being able to work and make a living, that isn’t currently a reality for many people. That’s not counting struggles of LGBT people to be treated as equals with heteros. Certainly in most countries, similar struggles are going on, and sex slavery is common in most countries, even heavily modernized ones. So, even today, there are echoes of slavery and cries for freedom in the world that “Spartacus” can speak to. All the little people of the world are Spartacus.

Draba, according to Wikipedia.

Draba, according to Wikipedia.

Even as Spartacus gets the attention in this film, he wouldn’t have dared to lash out at his Roman captors if it wasn’t for the Ethiopian named Draba (Woody Strode). As a group of nobles visit the gladiator training camp, the piggish host Batiatus, playfully played by Peter Ustinov, shows off his gladiators to the men’s wives, as if he were showing dogs for a fight. “Look at that one. He’s short but strong.” Spartacus and Draba are among those chosen for a fight to the death for a private audience. Batiatus informs them that their gladiators don’t fight to the death … unless the money’s right.

As two others go out to fight before them, Spartacus and Draba sit in a box next to the ring and wait as they have to spend the time looking at one another and listening to the swords clang and waiting for the death blow to be dealt. Once it’s their turn, they put on a competitive fight, but Draba gets Spartacus in position for the kill. Instead of slaying Spartacus, in a move that would eventually be inspiration for Katniss Everdeen to fire an arrow at the gallery watching her train in whenever the hell the “Hunger Games” is supposed to take place, Draba tosses his trident in the direction of the nobles watching them from a box above the arena. Once he’s startled them, he tries to climb up the tapestries hanging down to get his hands on them, but his one-man rebellion doesn’t last long, as he winds up with a spear in his back. Nevertheless, his sacrifice would plant the spark in Sparty to eventually lead his own rebellion that would be a bit more successful. As such, the movie might have been more aptly named, “Draba,” but even though the black man made the inspirational sacrifice, it still ended up being the white guy who got to do all the cool stuff.

Unfortunately, the film does get bogged down with a lot of overcooked, talky portions. It’s true that everything there has a purpose, but in a film that’s nearly 3 and a half hours long, it’s often the parts without any dialogue that carry its power and where Kubrick flexes his creative muscle. Spartacus and Draba sitting in the box as the other two gladiators’ swords are heard clanging against one another before they have to go out and do the same thing is particularly tense, and their fight itself is raw and visceral, unlike many of today’s film fight that are so heavily produced and laden with CGI. Spartacus finally snapping on his trainer and drowning him in a pot of hot soup (!) and sparking the slaves to revolt is awesome to watch. There are few sights more freeing than slaves overthrowing their masters and fleeing into the countryside. The soup drowning is especially poetic, as something that was created to warm and nourish from within was instead fashioned as a weapon used to burn the very orifice that was meant to consume it and kill. The Roman army coming out to confront the slave army only to see the slaves set their rolly things on fire and are rolling them their way would have led to many a pant-shitting. After the battle, close up shots of the mass of corpses are a chilling and sobering sight. And nothing is as demonstrative of the Romans’ cruelty as the slaves in the midst of their crucifixion lining the roads.

Marcellus really wanted the soup. But he ended up getting much more than he'd bargained for.

Marcellus really wanted the soup. But he ended up getting much more than he’d bargained for.

The sight of the once-powerful Spartacus hanging there might make one question the wisdom in trying to take on the Roman army with a relative handful of gladiators. He explains that although to a Roman, death meant the fear of losing everything, to a slave death meant an end to suffering. The slaves were going to die no matter what. Gladiators were going to die in the arena. The others were going to die at the hands of their masters mistreating them or they would spend their entire lives stuck in slavery. To fight was to go out on their own terms. Just the possibility that they could have won and gained their freedom was a freeing thought.

But “Spartacus” does have its weaknesses. The square-jawed Douglas is pretty well suited to playing a gladiator, and he gives one hell of an inspirational speech, but his love story with Varinia, though somewhat touching considering their situation, seems kind of out of place. Their conversations are a bit overly modern romantic, given the setting. It’s meant to be a contrast to the Roman nobles, who openly rationalize about the morality of sexualizing their slaves. But Spartacus and Varinia have the freedom to love one another more purely or something. So, the dialogue seems weird when Spartacus makes her swear to never leave him again. Some freedom that is. At the end, it seems like their relationship is there more for the purpose of showing that Spartacus has someone to pass on his free ideals to. They talk about her conceiving a child, though without any evidence that they were participating in activities that would cause such a thing to occur, it’s not even clear that it’s Sparty’s kid (maybe that’s purposeful). Varinia has an important moment when she declares she’s not an animal along with Spartacus, to say that poor treatment of women is in its own category, separate even from male slavery. But unfortunately, that’s all she contributes, and most of her time onscreen is spent romancin’ with Spartacus.

Gladiator training can get messy ... in rather unexpected ways.

Gladiator training can get messy … in rather unexpected ways.

Much of the time spent with the Romans seems to be there for the purpose of showing the true extent of the Romans’ evilness, with references to all manners of sexual debauchery. One Roman, Gracchus (Charles Laughton) in a conversation with Batiatus says that he isn’t married (though he keeps around some slave girls) to respect women’s “purity.” Batiatus gleefully retorts “it must be tantalizing to be surrounded by so much purity,” to which they share a heartily sleazy lecherous laugh.

Laurence Olivier as Crassus has a scene where he’s hitting on a male slave while the slave is bathing him. Crassus informs the man that he likes to eat “both oysters and snails,” where it’s pretty obvious he’s referring to neither oysters nor snails. Though Roman men having sexual relationships with slaves was a common practice in the Roman empire, using a homoerotically charged situation to express the depravity of the Roman nobility might not have been the best idea, especially at a time in which gays were themselves fighting for the right to have protection from harassment in the U.S.

And a reference to Christians eventually gaining their freedom from the pagan Romans in the opening monologue of the film has an odd ring to it today. Christianity has been the dominant religion in the U.S. for most of its existence, so it seems strange to bring that dichotomy up.

That being said, the actors playing the Romans are very fun to watch, and Ustinov walked away with an Oscar for his work.

Although Roman culture seems to be accurately depicted, even though the film is based on history, it takes liberties with Spartacus’ story, which works fine for the most part. But less than a decade removed from the Red Scare, it feels like the movie is pushing a certain form of nuclear family-promoting Cold War-era puritanicalism that was rampant in the U.S. at that time. It’s understandable, but it does look a little strange today. And when you’re taking liberties with history, it opens up to greater scrutiny the messages you’re trying to send with your piece.

But the film certainly has its merits, and I’ll never steer anyone away from a Kubrick film. The master didn’t even like this film due to the lack of control he had over it. It’s pretty easy to tell the points where his influence is heaviest, and that’s where the movie shines brightest. It’s bright enough to make for a very good and entertaining film. It’s just obvious that Douglas has control, and it’s interesting to think what could have been had Kubrick really been at the helm instead.

——————————————-

Next up, #80. “The Apartment”

MV5BMTM1OTc4MzgzNl5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNTE2NjgyMw@@._V1_SX214_AL_