Saturday, April 22, 2017


(April 1953, U.S.)

Next to musicals, the western is the genre I enjoy the least. With a few exceptions, the western, in my humble opinion, is a cinematic formula that almost never changes. Good guys, bad guys, simple town folk, rustlers, Indians, hero gunfighter, climactic shootout, on and on and on and on. Sometimes it's a little more on the rough edge with a guy like Clint Eastwood and sometimes it's on the lighter side of music with the singing cowboy (think Roy Rogers). In the end, for me, it all never seems to change. So, that being the case, why the hell am I attracted to a classic western like SHANE? Two reasons: the first being that with any genre that tends to continuously repeat itself, you're likely to choose at least one or two of said genre that pleases you the most in its use of the common formulaic elements; so I choose SHANE. The second being my own personal memories of childhood. You see, when I was in the eighth grade of middle school, we were required to read SHANE in our English class. Upon completing the book, we got to watch the movie over a period of several days. Naturally, it's a relief to be able to spend a few days of English class watching a movie instead of doing any actual work, but I found myself really enjoying the movie. I'd watch it again whenever it was shown on television after that, and I suppose my childhood fondness for it has never really gone away.

While hardly a unique element for a well made western, SHANE has some of the best outdoor cinematography I've seen that would easily give John Ford a run for his money. Shane himself (as played by Alan Ladd) is a mysterious character with no indications of his past. We only know that he's passing through the isolated valleys of Wyoming and that he's very skilled with a gun. Having befriended a local family headed by Joe Starrett (played by Van Heflin) and his wife Marian (played by Jean Arthur), he learns that they and many other good folks like them are engaged in a private war with a ruthless cattle baron called Ryker (played by Emile Meyer) who has hired men to harass and terrorize them out of the valley, despite them having legally claimed their land under the Homestead Acts. Though not meant to be any sort of protector for the Starrett family, Shane stays on with them for a time as a hired hand.

Upon his first visit to town, Shane is harassed and bullied into fighting, but he resists, though hardly out of cowardice. We can easily sense that Shane deliberately avoids trouble whenever possible in order to avoid what is suspected to be a violent past (Clint Eastwood played a similar sort of man in PALE RIDER). Like any man, however, Shane has his breaking points and it's exciting to watch him not only defend himself against the bad guys in a wild bar room brawl, but those he cares about also. Shane is a caring man, too, as he also demonstrates father-figure tendencies toward the Starrett boy Joey, particularly when teaching him how to shoot a gun for the first time. Joey is drawn to Shane, and to his gun, too.

As with any battle between good and evil, their reaches a point where things escalate. As Shane now proves to be a problem for Ryker and his men, he hires an outside gunman called Wilson (played by Jack Palance, who had a special fondness for westerns...even CITY SLICKERS) who proves early on that he may just be a threatening match-up against Shane. At the moment the film reaches the point where Shane will face his enemies, it's hardly what I'd call a major shootout. Shane is the easy victor and it all happens rather quickly, with little Joey watching from afar. When it's all over, the peaceful settlers have won and there will likely be no more guns in the valley. But we also discover that Shane was hit by a bullet during the final shooting and I suppose it's here that the true mystery lies. During the iconic closing moment when Shane is seen riding forever out of town and Joey cries out, "Shane! Come back!", we have to look closely to realize that Shane is not exactly leaving intact. He's slumped forward in his saddle and it's quite possible that he may not survive. In fact, if you listen to Kevin Spacey in THE NEGOTIATOR (1998), he claims that Shane is dead at the end of the movie, though we as the viewer are not entirely sure of this fact because the light and darkness of the scene won't allow us to be sure. Are we meant to understand if Shane is alive or not or is it one of those ongoing mysterious that's meant to be debated among fans of the film? Perhaps it's this mystery that also attracts me to SHANE above many other westerns.

While I certainly won't claim that SHANE is a brilliant achievement in drama and performance (in fact, Joey's little whining voice can get on my nerves at times!), it is a rather rich and vibrant portrayal of the American frontier scene, not too unlike a beautiful painting by a gifted artist. The plains, the valleys and the mountains are a form of grand beauty, even as they're accompanied by some of nature's harsher elements like darkness and rain. The tale of the gun fighter is an old cliché, to be sure, but it's a cliché that's easy to embrace with SHANE because of a tough, edgy actor like Alan Ladd, as well as the frontier spirit of the little boy who yearns to understand the mystery of a man like Shane. In the end, however, we may never understand a man like Shane. We may never even know if he survived at the end, or not. Such is the mysteries of life...and the western.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Shane: "I've heard about you."
Jack Wilson: "What have you heard, Shane?"
Shane: "I've heard that you're a low-down Yankee liar!"
Jack: "Prove it!"

Sunday, April 16, 2017


(August 1989, U.S.)

The year 1989 marked a rather significant turning point in my (informal) cinematic education. It was the year I finally decided to break out of my commercial Hollywood shell of blockbusters and sequels and start giving the independent art film a chance by going to see Steven Soderbergh's debut film SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPE, but also my first foreign subtitled film on screen as well, with Giuseppe Tornatore's Italian classic CINEMA PARADISO (originally released in 1988, but didn't hit the local art house near me until 1989). Now while I can't claim that the film forever turned me off from wasting any more of my time on common Hollywood crap (that didn't happen 'till 2006), it finally did open my eyes to the idea of simple stories about characters of quality and depth, and in this particular case, I was already familiar with actors like James Spader (from LESS THAN ZERO) and Andie MacDowell (from GREYSTOKE and ST. ELMO'S FIRE).

The film tells the story of a rather dysfunctional man named Graham (played by Spader) who films women discussing their sexuality in order to try and get past his own public impotence (he can't get it up in front of another person), as well as his presence and impact on the relationships of a troubled married couple (played by MacDowell and Peter Gallagher) and the wife's younger, sexually-charged sister (played by Laura San Giacomo). The trouble in the marriage stems mainly from the fact that Ann, in her own form of neurosis and insecurity (when we first meet her, she's discussing her fear of the world's garbage with her therapist), refuses to allow her husband to touch her anymore (no comment!). As a result, he's fucking her sister behind her back, even in their own bedroom when the opportunity arises. Graham, who is now a drifter and living locally in Baton Rouge, Louisiana for the time being, doesn't attempt to hide the fact from Ann that he's impotent and freely interviews women about their sexual experiences and fantasies, on videotape, though he never has sex with any of these women. Ann, spooked and confused at first, eventually cannot hide her curiosity at Graham's bizarre ritual. When her sister Cynthia learns of this, she's hardly shy about going to straight to his apartment to find out what it's all about. Graham propositions Cynthia to make a tape, assuring her that no other person is allowed to see the tapes. Believing him, she agrees. We get a firsthand look at how such a tape begins and progresses, as Cynthia tells the story of her first sexual experience and inevitably intercourse.

As is with any case of marital infidelity, the wife inevitably finds out. Though in this particular case, I can't say I take any sympathetic position with Ann. Perhaps it's wrong for her husband John to be fucking her sister, but if Ann is going to refuse to allow her own husband to touch her for no particular reason, then frankly, she deserves whatever she gets (if you're not going to get it from the one you love, then I believe you're free to seek it elsewhere!)! Though I have to give Ann credit for the direct way she confronts John by slowly announcing to him, "I-want-out-of-this-marriage!" However, that comes later, after in what I can only consider a direct act of revenge, goes to see Graham to make one of his infamous videotapes. Through our eyes and what we witness, though, it would appear that Ann has chosen to have sex with Graham in the end. When all is said and done, despite being an independent art film, there's still that touch of the Hollywood happy ending as it appears that Ann will forgive her sister for going behind her back and that Ann and Graham are now a happy couple (awwww!).

The insight to human sexuality may be as old as cinema itself, though censors had a much better way of hiding way back when. Soderbergh's script is a mature, intelligent and even nuanced look at flawed human beings and their approach to sex and relationships through their own neurosis. While we're watching these interesting characters come to life, we likely also can't help but wonder exactly how they managed to come together in the first place. Just what is it that originally brought a frigid woman like Ann together with a somewhat more spirited man like John. What exactly brings that same woman together with a troubled soul like Graham? Is it simply an act of revenge against her cheating husband, or is there something deeper inside her and Graham that manages to bring the old saying of "opposites attract" to life? Cynthia, whose open-minded sexuality hardly needs to be justified in fucking her sister's husband, is a curious one in that we wonder what it is between she and her sister that would allow her to commit such a betrayal. Soderbergh (rightfully, perhaps) doesn't try to justify these specific issues. He's showing us human beings who do strange things for reasons we're not meant to fully understand, as is often the case in real life. Who can explain why we do what we do or why we fuck who we fuck?

Favorite line of dialogue:

Graham: "You're right. I've got a lot of problems. But they belong to me."
Ann: "You think they're yours, but they're not. Everybody that walks in that door becomes part of your problem. Anybody that comes in contact with you. I didn't want to be part of your problem, but I am. I'm leaving my husband, and maybe I would have anyway, but the fact is, is, I'm doing it now, and part of it's because of you. You've had an effect on my life."

Saturday, April 1, 2017


(May 2008, U.S.)

I am about to attempt to give a male's perspective and point of view (very likely chauvinistic, too!) on what I consider to be, in my humble male opinion, the most "chickiest" of all chick flicks, SEX AND THE CITY, the movie that continues the popular HBO series that went off the air in 2004. But first, a little backstory of my own...

I first discovered the HBO show in 1999, around the time I started dating my future wife. As in all new relationships, the conversions of one's likes and dislikes to the other person's entertainment appreciations is inevitable. Seeing movies the other person likes, visiting museum exhibits the other person like and trying out new TV shows you'd never watch on your own. SEX AND THE CITY was already into Season Two when my wife (sorry...girlfriend) urged me to watch it with her every Sunday night. Well, you know what happens - you reluctantly agree at first, you slowly get used to the new show in your life and before you know it, you find that you, like your better half, don't want to miss a single episode and are willing to make every effort to make sure you're in front of the TV at the appropriate time (I didn't have anything like a Tivo or DVR machine at that time). After a while, SEX AND THE CITY became a weekly ritual I started to look forward to because I found myself quite turned on by all the highly-sexual content of the show's four female character, particularly that of Samantha Jones, who (to put it bluntly) loved, loved, loved to fuck! Sometimes the hot topics of an episode would even lead to my having sex also...sometimes. Anyway, I stayed faithful to the show right up until the end and saw no reason to ever look back. When the movie follow-up was released four years later, I didn't exactly rush to the movies to see what would happen to these four ladies of New York City next. It could easily wait until DVD or HBO.

To start things off rather bluntly, the film of SEX AND THE CITY is quite simply a nearly two and a half hour version of the show. There's absolutely nothing new or unique that's been added for any cinematic value. Even the show's director, Michael Patrick King, is at the helm of what he clearly knows so well. My point here is that if you were a fan of the show, then there's no reason the film will disappoint you. If you never watched the show before...actually, if you're a MAN and you never watched the show before, then this film is very likely going to try your patience, even if you're forced to watch it with your significant other.

So, it's four years later and Carrie Bradshaw (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) gives us a brief narration of the events that have happened to her and her three best friends over the last ten years (very convenient for those who aren't in the know). Charlotte (played by Kristin Davis) is happily married to her divorce lawyer, mother of an adopted Chinese girl and still a little-Miss-Goodie-Two-Shoes prude. Miranda (played by Cynthia Nixon) is married, a mother, living in Brooklyn and has lost interest in sex with her husband (bitch!) for the time being. Samantha (played by Kim Cattrall) lives in Los Angeles with her stud-muffin superstar-model boyfriend and still loves to fuck! Carrie is, of course, still fine and fabulous and strutting her hot ass around the streets of Manhattan and is about to move into her 5th Avenue penthouse dream apartment with Big (played by Chris Noth) and is facing the fact that she'll have no legal rights to said apartment because he's paying for it. To ease her insecurities, Big suggests that they marry. The proposal is delivered as more of a business proposal than anything else, but Carries joyfully agrees. Now, you'd think this could be a simple matter of two people who were never that interested in marriage before just tying the knot, right? Wrong! Remember, Carrie Bradshaw is the city's ultimate image of fabulous, and a published writer, to boot. So when she's asked to do a bridal photo shoot for Vogue and is given the wedding dress of her dreams, she's suddenly unleashed into the pit of hell that is wedding planning, wedding decisions and every other egotistical issue that's ultimately designed to cater only to the bride's needs and leave the poor schmuck-of-a-groom left standing in the cold wondering what the hell is happening to him. Carrie's planning goes so far over the top that she completely forgets the notion that her pending marriage to Big is supposed to be about them and not how it's all going to make her look to her friends and adoring public.

By the way, I couldn't help but wonder if you're sensing a little anger in my writing now? Perhaps you are. I've been to my share of (Jewish) weddings that were so over-the-top ridiculous, I was practically ashamed to even be there. Thankfully and happily, my own wedding in 2001 was nothing like that. It was about me and my bride and not how it all made us look to others (the greatest day of my life!).

Anyway, when the big day finally arrives, Big is so overcome with fear and uncertainty about what he's about to do for the third time in his life, that he fails to get out of the car in front of the New York Public Library at the crucial moment. Even when he tries to take his little stunt back moments later, it's too late, because Carrie's realized what he's done and it's all over. From here, the film takes off to Mexico where Carrie tries to heal with her three best friends on what was supposed to be her honeymoon with Big. Carrie sleeps and Carrie suffers and I'd be lying to you if I told you that I, as the viewer, don't feel she deserves what's happened to her. Any woman who is so ME, ME, ME and fabulous, fabulous, fabulous and fails to remember what the true meaning behind the marriage is, deserves to fall flat on her pretty, little ass!

(there's that anger again!).

As Carrie is having her crisis and trying to bounce back from it, Miranda is fighting her own marital battles as she tries to get over her husband Steve's one-time infidelity that occurred some months ago because she had lost sexual interest in him. Okay, let's just forget for a moment that I'm a man and it's practically my obligation to take another man's side. But really, when a wife goes for months and months making it very clear that she no longer has sexual interest in the man she's supposed to love, what do we expect the man to do?? Cheating is wrong, yes, but when you're being repeatedly ignored by the woman you love, what are you expected to do? Just sit there and idly take it forever?? Well, as cliché would have it, time, patience and a little marriage counseling inevitably heal all wounds and Miranda and Steve live happily ever after as they meet in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. Oh, and in cause you're wondering, Carrie and Big settle things, too, and are married in the simplest way - in a downtown courthouse and with their best friends over pancakes and omelettes later on.

SEX AND THE CITY as a film works well enough, as previously stated, if you're a fan of the show. The plot content, however, really seems to focus on just Carrie and Miranda, suggesting that Samantha and Charlotte have very likely outlived their characters and are only there to offer the sidekick support of the other two friends that represent sexual freedom and prim-and-proper stability. Yet despite this accusation against these other two women, there is a moment in the film when I have nothing but true respect for Samantha Jones and that's when, in a brief moment, she's feeding Carrie some breakfast when she refuses to leave her bed while hiding from the world after having been jilted by Big. It's one of those touching scenes of true friendship, loyalty and being there for someone you care about when they're really hurting. But like I said before, it's all pretty-much outlived with those two, but there's still something to be said about having four old friends with you again after a four year hiatus from television to screen. You're happy to see them again, and you're happy to see all's well that ends well with them, and perhaps you've even decided that you've seen enough of them when it's all over and the four women toast each other to the next fifty years of their lives. In other words, SEX AND THE CITY 2 was totally unnecessary!

Favorite line or dialogue:

Carrie Bradshaw: "So really, we're, we're getting married?"
Big: "We're getting married. Should we get you a diamond?"
Carrie: "No. No. Just get me a really big closet."

Friday, March 24, 2017


(October 1997, U.S.)

By rather bizarre coincidence, it was only today that a couple of people in my office were discussing Brad Pitt and his ability to display convincing foreign accents in some of his films. Immediate films that were cited were his Irish accent in THE DEVIL'S OWN (1997) and his thick Cockney accent in SNATCH (2000). Of course, leave it to me to point out his Austrian accent in SEVEN IN TIBET, which I informed my colleagues of having just recently watched for the purpose of this post. This is where the office conversation just about came to a stop because it seems that I was the only one of the group that had seen the film (should I be surprised??).

Pitt plays real-life Austrian mountaineer Heinrich Harrer who chooses to leave his estranged wife and unborn son to seek his glory in the part of British India that would one day become Pakistan. At the outbreak of World War II in 1939, he and his partner Peter Aufschnaiter (played by David Thewlis) are captured by the British and placed in a POW camp. After several failed escape attempts, Heinrich and Peter finally escape the camp and manage to cross the border into Tibet, despite the overall attitude of no foreigners allowed. Once inside the great capital city of Lhasa, they have become welcomed house guests and quickly manage to adapt themselves to their time-honored customs and traditions (including protecting the worms of the earth because the people believe they were once their mothers in a former life - ???). Heinrich is eventually introduced to the Fourteenth Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso, who is still just a little boy back then, and develops a relationship of trust in which he also becomes his tutor of the outside world, including maintaining the task of building Tibet's first movie house simply to please the boy's desire's for American culture. The two of them become close friends and it's not long before Heinrich's previous ways of selfishness and indifference are replaced with an understanding and appreciation of the Holy ways of the Tibetan religion which he also seeks to help heal the loss of leaving his child.

Bearing in mind, of course, that a war is still on outside this protected world, it's not long before communist China has invaded the city of Tibet and occupied its people. This is a fact of history, and the film doesn't seek to sugar coat it in any way. Those of us who know even a little bit of world history will know that the real-life Dalai Lama was forced to flee Tibet (with the help of the American CIA) and settle in India, where he still resides today. This is about as much as I know about the man, other than what I've seen of him on television. I subscribe neither to his religion or his teachings. He exists only for me in SEVEN YEARS IN TIBET.

The film is undoubtedly filled with a great deal of cinematic beauty, often giving its own version of the life of the explorer and the traveler. It starts out as an ambitious adventure story and inevitably becomes something more as we're meant to try and understand the discovery and simplicity of a culture practically cut off from the rest of the world, not too unlike what we see in Frank Capra's LOST HORIZON (1937). Drama, believe it or not, feels rather limited to nothing far beyond the simple relationships of Heinrich and the Dalai Lama, as well as Peter and the woman he falls in love with and marries, as they're told in a rather old-school style of Hollywood storytelling. If nothing else, SEVEN YEARS IN TIBET is an opportunity to transport ourselves to another time in history while exploring some forgotten beauty in the world (that beauty being filmed in Argentina, by the way).

I briefly mentioned comparison to LOST HORIZON. Don't be too surprised if you're not also reminded of THE LAST EMPEROR (1987), DANCES WITH WOLVES (1990), the Eddie Murphy 1986 comedy THE GOLDEN CHILD, and even just a little bit of Indiana Jones thrown in for good measure. And by the way, I still have never seen Martin Scorsese's film about the Dalai Lama, KUNDUN, also released in 1997.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso (to Heinrich Harrer): "Do you like movies?"

(What? You're surprised I'd choose that line??)

Saturday, March 18, 2017


(December 1973, U.S.)

William Friedkin's THE FRENCH CONNECTION (1971) remains my favorite cop/crime thriller of all time. That's quite a testament to its staying power when you consider just how many thrillers of the same genre have been held by far more physically brutal-type movie stars with far greater salary demands than Gene Hackman ever cleared. But really, let's not forget just how important Roy Scheider's role was to that monumental film, as well.

In 1975, there was a direct sequel called FRENCH CONNECTION II (naturally!) that brought back Hackman and took him to France to continue his pursuit of the one he called "Frog One". That sequel by John Frankenheimer was certainly not one of his better career moments, in my opinion, so I don't give it too much credit. Although it's not directly related to THE FRENCH CONNECTION, I would consider THE SEVEN-UPS a far superior sequel-like follow-up to the Academy Award winner for Best Picture of 1971. The film is not a sequel, but it's character of NYPD Detective Buddy Manucci as played by Roy Scheider is based on the same character of Detective Buddy 'Cloudy' Russo in THE FRENCH CONNECTION. So really, you can view it anyway you choose. It still doesn't deter from the fact that THE SEVEN-UPS is a great police thriller in its own right.

As a corrupt and crusading New York City policeman who is the leader of "The Seven-Ups", Buddy leads a squad of plainclothes officers who use dirty, unorthodox tactics to secure arrests that inevitably lead to prison sentences of seven years and up upon prosecution (hence the name of the team). Despite having to endure criticism and endless bullshit from the other cops who regard the team as renegades, Buddy still appears to be a good cop. When a rash of kidnappings and ransoms for high profile Mafia and white-collar criminals points to other cops and his own untrustworthy informant (and cousin), the pieces of the complicated puzzle ultimately leads to the murder of one of the Seven-Ups cops. As matters become unraveled and the pieces start to fall apart, Buddy's life is in jeopardy and must rely on his years of experience and tough street smarts to survive.

Now, bearing in mind that this film is an indirect follow-up to THE FRENCH CONNECTION and is directed by Phillip D'Antoni, also the producer of THE FRENCH CONNECTION and BULLIT (1968), the thrilling car chase sequence is inevitable. While the chase in this film doesn't surpass the one in its 1971 predecessor, in my opinion, it holds its own very well throughout the streets of upper Manhattan, over the George Washington Bridge and onto the Palisades Parkway in New Jersey. Roy Scheider is exciting to watch as he commands his 1973 Pontiac Ventura Custom Sprint Coupe. In fact, if you look carefully, you can even see where Scheider is doing his own driving, as opposed to stuntman Bill Hickman (also from THE FRENCH CONNECTION). The conclusion of the chase is almost horrifying to watch, as Scheider's car smashes into the back of a parked tractor-trailer, peeling off the car's roof. I mean, geez, you'd have to be good to survive this...

As thrills go, there's also a great sequence in a car wash that takes on a great deal of suspense as it's accompanied by the music of Don Ellis (again, also from THE FRENCH CONNECTION). In my opinion, this particular scene does for car washes what Alfred Hitchcock's PSYCHO (1960) did for showers and what Henri-Georges Clouzot's DIABOLIQUE (1955) did for bathtubs (just what is it about water in general that makes for such good suspense??).

Roy Scheider was, no doubt, one of my favorite actors of the 1970s, and next to Al Pacino, nobody played a cop quite like he did. He was tough, brutal, and sometimes even corrupt, but you always believed that he was on the side of righteousness and justice, whether on the streets, on the oceans of Amity Island, or flying the "Blue Thunder" super helicopter! And as it turned out, when he wasn't fighting crime (or sharks!), he made a very viable song-and-dance man in Bob Fosse's ALL THAT JAZZ (1979). He died nearly ten years ago and I still miss him (I met him in Southampton in 1997). Thankfully, films like THE SEVEN-UPS keep his memory and staying power alive and well. Though I must say, I wish I'd been old enough in the 1970s to catch a great double bill like this in theaters...

Damn, that's some good stuff!

Favorite line or dialogue:

Buddy Manucci: "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not gonna bag ya. But I think you better think about better worry about Kalish's pals, Festa's pals, because word has a way of getting around."
Vito Lucia: "What are you talking about? You're gonna let them know? You can't do this to me, Buddy!"
Buddy: "No? You watch me!"

Saturday, March 11, 2017


(August 1958, U.S.)

Okay, even if you've wasted your life watching nothing but mindless crap and comic book hero movies, you've still very likely seen this iconic black and white image before of Max von Sydow playing a game of chess with the human personification of death against the backdrop of the beach, the sea and the clouds...

Unfortunately, this is probably as close to Ingmar Bergman's legendary classic Swedish drama/fantasy art film as most common multiplex goers will ever get (sorry to sound so critical and judgmental, but unfortunately, that's the way it is with most people who watch movies. Pity). For those of us who are somewhat in the "know" with foreign cinema, there's no denying that this was the film that made Bergman's career and made him a world-renowned director. And for someone like me, who is a bonafide atheist, this film also represents one of the best tales (both in performance and visuals) of man, life, death, God and theology that I've ever seen on film.

During the time of the Crusades and the plague known as Black Death, knight Antonius Block (played by Max von Sydow) returns home a puzzled and disillusioned man. On the beach immediately after arriving home, Block encounters the image of Death (played by Bengt Ekerot), personified as a pale, black-cowled figure dressed as a monk. Block, in the process of playing a game of chess alone, challenges Death to a chess match, believing that he can forestall his inevitable demise as long as the game continues. Death agrees, and they start a new game (see the iconic image above again!). Other characters surrounding Block are unable to see Death, however, and believe that Block is playing the game alone. As Block manages to hold his own well enough during the continuous game, he is haunted by questions, doubts and fears about what his life has meant to him and to God, as well as, perhaps, achieving one great final moment or selfless act before dying. Even during a simply poignant scene of eating fresh strawberries and milk with a loving family of traveling performers, Block is questioning his religious faith and the torment it imposes on his life, despite his obvious enjoyment of this simple moment and noting it in his memory.

The film is often structured like an ongoing argument or sermon, delivering both sides of the religious coin; good and evil. This theme is hardly new in cinema, of course, but when it's combined with Bergman's carefully-layered scenes and cinematography of both character acting and environment, we cannot help but feel as if we're searching through a personal book of unique and extraordinary black and white photographs that are not only effectively telling the tale of man's moral and religious dilemmas, but providing us with the visions and effects that accompany such dilemmas, and perhaps even try to explain them.

THE SEVENTH SEAL, with such images and reflections about death and the meaning of life (Monty Python not withstanding!), has come to immortalize symbolism during an age when Hollywood and its pop culture (both past and present) often forgets to acknowledge the importance of art cinema. Sure, the film may very well be a requirement for those in film school or a passing curiosity for those who live in New York City's Greenwich Village, but it's sad to think that's as far as it goes and as good as it gets. Even if we're all nothing but a bunch of die hard moviegoers committed to the genre of action, explosions and CGI bullshit, I'd like to think (to hope, really) that there's still a chance many of us can allow the appreciation of artistic culture into our cinematic lives, even if we're not a member of the intellectual audience. We don't have to be. We just need to give it a chance and open our minds and our hearts, and if necessary, watch it more than once. Try it. It's worth it.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Antonius Block: "I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a bowl brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency."

Tuesday, March 7, 2017


(May 3, 1932 - March 6, 2017)

Once again, I've chosen to briefly interrupt the normal flow of my blog so I can pay my own personal tribute to film historian Robert Osborne, host of Turner Classic Movies, who died yesterday at the age of eighty-four.

As a kid growing up in the late 1970s and early 1980s, one of the weekly television broadcasts I remained faithful to was the ABC Sunday Night Movie. At a time when movie collecting was either not available yet or simply too expensive for most people, theatrical motion pictures that aired on television were the best thing a kid like me could get in order to watch movies at home when he was being raised by parents who were too damn cheap to pay for HBO! As each movie began every Sunday, voice-host Ernie Anderson was there to not only introduce the movie that was about to be aired, but enthusiastically made it known to viewers that the movie was something to be experienced and shared. His introductions accompanied with scenes from the movie were there to psych you up and get you excited for what was to come. Today, all of that simply doesn't exist anymore. Oh sure, movies are still aired on cable television stations, but the beginning of one movie tends to overlap the end credits of another as we're forced to watch multiple mini-boxes on our TV screen that also include the so-called rating of what we're about to watch. It's all so mindless and completely impersonal.

And then there was TURNER CLASSIC MOVIES which was first launched in April 1994. The best in classic motion pictures without edits or interruptions, and introduced by host Robert Osborne. With his friendly and charming personality that shone brightly through his obvious love of cinema, the viewer was not only educated on points of the film about to air both before and after the broadcast, but was also made to feel as if they were part of a genuinely worthwhile experience to be savored and cherished. We were about to watch a movie together and we could feel good about ourselves for having chosen to take the time out of our busy lives to sit down and share it with someone who knew things about the art of cinema that perhaps we did not...someone like Robert Osborne. He was, I'd say, the Ernie Anderson of my adulthood, though much more than just a voice; a presence of knowledge and joy in the world of movies.

I'll miss watching and listening to him. He was the only voice I truly enjoyed listening to on the only TV channel worth watching anymore, in my opinion. Now he's gone. Thank you for the great memories, Robert!