I'LL BE BACK...

Hello, everyone. I've decided to take a short hiatus from my film blog while I concentrate a little more of my time and effort in writing my follow-up book to IT'S STRICTLY PERSONAL: A Nostalgic Movie Memoir of 1975-1982.

Fear not, though. As dear Arnold continuously tells us, "I'll be back..."

In the meantime, you can enjoy reading my recently published book by purchasing a copy of it at the following sites:

- www.amazon.com
- www.barnesandnoble.com
- itunes.apple.com

Thanks you all for the support you've shown me over the years. I'm truly grateful.

- Eric Friedmann (Published Author) 😎

TITANIC (1997)

(December 1997, U.S.)

For most of my blog posts, I usually re-watch the film I'm going to write about in order to gain a fresh perspective. I hardly needed to watch James Cameron's TITANIC again. I've seen it many times, and it was recently aired on Showtime for a month, so I was constantly catching bits and pieces of it here and there. Instead, I chose to watch the 1958 British film A NIGHT TO REMEMBER, and realized that Cameron (to his discredit) adapted many of the same camera shots, as well as numerous pieces of dialogue. However, regardless of any similarities or discrepancies between Cameron's film and the multitude of Titanic films that came before it, it's the TITANIC this generation of film fans has come to love the most, over and over again. I'm no different.

TITANIC - you've seen the film, you know the flawlessly-crafted story, you thought all of the performances were top notch, you love that it won Best Picture of 1997, you know that James Cameron was "King of the World", and if you're a red-blooded heterosexual male like I am, you probably built up many fantasies around seeing Kate Winslet naked for the brief moment we were treated to it during the sketching sequence...

(sorry. Couldn't resist. She was HOT!)

So what I'd like to try and do is discuss TITANIC just a little outside of the box, so to say. I'd like to take James Cameron's epic film and describe the social relations and conflicts on their socio-economic levels. Don't think I can? Stay with me a while and we'll see...

TITANIC was released after months of delay and high anticipation that it would be the most epic event in the world of film entertainment, as well as bringing new depths to the common disaster film. On its surface, it's a spectacular disaster film, as well as a heart-touching love story between two young adults who meet on the legendary ocean liner just days before it would meet its fate when colliding with an iceberg. It's a grand film of not only scale and size (like the ship itself), but also a breakthrough technological effort in the world of film sets and CGI. My post, however, is meant to focus more on not only the love story aspect of the film, but its depiction of social class relationships and conflicts aboard the great liner. Much like traditional travel even of today, one's place aboard the ship is solely dependent on what class level each passenger falls under. Aboard the RMS Titanic, one's class level is bought and paid for as commonly as any other commodity. Those of high end wealth and privilege are in the financial position to buy the best the ship can offer, whether it be their stateroom, the food they’re served, the deck level of the ship they're permitted to occupy or even the right to take part in the Sunday church services. Those who cannot afford such luxuries of the ship are placed in third class and must dwell within the ship's depths, grouped together like filthy rats.

Cameron makes a deliberate effort to distinguish both classes by first depicting the very elegant dinner of the first class passengers with all the items of the table in their proper place and the very fine food and drink they will dine on. Third class passengers, on the other hand, eat cheap food, drink cheap beer and dance themselves into exhaustion. These two distinctions, by comparison, not only depict the level of what is considered entertaining for each social class, but also makes a point that the third class are apt to loosen up and enjoy themselves more than the stuck-up first class. The love story of the film takes place when Jack Dawson (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) meets Rose DeWitt Bukater (played by Kate Winslet). Jack is a third class passenger, while Rose is a first class passenger. Jack is alone on the ship, while Rose is flanked by her fiancée Cal Hockley (played by Billy Zane) and her mother Ruth (played by Frances Fisher), both people of upper crust breeding who make no secret of looking down on and even despising the lower class elements that occupy the same ship as them. Even the employees of the ship are not exempt from their "holier-than-thou" attitude, as they are considered nothing more than mere servants in life who don't deserve equal respect. Because of Jack and Rose’s social class differences, it seems highly unlikely that the two of them would ever even meet because they're expected to occupy their own portions of the ship.

Through luck or perhaps even fate, they do meet when Jack saves Rose's life from an aborted suicide attempt on her part. Her stuck-up fiancée Cal, while outwardly grateful to Jack for saving Rose's life, dismisses the efforts of this lower class individual by simply paying him off with a twenty dollar bill. Rose, on the other hand, while being of the same upper crust breeding, is drawn to Jack's free spirit and apparent lust for life's daily pleasures. This is an unavoidable attraction for Rose because we learn that she is a prisoner of her own life of stuck-up privilege, as she is expected by her mother to marry Cal as a matter of convenience that will ensure her family’s name and security in high society's social order. Rose, by all practical definition, is a mail-order-bride, bought and paid for by a man who believes he can possess anything he wants in life simply because he has the means to do it. Jack, while falling for Rose, is not immune to the realities of their class levels and financial positions in life. By the time ship collides with the iceberg and destiny, the love story takes full effect as Jack and Rose come to realize that disaster and the potential for one’s own survival will make their love for each other stronger and more dedicated. Indeed, as the ship is in the process of sinking, Rose is forced to make the choice of possibly surviving with the rich man she doesn’t love, but who will give her everything in life, nonetheless, or the choice of possibly dying with the poor man she truly loves.

Indeed, in TITANIC, love does triumph above all others, which is why perhaps I still consider it the greatest love story every put on screen. But it's when the ship is slowly and progressively meeting its doom that we come to realize just how far and to what extent the order of social classes will take its toll. Early in the film, we learn that there are not enough lifeboats to accommodate every passenger aboard the ship should they be required. When the time comes that they are required, it's not necessarily the traditional law of "woman and children first" that comes into play, but rather the more socially-accepted law of the time when first class women and children shall come first. The notion of all human beings having their own right to survival has just gone out the window simply because many of the ship’s first class passengers shall be deemed "the better half", as Cal puts it. Even Rose's mother is not shy about blatantly asking if the lifeboats shall be seated according to class. This is not only the social order of Cameron's film, but also the historical order of the time it actually happened. Many of the seven hundred plus survivors of the RMS Titanic were of the first class passengers and the social order of the time simply had the odds of survival stacked higher in their favor. The film deems this order as seemingly acceptable by not only the first class, but among the third class passengers, as well, because they don't think to question the injustice of it. When asked by her little girl what is going on, her mother, a third class foreign immigrant tells her that the ship is calling upon first class passengers to the lifeboats first and then will eventually be getting around to the third class passengers, and that they’ll want to be ready to go. Her facial expression, however, tells us that she knows differently and that she, her children, and all the other third class passengers are likely going to die.

Upon watching TITANIC, audiences are likely to walk away with only the gratification that true love did, indeed, triumph above all odds and that even though Jack Dawson did die in the icy waters of the North Atlantic, Rose never let go of his love and his memory. While not as gratifying on the level of pure entertainment, it might also be deemed necessary to realize that such social class orders of the time not only defined who had the right to live and who had the right to die, but also that time and change would inevitably pass laws of travel that would not only provide enough lifeboats on luxury ocean liners for all passengers concerned, but perhaps even do away with factors of class existence and class conflict that would decide a person's ultimate fate in the face of disaster.

TITANIC won the Oscar for Best Picture of 1997. I loved the film immensely, but I personally thought L.A. CONFIDENTIAL should have won instead. But that's me!

Favorite line or dialogue:

Cal Hockley (to Rose): "Where are you going?! What, back to him?! To be a whore married to a gutter rat?!"
Rose DeWitt: "I’d rather be his whore than your wife!"

TITANIC (1953)

(April 1953, U.S.)

Do the research and you'll find there are a lot more films and documentaries (both theatrical and television) about the sinking of the RMS Titanic than you might imagine, including the very first ten minute silent film called SAVED FROM THE TITANIC, released only twenty-nine days after the actual sinking in 1912, and a 1943 German Nazi propaganda film bearing the same name as this. Of course, my generation as well others before will likely most equate the legendary tale with James Cameron's 1997 Oscar-winning epic. As time went on, and each film became just a little more sophisticated in its filming and its special effects, movie audiences got more of a sense, or at least imagined they did, of what occurred on that fateful night of April 15, 1912.

By the 1950s, an American drama like TITANIC would not only rely heavily on whatever special effects could be achieved by then, but also on its star power. Stars like Barbara Stanwyck, Clifton Webb, Thelma Ritter and Robert Wagner were likely as important to a box office draw, as well as the powerful events of history unfolding on the big screen. As an estranged married couple sailing on the ill-fated maiden voyage of the great ocean liner, Webb and Stanwyck have great chemistry together, if for nothing else, in their ability to display great bitterness and animosity toward each other. At the last minute, Richard Sturges (Webb), a wealthy European socialite, manages to buy a steerage-class ticket in order to seek out his runaway wife Julia (Stanwyck) and their two children. He learns that she intends to take their children back to her home state of Michigan, where they'll be brought up as down-to-earth Americans rather than spoiled socialites, like their father. Learning of her mother's intentions, the oldest daughter Annette (played by Audrey Dalton), she insists she'll return to Europe with her father to continue the life she's been brought up on. Julia concedes that she's old enough to make her own decisions, but insists on keeping custody of their son Norman. Richard, unwilling to accept this, learns the shocking truth that Norman is not his child, but rather the result of a one-night stand after one of their many bitter arguments. Upon hearing that, he agrees to give up all claim and emotional ties to Norman.

Meanwhile, as many of us already know from countless other film versions (including Cameron's), the Titanic is picking up speed as she sails closer to iceberg territory. Believing clear skies and calm seas will be their ally, they cannot foresee their dangerous fate ahead. At the moment of impact, the ship is gashed below the waterline and immediately begins taking on water. Remembering that this is a civilized film from the 1950s, there is order and reason aboard between all men, women and children, unlike the chaos we've witnessed before (again, think Cameron). Lifeboats are filled in an orderly fashion and are detached from the ship without incident. Tears are shed, lovers part, and lives are lost with great honor. The most surprising, and I suppose heartfelt, piece of drama is when Richard and Julia, at their moment of facing pending doom, experience a tearful reconciliation on the boat deck, re-declaring their original love for each other. There's great sadness in watching Stanwyck realizing that despite years of hate between them, their true love shines through at the moment when it really matters.

The sinking of Titanic is hardly that of epic proportions. Remember, this is prior to the actual discovery of the sunken vessel by the American and French expedition in 1985, so it was still presumed that the ship went down in one piece. In her final moments, Richard discovers that he truly loves Norman, regardless of biological issues, and declares the great pride he feels toward him now, and always. The two of them join the rest of the doomed passengers and the crew in singing the Welsh hymn "Nearer, My God, to Thee". As the last of the ship's boilers explodes, Titanic's bow plunges, pivoting her stern high into the air while the ship rapidly slides into the icy water (again, the way it was presumed to have sunk in real life). As dawn approaches, the remaining survivors wait in their lifeboats for the inevitable rescue from the RMS Carpathia to arrive.

Like Shakespeare's HAMLET or even Bram Stoker's DRACULA, time and history inevitable gets you caught up in countless versions of the same story to the point where you're not sure just how to interpret each and every one of them. One has to wonder what would make a person choose one version of TITANIC over another as compared to say, A NIGHT TO REMEMBER (1958) or even a 1979 ABC-TV movie entitled S.O.S. TITANIC. Movie stars surely count for something, and a woman like Barbara Stanwyck shines as not only one trying to break free of a bad situation, but also embracing her own emotions at the point of disaster. Clifton Webb is a perfect English gentleman who knows how to behave not only in life, but also at the point of death, too. Like many tales of the great ship, one must contend with at least an hour or so of prerequisite drama and personal stories of those on board before disaster finally strikes. From then on, its a matter of filming, photography and special effects that will determine just how much the disaster takes a firm grip on our imagination and emotions. Historically, we can never truly count on everything being completely accurate. Certain events and specific passengers (including the names Astor, Guggenheim, and Margaret Brown) have become known as fact, as well as the heroics of Captain Edward Smith and the ship's orchestra continuing to play on the deck during the sinking. Whatever remains as historical nonsense, we must still continue to interpret TITANIC on film as a functional and entertaining story of human drama and survival during what has come to be one of the most historical events of the 20th century.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Richard Sturges: "We have no time to catalog our regrets. All we can do is pretend twenty years years didn't happen. It's June again. You were walking under some Elm trees in a white muslin dress, the loveliest creature I ever laid eyes on. That summer, when I asked you to marry me, I pledged my eternal devotion. I would take it as a very great favor Julia, if you would accept a restatement of that pledge."

Oh, man, that gets me every time!

THX 1138

(March 1971, U.S.)

As much as I love all STAR WARS movies (except SOLO!), there came a point in the 1990s when I lost my respect for George Lucas, as did many other fans, when he shamelessly raped the original trilogy to death and gave us the SPECIAL EDITIONS. So, whenever I need to remind myself of just who Lucas used to be, I watch AMERICAN GRAFFITI and, of course, his feature debut film THX 1138. It goes to show you that even the man who created the galaxy far, far away started small at another time and another place.

Based on his own original student film, this dystopian science fiction film set in the 25th century features an underground society in which its citizens are not only required by law to keep themselves on a regular regimen of mind-altering and emotion-suppressing drugs (even the medicine cabinets ask, "What's wrong?" when opened), but are also forbidden to commit acts of sexual intercourse and reproduction. Like George Orwell's 1984, it's a future where everyone is being watched and all activity is recorded. Law and order is maintained through almost unreasonably-calm android police officers who are easy replicas of real-life traffic cops. The mandatory drugs ensure that all working citizens can conduct their demanding and dangerous tasks. Everyone is clad in identical uniforms and all heads have been shaven (male and female) to emphasize absolute uniformity. There are no names, only prefixes followed by four digits. The man known as THX 1138 (played by Robert Duvall) is called by what sounds like the name "Thex" by his roomate LUH 3417 (played by Maggie McOmie). Their relationship is considered normal and conforming. Like Winston Smith in 1984, the story reaches a point where THX begins to wonder and question things. It begins when he realizes that he and LUH have genuine feelings for one another beyond the conforming roomate requirements. Suddenly, life begins to appear to expand itself beyond what he has always been told and encouraged to believe when he goes to his confession booth and confesses his concerns to the portrait of OMM 000 and is repeatedly soothed with a parting salutation of, "You are a true believer, blessings of the State, blessings of the masses. Work hard, increase production, prevent accidents and be happy".

Eventually confronted by SEN 5241 (played by Donald Pleasence), THX is pressured into becoming SEN's new roomate, though he resists and files a complaint for illegal housing mate change. The sexual relationship between THX and LUH is eventually discovered and the two of them are arrested. LUH, it turns out, is pregnant and THX is put on trial for his crimes. The trial, if you really want to call it that, is quick and to the point, resulting in THX being sentenced to a term of reconditioning through negative reinforcements and torture by the android police...

These images are simple, in a background of nothing but white, but chilling, nonetheless, especially when you consider that the acts of the police of the future still ring true with the unfortunate current events surrounding American police officers against African-Americans that has penetrated our consciousness since 1992 and the Los Angeles Rodney King beatings. Finding a hidden exit, THX escapes his prison (with the help of a hologram) and continues his escape by stealing a car. Now pursued by two police androids on motorcycles, THX attempts to flee the city. In a bizarre way, time is on his side, because the police are ordered to maintain their pursuit only for as long as the expense of such a pursuit remains within the allocated budget. Once the expense of his capture has exceeded the budget, the police are ordered to cease the pursuit, and THX is free. Thought what sort of freedom has THX really achieved? Once removed from the underground city, he reaches the surface and watches the orange sun setting. This is where Lucas ends the film, leaving us only with questions about what truly exists on the planet Earth outside the city, and what sort of history has brought our world to this existence. That sort of ambiguity and its effect can be argued and debated by those who watch, I'm sure.

I'll be the first to admit that I love, love, love high-concept science fiction. From 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968), to PLANET OF THE APES (1968), to BLADE RUNNER (1982), to DUNE (1984), to SOLARIS (2002), to THX 1138 - the more thought it requires, the more I embrace it into my life. These are the kind of films you surely need to watch multiple times to fully understand and appreciate its art and its intelligence. The storyline of dystopia, conformity and control may seem a simple enough tale of a bleak and grim future. But it's truly the film's visual imagination that haunts us, not only in the underground city, with its endless tunnels, corridors and crowds, but also in its people, living in a time of tyrannical technology, and their physical and mental state in which conformity is forced through drugs. One has to admire young Lucas for achieving such visual effectiveness of light, color and sound effects with a budget that must have been small. It's sci-fi art without going out of its way to be too commercial (perhaps this is why Warner Brothers hated it and didn't give it its due respect until after STAR WARS became a big hit in 1977).

Lucas is not so much delivering a political message with THX 1138, but rather showing us how he can use his camera to share a credible experience of a future world that is both fantastic in its visuals, and scary in its oppressive dictatorship. This concept would, of course, lead his imagination to the Galactic Empire and the Rebellion that fights against it. Unfortunately, like STAR WARS in the '90s, Lucas just couldn't keep his hot hands off one of his past projects and chose to shamelessly re-edit and interject moments of new CGI effects into a new Director's Cut he released in 2004. This is the only version you can get on DVD and Blu-Ray, though thankfully, I still maintain a working VCR in my life, and can occasionally watch the original cut of the film (original as it was for its 1977 re-release, anyway) on VHS tape. Call me old school, but I generally don't condone films of the past being messed with years later. It destroys history.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Voice in medicine cabinet: "If you feel you are not properly sedated, call 348-844 immediately. Failure to do so may result in prosecution for criminal drug evasion."

THUNDERBALL

(December 1965, U.S.)

James Bond aficionados greater than myself (like my friend in California, Richard K.) will give you every reason in the world why GOLDFINGER (1964) should be and is the greatest Bond film in the history of the fifty-seven year franchise. Their reasons will be valid, well-defended and clearly deserving of respect. Unfortunately, leave it to me to stand alone as a minority in the great scheme of things. When I was a kid, my favorite Bond film was MOONRAKER (1979), and I'm sure that would have many shaking their heads is wonder and disbelief. But then I got older and (hopefully) more mature in judging what makes a great Bond film beyond the outer space action that made its mark on the cusp of the success of STAR WARS. And guess what - the result still wasn't GOLDFINGER. It was THUNDERBALL. I will do my best to explain why my own reasons are valid, well-defended and deserving of respect.

In effect, THUNDERBALL, in my opinion, has everything I hold to be true and dear in any James Bond film. It begins with Sean Connery (the best Bond, of course) and his Aston Martin DB5 making its second appearance on film. It features an opening credits song by Tom Jones with a little more epic bite than its three predecessors, and of course, an original score by longtime (and best) Bond composer John Barry. It continues to expose us to the threat of SPECTRE and the global armageddon they're capable of. It features the classic Bond girl Domino (played by Claudine Auger), who in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful and well-built ladies to grace the screen with her shapely curves and large breasts very often glistening wet...

Not nearly as self-sufficient and hard edge as say, Pussy Galore, she is, in fact really, nothing more than James's "kept woman", as she describes her relationship with Bond villain and operative Number Two with SPECTRE, Emilio Largo (played by Adolfo Celi). Largo himself is one of the more colorful threats Bond is pitted against and perhaps it merely begins with the sinister physical appearance of the single, black patch over one eye (think also of Snake Pliskin in ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK). The threat itself by SPECTRE is, by far, the most sinister in that the organization has devised a diabolical plot to steal a strategic jet bomber loaded with two atomic bombs and hold them for a monetary ransom demand against Great Britain. The jet's pilot François Derval has been murdered and replaced with an exact double through plastic facial surgery. The rest of the crew poisoned, Derval's double flies the jet to the Bahamas, landing it in the shallow waters near Largo's ship, the Disco Volante. SPECTRE scuba divers camouflage the plane and retrieve the atomic bombs and then proceed to dispose of the false pilot, eliminating the key connection between himself and his superiors.

Like nearly every other Bond film, this film excites the mind and the senses with the traditional action, thrills, chases, gun battles and promiscuous sex we've come to expect and enjoy since it all started in 1962. For myself, however, what THUNDERBALL delivers for me above all others is the visual excitement of the world underwater, both in its beauty off the islands of Nassau, and the climactic battle between good and evil with knives, spear guns and man eating sharks. THUNDERBALL is, in fact, the first Bond film in the series to feature an epic, well-choreographed battle under Terence Young's direction (he did DR. NO and FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE, too). It's also, I might add, the only Bond film in the entire franchise (as far as I'm aware) in which our hero, the great James Bond himself, actually cries out for help when he's strapped on an out of control spinal traction machine. In the end, the plane is found, the bombs are recovered and Largo is defeated (blown up is more accurate), but we're still aware that the threat of SPECTRE's existence still remains, and will remain through the next three Bond films to follow, and even be reborn in the 2015 film SPECTRE with Daniel Craig.

Agree with me or not, THUNDERBALL, if nothing else, cures any hints of dullness that may be experienced with the first three films. Sean Connery has the character in perfect form by now, establishing himself not only as the confident and heroic English spy, but forever as the connoisseur playboy gentleman who loves his cars, his women, his guns and is also seemingly undefeatable at the game of Baccarat (he's played that game a lot). Even the inevitable puns we've come to expect in these films is spoken with just a little more quickness and to the point, even when Bond himself declares, "He got the point." when killing Vargas with a spear gun. Aside from the physical beauty of Claudine Auger, there's also the femme fatale wickedness of fiery SPECTRE agest Fiona Volpe (played by Italian actess Luciana Paluzzi), who's just as busty, pleasurable and delicious to gawk at as Domino is...

Above all, THUNDERBALL is, in my humble Bond opinion, the best and most epic film beginning a series of filming and storytelling traditions that would continue under the direction of others like Lewis Gilbert, John Glen and Martin Campbell. Is it any wonder that when they chose to return Sean Connery to the famous role in the 1983 dud NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN, they chose to remake THUNDERBALL?

And now, if you'll all kindly direct your attention to the comments below, Richard K. will humbly and faithfully explain why my opinion of THUNDERBALL being the best James Bond film ever is incorrect. Read carefully, because he may just be right, even if I don't agree with him. Cheers, my friend!

Favorite line or dialogue:

Fiona Volpe: "Vanity, Mr Bond, something you know so much about."
James Bond: "My dear girl, don't flatter yourself! What I did this evening was for Queen and country! You don't think it gave me any pleasure, do you?"
Fiona: "But of course, I forgot your ego, Mr. Bond. James Bond, who only has to make love to a woman, and she starts to hear heavenly choirs singing! She repents, and turns to the side of right and virtue...but not this one! What a blow it must have been, you having a failure!"
James: "Well, can't win them all."

THRONE OF BLOOD

(November 1961, U.S.)

Over the last few years, aside from the movies I've discussed on my blog, my time and efforts have been largely concentrated on the movies of my childhood released during the late 1970s and early 1980s. My commitment to these films is what has enabled me to write and publish my first book, IT'S STRICTLY PERSONAL: A Nostalgic Movie Memoir of 1975-1982 (available now for purchase on Amazon.com, Barnes&Noble.com and iTunes.Apple.com). Somewhere along the way, though, I lost sight of the films that hold a great deal of importance to not only myself, but the world of cinema, in general. The great works, particularly the early black and white classics, by men like Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini and Akira Kurosawa cannot be ignored, and I decided it was time for me to revisit these important pieces of art. As timing would have it by way of the alphabetical order in which my blog functions, Kurosawa's THRONE OF BLOOD is the first film I'm rediscovering among the many art house essentials that I own on DVD.

Like me, you probably had to read four years of Shakespeare in high school. MACBETH may have been one of them (it was for me in the tenth grade). THRONE OF BLOOD, which translates into "Spider Web Castle" in Japanese, is a samurai film based on ol' William's tragic work about the consequential physical and psychological effects of political ambition on those who seek power for their own ambition. In Kurosawa's translation, the models of "Macbeth" and "Lady Macbeth" are played by Toshiro Mifune (a longtime Kurosawa collaborator) and Isuza Yamada and the time is feudal Japan instead of Medieval Scotland. Like the great tragedy, the film tells the story of a warrior, who through the manipulation of his ambitious and calculating wife, plots to assassinate his sovereign lord. What makes the role of "Lady Macbeth" so intriguing is that through most of her constant manipulation of her husband, she manages to maintain a persistent stoic look on her face. The face would suggest a passive and even obeying wife who has been trained to know her rightful place with her domineering husband, all the while cleverly twisting and turning her husbands thoughts and feelings into intents of violence and betrayal in order to achieve a higher status in the kingdom, which of course, will bring about a higher level of existence to the wife, as well.

All of this ambition and betrayal is first foretold by an old and dark spirit in the forest who is meant to adapt the three witches of the original MACBETH. This old spirit is a rather freaky looking image that one might equate with a B-movie horror story on late night TV instead of a literate Shakespearean tale...

Throughout the film, the spirit's predictions of lust and power are fulfilled and blood is spilled. And as "Lady Macbeath" herself become engrossed more deeply into the oncoming tragedies, the blood cannot wash from her hands. Unlike the original play whereas the simple dialogue of "Out damn spot!" is enough to suffice the torment of one's crimes, Kurosawa's heroine (so to say) is frantic with grief and panic as she continuously struggled to remove the blood-soaked stains from her hands of sin.

Like any tale of the samurai, the film is not without its great photography of great warriors riding into battle and fighting to their death. The end of "Macbeth" himself is a rather graphic and terrifying one as the great master's troops turn on him for his treachery and begin firing a multitude of arrows at him from seemingly every direction and every corner (real arrows, by the way, shot by skilled archers). One cannot help but feel the horror of one's oncoming and ultimate demise as we study the look of terror on Mifune's face as he watches the arrows hit the wall nearby, barely missing him...

Inevitably, however, the great king succumbs when an arrow leaves a mortal wound and his enemies approach the castle gates to secure their victory.

THRONE OF BLOOD is a brilliant visual descent into the jaws of ambition, greed and spiritual superstition. Like all of Kurosawa's black and white films, the simple cinematography of natural elements like trees, fog, mist, wind and rain doesn't fail to compliment the story it's telling. While it may not exactly be Shakespeare's MACBETH, per say, it's one of the most graphic and powerful versions of the play that would surely make even Orson Welles himself stand up and take notice.

And so, my quest to replenish my life with the essential art films that really matter begins with Akira Kurosawa and THRONE OF BLOOD...

Favorite line or dialogue:

Lady Asaji Washizu: "It won't go away! The blood won't go away!"

THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR

(September 1975, U.S.)

The decade of the 1970s was many things to many people in the world of motion pictures. For myself, I suppose it was literally everything the decade had to offer; from the fear and terror of THE EXORCIST (1973), JAWS (1975), THE OMEN (1976) and HALLOWEEN (1978), to the music of SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (1977), GREASE (1978) and HAIR (1979), to the sci-fi wonderment of STAR WARS (1977), CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND (1977) and ALIEN (1979), to the police and political thrills of THE FRENCH CONNECTION (1971), THE SEVEN-UPS (1973), THE PARALLAX VIEW (1974) and THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR, based on the 1974 novel Six Days of the Condor by James Grady. In fact, in the wake of the Watergate scandal finally coming to end with Richard Nixon's resignation, Sydney Pollack's film could not have been more timely.

Set mainly in New York City and Washington D.C., Robert Redford's character of Joe Turner, with the code name of "Condor", a CIA analyst and researcher who reads books for a living in order to find hidden meanings, messages and other useful information, perfectly captures the fear and paranoia of a man who doesn't know who he can trust, as he's caught in a web of governmental lies an deception. On what is otherwise an ordinary workday with heavy rainfall outside, Joe files a routine report to CIA headquarters on a thriller he's been reading with strange plot elements, noting the unusual language assortment it's been translated into. While awaiting a response to his report, he (quite literally) steps out to lunch, only to return to find all of his coworkers murdered in cold blood. Panicked, he grabs a gun from a desk drawer and is now on the run for his life. As would any CIA agent, his first instinct is make an emergency phone call and ask to be brought in to safety. Believing he can still trust his superiors, he agrees to a secret rendezvous, only to discover that those he works for are out to kill him in order to finish the job they started back at his office.

Desperate for help, Joe forces a woman at random, Kathy Hale (played by Faye Dunaway) to take him to her apartment so can hide and get his thoughts and actions together. In what I suppose can be considered pure cliché, Kathy slowly comes to trust her captor, even to the point where they become lovers, at least for one night. Still, they're both targets now, not only by those involved in the CIA, but by a hired foreign assassin Joubert (played by Max von Sydow). Joubert, like an other assassin, has no prejudices either way against his targets. He's simply a man getting paid to do a job. Though, oddly, one can't help but notice that deep down, Joubert appears to genuinely like and respect Joe Turner, if for no other reason, Joe appears to have the cleverness and the tactical skills to stay alive and evade his hunters, despite being a CIA agent who only reads books, and has no field experience. Even when asked how he's able to survive in certain situations, Joe bluntly replies, "I read books!"

No longer trusting anyone withing the CIA, or "The Company", Joe continues his cat-and-mouse games with the New York deputy director Higgins (played by Cliff Robertson) and inevitably learns that the report he'd filed provided links to a rogue operation inside the CIA to seize Middle Eastern oil fields. Fearful of its disclosure, Joe and his coworkers were ordered killed. During Joe's final meeting with Higgins, Joe is brazenly informed that the oilfield plans are merely a contingency "game" planned within the CIA without approval from above. Higgins defends the project, suggesting that when oil shortages cause a major economic crisis, Americans everywhere will demand that their comfortable lives be restored by any means necessary. Joe, in turn, calmly points to The New York Times building, disclosing that he's been there and he's given them a story. Whether they'll actually print it or not, we're left unsure of, as Joe disappears into the New York City crowd, destined to become a very lonely man.

(at this point, I invite you to return to my blog post for Tony Scott's 2001 thriller SPY GAME, also featuring Robert Redford, in which I discussed how cool I thought it would have been if his character has also been Joe Turner, returned to the screen twenty-six years later. I stand by that opinion now, as well).

As previously mention, Watergate was still a fresh piece of American history by 1975, making the tensions and thrills of THREE DAYS OF THE CONDOR all too real and believable as it exposes a variety of CIA misconduct. On the other hand, one may have easily considered it nothing more than political propaganda disguised under the blanket of Sydney Pollack's taut direction and excellent performances by well-known political liberals like Redford and Dunaway. Make these convicted judgments, if you wish, or simply accept it as Hollywood entertainment of the 1970s. For myself, it's both, everything, all of it. That's how I like it!

Favorite line or dialogue:

Joe Turner (to Kathy): "Listen, I work for the CIA! I am not a spy! I just read books! We read everything that's published in the world, and we...we feed the plots...dirty tricks, codes, into a computer, and the computer checks against actual CIA plans and operations. I look for leaks, I look for new ideas. We read adventures and novels and journals. I...I...who'd invent a job like that?"

THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR, THE (1999)

(August 1999, U.S.)

THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR was one of those rare instances in which I didn't know it was a remake at the time of its release. After seeing John McTiernan's film version in 1999, I immediately rented the original 1968 version with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway. I only watched it once, but from what little I remember of it at this time, I found myself rather bored. That was nearly twenty years ago, so maybe it's time for a fresh perspective...maybe.

As in any heist movie, you look for and hope to hell you'll get something fresh and original that hasn't been done before. The heist that opens the film, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan, is about as traditional and cliché as anything you've ever seen before, I suppose, though one can argue the idea of the Trojan horse used to enable the thieves to infiltrate the museum is a pretty original idea. Their attempted (and failed) theft is only a diversion, however, so the real theft of the priceless painting of San Giorgio at Dusk by Monet...

...can be masterminded by Thomas Crown (played by Pierce Brosnan), a billionaire businessman and playboy with a high class taste that includes stolen art which he never tries to sell, but keeps for his own enjoyment. For a man like him, it's the sheer thrill of the job that drives him. For Catherine Banning (played by Rene Russo), an insurance investigator, it's the thrill of catching her prey. I suppose the real twist of this film lies in that hunter and hunted and being drawn closer and closer to each other's "scent", so to say. The heat rises between them, not just in their ongoing cat-and-mouse relationship, but also in the thrills they both share that are often motivated by money. Crown's the sort of man who will crash his expensive boat simply because he years for the thrill of such a crash against the waves. But even while he still remains under Catherine's suspicions, he donates a Picasso painting to fill the void that's been left by the stolen Monet. This is a simple set up that will pay off beautifully later on in the film.

Tensions rise and so does the passion between Crown and his new lover. In fact, it's this film that reminds me why I always thought Rene Russo was one of the hottest middle-aged women I'd ever seen on screen (at least I did twenty or so years ago. Today, not so much). Accompanying Crown on a trip to his house in Martinique, Catherine realizes he's preparing to flee and rejects his offer to join him when the time comes, despite her falling deeper and deeper for him. In an effort to try and hold onto her, he offers her his trust by confiding that he plans to return the stolen Monet back to the museum. And yet, he clearly knows he'll be betrayed by her because he already has another masterminded plan in motion involving multiple lookalikes wearing bowler hats (designed to resemble the same figure in The Son of Man by LaMagritte) when he returns to the museum and it's filled to the brim with police and surveillance. This is where it's the viewer's job to remember the Picasso that Crown donated earlier in the film because the pay off is now - just keep your eye on the water, and don't forgot about it, even when you're watching Crown and Catherine passionately reunited in the end.

I suppose there's little I can say about THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR that you haven't heard me say before with other heist films, other than the fact that I consider this one of the rare cases when I consider the remake to be superior to the original. Brosnan and Russo share good chemistry and better heat together in a film that's (happily) rated R to satisfy my desire to see Russo naked. I must confess, I also find an extra thrill in the heist sequences themselves when they're accompanied by the hard pulse piano keys of Nina Simone's "Sinnerman", which I've only previously heard in David Lynch's INLAND EMPIRE. In the world of cinematic crime when we're very often meant to sympathize with the criminal, the thrill of the theft and the chase involving priceless art that's often meant only to cater to the super rich, seems like a more or less harmless vice in the eye of the criminal who commits it. As Dennis Leary so blatantly puts it to Catherine when it appears that Crown has gotten away, "I don't give a shit."

Favorite line or dialogue:

Thomas Crown (concluding his business deal): "Have you figured out what you're going to say to your board when they realize you paid me thirty million more than others were offering?"

39 STEPS, THE

(August 1935, U.S.)

Alfred Hitchcock's THE 39 STEPS is one of those great classic films that falls under the public domain. There is, in my opinion, something very irresistible about these old movies, despite their rather grainy visual texture in an era where everything we watch today has been digitally remastered in high definition picture quality. Perhaps it's that nostalgic part of me that takes me back to my childhood when it was old movies like this that dominated late night television on the independent stations. They were horror films mostly, but every once in a while there would be Hitchcock's early British films, as well as Sherlock Holmes films with Basil Rothbone in the starring role. In fact, an old friend of mine once told me he used to enjoy these old Sherlock Holmes films on TV late at night and even went so far as to brew a pot of tea in order to make himself feel a little more British while watching. Hey, whatever enhances and improves your moviegoing experience is just fine by me!

This film tells the story about an ordinary English civilian, Richard Hannay (played by Richard Donat), who while attending a demonstration of the powers of "Mr. Memory" at the London Music Hall Theatre, where gun shots are fired, gets caught up in preventing an unexplained organization of spies called the "39 Steps" from stealing British military secrets. After being mistakenly accused of the fatal stabbing of a counter-espionage female agent, Annabella Smith (played by Lucie Mannheim), Richard goes on the run to Scotland and becomes tangled up with an attractive, blonde woman Pamela (played by Madeleine Carroll) in the hopes of stopping the spy ring and clearing his name.

While on the run in Scotland, there's the more-than-obvious sexual tensions that take place between Richard and the young, pretty wife of a poor farmer, but this is about as far as sex could possibly go back in those days of early cinema. In fact, Richard has gone so far as to trust the young wife by revealing his current predicament and even ask her for help. She helps him by giving Richard her husband's coat, which will cost her later when her husband beats her (off screen, of course). This coat will prove to be more of a help than one might think because it's the hymn book buried in the coat's pocket that stops a bullet from killing Richard later. Fleeing across the moors, Richard continues to elude the police in a manner that may even remind you of another Richard that would one day elude police for a murder he didn't commit (think Dr. Richard Kimble in THE FUGITIVE). When the police finally catch up, they attempt to handcuff Richard, but he escapes through an open window and tries to hide at a political meeting and is mistaken for the introductory speaker (remember Chevy Chase in FLETCH?). Surprisingly, and without knowing anything about the candidate, he gives a rousing impromptu speech about freedom and social justices. Joined by Pamela again, who's now caught up in the same mess as he is, the two of them must make their way across the English countryside in order to evade capture, all while getting on each other's nerves.

Pamela eventually leads them to the London Palladium, where "Mr. Memory" is featured again. Richard, while in the audience, recognizes his theme music, which is also a tune he's been whistling and unable to forget throughout the film. As it turns out, it's "Mr. Memory" himself that the spies are using in order to smuggle the Air Ministry secret.
As the police finally take Richard into custody, he shouts, "What are the 39 Steps?" "Mr. Memory" compulsively answers, giving full details of the organization of spies and the information they've collected on behalf of the Foreign Office, at which point he's shot by the enemy. "Mr. Memory dies, but not before expressing relief of finally being able to reveal all the secret information that's been stored in his brain for so long be declaring, "I'm glad it's off my mind." Talk about your unwanted stress relief!

THE 39 STEPS was a major British film of its time. In traditional "Hitchcockian" fashion, the film contains elements of the ordinary, everyday man who unwittingly gets caught up in situations he cannot understand, something that would be featured again in films like THE LADY VANISHES, SABOTEUR, THE WRONG MAN and NORTH BY NORTHWEST, as well as a signature cameo appearance by Hitchcock himself. International spy stories may not always be good stories, but Hitchcock manages to give them his own brand of shock, suspense, literary drama and wit. Like other stories of many heroes, Richard is often the victim of many lucky accidents, twists and turns, and it's Richard Donat's high-spirited acting that keeps the suspense moving at a good pace, even if it's not at the pace of the modern thriller of today.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Richard Hannay (to the milkman): "Are you married?"
Milkman: "Yes, but don't rub it in."

13 HOURS: THE SECRET SOLDIERS OF BENGHAZI

(January 2016, U.S.)

Off all the directors in Hollywood today, Michael Bay is the last one I'd ever have expected to surprise me with a film like 13 HOURS, based on Mitchell Zuckoff's book. I mean, this is a man whom I've personally accused of being nothing more than a demolition expert because of his tendency to offer not much more in his movies than constantly blowing shit up. Yet, here he is, offering us an American biographical war film which follows six members of the Annex Security Team who bravely fought to defend the American diplomat compound in Benghazi, Libya after several attacks by violent militants on September 11, 2012, eleven years after the tragedy of 9/11, in one of the best films of its kind, in my opinion, since Ridley Scott's 2001 film BLACK HAWK DOWN.

Prior to watching this film, all I really understood about what occurred in Benghazi in 2012 was that then Secretary of State Hillary Clinton took much of the responsibility for denying the additional security that was needed at the American compound prior to the attacks. The film however, concentrates solely on the events that took place and the men who acted like brave American soldiers rather than attempt to make any political statement or accusation toward any high-ranking White House official. Rest assured, however, Michael Bay still knows how to blow shit up very well in this one.

The film opens by making it very clear that Benghazi, Libya is one of the most dangerous places in the world, causing other countries to pull their diplomatic offices out of the country in fear of being attacked by militants. However, the U.S. still maintains a diplomatic compound in the city. Less than a mile away is the CIA outpost called "The Annex", which is protected by a team of private American military contractors. These soldiers are exactly what you'd expect to find in a modern-day war film; tough, arrogant, cocky and constantly joking around with each other using high degrees of profanity (but then, that's probably just the way we want it!). The CIA Chief on hand is exactly the type of bureaucratic, pain-in-the-ass you'd expect to be giving the team strict reminders on how to do their job and which rules they're forbidden to break, including never to engage the citizens.

U.S. Ambassador Chris Stevens (played by Matt Letscher) arrives in Benghazi to maintain diplomatic connections and relations amidst the social and political chaos taking place. Ultimately, Stevens becomes the target of attack by failing to remain with limited armed protection. Before we can even begin to appreciate any signs of peace and luxury the soldiers get to enjoy during their stay in a foreign country, the assaults have begun when attackers gain easy access to the Special Mission compound. Like any traditional combat film, bullets fly and bombs explode. Ambassador Stevens is inevitably killed when his building is set ablaze by attackers who fail to gain access to his safe room. Knowing that more attacks are imminent, the Annex's CIA staff begin making desperate calls for help, and all they can get is assistance from a Tripoli officer, who forms a team of Delta operators to fly to Benghazi to mount a rescue. As the Annex is breached, the soldiers continue to fend off the militants during their largest attack wave. Blood is shed, lives on both sides are lost, but in the end, America triumphs in that the innocent escape the violence of the land and are rescued to live another day.

13 HOURS, if nothing else, is a sure sign of maturity by Michael Bay who's not looking to make a film which caters to sci-fi-loving teenage boys, much in the way that Steven Spielberg finally matured with THE COLOR PURPLE in the 80s (but with a lot less violence and blood). The impact that a fact-based story as this delivers is very strong. The characters, while not distinctively strong, are plausible and respected because we're forced to understand and appreciate that these are American men with love in their hearts and families back home, who must wage a war in a country they have no business being in in the first place (much like Vietnam). As an action thriller, the battle sequences that focus on real-life attacks are well-choreographed, and shit gets blown up when it has to. War, like in many modern films before it, is gritty and without Hollywood glamour. Libya, of course, delivered much controversy upon the film's release, believing it ignored the contributions of the local people who tried to help. We may empathize with such an accusation, if we wish, or we can permit 13 HOURS to focus our attention on American heroes who do what's right, and the sacrifices they make on a daily basis, both on their own soil and overseas where they are ultimately treated like strangers in a strange land.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Jack Silva (to the Benghazi CIA Chief-of-Station): "You're not giving orders! You're in my world now!"

THIRTEEN DAYS

(December 2000, U.S.)

Kevin Costner and JFK; by this time the two names are practically synonymous with each other. One might almost be surprised that Costner was even cast in THIRTEEN DAYS, a historical political thriller based on the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, when he was already so well linked with the legendary United States president from Oliver Stones landmark 1991 film. Yet the viewer is practically required to put aside any relations of the past and give Costner the chance to break out and further express his talents and convictions against another infamous part of our history in the 1960s.

Many of my readers were likely only small children or not even born yet when in October of 1962, the photos of a U-2 aerial surveillance revealed that the Soviet Union wass in the process of secretly placing intermediate-range ballistic missiles carrying nuclear weapons in Cuba. President John F. Kennedy (played by Bruce Greenwood) and his advisers, including his own brother Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy (played by Steven Culp) were faced with the immediate task of coming up with a plan of action to prevent their activation. Kennedy was determined to show that the U.S. would not allow a missile threat against our country. He was reluctant to attack and invade Cuba because it would likely cause the Soviets to invade Berlin, which in turn, could easily lead to inevitable war. Kennedy's administration tried to find a solution that would remove the missiles and avoid war. Instead, U.S. naval forces stopped all ships entering Cuban waters with a blockade and inspected them to verify there were no destined for Cuba.

Continuing to order spy plane photos, Kennedy's top adviser Kenny O'Donnel (played by Costner) secretly alerts the pilots to have them ensure our government that they have not been fired upon by the enemy, for if they do, the country would be forced to retaliate its own rules of engagement. There are several frightening glitches during this ongoing crisis; the defense readiness level of our Strategic Air Command (SAC) is raised to DEFCON 2 (this is just one step shy of maximum readiness of war), without informing Kennedy. Nuclear weapon tests are also carried out without the President's knowledge. After much deliberation with the Executive Committee of the National Security Council, Kennedy makes a final attempt to avoid war by sending RFK to meet with Soviet ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin. Bobby demands that the Soviets remove their missiles from Cuba, and in return promises not to invade or assist in the invasion of Cuba. From the other end, the U.S. must remove all its missiles from Turkey, on the border of the Soviet Union. A quid pro quo is not possible, but in exchange for Premier Khrushchev removing all the missiles from Cuba, there will be a secret understanding that the U.S. will remove all of its "obsolete" missiles from Turkey within six months as part of a pre-scheduled plan. The Soviets announce that they will remove their missiles from Cuba, averting a war that could have escalated to the use of nuclear weapons and World War II. As the film ends, we're reminded of Kennedy's famous audio commencement speech, "A Strategy for Peace", at the American University in 1963.

History, at its best, it truly compelling. The Cuban Missile Crisis reminds us of just how close we really came to a horrible destiny. Roger Donaldson's film concentrates hard on the drama of facts and speculation, while not concerning itself too much with action. We witness on screen portraits of real life people who were involved in the crisis, as well a first-hand study of specific items like high-altitude photographs and intelligent reports, all the while wondering ourselves if the Soviets could be trusted at a time when the Cold War was at its worst. The decisions of men in power are tense and truly terrifying even in the face of trying to remain rational in a time of great fear. Perhaps the film can even remind us that no matter how bad things seem right now under a "man" like Donald Trump, it may be a far less terrifying situation than a world that was once on the brink of war for thirteen days in October.

Favorite line or dialogue:

Kenny O'Donnell: "If the sun comes up tomorrow, it is only because of men of good will. That is all there is between us and the devil."

THIRD MAN, THE

(February 1950, U.S.)

The first thing you have to ask yourself when watching Carol Reed's THE THIRD MAN is, are we truly and honestly watching the work of Carol Reed or did Orson Welles himself step in as director of this British film noir? This was the speculation, and perhaps even misconception, over the years following the film's release. Too much of the film's style, editing, themes and overlapping dialogue seem to echo Welles's previous work. True or not, these sort of myths die hard. Does THE THIRD MAN remind you more of CITIZEN KANE or Reed's own NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH? Judge for yourself just how far Welles's influence went.

The film is set in post-World War II Vienna, Austria. Holly Martins (played by Joseph Cotten) is an American author of pulp-westerns who's just arrived in the city of ruins, having been offered a job by his friend Harry Lime (played by Orson Welles), only to discover upon his arrival that Harry is dead, a suspected victim of murder. Holly proceeds to meet with the people in Harry's life, including the British Army police inspectors, to investigate the suspicions surrounding his death. The impoverished, post-war city itself is a thriving environment of opportunistic racketeering divided into the American, British, French and Soviet sectors, as Holly soon discovers during his investigations. He eventually learns that his beloved friend Harry was, in fact, a criminal, and is pressured by the police to leave the city rather than take his inquiries any further. Refusing to leave town, Holly also befriends Harry's girlfriend Anna Schmidt (played by Alida Vallie), who's also an actress. Anna is the first one to suggest that Harry's death was not accidental. It seems that as soon as Harry was killed by a car, he was immediately carried off the street by someone else in addition to the two friends who were reportedly - a third man. For a time, Holly himself is suspected by the townspeople as being that third man.

Still refusing to leave Vienna, Holly finally learns from the police that Harry had been stealing large quantities of penicillin from military hospitals, diluting it, and then selling in on the black market for a high profit. As a result of the dilution, many patients died and many children were left brain damaged for life. The mounting and undeniable evidence finally convinces Holly of just who Harry really was, and finally agrees to leave town, disillusioned. Now drawn to Anna himself, Holly prepares to say goodbye, but is delayed when he thinks he notices someone strange and suspicious standing in a dark doorway. Through the camera's use of light and darkness, a resident's lit window briefly reveals the person to be Harry Lime himself. This is a rather important visual moment in the film, because it not only reveals the truth, but it also reveals the visual charm and wit that can only be evident in the smile of Orson Welles himself. That moment is only very brief before Harry is off and running into the city sewers. The British police immediately exhume Harry's buried coffin to discover that the body is that of an orderly who stole penicillin for Harry and was reported missing after turning informant.

The two old friend eventually meet in secret as they the Wiener Riesenrad, Vienna's Ferris wheel. Harry proceeds into a lengthy monologue (told with that irresistible Orson Welles charm) on the insignificance of his penicillin victims, revealing the full extent of criminal activity and his lack of morality. Realizing he can't convince Holly to see his side of things, Harry takes off again, and is soon beneath the bowels of the underground sewer system. Trying to escape the police who are hot on his trail, he's eventually shot and killed. The final resolution of the film is left with a sense of ambiguity, as Holly attempts to speak to a twice-heartbroken Anna at the cemetery, but is only left with her walking past him and fading into the unknown distance.

Cinematographer Robert Krasker's use of harsh lighting, as well as a distorted "Dutch angle" camera lens technique gives this classic black and white film an enriched, atmospheric form of expressionism. Its post-war seedy locations, iconic theme music on the zither by Viennese composer Anton Karas and solid performances by its players, give THE THIRD MAN the effective atmosphere of a city that's not only exhausted by war, but also insecure, cynical, and even criminal in the way it conducts its every day life and routines just at the time the Cold War is beginning. Indeed, the city of Vienna may be seen as a tragedy that must confront its troubled existence. It's look, its subtle physical details, and its plot twists and turns may be easily compared to some of Alfred Hitchcock's earlier works of the '40s. Whether we can ultimately credit Carol Reed or Orson Welles with the film's success, it's clear that THE THIRD MAN reveals itself as an intriguing cinematic package of story and camera tricks whose result may be on the cusp of pure genius. As noir, there's also that touch of mischievous and devilish humor told with darkness and depression that made the American style of filmmaking in the 1940s and 1950s so legendary...only this time, it's done by the British and a man like Orson Welles whose smile and charm may have been just one of the most villainous things we've ever seen in film...

Favorite line or dialogue:

Harry Lime: "Like the fella says, in Italy for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed. But they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."

THIN RED LINE, THE (1998)

(December 1998, U.S.)

At the start of writing this blog, I'm just learning that Terrence Malick's (BADLANDS and DAYS OF HEAVEN) epic war film THE THIN RED LINE is, in fact, a remake of a previous 1964 adaptation of James Jones's original novel. In a way, that's disappointing, but it doesn't deter for a moment what a spectacular war film this under Malick's direction, released just in the wake of Steven Spielberg's SAVING PRIVATE RYAN the previous summer.

One of the most distinguishable things about war films is that the action and drama of combat almost never changes. It's blood, guts and glory all the way, particularly when the story is centered during World War II and our brave fighting men in the Pacific. Although it may be hard to grasp the details of this film while you're watching it, the mission is a, more or less, straightforward arrival and departure of American soldiers of an island in the South Pacific with the sole objective of securing a field being held off by the Japanese. The process of achieving their objective is a slow and tedious one, with many human casualties along the way.

What we have to remember here is that while this is essentially a combat film, we're also watching a Terrence Malick drama in which human thoughts and emotions are narrated and felt in conjunction with the horror of war and the salvation of finding peace. When the film opens, life is calm and peaceful for a U.S. Army Private who's gone AWOL from his unit and is living among the carefree Melanesian natives. We hear his thoughts and feel his feelings of joy and contentment, but this last only until he's inevitably found and imprisoned on a troop carrier by his superior sergeant and eventually thrown back into the mix of his unit. The men of C Company, 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry Regiment, 25th Infantry Division have been brought to Guadalcanal as reinforcements in the campaign to secure Henderson Field and seize the island from the Japanese. Throughout out their ordeal and their fears, the men contemplate the invasion and the meaning of their lives.

Malick's film settings may be considered a virtual "Eden" or a "Paradise Lost", raped and pillaged by the poisons of war. Combat is bloody, to be sure, but very often their are shots in the film that avoid too much gore and perhaps focus more on the explosion of a tree, the shredding of vegetation or perhaps even the close-up of an exotic bird or alligator. The director's unconventional filming styles and techniques include the beauty of a bright, sunny morning within the majestic glory of high trees, or just the simplicity of a tree branch or a parrot.

As a World War II film, THE THIN RED LINE is daring, if not philosophical in its approach to what makes the American soldier tick in a time crisis and uncertainty. It's often confusing, even while it fascinates. The battle scenes are masterful in their own right, though it may evoke similar comparisons to SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, as well as Oliver Stone's 1986 Best Picture Oscar winner, PLATOON. Truth, or whatever we wish to consider to be truth, is hardly based on the facts of war, but rather the emotions expressed by the human heart and the mind's wisdom. Out of death and destruction, we're meant to believe and understand that love, life and creation can ultimately grow.

Like THE LONGEST DAY (still my favorite war film, by the way) the players are extensive, while avoiding too much attention to making any particular actor a star of the film. In a cast that includes great actors like Sean Pean, Jim Caviezel, Nick Nolte, Ben Chaplin, Woody Harrelson, John Cusack, John Travolta and George Clooney, we may easily take notice of principal players like Penn, Caviezel, Chaplin and Nolte who manage to maintain the perfect tone and rhythm for scenes that may not last more than a minute or two. They're all big stars in our minds, but on the screen and in the jungles, these bright stars may also be interpreted as fallen angels...who just happen to be men who are big stars. It's elements like this that made THE THIN RED LINE (and SAVING PRIVATE RYAN) two of the best war films of the 1990s. I didn't truly get sucked into a well-crafted war film like that again until Christopher Nolan's DUNKIRK (2017).

Favorite line or dialogue:

First Sergeant Edward Welsh: "Property! The whole fucking thing's about property!"

THING, THE (1982)

(June 1982, U.S.)

I've said this before, and it looks like I'm about to say it again...as a general rule, I don't care too much for remakes. But I'll also say again that even the strictest of general rules have their exceptions, and every once in a while, a remake comes along that's not only worthy of its original version, but also outsoars it. For my tastes, it seems that many of these exceptions have been in the form of horror that have included titles like INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978), DRACULA (1979), THE FLY (1986) and absolutely, positively John Carpenter's THE THING. For all of its popularity and positive feedback today, the film did little to gain attention at the box office with audiences and critics, and that may have had much to do with a squashy, little optimistic alien visitor who just wanted to "phone home". For myself, I didn't see THE THING during the summer of '82, and that was my own fault, because I chose to see the Disney computer film TRON instead with some camp friends one night at a quad movie theater that also offered THE THING.

Set in the present day of 1982, a group of American researchers based in Antarctica, led by R.J. MacReady (played by Kurt Russell) encounter the alien invader who was discovered buried in the ice. Unlike the original film, however, their ill-fated experiences come to them almost by accident. Beginning with a Norwegian helicopter pursuit of a sled dog to their research station, the American witness a Norwegian helicopter passenger gone mad with a rifle, hell-bent on killing the dog. Because of the foreign language, the Americans can never know why the dog is such a threat. The Norwegian is killed, leaving open the great mystery of what took place at the foreign base without investigation. Among the charred ruin and frozen corpses that MacReady and a member of his team discover, they also find the remains of a malformed humanoid which they decide to bring back with them. It's not long before our mysterious sled dog reveals itself to be a victim of alien metamorphoses. This is not only the point where the team discovers just what they're up against, but also where the movie's audiences discovers just how sick and gross THE THING really is. In fact, even to this day, I still watch the film with an unnerving sense of dread in knowing that the alien creature effects continue to be some of the grossest things I've ever seen on film (we can thank effects men Rob Bottin and Stan Winston for that!). In fact, that scene with the defibrillator and arm chomping still makes me cringe...

Amidst the chaos of alien attacks and defense in the form of bullets and flamethrowers, the entire American team is slowly picked off, or shall we say "alienated", drawing parallels from the process of elimination in Ridley Scott's ALIEN or even Agatha Christie's classic tale of AND THEN THERE WERE NONE. But even more than the physical attacks and action of THE THING is the psychological paranoia that exists among the men and the horrible reality of not knowing who is, indeed, human and who can be trusted in the midst of the 1980's Cold War era, proving the classic cliché that man is very often his worst enemy. Even when the alien, which we can always physically see, but are never entirely sure of its true identity, is predictably destroyed in the end by a massive explosion that will inevitably lead those left of the team to freeze to death, we still can't be completely sure of whether or not the monster is truly dead yet, especially since it has returned with a vengeance multiple times throughout the film. In the end, it's really just the pleasure of watching Kurt Russell's "I don't give a fuck" attitude as he sits in the snow with a bottle of J&B scotch, watches the camp burn and waits to die. This ending is considered ambiguous and may have even left things open for a sequel at the time (thank goodness, it never happened).

The film never explains or gives much of a motive for its actions, but rather ruthlessly pursues its goal in the name of pure survival, and that also speaks true for the alien creature itself, which attacks, consumes and absorbs as a result of its own fears and paranoia of being a "stranger in a strange land". The men, however, are still considered free-thinking individuals of free will, though that will is easily stripped away when "the thing" enters their lives and quite literally, enters their bodies. Perhaps one of the more optimistic moments of the film amidst the chaos of uncertainty is when MacReady declares to the rest of the men, "I know I'm human!", thus declaring to all of us that we must hold onto whatever optimism of human reason and compassion may remain within these frightened individuals, and remember that it's always better to be human than it is to be an alien imitation. Even the blood test scene of THE THING may invoke the unpleasant memories of the AIDS crisis in the early '80s in determining who was healthy and who was not, thus also determining who would be treated like human beings by those who allowed their fear, paranoia and mistrust to get the better of them.

Favorite line or dialogue:

R.J. MacReady (just before destroying the alien): "Yeah, fuck you, too!"

THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD, THE

(April 1951, U.S.)

In the catalogs of cinema history, the Cold War of the 1950s ushered in a wave of science fiction films that preyed upon the fears and paranoia of American citizens at the time. Suddenly, the threat of any sort of foreign invasion was on everyone's minds, and on screen, it often came in the form of aliens from other worlds. From THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL to WAR OF THE WORLDS, we were forced to recognize even the remote possibilities that we were not only alone in this universe, but were also subject to potential harm, as well. This was almost perfect for low budget material, or 'B' movies, as they were often called, such as THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD.

This black and white classic tells the story of a United States Air Force crew, scientists and a newspaper reporter stationed in Anchorage, Alaska who discover a crashed flying saucer and humanoid body frozen nearby in the Arctic ice. After inadvertently exploding the spaceship buried in the ice, they unearth the body and return it in a block of ice to their remote research outpost, where they are forced to defend themselves against this mysterious alien when it is accidentally revived from its sleep after an electric blanket is carelessly placed upon the block of ice. Two dogs are killed first, but not before one of them tears the creature's arm off. Upon examining the arm, the head scientist Dr. Carrington (played by Robert Cornthwaite) concludes that the alien is some sort advanced form of plant life with a far superior intelligence to man's, and is determined to communicate with it, even if it means the lives of everyone there.

As members of the crew repeatedly fight off the alien, or "the thing", we're taught what is supposed to educational information regarding plant life and their ability to think. This is sometimes a bit hard to digest, considering the alien looks very much like the form of a man (played by James Arness, who would later star in TV's GUNSMOKE). Taking continuous hits from the crew, including burning from torched kerosene, the creature survives their attacks and retreats before returning to attack again. Mind you, this is the 1950s, so these attacks are no more visually threatening that the creatures appearing at the door, or at worst, a violent swipe with his powerful arm. Regrouping for its final showdown, the crew organizes a plan to sabotage the creature with a rigged "fly trap" of electricity. At the alien's final attack, Dr. Carrington is wounded when he (rather stupidly) attempts to talk to the creature. The thing's demise is a shocking one (no pun intended) as it's reduced to mere ashes in what was surely considered an effective visual climax of electrical destruction...

...and while the alien's invasion can hardly be compared to any sort of global apocalyptic event, we're stilled warned at the end to "keep watching the skies".

By today's standard (and a very superior 1982 remake by John Carpenter), THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD is hardly a scary piece of sci-fi. However, one must consider that back in the 1950s, parents may have had to think twice before allowing their children to see this movie if their emotional fears weren't properly conditioned. Not to suggest that the movie isn't filled with plenty of old fashioned monster fun. Still, even as compared to KING KONG (1933) or the many Universal Pictures monster stories that preceded it, THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD may be just another Saturday matinee flying saucer-monster movie. But even if that's all it's limited to, that may not be so bad, just so long as you don't mind watching actor Kenneth Tobey constantly smile at everyone no matter how threatening or perilous thing get. I mean, geez, what the hell is that man always so damn happy about??

Favorite line or dialogue:

Ned Scott: "And now, before giving you the details of the battle, I bring you a warning. Every one of you listening to my voice, tell the world...tell this to everybody, wherever they are...watch the skies...everywhere. Keep looking. Keep watching the skies."