Ben-Hur
Even though I am sure I saw it (or at least parts of it) growing up, putting Ben-Hur (1959) into my DVD player, I had managed to keep myself ignorant of the details of the film’s plot. As such, despite the arduous running time, I was pretty excited to get into one of the most celebrated American films in history.
The scope of the film is obvious right from the start, even with the very slow start to the film. The film follows Charlton Heston’s Judah Ben-Hur, a prince/merchant who finds himself a slave. His stock rises and falls throughout the lengthy film. Even though the film looks really sharp though, the feel of it is that of a dated telemovie about Jesus you would buy from an infomercial. That music! Argh. It feels in many ways like it is an adaptation of a play. A bad play though, because the film is so stilted and lacking in any of the searing quality of adaptations of really great plays such as the works of Shakespeare. There are a couple of sequences that manage to distinguish themselves from the tepidness of everything else going on. Most notably the subplot of Ben-Hur’s mother and sister being lepers and his insistence on seeing them. I actually found those sequences quite intense and difficult to watch because of the emotion involved, which is so lacking from a vast majority of the film. For me though, the much celebrated chariot race sequence is not one of those that does not manage to rise above the mire. There was so much build-up to it and then it was just all a bit meh. There was no exhilaration there, not to mention I have definite concerns around the welfare of the animals used to film those scenes. So much of it is totally lacking in excitement because it is just a bunch of horses riding along beside each other and even the final highpoint of the race lacks any punch.
From my perspective there are two major issues that really affect this film. The first is the laborious pace. The film does not really seem to be telling a story that is truly that ‘epic.’ Rather, the scope that is teased early on by the film just turns into it taking so long to actually move anywhere. Think the opening 45 minutes of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012), only worse. The second issue is that the narrative itself is totally unfocused. I mean what is the core narrative of Ben-Hur? Killing that dude in the chariot race? Finding Christ? I mean it is all pretty oblique and not only that, none of these narrative strands are either particularly engaging for the audience or well done. None of these issues are helped particularly by the performance of Charlton Heston. Never mind the fact that for me (and I suspect others as well), I cannot see him in a film and forget his turn in Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine (2002). He manages to get across some of the emotion of the film, but overall I don’t think this is a very good performance from Heston. He is too rigid and can’t inhabit the role like is required and like he managed to do in The Planet of the Apes (1968).
For a celebrated epic from the golden era of Hollywood epics, I found Ben-Hur to be a strangely flat experience. Riddled with issues, it is one of those films that you should probably see just so you can say you have seen it (plus I guess you may love it). But at around 4 hours in length it is a big time investment for little reward.
Verdict: Schooner of Carlton Draught
Progress: 99/1001
2014 Progress: 3/101
A Trip to the Moon
I thought I would kick off my 2014 journey toward the 101 goal by reviewing the first film listed in the 1001 Movies To See Before You Die book, A Trip to the Moon (1902), or Le Voyage Dans La Lune to use the original French title. This film is a true landmark of world cinema as it captures the time where the form was expanding out from the short, slice of life films that had been pioneered by the Lumiere Brothers in the late 19th Century.
Georges Melies is one of the genuine fathers of film as we know it. He was also perhaps film’s first genius and that is well and truly on display in A Trip to the Moon. The story, based on a novel by Jules Verne, occupies the same space that so much of Verne’s work did – the intersection between the adventure story and more fantastical elements. The simple story of brave men who journey to the moon, find aliens there and beat them to death with Earth’s most awe-inspiring and powerful weapons (umbrellas of course) is proof positive that you don’t need dialogue or even intertitles to convey narrative. The film feels fantastical from the start and it also feels more ‘big budget’ than other films of the time. The cast is large, even if most of the bit parts are indeterminable from one another, and the costuming is opulent.
Despite my love for classic film, I am not one of those, ‘movies were better back in the day’ kind of guys. But there is no doubting that something totally lacking in film today compared to the silent era is the loving attention to detail that went into the construction of a movie. For an exceptional example, look no further than this film. The sets, props and design are all so lovingly detailed that practically any director working today could learn a whole lot from this film. In Melies day, technology bred creativity. Today, improved technology seems to only breed complacency and laziness when it comes to storytelling. Except in all too rare instances such as Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity (2013). As well as the attention to detail, like so many other cinema innovators, Melies was on the cutting edge of improving the technical presentation of film stories. The editing in this film is pretty amazing, seeing the kind of fades that Melies was using over 110 years ago.
A Voyage to the Moon, despite its age, takes you somewhere truly fantastical. No doubt if you are a fan of silent and classic cinema, you would have already caught this. If not though, no matter your cinema preferences, take the short time required to check it out.
Verdict: Pint of Kilkenny
Progress: 97/1001
2014 Progress: 1/101
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A Trip to the Moon is an open source film which means it is widely available in various forms. Here is a decent copy of the film that I watched on Youtube. Take a look and let me know what you think in the comments section below.
2014 Goal: The 101
It is the time of year when people reflect on the year past and make goals for the year that is to come. In my general life, I am not at all one for New Year’s resolutions. I have never really gotten into it and find it easy enough to make and then fail at resolutions all year around.
With this blog it is a little different. Making resolutions can be a good way to keep the site fresh for readers and change things up for me as a writer every so often. For 2013 I wanted to focus more on Australian film. Whilst I perhaps did not get to review as many as I had hoped, I definitely did increase the level of Australian content here which I was very pleased with. I will continue to attempt to provide exposure for as much Aussie film as possible through the site in 2014 as well.
But I thought I would focus on something a little more concrete as a main goal this year. Getting back to the basics of why I started this blog, this year I will be focusing on ‘The 101’. I started this blog the best part of four years ago, as a means of watching and reviewing the ‘1001 Movies to Watch Before You Die’. In that time, as the focus of the blog has broadened, I have only managed to review 96 of them. So the goal for this year is simple. Knock over reviews of 101 out of the 1001 films on the list.
I will keep up with the other features of the site as well. The Worth Watching posts will continue, there is a cool POV post in the works and I am even hoping to resurrect and finish Bondfest and The Bergman Files. I am also quite excited by some other ideas that I have in the pipeline which will hopefully come to fruition this year. Given that The Film Brief podcast I was formerly a co-host of is no more, I am intending on getting back into the podcasting game with my own pod, which I am quite excited about. It will probably be a couple of months before you see that, but I am pretty keen and I have a structure in mind that I am quite satisfied with. Before that, you will most likely see some video content from me as well. Initially this will be in the form of some ‘unboxing’ vids, but I have a couple of video essay ideas as well which I am keen to explore if my feeble little brain can master the technical aspects of that. I will also be increasing the number of live tweet reviews this year, as they seem relatively popular. This will be the standard ones I do, more 1001 live tweets as well as a little series that will be known as ‘World’s Longest Live Tweet’. The first of those will hit in the second half of January.
That’s it for now, I’m off to madly attempting to watch all of the 2013 films I missed in anticipation of my 2013 in review posts, which will hopefully land mid January.
Thanks to anyone who ever reads anything on the site, likes a post or leaves a comment. Tis great to know that people are reading along. If you have any suggestions of posts you would like to see or constructive criticism then please always feel free to shout out in the comments or you can catch me on drinkingbeerwatchingmovie@gmail.com.
Peace,
Tim
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Delicatessen
I’ll get this out of the way early: Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Delicatessen (1991) is utterly bloody absurd. Any film that promotes vegetarian freedom fighters in the promotional material is more than fine by me. This film wanders and winds its way to that end. At times it is brilliant, at times far too oblique, but it is always pretty interesting to sit and watch.
Set in a post-apocalyptic future of some sort Delicatessen takes place in a pretty miserable society where food is extremely rare. So rare that a butcher has resorted to knocking off people to maintain stock in his shop. The world that Jeunet has created is a strange, absurdist, failed industrialist one which manages to combine whimsy and grime in its makeup. There is not a whole lot of plot through the early running. It is more about establishing the tone, imagery and vibe of the whole situation. The plot that there is focuses on a new tenant in an apartment block above the butcher. He is the jack of all trades, and all is going relatively swimmingly. Especially when he begins a tender relationship with the butcher’s daughter. Trouble does appear on the horizon however with the cannibalistic father running low of meat for the butcher’s shop. That is where the vego freedom fighters come in. The film ends exceptionally well. It is a shame then that there is so much kerfuffle for a stretch beforehand that it is near impossible to establish what is going on.
Much of the futuristic aspect of the film is conveyed through the really bold way in which it is shot. It is nothing too over the top, but everything just feels slightly different. There are plenty of angles you don’t often see and the shot length is similarly unique, a touch closer to your average. Actually this shooting and the design of the film was extremely reminiscent of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil (1985) which is a good touch point for knowing what you will be getting yourself in for if you give this a shot. As the butcher’s daughter and protagonist’s love interest Julie, Marie-Laure Dougnac gives the pick of the performances. Perhaps partly as a result, hers is also the most interesting character, especially the breakdown of her relationship with her murderous father. However outside of her, the characters don’t really stand out as individuals. The script does not let the audience in to get to know them.
There is no doubt that Delicatessen is a good film, but it is a little too scattershot to succeed entirely. Like any film such as this, there will be plenty of this you love, some that won’t move you as much. For me, the imagery was a real joy as was some of the absurdity. Would have just been nice if the narrative was a little clearer throughout.
Verdict: Stubby of Reschs
Progress: 96/1001
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Mr. Hulot’s Holiday
Jacques Tati is one of the more famous comedians in film history, possibly even the most revered of the sound era. Tati is most famous for his recurring character Monsieur Hulot who features in three films on the 1001 list. I thought I would take a look at the first of them.
The character of Hulot debuted in Mr. Hulot’s Holiday (1953), a film famously and shamefully remade by Rowan Atkinson as Mr Bean’s Holiday (2007). This is unsurprising given that the character of Hulot is clearly a massive influence on that of Mr Bean. In fact, most of the best jokes in Mr Bean seem to be lifted pretty much straight from Tati’s work. Mr Hulot’s Holiday sees the good natured, but somewhat bumbling Monsieur Hulot funnily enough take off on holiday. A vast majority of the film concerns the travails of the character on his beachside holiday. The film is a gleeful insight into that microcosm that is created when strangers congregate at the same place for a holiday, with firm transient relationships springing up.
The only character that the audience gets a real sense for is that of Hulot, and the whole film really does centre on him. Earlier I said that the character of Hulot is a bumbling one. But it is not really that. It is more that Hulot struggles to keep up with societal sensibilities. He is not aware of the chaos he is causing because he is off in his own world. It is the delightful havoc that one slightly different soul can make in the world. Hulot is not really fussed about keeping up with society, rather he seems content to exist slightly outside of it. Describing humour as slapstick often gives the impression of lazy, stupid, rambunctious attempts at jokes – pies in the face and slipping on banana peels. Mr Hulot’s Holiday sees a lot of slapstick, but it is far more gentle and nuanced than that described. It is derived from Hulot’s befuddlement and inability to use the objects around him. There are also straight visual jokes that in less assured hands would fall flat, but when delivered through the genius of Tati all of a sudden seem inspired. Hulot’s numerous attempts at driving cars spring to mind. One of the great strengths of Mr Hulot’s Holiday is that rather than being a straight slapstick film, it trades in a variety of other comedic forms such as comedy of errors as well. This means that it can appeal to more people, and also that it does not wear out its welcome by continually bombarding the viewer with one kind of joke. It is not only his skill as a writer and filmmaker that ensure this, but also Tati’s physical presence. His long, large former Rugby Union player body creates so much of the humour.
© 1953 Cady Films / Discina Film
In the current cinema climate it almost seems strange or unnecessary to talk about technical aspects of filmmaking when reviewing a comedy. But as with many older comedies, Mr Hulot’s Holiday really does hold up to this kind of analysis. The film is wonderfully shot, simply done yet beautiful to look at. The cinematography is sharp and there are just enough longing shots of the seaside to set up the idyllic location. Strangely for a film almost free of dialogue, the use of sound is innovative. The film opens by introducing the catchy tune that resonates throughout the entire film, reinforcing the atmosphere Tati is going for throughout. The volume of the sound effects is quite high, giving them added emphasis, especially when Hulot interacts with the props he is surrounded by. As such, waves crashing and doors swinging shut become a focus. The film is gently satirical in tone at times as well. People are really quite rude to this man who is slightly different to them and Tati gently mocks this coldness and uncaring attitude that is found in society.
This is a gentle, simple introduction to the Hulot films, which would evolve and enlarge as the series goes on. It is not entirely groundbreaking, a lot of it riffs on what Keaton and other silent stars did many years before, but it is done well and it is done in a wryly humourous manner. A word of warning though, make sure you get a hold of the subtitled version, not the horrid dubbed version that occasionally rears its ugly head.
Verdict: Stubby of Reschs
Progress: 95/1001
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A Fortnight of Terror: The Evil Dead
Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981) is one hell of a beloved horror flick. Judging from blogs I follow and other things I read, I would venture that it is probably more beloved than any other horror film ever made. Which makes me worry how many people will be a bit bummed with this review, cause I did not particularly like this film at all.
There is no doubt Raimi and friends did a pretty exceptional job on the production front. You can tell this film was made on the cheap, but that never stops the creativity shining through. The creativity does not always work, the whirling camera first person shots for example, but it is an aspect of the film that you have to respect. And perhaps watching this for the first time in 2013 means that I am not able to appreciate just how big a deal the film was when it hit. But other classic horror films, such as Halloween (1978) and Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) that I feared might have lost some of their impact when viewed for the first time in the 2010s, still worked exceptionally well for me. The set up is pretty archetypical cabin in the woods stuff. Think Cabin in the Woods (2012). One issue is that, unlike Whedon’s film and the best of the genre, I think this film skimps a lot on the establishment of the characters. For whatever reason the film is in too much of a rush and I think that hurts the film later on. For me to care about the characters being killed, I need to have gotten to know them or connect with them… or at the very least be slightly intrigued by them. But here I wasn’t, so I was not particularly fussed when they started to be knocked off. Even just establishing them as clichés would have increased the effectiveness of the film a great deal. I think this rushed beginning also means that the creepy isolated house in the woods atmosphere that the filmmakers were aiming for was not entirely there.
There are a couple of other key areas where The Evil Dead falls down for me. Firstly, aside from the easy charisma of Bruce Campbell, I thought the acting ranges from the pretty stilted to the pretty terrible overall. I don’t think that is helped by a script that I definitely consider to be pretty weak. Another aspect of the film that I think pales in comparison with classic slashers (I am thinking particularly of Halloween here) is the soundtrack. In films such as Carpenter’s, the soundtrack plays a major role in enhancing and elevating what is occurring onscreen and is a major player in the setting of tone and more importantly atmosphere of the experience. I found the sparse soundtrack here to be more annoying that anything else, failing to really add anything and actually reducing the tension at times. I am sounding pretty negative, but The Evil Dead is not without its upsides. There are a couple of quite cool ‘bump in the night’ moments and for a fair section of the middle part of the film, it is really quite frightening as well. But I think as the action really ramps up in the film’s final act, at times relying on some terrible effects shots, the really frightening impact is lost. I did really like some of the stuff with the Book of the Dead and the tape recording though, and thought that was much more atmospheric than what the rest of the film was able to achieve.
As a personal view, I found The Evil Dead to be dated, much more so than other classic horror films of its vintage. I thought the pacing and manner in which the film ‘builds’ (or doesn’t) meant it was a bit of a let down for me. A slasher/horror film does not need to have stunningly nuanced characters. But the undercooked teen characters onscreen here really let the rest of the film down. I know a bunch of you guys absolutely love this film. So let me know (civilly of course) in the comments below what I am missing with it.
Verdict: Schooner of Carlton Draught
Progress: 94/1001
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The Cinema of Japan: Tokyo Story
After Chris’s fantastic personal introduction to the works of Yasujiro Ozu yesterday, I thought I would take a look at probably his most famous work – Tokyo Story (1953). I was lucky enough to see the film on the big screen at the Arc Cinema here in Canberra where the film got a really great intro from the head of programming. One of the interesting things he said was that back in the day Ozu was considered “too Japanese” to really succeed internationally. Whilst I love this film and Ozu’s fame obviously extended far beyond his own country, it is pretty easy to see why that opinion was held about him.
Narrative-wise, the film is gentle but not exactly slow. The influence of Ozu on a myriad of artistic filmmakers that would follow him is plain to see in this regard. Tokyo Story’s greatest lesson is just how intriguing an utterly simple tale can be. The script is wonderful, even though it is telling such a simple story. Often it is hard to make these kinds of stories feel authentic, but there are no such issues here. The script allows the plot to unfold languorously in front of the viewer, spiced with an occasional note of humour. There is a sense throughout that Ozu is gently toying with the filmic form in this film. It gently nudges the heartstrings without pummelling them. It also veers in the second half into something of a road movie, where the personal or spiritual journey is accompanied by a physical one. This all builds to an emotional highpoint that I will not reveal except to say that it gives the film a ‘second wind’ of sorts after it had begun to drag for me, ever so slightly.
Visual poetry is one of those film terms that gets thrown around far too liberally when in fact I think as there are actually very few proponents of it. That said, Ozu is definitely part of that select group. Here, he continually incorporates architecture and the lines of buildings into his beautiful shot composition. This is notable due to the fact that much of the film takes place in urban areas and Ozu’s adeptness at incorporating enclosed physical spaces into his work makes it a lot prettier to look at then it otherwise would have been. Like the plot and the visuals, the soundtrack to the film can essentially be summarised as being quiet but masterful. Not at all intrusive, the soundtrack makes itself known through an occasional flourish that really enhances what is on screen.
Whilst there is much here that supports the idea that Ozu is a distinctly, if not totally “too Japanese” a director, such as the settings and culture which really could be nowhere but that country, there are also a number of universal elements. Thematically, the concern of parents for their children when they leave home is something that permeates much of the film. Just as this was a major theme of life in 1950s Japan, so it was in 2000s Australia when I left home. If you have left home, you know what I am talking about. If not, then trust me it is coming. More broadly, the film touches on a number of issues related to familial relations, especially the notion of the in-laws and the strains they can place on everyone. The joys that having your family extended by the incorporation of said in-laws is also displayed on screen. Tokyo Story also hit home for me in its exploration of the notion of time. More specifically, the way that we always seem far too busy. Too busy for what is really important. It is a real takeaway from the film and a credit that it is a message that gets through to me, despite leading a totally different life to the ones being led onscreen.
Gentle and artistic, but definitely not boring, Tokyo Story is definitely one to tick off for all major film buffs. It did go on a little too long for me, but Ozu is one of the true original maestros of cinema history. There is a fair chance that he has greatly influenced one of your favourite directors with his approach to the artform.
Verdict: Pint of Kilkenny
Progress: 93/1001
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King Kong
For so many reasons, King Kong (1933) is one of the great films in cinema history. For a vast majority of film fans, including myself, I think the film captures the innocence and wonderment that made a lot of us addicted to this art long ago.
There is I guess a sense of innocence about the film itself too. During the opening credits, as the cast is being listed, King Kong himself gets a mention. I’m not sure why, but I found that just utterly endearing when it popped up watching it through this time. Also suggesting some form of innocence is that this is a straightup adventure flick. An old fashioned genre in some ways and I think one that taps into some sort of base innocent longing in all of us, to both journey and to belong. And I guess for some of us, to conquer. The final aspect of King Kong that influences my view of this film as some sort of blast from the past that can never be repeated is the first time I saw any of it. I remember as a child walking out of my room because I couldn’t sleep. It felt like the latest time in the world but more accurately it was probably like 10:30pm. And I recall my parents were up watching King Kong on telly. I was just blown away. I was not into old movies at the time, but I just remember being so blown away by what I was seeing, so enraptured in the wondrous images that were in front of me. I don’t remember what part of the film they were up to, but it was on the island and I distinctly remember Kong being on screen.
But in addition to all this supposed innocence arising from my relationship to the film and that is in its actual makeup, this is also a stunningly good film. A great adventure flick is bloody hard to make, hence there are so few of them. The film focuses on Carl Denham, a John Huston-esque (although of course Huston wouldn’t appear on the scene for quite some time) director who films his movies in exotic far off locales. Bowing to pressure from the studio and the public, he casts Ann Darrow played iconically by Fay Wray as a love interest in his latest flick. Humourously, none of the agents in town trust him with their female clientele, so Ann is a woman on the street that he finds the night before they set sail, selling her on the promise of “money, adventure and fame”. It is just such a purely great tale of adventure. The cast and crew sail to an unchartered distant island, where they run into Kong, a humungous ape. I never realised just how many decidedly awesome monsters there were in this film. A stretch through the middle plays like an (awesome) video game, as our fearless heroes are pitched into boss battle after boss battle – a freaking plesiosaur, a stegosaurus, a pterodactyl, a t-rex, that huge scaryarse snake thing (that I think technically may have legs) and so on. That battle with the t-rex is one of the greatest set piece battles of all time, and is so well choreographed as well. It manages to seamlessly blend boxing and wrestling moves into the action and does so without looking completely silly.
Of course it is impossible to talk about this film without talking of the design of the creatures and the effects work that brings them to life. The character of Kong is clearly the star of the show here and the effort that has gone into his design reflects that. So much skill and detail has gone into the character, even the close-ups of his face look great today and they look different each time the shot is shown. He is just such a menacing presence that has been brought to life. There is no doubting aspects of the effects are dated. But most importantly they work. So many contemporary films spend too much time making effects look all glossy and perfect whilst totally forgetting to have them make me actually feel something. These effects, the best part of 80 years old, really made me feel emotion. I felt a whole heap of emotion when that stegosaurus is shot in the head early on. Did I mention it has dinosaurs yet? Dinosaurs! Dinosaurs make everything better… hell even The Tree of Life (2011) was made vastly better because of the presence of dinosaurs. Outside of the effects, the film just looks great overall. The ocean set sequences, even to this day on the DVD I bought at Salvos years ago, these parts of the film still really pop.
Like so many films of this vintage, there are some aspects that are not exactly in tune with a contemporary sensibility. Attitudes toward women and the depiction of the ‘natives’ are the two that immediately spring to mind. Most everything else still works exceedingly well though. The early on part where it appears Anne will be sacrificed is still genuinely effective at creating great tension. Wray gives a really wonderful performance in this film, she grabs your attention as the viewer early on and never really lets it go. The scene where she lets out her first scream is a bloody great moment. The sound of the scream and the reaction of the rest of the characters is just great and sets the tone for the numerous other screams that are to follow. I guess there is a counter argument or another side to the film to the innocence that I associate it with. Aspects of the film are rather brutal. The rampage that Kong goes on just before his capture, in which he quite mercilessly grinds a couple of locals to death slowly and methodically for example. Then obviously there is the fate of Kong which is a cold moment I feel. Although I think that his capture and eventual death do also say a lot about the suppression of Kong, who was once a king or even a god in his own land but is now enslaved. I think there is a definite subtext there. Also a more obvious allusion is the effect of attempts to tame or domesticate what is wild.
Sorry for the long review, I just kind of got on a bit of a roll there. In any case, when I try and think of a greater adventure film in history than King Kong, nothing particularly springs to mind. For good ol fashioned filmmaking that still works 100% today, this is your film.
Verdict: Longneck of Melbourne Bitter
Progress: 92/1001
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Shadows
Director John Cassavetes is one of the most iconic names in American independent cinema. After watching the incredible Shadows (1959) I have to agree that such a reputation is warranted.
The great John Cassavetes
Set in New York, the film loosely follows three siblings living together in the late 1950s. The eldest brother is clearly African American, whilst his younger brother and baby sister are more pale skinned and at times throughout the film pass for white. This fact gives the film its major highpoint in terms of narrative conflict. Lelia, the female of the family, starts a passionate and loving relationship with Tony. Although it is only early in their relationship, not to mention the fact there have been tribulations up to this point, the couple seems to be headed in the direction of some sort of lasting bond. But just as Tony is leaving one day he happens across Hugh, Lelia’s eldest brother. Seeing Hugh, the fact that Lelia is in fact African American dawns on Tony and he reacts appallingly. Cassavetes is too clever a filmmaker to make this an over the top response though. But Tony is horrified that he has been sleeping with a woman of a different race and the excellent performance from Anthony Ray conveys to everyone the gravity of his shameful reaction. The performance of Ray and the way this entire scene is handled is one of many examples of the film refusing to portray simplistic interracial interactions at any level.
Some people reduce the whole point of the film to this singular moment. Whilst there is no doubting that it is both the most dramatic narrative event and moist pointed social commentary (Tony is not some redneck, rather a bohemian literary type) in the film, there is much more going on. Throughout the course of the film’s taut 82 minutes, Cassavetes crafts really satisfying character arcs for all three of the siblings. He shifts attention from one to the next, but never by completely abandoning attention on the others. I would say the focus of the film is actually on all three, rather than just on Lelia. The fourth main character the film focuses on is the very specific New York of the film which is populated by beatniks, literary types and guys looking to booze & fight. There is an openness also to various taboo subjects such as sex, specifically the physical and emotional pain of losing one’s virginity, and interracial relationships that helps to flesh out this world. In terms of shooting, the film is shot in a way that makes it look not cheap, but definitely grimy and a little underground. Obviously in part this probably reflects the budget that Cassavetes was saddled with, but it also reflects the world the characters live in, on the fringes. And it looks great.
Initially, some of the results from the film’s budget limitations can be a little distracting. The poor dubbing of the characters voices, which means they are pretty out of sync I found especially noticeable. Before long though, the film’s rhythm takes over and that is no longer a consideration. The film really does have a rhythm too. Most obviously from the wonderful jazz soundtrack courtesy of Charles Mingus that plays almost continuously through the film, but also from the cigarettes, dive bars, sex and street smart dialogue that the film is soaked in. Indeed it was the dialogue that really gave me a way into the film. It is at least semi unscripted, but excepting a rare occurrence early in the film that jars, this approach to narrative flows and makes the film feel realistic. The dialogue is helped by the fact that the performances, from the predominantly non-professional cast, are all really good. Especially from Lelia Goldoni as Lelia who brings to life a strong, individualist woman who is the perfect combination of naiveté and world-awareness. She is a figure of both gender and racial empowerment who cannot be handled by any of the men in her life, except her brothers who love her in the right way.
I really loved Shadows. It had that effect that some great films do that I just want to race out and get my paws on everything that Cassavetes ever made. To witness a quite different kind of master director at work, I can’t recommend this film enough. It is a wonderful snapshot, both of an original approach to the filmmaking process and of a time and place that Hollywood would never have bothered to spend a little time in.
Verdict: Longneck of Melbourne Bitter
Progress: 91/1001
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High Plains Drifter
High Plains Drifter (1973) is the second film in Clint Eastwood’s rather auspicious filmography as a director. This is the first to explore the genre of the Western, where Eastwood made his name, after the contemporary surrounds of his first directorial effort Play Misty for Me (1971).
The film starts really promisingly as a lone rider emerges from a haze of heat on a wide open plain. It is beautiful and iconic image to kick things off. The lone rider is The Stranger, played by Eastwood, who rhythmically rides into town with the eyes of all the townsfolk transfixed on him. It does not take him long to make an impression on the place either. He guns down three heavies who are bugging him in the barbershop before raping a woman in a really troubling scene. I was a big fan of proceedings up until the rape scene. Eastwood with his hat pulled very low and a beard is an iconic image of the West. The scene where he shoots the three men is a cold, brutal one. He gets the first of them right between the eyes. The rape scene jarred a lot though. It comes somewhat out of nowhere and whilst it is addressed somewhat later on, it just didn’t sit right with me. The notion of rape as a form of revenge was troubling to me, but I don’t think the film made it out to be particularly troubling, if that makes sense.
There is a strange shift in tone and sensibility a little way through the film. The townsfolk are fearing the return of three convicts who have just been released from prison and who are presumably on their way back to town to gain revenge on those who put them away. Very High Noon (1952). The concerned residents, impressed by The Stranger’s skills in murdering the three men in the barbershop, decide to hire him to protect them. After some brief reluctance, he accepts, on the proviso that he can have whatever he wants in the town. From this point the tone lightness as he gets a merry band of men together and goes from shop to shop being a jerk and getting free stuff. He also promotes Mordecai, a local dwarf, to the dual role of mayor and sheriff. After such a strong, if imperfect, start which traded in the bleakness, grit and lawlessness of the West, this all feels like a bit of a jaunt. I don’t particularly like my Clint Eastwood quippy. James Bond makes quips, not Clint. It is just all a bit silly.
Then, just abruptly as the first shift, the film gets bleak again. Eastwood forces himself onto another woman (the treatment of women by the film was a little troubling overall) and then paints the town literally red and renames it hell so he can exact his revenge on the three men riding into town. Who it is revealed through the film have done something in their past to very much wrong The Stranger. It is no spoiler to say he has his revenge too. The hellacious image of The Stranger brutally whipping a man to death, surrounded by huge flickering flames is surely the film’s defining image. It is also one that does not really match up with so much that has preceded it though.
The uneven tone and questionable attitude to the treatment of women helped to make High Plains Drifter not that enjoyable for me. Which is a shame, because I like Eastwood as a director and the early parts of this set it up to be something far better.
Verdict: Schooner of Carlton Draught
Progress: 90/1001
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