1975: The Year that Doc Brown, the Joker, and Grima Wormtongue Walked Into a Bar

I guess the actor who played the Penguin was there too. But why would the Joker go to a bar with the Penguin? Penguin is a classy guy and he would not hang out in the type of dive that the Joker frequents. Whereas Grima Wormtongue is from Middle Earth and thus used to seedy places, and what's the only way he could be brought into the present to hang with Joker? Via Doc Brown's DeLorean time machine. My ridiculous title makes sense now doesn't it? Yeah, I thought so. Of course it's an insane asylum and not a bar that they're in, but the other movies in this year don't give me any good title material so there you go. It was a good year though, the worst of it was still pretty good.

This first one is the worst of it, but it's still pretty good: Barry Lyndon. Coincidentally, I've had this on my instant watch of netflix for about 8 months or something crazy. I put it on because it's a Kubrick film and I didn't watch it right away because it's like 3 hours long. And not LOTR 3 hours. Not even Titanic 3 hours. More like The Patriot director's cut 3 hours but without the action, excitement, or compelling story. It's basically a period piece from the colonial era in Europe but I couldn't tell if it was kind of making fun of movies like that or if it just was one. Because it's an adaptation of a book that was written in that time period, but I find it hard to believe that Stanley Kubrick would just up and make a period piece that didn't make some sort of modern statement on society. But I'm not sure what it was, because it's tough for me to get things out of movies that I don't care about. It's a beautifully filmed movie and it's well-acted but it's just so meh. The main guy is a colonial tool who gets screwed over by other colonial tools and then ventures across Europe to marry a woman who has a son who is a tool. That son then shoots the main guy in the leg during a duel that lasts entirely too long and that's pretty much the whole movie. It wasn't boring exactly, although I'm not sure why. By all means it should have been boring. The classical music selections and picturesque visuals keep the viewer somewhat invested but there really wasn't much more to it than that. I'd say it was largely a character study, but none of the characters are particularly interesting and they don't really change much. So it's kind of a slice-of-life movie that just happens to take place in 1700s Europe. Let's just say I did a few crosswords during it.

A far more compelling film, although unfortunately not as much for me as it was for people at the time, is Dog Day Afternoon. It's a true story of a man who robbed a bank in New York City in order to get money for his lover's sex change operation. If someone had pitched that as a screenplay, it probably would've gotten shot down. Which is why it's annoying when people say, "that would never happen in real life." Because I say: if everything occurring is physically possible then I buy it. Chance meetings? I buy it. Strange or minor reasons for doing bad things? Sadly, I buy this too because I've read some crazy real stuff. Shooting people while skydiving is a bit iffy. I might not buy that. The story of this film is mostly the backdrop though. And that's just as well because placing the entire focus on the robbery/hostage situation instead makes for a compelling film. The problem with viewing it in a modern context is that basically every movie with this plotline copies the style that this film establishes. So I felt like I had watched this before on TV many times, but I tried my best to watch it objectively. And I must say: they did a pretty superb job. The choice to have a lack of makeup on the actors was a good one because you can really see the exhaustion on their faces, the sweat, and the intensity. I've seen some pretty great makeup jobs where they can make it look like someone is out of it and dirty, but there's really no substitute for actual human skin pigment. I know that sounds weird, but it all comes off as so much more realistic because Pacino doesn't look like he just exited his trailer. He looks like he has legitimately been holding hostages for 12 hours with no nourishment or rest. John Cazale plays his accomplice, in a very non-Fredo like performance. Not just because he has hair in this one. He does a solid job but Pacino easily steals the show, as he often does. There are plenty of little touches throughout the film that really add to the overall effect but are tough to put your finger on. Moments such as pieces of dialogue that are kind of rocky, with less flow than usual. This is quite realistic, especially for a high-adrenaline situation. So I really give the filmmakers credit for taking a story that can be summed up in a headline (as it was, many many times) and really pulling the viewer in and immersing them in the experience. It's largely a product of its time and doesn't make as much of an impact this far from Vietnam-era cynicism, but it's definitely a well-done movie.

A somewhat groundbreaking picture that I find to be somewhat overrated, and this may shock you, is Jaws. Of course, this is always going to happen when you hear too much about a big movie before you see it. I watched it for the first time about five years ago, maybe a little less, but for as far back as I can remember I have been hearing about this film. I even went on the ride at Universal Studios. Although it was more of a waiting line than a ride, along the lines of the classic "want some salad with that dressing?" situation. 3 hours of line = 5 minutes of riding in the water with a fake shark. But stuff blew up and the shark got all bloody so that was pretty cool. The film itself feels kind of the same though: almost a whole movie of looking for a shark and then the shark gets blown up at the end. This is all delivered really well, mostly because of John Williams' iconic score. Though this wasn't the first American film to feature a prominent and iconic music score, it was probably the first time that people could recognize the music anywhere and instantly remember what it meant. The music itself became as much a part of pop culture as the movie itself did, if not more so. But aside from the music, which is fantastic, a lot of the movie is filler. I think it was so refreshing when it came out to have a "horror" movie, or more accurately a "suspense" movie, that wasn't filled with cliché characters and gore. There's no question that the movie effectively builds suspense without really showing the shark, and that the characters are fleshed out really well by 3 great actors: Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, and Richard Dreyfuss. The problem is that when the movie goes on for as long as it does (just over 2 hours) a lot of the suspense dies down. And whereas it's initially compelling to watch three characters who "aren't really chasing the shark, they're chasing their own insecurities," by the time you're halfway through the film you feel like they're just in therapy and they should be paying you for your time. Not to say that any of the scenes were poorly written or poorly delivered, it just gets kind of old after a while. Once the drama between the characters heats up it's better, and of course the initial beach attack and finale are pretty great, but it would seem to me that such an iconic and famous film should hold that standing for more than "it was pretty scary." Granted, if I had watched it with friends as a child then I would probably feel differently because I'd have memories of jumping around and screaming with my buddies. That's what I like to call the "Ghostbusters effect." Because I only just saw that movie this year and I thought it was stupid. Had I seen it as a kid: it would be nostalgic. As it stands to me today it wasn't that funny. But anyway, this movie certainly earned its win for original music score and I give it credit for breaking some established barriers of film. But if you haven't seen it then you should keep your expectations fairly low and you'll probably enjoy yourself.

Conversely, a movie that's tough to enjoy at all is Nashville. Literally the only reason is that it's too long. The film is supposed to satirize the absurdity of many aspects of country music, and so for the first half of the film I was enjoying the statements they were making. But when a movie is 3 hours long it ceases to be satire and becomes what it's satirizing. Especially when it's about a bunch of ridiculous people who take themselves too seriously. Because then when you're spending 3 hours on trying to make your audience become invested in the characters, then you're legitimizing caricatures. That just doesn't work. It'd be like if a Marx brothers movie went on for several hours and Harpo ended up dying for some reason. Also: a large part of the movie (seriously about an hour or something crazy) is actual country music. Original songs written and performed by the actors. Which is pretty impressive. But once again: you're trying to give the viewer as authentic a Nashville experience as possible while still telling them that Nashville is melodramatic. That just doesn't work. On a positive note: it does kind of pave the way for the mockumentary. And while it would be others who would perfect the genre, I give them credit for creating it. If I find out they did not, in fact, create it then it will have little to no redeeming value. I liked many of the points that it made about the superficiality of the business but it all gets lost in the endless solos and twang-y accents.

Easily the best of the nominees and well-deserving of the win for 1975 is One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. It won for picture, director, actor, actress, and screenplay. Only one movie had done this previously (in 1934, a year I'll get to in a long long time. If I'm still unemployed when I get there, come kill me) and only one movie has done it since. I'd tell you which but I already wrote about it. Use this as an opportunity to reread all of my blog entries, it's a nice way to spend several afternoons and a lunch break. This movie centers around a criminal (Nicholson in easily his finest performance, because he's not playing himself quite as much as usual) who is pretending to be crazy so that he can avoid hard time in prison and instead spend some leisurely time in an institution. So right off the bat this movie is brilliant. You've got a criminal exploiting the system (social commentary), the inevitable "plan blowing up in his face" (Greek tragedy when done well), and a sense of existential dystopianism (two words I like to put together). The hitch in the plan is of course the infamous Nurse Ratched, played by Louise Fletcher, the matriarch of the mental asylum. She plays her role so coldly and so subdued that the viewer becomes as frustrated as Nicholson's character, in an effective way. All you want is for the woman to show some genuine frustration, some weakness that would imply a lack of invincibility. But these moments are rare, and when they happen she usually just strikes back and makes things worse than they were before. Outstanding. In addition to the main two players, this film has a ton of future stars that flesh out the incredible supporting cast. Danny DeVito, Christopher Lloyd, and Brad Dourif (from LOTR) among them. The film is bleak, meaningful, and almost completely lacking in redemption. That's the kind of movie I love, because it makes its point powerfully in such a way that you don't need to rewatch it. You should probably avoiding rewatching it too much anyway, lest you end up in the same situation as the characters. But the movie shows human nature as it truly is at its worst: ugly and self-serving. It's also an important film because it's bleak without venturing into the realm of film noir. The reason that's so significant is that you expect film noir to end badly. That's the genre. But this is just a drama, so it tells audiences that just because there's no hard-boiled detective or smoking hot femme fatale doesn't mean that things won't turn sour in the end. Much more shocking, unless of course some blogger ruins it for you. In my experience so far, this is one of the best movies I've watched on Netflix Instant Watch so you should check it out if you have that service (I highly recommend it. Can they pay me for all of these endorsements please?).

Not a bad year by any means, and I could be wrong but I think it's taking me significantly less time to get through the 70s than the 80s. AND the obscene amount of TV shows that I watch are all on now so you'd think I wouldn't be watching as much. Pretty great stuff. I'm not quite done with 1974 yet but I'm close. It's a year I've been looking forward to for years, some of you might know why. Just as a hint, more of a huge giveaway, the year will include neo-noir, post-modern b&w, and some fancy term for: the sequel to the greatest movie of all time.

1976: The Year that The Italian Stallion and Tricky Dick Faced Off

Best celebrity death match ever? I think so. I know I just put up a blog like two days ago, but I had already seen a few of the films for this year since they're actually good. Don't worry: there's still plenty to complain about. But this year also contains yet another of my childhood (or pre-teenhood as it were) favorites and also a film that is now one of my all-time favorites too! America celebrated its 200th birthday by not making me angry. Stay classy, USA.

Just not with this movie, one of the most overrated that I've seen recently: All The President's Men. I'm going to give it faux brownie points for assuming that it's a take-off of "all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty back together again." If not, then it loses one of its only creative aspects. The film gives us such a realistic portrayal of the Watergate investigation that it's really quite boring at times. And I can't imagine it being interesting to people in 1976, all of whom knew about President Nixon's infamous scandal. I've said this before and I'll say it again: illustrating an injustice that everyone already knows about is neither brave nor interesting. It just...is. And they could have at least done something interesting with the filmmaking. The opening of the film and the exact end are done in an interesting fashion, but the other 2 hours and something basically give you the same experience you would have sitting in an editor's office. The Netflix sleeve told me the movie is still shown to journalism students, well good! It'll give them an idea of how tedious their jobs will be. But since when are Troy McClure-esque films worthy of the Academy's recommendation? In addition, the movie has like 11 F-words and it's rated PG! It was initially rated R but they lowered it because it "carries important social significance." Translation: we don't want to negatively influence children unless we're also teaching them something that they could learn from literally any newspaper, radio station, or hobo on the street. Slightly-more-cynical-but-probably-more-accurate-translation: even though everybody already hates Nixon we want to make sure they also hate him at the movies. It's all just one big social statement, which would be fine except the entire movie consists of Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman talking to people on the phone. That's as creative as it gets. Ron Howard's excellent 2008 film Frost/Nixon illustrates many of the same points as this movie while also giving us some interesting insight. I completely endorse and appreciate social/political commentary in film but I think it should be displayed in a thought-provoking fashion and not just as a really long episode of 20/20. On a positive note, the acting is solid and the writing is good. But that's about it. And the AFI added it to their top 100 list just after Deepthroat's identity was brought to light. Hmmm...how interesting. Feebly trying to remain socially relevant AFI? For shame.

Somewhat in the same category, though certainly better, is the movie Bound For Glory. This film deals with a lot of the same issues as one of my most universally despised books: "The Grapes of Wrath." I'd rant about that now but I have to save it for the movie version from the 40s, which I'll probably get to sometime around the alleged Mayan apocalypse. Anyway, the movie illustrates many of the societal problems that occurred during the "dust bowl" period of American history, and at least does so in a comparatively interesting fashion unlike the movie I was just talking about. The film is about a guy, played by David Carradine, who wanders around the American West and finds people who are having trouble while also befriending and helping them...wait a second, isn't that the plot to Kung Fu? I mean, it's based on a true story...so it's more probable that Kung Fu was the television adaptation of Woody Guthrie's life, where he beat people up instead of singing songs with his guitar, and then when the show was canceled they decided to adapt the story more accurately with a film version. That is the indisputable truth on the subject, the foot has spoken. Anyway, if you've heard the song "This Land is Your Land" (or more importantly: the Jib-Jab version) then this is the story of the guy who wrote that song. It's also about that guy if you haven't heard the song. Much like Nixon's movie, this film goes on for too long while essentially making the same point over and over again. But it's long enough after the real-life events that inspired the movie that the initial point-making is at least justified. The story is essentially what I've already described, but the nuances are too varied to list here. They include various ways of portraying how bad it was for many citizens back then, especially citizens who made their living through farming. Woody Guthrie used his gift of singing and song-writing to give a voice to the plight of the common farmer, to the point that he even refused to become consumerized/famous/rich. If that's the way he wanted to live then I guess that's respectable, as long as it was for his own peace of mind and not because he thought it would be unfair to people who couldn't sing or write songs. Because then that's just dumb. And as Quark once said on DS9: "dignity in an empty sack is worth the sack." I jest, but in all seriousness I think it's cool that he lived his life the way he wanted to live it by using his music to bring hope to those that really needed it and not Ivy League college students who would listen to his music and ergo felt they were entitled to say they "recognized with the commoner." As I said, the movie goes on a bit long for what it is but it also has some filmmaking innovations that are difficult to notice today (since they're now in every movie). So I give the director of photography his due credit and I'll say it's a fairly solid movie overall.

A movie that I found to be quite outstanding is Network. What a great film. I felt like I might have written it, if I wasn't -12 at the time. And it was interesting to note how many of the issues raised in the story are still incredibly relevant today. I'm sure I won't do the movie justice by writing about it now, because I've only seen it once and it's fairly layered. But I shall do my best. At its simplest: it's about a TV anchor near the end of his career who is fed up with the system. It's also about the TV station itself as it struggles with low ratings. The whole thing is done in a darkly funny and satirical way, but like most satire it has a deeply serious message. In this case: the tendency of human beings (and especially Americans) to blindly follow things and people they don't fully understand. Howard Beale (played superbly by Peter Finch) delivers his now-famous "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!" speech right from the deepest depths of his soul. He was trying to tell everyone that the system was a sham and that they should destroy it before it took over their lives more than it already had. So what did the network do? They made his speech the catchphrase for his new show. They turned a rant against mindless viewership into a vehicle for mindless viewership. That is truly brilliant. Because even when people think they're opposing "The Man" they're really just serving a different "The Man" or possibly even the same one. Which is why my motto isn't "stick it to The Man" but rather "sometimes The Man is too big to be stuck." I recognize the system as ridiculous so I don't let it get to me, but I also have no delusions about changing the entire nation's way of thinking. But to return to the movie: the ending is a bit over-the-top but it fits with the satirical and already slightly over-the-top tone of the film. It can be overly chatty at times but the ideas being spoken are all quite fascinating and important to think about. Roger Ebert said that the film was "like prophecy" and I couldn't agree more. During one of the longer speeches near the end I couldn't help but think of Jersey Shore and the umpteenth amount of Saw sequels. The acting, directing, and writing of the film are all top notch. It's simply a movie that everyone should watch. I'm a big fan of this year's winner, and I understand why it won and I'm glad it won, but this is probably the better film and in another year it might have had a shot. It didn't fade into obscurity though and it's still rightfully listed on many lists as one of the best movies ever, so that's not too shabby.

Another great and somewhat depressing movie is Taxi Driver. Actually, change that to "definitely depressing." I probably should've watched this movie again as I've only seen it once and that was three-and-a-half years ago. I remember because I initially bought and watched it when it was recommended to me by the TA in my Study of Film class (which I may or may not have mentioned before, but it was the best class ever). He described it to me as an "Eastern" because it's essentially a Western in New York City in what was then the modern day. Now here's an example of a film that subtly deals with Vietnam-era America without being preachy. Travis Bickle is a former Marine and a misanthrope who drives a cab and ends up befriending a young prostitute played by Jodie Foster. And as I'm sure you're aware this was the film that "inspired" John Hinckley Jr. to shoot Ronald Reagan. I've always found that to be quite disturbing on many levels. The most disturbing of which is that I could see shooting some Russian higher-ups to get Bond girls to like you, but going after the president for 13-year-old Jodie Foster? Gross. The film also made quite an impact when it came out due to its fairly extreme violence and non-heroic/disturbing protagonist. Because of these things it was one of the pioneer films for anti-heroes. Even though Dirty Harry was the first, and one of the best, he still comes off as fairly heroic. I'll talk about that more in my 1971 write-up. Travis Bickle was a pioneer not for guys like The Punisher and Jack Bauer, but for guys like Vic Mackey and Dexter Morgan (from The Shield and Dexter, respectively). We're talking about guys you cheer for even though you know you really, really shouldn't. Bickle was a man scarred by the war to such an extent that he couldn't connect with other human beings anymore. After forcing himself to view people as things in the war, he couldn't come back from that. And so a young girl that can only be helped (in his mind) by a killing machine was the perfect way for him to feel human again. It's all played as far more disturbing than that, but that's the gist. Here is yet another film that in another year might have netted itself the Oscar. Although I think both it and Network were a little too "out there" to win, I find it interesting that in some ways they're not "out there" enough to win today. Maybe in the 80s...we all know that decade of nominees needed them.

And after all of that build-up we are brought to this year's winner: Rocky. I've seen this movie SO many times because I was quasi-obsessed with the series when I was like 13 or 14. Today people might think of it as the stereotypical sports movie, but it was really the first of its kind in a lot of ways. Basically every sports movie that comes out is still compared to it. And after several years of nominees and winners that were mostly depressing (excellent, but depressing) I think the Academy wanted to restore some hope. And I can respect that, especially since it made the movie much like its titular hero: Rocky Balboa. There's been a lot of interesting analysis about the film in recent years, including that it's representative of the white man trying to rise to prominence in an age dominated by female and minority heroes (in real life, not the movies). This is of course exemplified by the fact that the main "antagonist" of the film is a black man: Apollo Creed. While this is interesting, Stallone wrote this movie over the course of merely a few days and Carl Weathers got the job because Stallone liked his attitude during an audition. So basically all of that analysis is crap. In that it wasn't the intended message, but I do find it interesting. And it's possible that those ideas were in the back of Stallone's mind. It's also possible the producers thought of it. So let's roll with that for a second: during the 60s and 70s there were plenty of people like Rocky who were struggling just as much as anybody but who were also villainized by society because that was when the idea of "the evil white man" was coming into prominence. And so the point of the film, whether you look at it that way or simply as an underdog story (for the record, I just view it as an underdog story but I thought it would be fun to share), is that the man who thought he was worthless proves that he is worth something. Not necessarily that he was the best (not until part 2 anyway) but that he was better than people thought he was. I think that's extraordinary, especially in today's society of: "if I'm not number 1 and if I don't get a nice shiny medal then I'm no good." Rocky sums it all up himself better than I could in the much overlooked and underrated sixth film, Rocky Balboa: "it ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward." And that's a good lesson for anybody. But it's better learned if you just watch the first one, the other ones are more fun than philosophical. Also of note: Burgess Meredith's fantastic performance as Rocky's trainer Mickey and of course the iconic "Gonna Fly Now" music by Bill Conti. If you haven't seen the movie, there's something wrong with you. Seriously.

Isn't the 70s shaping up to be better than the 80s? I am once again correct, not that anyone should be surprised. It'll probably take me a bit longer to crank out 1975 because one of the movies is about 3 hours long and even though it's a Kubrick, Full Metal Jacket taught me that that's not quite as reliable as a Scorsese of Coppola film. But anyway, all I can say about the next year for now is that it'll include more country music, more iconic John Williams music, and the musical tones of Al Pacino firing weaponry.

1977: The Year that The Neurotic Hypochondriac Beat the Insurrectionary Wookie

I've decided that all of my titles should be turned into really bad 70s and 80s television. Preferably they would all be spin-offs of Happy Days. On a side note, I find it ridiculous that one of those spin-offs is Mork and Mindy. How can a non sci-fi show all of a sudden decide to have an alien storyline just to fuel another show? And did you know the infamous "jump the shark" episode was in season 5 and it went on for another six seasons? Almost all of Joss Whedon's shows get canceled prematurely though. That's not cool. All of this is somewhat relevant because I find these things out when I'm surfing Wikipedia during times when I'm bored watching a nominee for the escapade. And I was driven to this by 3 films from 1977. So yeah, it's gonna be one of those. BUT, there's good stuff as well. Including my aforementioned epitome of childhood. I don't think I used the word "epitome" before but I should have.

But first we have to deal with The Goodbye Girl. If I was one of those "I think I'm snarky and clever but I'm not" reviewers I'd say: "the producers should have said goodbye to this script!" or "viewers should say goodbye to this film!" That's probably because they're trying to be succinct and polite, and I of course believe in being neither of those. Although I do find Richard Dreyfuss' performance to be entertaining, it's not enough to save the film. Because he's playing off of Marsha Mason who is really quite terrible. I often talk about performances being overrated or not being as good as other performances or whatever but she is really, truly bad. Throughout the whole movie I felt like I was watching the screen test for Dreyfuss who was acting wonderfully even against the casting director's terrible intern who would need narcotic assistance to be believable. I looked up some old reviews of the film and apparently many, including Roger Ebert, felt the same way (albeit in a more dignified fashion). However, I also really didn't care for the script too much. The overall plot is your generic "people who hate each other who learn to love each other" drivel, which can be saved by some good dialogue. But I really didn't like the dialogue. At all. Part of this was the delivery, because a lot of humor is only good in the delivery. Most of the lines on modern comedies like The Office and Community aren't that funny on the page but in their delivery they're hilarious. In this case, the lines themselves are cheesy. But humor was different back then, as it was a time when the more "traditional sitcom" flourished. Not that it doesn't still flourish today in terms of ratings, but there are also plenty of non-traditional sitcoms that never would have aired back then. So okay, the lines themselves are cheesy but they can still work with a good delivery. Dreyfuss achieves this some of the time, but even he screws up in the same way Marsha does with basically every line (and I blame the director who I also believe was the writer). And that common screw-up is hard to define but the closest I can define it is: they're waiting for people to laugh. They deliver a snappy and clever line (or they wish it was snappy and clever) and then they stand there with their heads down for a second or two as though waiting for the off-camera A.D. to give them the cue of when to start again. This would be okay on stage, when there is actual laughter, and I'm sure it was less noticeable in a theater where there was actual laughter. But comedies should always have jokes you missed the first time around because you were laughing. That's natural comedy. This script is the type of junk that would come from a formula: "insert joke here. (pause) Put line in that illustrates emotional conflict. (pause for reflection) Justify serious moment with another snappy zinger." I've gone on a bit much with this one, I guess because I just really hate bad comedy. Even more: I hate when people like bad comedy. It's why there were 6 more seasons of the Fonz than there should've been and not nearly enough Arrested Development.

A movie that's bad for a completely different reason is Julia. It's shocking to me how similar Roger Ebert's thoughts on some of these movies are to my own. Does this mean I've seen almost as many films as he has and have ergo gained a similar heavily-critical view on them? It's entirely possible. I hope his viewings came with a social life though, it would've been a lot tougher to spend time alone in the 70s since Instant Watch Netflix didn't exist. Anyway, what he said about the film is that it tries to make it about both women and thus it becomes about neither of them. The two women I'm talking about are the title character Julia (based on a real person) who fought against the Nazis (in an espionage kind of way) and her childhood friend Lillian. Julia's story is interesting, but we only experience it from the non-interesting perspective of Lillian. This could be interesting but the way it's delivered is really sloppy. Plus, Jane Fonda is the non-interesting character and she annoys me enough already. Vanessa Redgrave does a good job as Julia, although I wouldn't say she was in the movie enough to warrant the Oscar she received. Now, a movie about an ordinary woman who fights the Nazis with espionage that stars Vanessa Redgrave in more than 12 minutes of footage? I'd like that movie. A movie where Dashiell Hammett is an uninteresting drunken hippie who's also not in it enough to warrant the Oscar that the actor received, which also features Jane Fonda being her screechy self? That's not particularly good. I'm sure the book was far more interesting, and I also find myself wondering if this was a precursor to Prince of Tides syndrome where they change the story so that the more famous actress gets more screen time. Although I guess in Streisand's case it was: "the bigger producer who sees herself as a big star." So I should've used a different example. From now on I'll use Fonda as the example, so there. The point being that the film could have been interesting, could have been enthralling, and could have even been moving. But instead it's just kind of boring. I like to think that the modern filmmaker would rather use Vanessa Redgrave more, the far superior actress, but since Megan Fox continues to be in movies that don't have titles like "Drilling Miss Daisy" I'd say that maybe Hollywood has remained the same.

And on that note of adult cynicism, let's talk about the reason I love movies: Star Wars. Hell. To. The. Yeah. First off, this is the one and only time I will refer to it in this way and not as Episode IV: A New Hope. I could get into the long saga of why all of that went down the way it did, but the fact remains that when it was nominated it didn't have that part of the title. Anyway, this was the last time that a true sci-fi film was nominated for Best Picture until very recently (literally last year). In many ways it's still the standard that all other sci-fi is held up against, and for good reason. Just yesterday I was reading a retrospective of the first HP movie and how it had a similar task that George Lucas had with this movie. It has to show you a bunch of ridiculous nonsense and make you say, "I buy that" and then "I buy that and it is awesome." If this was any other movie, I'd probably complain about some of the acting. But what people fail to realize about all six films in the saga is that they're not about the acting or the dialogue. Much like the old movie serials on which they are based, it's all about the scope. The sweeping musical score (John Williams' best, which was rightfully called the greatest film music of all time by the AFI. The one time we've agreed), the operatic quality of the battles, and the envelopment of the story itself. Although the films are not devoid of interesting moral, political, and religious issues that I won't get into (because I wouldn't stop typing for 20 paragraphs or so) they largely function as being straight-up enjoyable for people of all ages. And there's something wonderful about that. Because filmmaking itself doesn't always have to be about being artsy or thought-provoking, sometimes we recognize a filmmaker's talent for bringing a world to life and transporting the audience to another realm for a mere few hours. Not many directors or writers have actually achieved this (for me it's really just Lucas, Peter Jackson, and the creators of Lost) but when they do it is magical. I won't even bother describing the plot because if you haven't seen it then there is something missing from your life. Although interestingly: George Lucas, and myself, put this film at the bottom of the saga in many ways. Not because it's bad, it's fantastic, but because once you know the world then the first half-hour of introducing the world isn't as meaningful. The film also introduces Darth Vader, who some may recall was my top-ranked villain of all time, and though his true emotional impact on the story comes in later movies there is simply no comparison to his "I find your lack of faith: disturbing" scene. Films like this never win any of the big awards of course, but that's okay. George Lucas hates Hollywood anyway. I could also go on about his business genius but I won't. I simply love the series too much, and thus have too much to say about it. So I'll just end by saying that perhaps the Academy was a lot better back then. A lot of the movies I personally dislike were popular at the time, so I respect them for nominating films that people had actually seen. And even though Lucas' space opera never stood a chance at winning, at least they didn't totally snub him like they recently did with Nolan (and will probably do again this year). And even the AFI knows some of the greatest music ever written when they hear it.

I considered just writing about George Lucas' whole saga for this entire blog entry and then summing up the other 3 non-winners with "they weren't very good" but I decided against it, and so I shall talk about The Turning Point. I figure that if I start cutting corners then soon I'll stop watching the films in their entirety and then that means that the time I've spent watching a lot of it was time wasted. And I hate wastes of time. So I'd rather waste another 50 years worth of time on some more movies I might not like, just in the off chance that some of them are excellent (which some will be) and so I can say that I did. This film is probably one I'll have trouble recalling things about in the weeks to come (or possibly even hours) but not because it's bad just because I don't find it personally interesting. Something interesting that I've neglected to mention before is that all of a person's life experiences alter how they view films. And they can't really view them any other way. That's why you can tell a lot about a person based on what they watch, and especially what they re-watch. There are likely many films I've reviewed that I saw as bad because I couldn't see them any other way. Someone else might have had different experiences which would cause them to like it. There are, of course, exceptions on both sides because no one should like Gigli and everyone should like Iron Man. But, after all of that blathering, this particular movie fits into the category of "well-done but not compelling for me." I empathize with a lot of the themes of the film: missing out on one's true potential, being sabotaged not by bad decisions but by life itself, etc. Because most people can recognize with those issues, but the overall pull of the movie is kind of a mid-life crisis thing with an added element of vicariously living through one's children. As 22 hasn't been "mid-life" since the 1800s and I certainly don't have any kids, I really can't fully become emotionally attached to this movie. Also, I'm not a female. Just saying. But its storyline of the ballerina who missed out on her big break when she became pregnant is well-delivered, well-acted, and contains some great classical music. I'm not a big ballet person, as I probably proved by not knowing a more dignified word than "ballerina." By comparison it's probably like the feeling I get when people call a graphic novel a comic book (Archie is a comic book, "The Dark Knight Returns" is novel-quality fiction with pictures). But I don't know any better in this instance. One thing that did annoy me about the film is that before a lot of the ballet performances the credits for the classical piece were put up on the screen. If they had projected it on the back wall of the stage, thus making the credits exist in the movie, that wouldn't have taken the viewer out quite as much and would've achieved the same goal (which was probably legally-based). And who knows? Maybe the filmmakers wanted to do that but couldn't. Anyway, I'd recommend any moms with daughters to watch the film and I guess any moms in general. For me: it was meh. But I still respect what they accomplished.

On the complete flip-side of things, this year's winner hits a little bit too close to home: Annie Hall. Comedies rarely win, and only one since then has won, Shakespeare in Love, and I wouldn't consider it a real comedy anyway. If Woody Allen was dead, I'd think I was the reincarnation of him. As he is not, I think we were both cursed by the same shaman. Because his misadventures with women, social gatherings, and life in general are all too familiar. I mean, not really. I can't say as I've ever embarrassed my girlfriend by sneezing into cocaine (I know, I know. I haven't truly lived). And in reality, Woody Allen's misadventures dwarf everyone else's. That's why people like him: you feel a lot better about your life when his movie is over. This is easily his masterpiece. Its narrative style in particular is outstanding. It has a "stream of consciousness" style that makes it so grounded and real because it evokes memory itself. He's reflecting on things that happened to him and showing it to us in ways that we remember our own lives. So everything feels so real even though it's totally over-the-top. But isn't life over-the-top a lot? Mine is. And the beginning of the movie focuses on Woody talking about how everyone in his grade school classes annoyed him because he felt he was ahead of them in many ways. As this closely mirrors the beginning of my forthcoming autobiography, I'd like to go on the record and say that you can check when my Word document was created and my Netflix history to see that I did, in fact, start the book before I saw the movie. I'm sure Woody would enjoy and empathize with my book enough that he'd ignore the similarities anyway. And then endorse the book and make it huge. Note to self: create more parallels to Annie Hall in memoirs. Anyway, want to hear what actually snappy dialogue sounds like? Watch this movie. It was SO ahead of its time in the way that it structures its comedy. Along with Mel Brooks, he really ushered in the era of modern comedy. I'm not kidding when I say that Young Frankenstein should have won for Screenplay and been nominated for Picture, it is truly brilliant. And whereas Brooks usually spoofs and references things, Allen basically makes movies that can be viewed as behind-the-scenes footage of his stand-up routines. I usually dislike when comedies are nominated, because they're usually no good. If more comedies were like this then not only would I endorse their nomination, but their wins as well (depending on what they're up against of course). By means of a plot: neurotic guy seems charming to woman, woman finds his neurotic nature annoying after a while, and they break up. The story is largely irrelevant, because it's Allen's views on what happens and the mini-vignettes that make the movie. The part where Allen is in line for a movie while standing nearby an obnoxiously loud movie-goer was especially great, and it illustrates why I usually wait for the DVD nowadays.

Way back in the 7th grade I got all mad when I found out that some comedy beat out one of my personal favorites for Best Picture. But now I understand why, and I also recognize that some movies are better when they exist outside of the Academy. It makes them cooler in the same way that minor forms of rebellion are cool in a "it's cliché and stupid to rebel against the establishment but everyone still likes it anyway even if they don't admit it" kind of way. And what's this? Next year is even better? Not in the sense that it epitomizes my childhood, but it might epitomize my pre-teen years. I haven't quite finished it yet but I know it will include the precursor to the Internet meme, superfluous social commentary, and the little-seen and much-overlooked foil to the Western: the "Eastern."

1978: The Year that My Criticism Was Poorly Timed and Oliver Stone Was Reverse-Upstaged

My title will be explained eventually, let's just say I'll be trodding some sensitive grounds due to recent events. Intrigued yet? It's really not that interesting, but I haven't decided yet whether I'll be taking the blatant Family Guy route or if I'm going to tiptoe through the tulips at the risk of not sharing my true opinion. Either way, my apologies for taking so long to crank out this blog. I realized that unemployment is a lot less depressing when you're teaming up with anthropomorphized animal polygons to fight a bunch of Disney villains on the PS2. Which is my long-winded and slightly douchey way of saying, "I've been playing video games and not watching Oscar nominees." But now I'm back, and so we shall get to it. Except that I should also mention that in my last post I mentioned the book that inspired my blog title! Holy crap! I love in books when the book title shows up. Okay, I'm done now.

This first movie turned out to be better and less whiny than I expected: Coming Home. Since it's about a Vietnam vet who loses the ability to walk and has to return home to be treated like crap, I was expecting the usual fare. I was expecting more of a Born on the Fourth of July type thing, which as you may recall from my 1989 post: I did not like. It's also based on the same book, so it's funny that in the Oliver Stone version the vet is consumed with protesting loudly and comparing dead baby counts and in this movie he becomes a quiet romantic. So...which one actually happened? Was it the "I had a passionate love scene with Jane Fonda and then became a better person" version or the "I had a shouting match with Willem Dafoe and disgraced the music of John Williams" version? I prefer the first, but not because of the Jane Fonda part. I find her annoying. But Jon Voight is oddly compelling in this film. He manages to show the audience the pain that was felt by many of our Vietnam vets without being too blatant or preachy about it and then he shows us a truly human side as well. Here I was expecting to write in my blog: "well this film teaches us that if you treat your nurse like crap then she'll eventually love you" as the newest installment in my continuing frustrations with sadly accurate film romances that involve a jerk and a perfectly nice woman. Thankfully, this didn't go that route. Voight's character shows some real warmth and in the few scenes in the movie where he is protesting, he doesn't go in the Cruise/Stone direction by saying: "here's a logical argument, I am in a wheelchair and should ergo be heard." Instead, Voight comes across as very soft-spoken and opposes the war from a human point of view instead of a political one. This engages the viewer instead of polarizing them. Don't let my optimism fool you, aside from Voight's performance this movie is fairly ordinary. But since it's better than the other movies of its type that I've seen, I give it credit. And anytime Oliver Stone gets upstaged, it's a good time. Of course, this movie came out 11 years before his version and so he's only upstaged when you watch them the way I have been watching them...hence yet another invented phrase of mine: "reverse upstaged." I wish I had come up with it sooner.

This next movie can only be described as "cute:" Heaven Can Wait. I guess in a year of 2 dreary Vietnam movies and a brutal prison escape movie, maybe they wanted to lighten things up a bit with a fun comedy. And this movie is definitely fun. Literally nothing more than that. It's about a football player who dies before his time and is thus sent back in another man's body. I think I laughed out loud a grand total of about 2 times during the whole movie, but it was still enjoyable. And it's predictable with the love story and the football aspect of course remains relevant and yadda yadda. Even on the level of charming comedy film it still could've done a few things a bit better, such as showing us a bit more often the actual body that he was inhabiting. Because we just see him as Warren Beatty the whole time (if they showed the old guy whose body he ended up in, they didn't do it enough because I don't remember seeing it). And why is it important to do this? Because it helps us connect with some of the more absurd concepts: the old guy is married to a way younger woman, the old guy becomes a quarterback, etc. The first one would be especially important to establish because the older the guy is the funnier the relationship is. Having seen ye olde "body switch" episode on basically every sci-fi show ever, I know it's important to keep reinforcing the whole idea (such as seeing an old guy in the mirror as Warren Beatty stands before it). Plus, who doesn't love a good sight gag? My point is this: I wouldn't nitpick about stuff like that with a movie of this type, but when it's nominated for Best Picture then it better pull off ye olde body switch better than at least most movies/shows. It better revolutionize the gimmick. Know what's wrong with Bruce Almighty? Nothing that really comes to mind, it's pretty funny and has a surprising amount of heart. Know what would be wrong with it if for unknown reasons it was nominated for Best Picture? Many, many things. Everything is different when viewed through an Oscar lens, and I hope that also explains some of my many tirades. Anyway, as I said, this movie is cute and I enjoyed it but that's about all.

And speaking of Oliver Stone, he wrote this next movie: Midnight Express. I know I wasn't actually just speaking about him but a paragraph back is a small enough distance to warrant me saying that right? I think so. I had mixed feelings about this movie, but instead of the usual mixed feelings phenomenon of "I love aspects of it and hate others" (like Avatar) it was more of an "I somewhat neutrally dislike aspects of this film and mildly appreciate other aspects of it" (like...Mexican food?). Actually, the only aspect I dislike is the main character. Although you grow to like him as the movie progresses, and I give the actor credit for that, in the beginning he's a schmuck. Because anybody who tries to smuggle drugs into a country like Turkey is a moron. There are plenty of illegal activities you can do in the United States if that's your thing. But there are a lot of countries in the Middle East where they do terrible terrible things to drug runners. And why was he running the drugs? For the money. And the money is for...what now? No idea. New car I guess. It's based on a true story so I hope in real life his dog needed an experimental back surgery and the only way he could pay for the surgery was with copious amounts of unmarked bills. That, coupled with the fact that it was written by Oliver Stone, led me to think that maybe it was going to be a "we're almost as bad as that country and we should make all drugs legal" thing. If someone wants to make a movie exploring the pros and cons of various drug arguments, fine. But using a man's personal story? That's bad. So it's thankful that that's not what the film ended up doing. Instead, we see a frat boy turn into a better man by realizing all of the things he was missing. So this made his lackluster decision to smuggle drugs more plausible and more interesting. He was one of those "I'm bored so I break the rules" type guys who then became a better man in prison. Moral of the story: don't be a douche and you can avoid being beaten, stabbed, and attempted-raped in prison. It was also good to see John Hurt as always, even in a supporting role, and the other roles were solid as well. Overall, the film was well-done but not overly fantastic. It beats pretty much most of the 80s nominees, but the 70s seems to be a whole new playing field and the bar has been raised.

And now, here comes some possible controversy with: An Unmarried Woman. I was all set to rant and rave about this movie. But sadly, the female lead in the movie died last week. And in case you're having trouble interpreting my often sarcastic writing style, I am saying that it's sad that she died and not that my rant was ruined. There will be other rants, other movies. It sounds like she was a down-to-Earth actress who people enjoyed working with. I haven't seen any of her other work, but her performance in this movie is solid and quite honestly (not just saying this because she died) I think its faults are with the writing and not her performance. She played the character well but the character was annoying. This was yet another in a string of 70s films that went along with the sexual revolution, but here's something I find amusing: why are they all written by men? All of these movies have the same claim to fame: portraying women in an empowering way. So why would a man know anything about an empowered woman? All they basically do is write male characters and give them breasts. In this movie the woman's husband cheats on her and so she leaves him and then tries to have some random loveless hookups with random guys, ends up falling for one of them, so on and so forth. She ends up not being with him for whatever superfluous melodramatic reason that I forget. But allow me to outline the plot if it had a male lead: dude's wife cheats on him and he becomes a notorious Casanova. He's a lovable rogue but ultimately a jerk since he objectifies women (so they can't hurt him) until he meets the woman that gives the crap right back to him and ultimately shows him that it's okay to love and blah blah blah. I know what you're thinking: "but Domenic, didn't you just say that they wrote a male character with breasts? So wouldn't what you just described be the same as this movie's plot?" Nope! And here's why: audiences wouldn't want a movie with a lovable female rogue because women would say she's a tramp and men would find her intimidating. Instead, this movie has a female lead that basically bumbles through her various romantic encounters. That way, women can laugh at her and say "haha I've been there!" or "what a klutz!" and men can say "boy, I'm not threatened at all by her and I am in no way emasculated as I view this film!" Isn't the study of culture grand? Well anyway, since I had to talk about societal things that I find interesting which only somewhat apply to the film, that will tell you that there's not much there. And like most movies of its type, it's a bit too long. But Jill Clayburgh: she seemed like a nice lady and a solid actress. I'll have to check out more of her work, and not just so I'll feel less guilty about bashing her movie.

And this brings us to this year's excellent winner: The Deer Hunter. I saw this several years ago, but it stuck with me so much that I felt I didn't have to view it again. That's a good thing. Also, it's like 3 hours long and even I won't sit through that much movie again unless I feel I need to in order to pick up on something I missed. Remember when I said that Apocalypse Now was the best Vietnam movie because it was more of a humanity movie? Well this is a straight-up Vietnam movie and in that category there is no better film. Because it doesn't exist solely to say that the war was bad. Everyone already knows that anyway, and even if they didn't you can pick that up from the movie. The characters are the focal point of the film and that's the way it should be. DeNiro and Walken lead the excellent ensemble cast and Meryl Streep is there too in an early role of hers that is way less annoying than usual. The film centers around several friends who all go off to fight in Vietnam and how their lives change because of the war. And though the film is long, it portions its sections so well. It roughly evens out to: the first hour is spent getting to know the characters how they were, the second hour is Vietnam, and the third hour is seeing how the characters changed. Remember that LXG/On Golden Pond moment I mentioned in 1981? And yes, I realize I'm the first and last person to pair those movies together. Well as my mother quite accurately pointed out to me: another excellent example of that dynamic comes in the most important scene in this film. Early in the film, we see DeNiro hunting deer in a fairly nonchalant manner (get it? That's where the film title is from!). But then during the big scene, he can't bring himself to kill a deer because the war has changed him. And oddly enough, it was for the better. He grew to appreciate life after his harrowing experiences and who was he to take away the life of an innocent creature when he himself had been spared? Sadly, Christopher Walken goes the other way after the war. In the beginning he was a happy patriot giggling in the happy aftermath of a wedding with friends (I believe it was his wedding but I forget, and I didn't feel like just rewatching that part). The point is that by the time it's the end of the movie, with the famous Russian Roulette scene, we see quite plainly the terrible personal costs of the war. Quite honestly, and Apocalypse Now was already filming when this was released so it doesn't count, no one should have made a Vietnam movie after this movie came out. Because it did everything so well. It got its point across without being too blatant and it beautifully told a very personal story with relatable characters. It didn't whine, but it made the same points that Oliver Stone feebly tries to get across. Why Jon Voight's movie also got nominated in the same year I have no idea, because even though it was pretty good it's got nothing on this movie. So watch it on a day when you have 3 hours to spare and you feel like your life sucks, because you will probably end up feeling better about your life by comparison.

Well that's it for this year, which even though it took me a while to finish up I really quite enjoyed. I have already seen every other winner for this decade, because they're all really good and one of them is the greatest film of all time, so I hope that the nominees that I haven't seen are also of high quality. All I know for now is that the next installment will include: classic neuroticism, nazism...umm...and on a more positive note: LITERALLY THE EXEMPLIFICATION OF MY CHILDHOOD AND A BIG PART OF WHY I LOVE MOVIES AS MUCH AS I DO. So yeah you'll want to be here for that.

1979: The Year that Rorschach Came of Age and President Bartlet Descended Into Madness with Morpheus

Is the second part of my title not the greatest idea for a sitcom/cooking show/spinoff ever? I think it is. This is a year with a lot of variety, which is good because it allows for a wide spectrum of ranting. Although overall I'd describe the films of this year to be at least tolerable and sometimes even really good. See? The 70s are better already. And as I mentioned before, there's only one winner that I haven't seen already so I at least know that the winners are good. We'll mix it up a bit and be optimistic, just for a change of pace.

We will begin with a shockingly good movie: All That Jazz. I say shockingly good because at first I didn't like it. With the title and the subject matter (the semi-autobiographical story about a Broadway choreographer/dancer/director) I figured I was in for a lot of fun dancing and singing. I thought it'd be funny and enjoyable and uplifting. This was not the case. It was depressing. Like, really depressing. Once I got over the initial shock that the movie was going to be depressing, I remembered that I love depressing movies because they're entirely more interesting than uplifting ones. This movie reverse-reminded me of The Singing Detective. That sentence requires explanation. When something "reverse-reminds" me of something else, it means that the second thing came out after the first thing but I saw the second one first. Wow, I just made it more confusing. To clarify: this movie from 1979 reverse-reminded me of the 1980s British miniseries about a hospital-confined mystery writer who hallucinates elaborate dance sequences. Both the movie and the miniseries are about men with debilitating diseases who become more and more engrossed in their fantasy worlds. This film begins as an interesting look into the hectic life of a high-profile Broadway personality. So interesting that my dreams of working in show business were briefly shattered since I'd rather not require alcohol, pills, and sex to simply get out of bed in the morning. The manner in which this ritual was displayed reverse-reminded me of Requiem for a Dream. I'm going to coin that phrase, I am not even kidding. Anyway, after a good forty minutes or so of pill-popping we learn that the main character doesn't have long to live. And that's when the movie becomes way better and way more of a downer. But it makes up for it by being so ahead of its time in terms of style and by having a truly powerful ending. Even though it's my second favorite of the year's nominees, I think it should've won. I'll explain why in the next paragraph. But before that, the last thing I'll say about this film is that it wasn't afraid to just run with its own style and go against expectations for artistic reasons (instead of Battlestar Galactica "the only creativity behind our doctor's character was that we wanted to create the opposite of Dr. McCoy" reasons). It does its own thing not to shock people but to make the great movie that they wanted to make.

But as I said, it wasn't my favorite movie from the year. This was: Apocalypse Now. I have strict rules about when to mention film titles, and I don't mention them until I reach that film's paragraph. Which is why I won't say what the winner in 1978 was, only that it was a Vietnam movie. So I can see why they wouldn't want another Vietnam movie winning in this year, even though it's far and away the best Vietnam movie ever made (of the ones I've seen. So basically all of them). The reason for this is that it's not really a "Vietnam movie." It takes place during the war and it illustrates many negative aspects of the war, but it's really a movie about human nature. It's based on Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" (which I wrote a 100% paper on in high school by writing about Batman and the Joker and substituting their names for the protagonist and antagonist of the novel) but I think there are also some strong comparisons to be made to Dante's "Inferno" even if those comparisons were unintentional. The film brilliantly delves further and further into the darkness of humanity as they travel deeper into the heart of Vietnam. That's pretty much what the book is about, but the subtle ways that Coppola achieves this are outstanding. For instance, Harrison Ford is in the movie at the very beginning and pretty much never again. So you're all excited because there's Han Solo! This movie will be awesome because there's Han Solo! Well we leave the civilized world behind and Ford with it. Then we see Robert Duvall and he's being kind of disturbing with his "napalm in the morning" bit but we kind of enjoy it anyway. Because who doesn't appreciate a "hate to love him" crazy general? Well we leave him behind too. And as the characters travel further and further into the country we are less and less familiar with the characters (and the actors who portray them) and the situations become tougher and tougher to understand morally. As moviegoers, we can forgive certain acts when we see it from a certain point of view. But this movie does a great job at showing us human depravity at its most base. And where the comparisons to the "Inferno" come into play is that all of these people seem like they've been in their respective situations for a long time, and that they'll never leave. The whole "Ride of the Valkyries" helicopter sequence was enthralling for us, but for Duvall's character it was a regular occurrence. The men who revolt by trying to grope the visiting Playboy bunnies have probably faced the same situation countless times. I don't want to come off as a chauvenist, but that scene is reminiscent of many classic visions of Hades. The one guy can see the water and the food but the closer he gets, the further away it goes. And poor Sisyphus has to push that rock up the hill only to have it fall again. So in this movie they can have scantily-clad women paraded before them but they're not allowed to touch. That's just cruel, I'd rather not see any women at all because it'd be easier to forget about Vietnam's abysmal dating situation. And then when we finally reach the end of the journey, we begin to understand by Colonel Kurtz was driven mad. It's made even more perfect by the fact that it's Marlon Brando: the only man who was masculine enough to both lead a crime family and sire Superman. Excellent casting, as was the casting of Martin Sheen as the hero of the piece. Everything about the movie is just outstanding, in fact I've gone on entirely too long about it. It's a rough movie and it's not for everyone, but it's amazing and young Laurence Fishburne is in it so if you can take it you should watch it. I haven't yet watched the "Redux" version but when I get the recent ultimate Blu-Ray release for Christmas (mom and dad: hint!) I will certainly check it out.

Perhaps it's good that I said even more than usual about that movie because I don't have much to say about the next two, beginning with Breaking Away. It's not a bad film by any means but it's not particularly original either (even in 1979). The film quality looks like an old camcorder that was in widescreen for unknown reasons, so I hope that was intentional and not indicative of a super low budget. It gives the film a more realistic quality and makes the characters more relatable. Or maybe it's just the same 70s film stock that makes all the women on Family Feud look funny. It's entirely possible. The film dates itself in several other ways, such as using the term "cutter" to describe people other than emo kids that harm themselves in order to impress Twihards who find that attractive. The movie is the classic "coming of age" story that I ordinarily find annoying but since the characters in the movie actually aim to do something with their lives instead of spending the majority of the film whining, it's actually pretty good. So it kind of weaves in a story about competitive bicycling with the "angst over going to college and leaving home" story. This is something I keep emphasizing and this movie seems to get it: some plots can't carry a movie on their own. Since this movie has two distinct threads that drive the story, neither of which would be enough on their own, it all kind of works. Seeing young Rorschach and young Dennis Quaid is also entertaining on its own. I also loved that the dude in the movie lied about being Italian to impress a girl. Not because of its inherent entertainment value, which reeks of a rejected Brady Bunch script, but simply because such things could never work today. As soon as you were Facebook friends with the girl the lie would fade away and you'd be seen for the schmuck you really are. It was way easier to fabricate Venitian playboy bicyclist identities back then, it was a better time. So that's pretty much it. The movie is kinda funny, kinda touching, kinda good.

I have even less to say about Norma Rae. Please read that sentence to yourself in a way that doesn't rhyme as blatantly, because rhyming is silly in this context. This movie was the only truly less-than-mediocre one in the entire year. So I really shouldn't complain about it because of what I was subjected to in the 80s. But I will. Basically this was the precursor to Erin Brockovich. I'm not going to use my newly coined phrase to describe this situation though, because if I overuse it now then I can't use it later. I know it sounds silly to say that this movie based on a true story was the precursor to another movie based on another true story, but they're so similar that it's frightening. Except that the Julia Roberts movie is good. I'm told that this movie was praised in large part because of its relevance to the whole sexual liberation situation, a theme common to many 70s movies I've seen so far and I'm not even through 1978 yet with my viewing schedule. This is kind of like the Vietnam thing where making a movie that voices things that everyone has already voiced isn't really interesting, unless you make it interesting like Coppola did. So while I'm certainly in favor of movies that cast a positive light on women, I don't think this movie does that. Erin Brockovich (the character and real woman, not the movie) knew how to use her femininity as a weapon and also put forth a logical and well-constructed argument in order to save the day. I'd say that's pretty empowering. Whereas Sally Field's character in this movie, Norma, just gets up and whines in a Southern accent until people listen to her. If anything that makes her look like the type of female stereotype the feminist movement was trying to stifle. Is she an independent woman because she works in the factory and supports her kids much like a stereotypical man might? Sure. But in order to fight injustice she just complains louder than anybody. In fact, I'm feeling brave here so I'll say it: she nags. She might as well be hitting her sugar daddy up for new earrings except the sugar daddy is the labor union and the earrings are improved working conditions and rights. I'll take Erin any day over this lady, and not just because she's better looking. She's simply more admirable from any standing point.

Well with any luck you're thinking to yourself, "wow what an enlightened and forward-thinking man." I sincerely doubt you are thinking that, but even if you are you probably won't be after I discuss this year's winner: Kramer vs. Kramer. I swear to God I am not trying to crap all over the female gender. In fact, a girl in the dorm once drunkenly stated: "I think Domenic is gay because he's around drunk women all the time and he never tries to take advantage of them." See? I'm so chivalrous that women think I'm not attracted to them! Ponder that for a minute and what it means societally. I'll wait. You done? Okay, good. My point is that this film is touted as another step forward for women because it shows both the father's side and the mother's side of a divorce. Dustin Hoffman plays the dad and Meryl Streep plays the mom. I usually don't particularly like either of them, but they're both good here. Here's my problem though: Meryl is in a little bit of the first ten minutes and then she's gone for almost an hour. So how are we supposed to see things from her point of view when she's not even in it? She leaves her husband and her son for initially undisclosed reasons, and if I didn't already know that the film centered on their custody battle in court (and if she was played by a less well-known actress) then I'd have thought she was gone for good and the movie was about a workaholic father who learned to spend more time with his son. Instead, just as the movie is getting all nice and touching the mom shows up again and wants to take the kid back. So then the audience hates her because they've spent the entire movie watching the father and son build a loving relationship. How is that showing both sides equally? She redeems herself at the end of the movie, and we certainly eventually see her side of things but the hero of the movie is far and away the father. Remember way back when I ranted about The Hours? Just to clarify: I thought that was a really good movie and I hyperbolize a lot so that my blogs won't be more repetitive than they probably already are. But I did have one legitimate problem with that movie: Julianne Moore left her husband and her son. I could totally roll with it if it was just the husband but I can't forgive anyone leaving their children. If Kramer had switched things up and the father was the one who left I can guarantee you he would be universally viewed as a villain. She abandoned her child! She abandoned her boy! I had to say it, sorry. Just be glad I didn't make the "milkshake" reference. Overall point: this movie is well-done but it's far beneath Best Picture standards. And since the Internet tells me it was a big hit simply because of its societal impact, I dislike that for two reasons. One: as I've said before, societal impact alone is enough for a nomination and not a win. Two: it doesn't even make a good societal statement. Still in all, it's a ton better than most 80s nominees so let's try to bring it back to optimism a little bit.

Overall, a great start to the decade. I can't even tell you how excited I am to have a lot of great movies ahead of me to watch instead of drivel. I might even rewatch a few things I've already seen because they're so good. We won't quite be at that point yet in my next entry, but I can tell you that it will include: Bugsy Segal having a supernatural identity crisis, Jake LaMotta having a post-traumatic stress identity crisis, and yet another woman having a sexual liberation-style identity crisis that will probably get me some more negative press even though that's not what I intend. Positive though! Let's be positive!

1980: The Year that Had Elephants, and Bulls, and Sundance Kids...Oh My?

If Judy Garland and co. encountered those three things on the way to Oz instead, it would've been a very different movie. No, this isn't the year of Paul Newman and Robert Redford as the iconic duo. So don't get your hopes up. But good old Sunny D (a nickname for Redford's character that never seemed to take off) was behind the camera this year so I guess that's something to be excited about (not really though). Something to actually get excited about is that two of the movies are in black and white and they're the only two good movies in the bunch. Neither one was the winner of course because that is the way of things. None of the movies in this year are particularly light...and I know I've mentioned how much I love drama and intense stuff but things don't have to be dreary all the time. Some of the most dramatic and heart-wrenching movies I've ever seen also made me laugh at times. These films need a sense of humor. Only the bad ones though.

Ironically, the first on the list actually does have quite a bit of humor in it: Coal Miner's Daughter. Can you tell that I don't sketch out an outline for my blogs? Don't sit there and feel like I'm jipping you though, I've never outlined a paper in my life. Except when people made me, and then it was sub par. And I'm not sure how much of this movie was actually supposed to be funny, or perhaps I should say "humorous." Because you don't really laugh out loud but you sit there and think to yourself: "hmm, that is amusing." That's actually something I found annoying about the film. All of the humor should have been removed. Wow, I should really go back and delete all of my talk about adding humor earlier. I won't though. Because I stand by it for the other two movies in technicolor, just not this one. The reason being that all of the humorous elements in this movie come from the main character being a stereotypical backwater hick trying to make it big in the music industry. The woman was still alive when the movie was released. So either she really is that dumb and didn't notice that they were making fun of her, or she's fully aware of her quirks and allows the movie to display them because she knows how the game is played. Maybe neither, I don't know. But the movie displays her husband as a money-hungry jerk who didn't care much about his wife's singing until it started bringing in the big bucks. Presumably any negative portrayals are offset by the title song, which says something along the lines of: "I'm proud to be a coal miner's daughter because it made me a bunch of money and so even though I might be a dumb hick I'm a lot smarter and richer than you are." The actual lyrics are more touching and heart-felt than that but if I'm here to lightly touch on the movie while I complain about it. If I just re-capped everything that would be boring. There's already a website for that which I frankly can't compete with and it's called IMDB. I will say that Sissy Spacek does a good job and has a really good singing voice. I also found it entertaining that earlier in her career she tried to break into country music but couldn't because she sounded too much like Loretta Lynn (who she plays in the movie). I was also really annoyed by the fact that the movie doesn't begin with "a" or "the" but since it refers to a song title I guess it's okay. Overall, the film falls into the "Hallmark" category for me. Fairly solid acting, it doesn't have bad dialogue, and it doesn't have bad direction. But none of it is particularly good either. I'm totally cool with Sissy's nomination (that is a ridiculous name, even for Hollywood). But the movie itself isn't anything too special.

A far better film is The Elephant Man. I just finished it, in fact. Notice I said "just finished it" and not "I'm currently watching it." Nowadays I spend literally all of my time watching movies and TV, as opposed to before when I spent all of my free time watching movies and TV. There's a huge difference, believe me. This means that I find it difficult to watch a whole movie or show without whipping out various Apple products to distract me. But all of my attention was easily focused on this beautifully filmed movie. David Lynch directed and co-wrote the film which stars the always amazing Anthony Hopkins. He's usually not upstaged by anyone but the title character is played to painful perfection by John Hurt. It's so rare that any of these nominees get me to cry, because even the good ones are just well-done and don't necessarily pull me in. But this one pulled me in, thanks mostly to Hurt's acting and a haunting musical score. The film centers around the real-life story of John Merrick: a horribly disfigured man who was a sideshow exhibit for most of his life. The film refrains from showing us his face until a good half an hour into the film, and it's a little longer before we hear him speak. People in the film, and presumably in life, wrongfully assumed that he was a dumb brute because he looked like a disfigured monster. But as it turned out he was quite articulate and intelligent for a man of any age at the time, and when Hopkins' character discovers him in the movie he was slightly younger than I am. He almost reminded me of a Phantom of the Opera type character: the hidden genius who never reaches his full potential because of his physical deformities. Of course it turns out that high society treats him with the same type of morbid curiosity that the lower-class circus goers did. This inevitably brings up the central theme of many stories of this type: the real monsters are the "normal" people. Thankfully, unlike the Phantom, Merrick never became what other people perceived him to be. The oft-quoted "I am a human being!" scene brought me to tears, even though I knew it was coming. Also, in case you were wondering, this film is the first one in black and white that I alluded to. It gives the movie the same feel as all of those Universal horror pictures, which is highly appropriate since they were all about the humanization of monsters. The original ones anyway. The countless sequels were about the monetization of celluloid. It also reminded me, in retrograde of course since the movie came first, of one of the best episodes of The X-Files: "The Post-Modern Prometheus." Everything about the episode from the music to the visual tone is a big throwback to this movie. I'm pretty sure I only mentioned that to showcase the fact that I watched that entire series 3 years ago and I can still recall episode titles from memory. Anyway, I was tempted to say that this was the best film of the year but that was before I remembered the other black and white film. It's still an excellent film that everyone should watch. Because you don't have to be deformed to be a societal outcast and you don't have to be a 19th century aristocrat to be a bigot.

Easily the best film of the year is in black and white for an entirely different reason: Raging Bull. The reasons for the color change aren't quite as clear as the film I just talked about but I suppose it's because the movie is about a boxer in the classic age of boxing and when you think of that era you think of cheap TVs in sports bars of the 50s. Or at least I do. Whatever the reason, it gives the film a distinct visual style which has never been emulated by anyone. Perhaps because no one would dare to try. This is my favorite Scorsese picture and I've been waiting to talk about it ever since I alluded to it in my 2006 entry. And if I didn't allude to it, I was thinking about it so my internal continuity is in tact. The film was perhaps not savory enough to be the winner but thankfully DeNiro's performance earned him an Oscar. The film itself deserved it too but DeNiro is the driving force. He plays Jake LaMotta, a man who could never leave his rage in the ring. The film examines the unfortunate dichotomy that is caused by his internal fury and penchant for self-torture. These are the factors that allowed him to succeed as a boxer, but they destroyed his personal life. He emotionally and at one point physically abuses his wife because he thinks she's cheating on him. Was she? It's irrelevant, because to him it was a reality. For a personality like that, even if everything is perfect they make things worse because for some reason they love to be miserable. This also adds to the boxing scenes, where DeNiro rarely shows any signs of pain during the unusually brutal fights. I mean, he shows signs of pain but he doesn't go and moan on the sidelines like Rocky. Because Jake loves the pain. The scenes are fleshed out by the entirely classical musical score. They make the scenes operatic tragedies. With every punch that Jake throws he is drawn further into his personal abyss. Eventually all he has left are stories and bad jokes that he tells to anyone in his club who will listen. I'm not sure what made the real Jake LaMotta the way he was but DeNiro was channeling it through every second. He immersed himself in the role to the point that he gained 60 pounds during shooting for the scenes where Jake is old and washed up. It's a fascinating character study because you don't feel bad for the man per se because he's kind of a huge jerk. But you have to wonder: why does talent have to come with a price? Whether he was a raging bull by nature or by nurture, that facet of his personality drove him to success and then took it all away. Marty Scorsese said he wanted the movie to show that life itself is one big boxing match and I think that came off splendidly. Ah well, much like another one of my favorites in 1971 I think this movie was a little too intense to be the winner. But it's widely considered one of the greatest films of all time and this year's winner isn't on any of those lists so there.

But before we talk about the winner we have to talk about Tess. I was a bit thrown off when I watched this movie because Netflix described it as "Roman Polanski's retelling of the classic novel." To me, when you call something a "retelling" then you're putting the story in a different context. Either you're adapting the same overall story and putting in your own words with your own characters, like how The Lion King is essentially Hamlet, or you're doing the same words and story in an updated context like Baz Luhrman's Romeo and Juliet. The only thing that Polanski seemed to change was the title, and all he did was take away the "of the d'Urbervilles." How does it constitute a "retelling" if it's the same exact story in the same exact time period? Yeah you could say it's Polanski's take on the story, but then why don't they say that with every movie? You wouldn't call Milk Gus Van Sant's retelling of the tragic and inspiring true story. And I doubt Harvey Milk actually died with the reflection of Tosca on his face (just a thought) so that was Van Sant's "retelling" wasn't it? I ranted about all of that because for the first twenty minutes or so of the movie I was wondering if we were seeing the ancestor of the Tess that the movie was about. It's an entirely too long movie and so twenty minutes of backstory would have made sense. I thought maybe it was one of those "I'm a descendant of the first Tess and now the same things are happening to me in modern day" deals, and yes I've seen that done so it's not too much of a stretch. I can't remember any examples though because this paragraph is being written the morning after the first four and my brain takes a while to start up in the morning. But even in my diminished state I can recount the entire movie: servant chick becomes involved with her boss who then quasi-rapes her and she bears his child which dies shortly thereafter. Then she falls in love with this other dude who finds out about the first dude and thus breaks off his engagement with Tess. Then some other inane things happen over the next hour and a half and the ending scrawl tells us she was eventually hanged. That's pretty much it. The music was really good, I'll say that. And the performances were pretty good and everything, but nothing really happened in the whole movie and it was almost 3 hours long. I still stand by my previous assessment that "a period piece is a movie that is about nothing but takes place in the past." For some reason it wasn't quite as tough to watch as other movies of its type, probably just because of the music.

It's been far too often throughout the 80s that I felt the worst movie of the nominees turned out to be the winner. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say it was the worst but it was tied for the worst: Ordinary People. Oh how I wish the title was some kind of joke referencing the fact that nothing in the movie is normal, and that perhaps it was some sort of social commentary about yuppies or something. Sadly it's a movie that's literally about normal people dealing with normal issues in a normal way. This is the type of refreshing idea that would make a good TV melodrama, because it would be nice to see a range of issues dealt with realistically. But as a movie it's just pointless. As I've explained on many occasions, I'm not a fan of movies that are acclaimed because they're "the first film to (fill in the blank)." This was apparently the first movie to heavily feature psychiatry in a way that didn't make it seem nutty. My only knowledge of how people viewed psychiatry prior to 1980 comes from what I've seen on Mad Men, but if that's any indication then the portrayal in the film is quite contrary to popular beliefs. Because the kid going to therapy is a regular guy, he's not Norman Bates. It would've been a lot more interesting if he was Norman Bates. As it stands, the film centers on an ordinary middle class family that suffers the loss of a child and how they cope with that loss. The other son predictably rebels and that's why he's in therapy. He's all mean to his parents and they don't know how to deal with him because it's tough enough dealing with teenagers let alone one that's lost a brother and yadda yadda. Now I realize that there are many who have been touched by such tragedies, and thankfully I am not one of them. So there's admittedly an emotional aspect to the story that I can't realistically tap into. But from an objective standing point this is a good thing. And objectively there is nothing special about this movie, and I know that was the point but did it really have to win? I can totally stand behind nominating a movie that dares to be a little different by being normal. And Robert Redford is awesome but if this is any indication of his other directorial efforts, he's way better in front of the camera. The whole thing feels like a side plot in another movie. Like maybe a movie about all of the various problems that a street has to deal with and this is just one of them. Sound like too much to pack into one movie? That's why it's better as a show. Not a show I would watch, just to clarify. So I applaud them for their depiction of therapy, easily the best part of the film even though it takes up a total of about 12 minutes, but they've got nothing on Lynch or Marty. Not even close.

And with that, we have completed the 80s. When I began my descent into this decade I was a bright-eyed hopeful college graduate (or at least as close to bright-eyed as I can be) and now I'm a broken shell of a man evaluating his next step in life. See what the decade did to me? Well I hope the 70s bring some better news. Maybe when I'm writing my closing paragraph on that decade I'll say: "gee, remember how down and out I was in the 80s? This is the opposite of that." I've already seen almost all of the winners so that's a good indication, hopefully the nominees will be of the same quality. For the immediate future all I can say is the next installment will include: Tootsie in tort, President Bartlet smelling napalm, and Morpheus piloting a sea vessel. Okay those last two were from the same movie but I never get to reference Morpheus so I couldn't resist.

1981: The Year that Indy Wasn't Solely Present as a Snappy Pop Culture Reference

That's right ladies and gents, Indiana Jones broke the nerd's glass ceiling. Well that's not really true, it was broken in 1977 in real life but for the purposes of my blog it was Indy. Characters like him never seem to get any attention from the Academy. And yet, without his movies Hollywood would cease to exist because it wouldn't have any money. Who knows what combination of events and planet alignments allowed such a miracle to occur to make the people who hand out the Oscars say: "hey why don't we nominate a movie that's good and that people have seen?" The concept boggles the mind. Ironically I actually like the 3rd Indy movie more than the first one, but we'll discuss that when we get to it. I'd like to make a snide comment about the winner for this year but I haven't watched it yet due to a strange colliding of circumstances involving my movie-OCD and my PS3's own personal OCD. So I figured I'd write the rest of it first so I don't fall too far behind.

And we shall begin for once with the letter "a" and Atlantic City. On this escapade I've been surprised at how many mobster-type movies I actually haven't seen or heard of before. I mean once you've seen the big ones you can pretty much stop there for the sake of film history, but the smaller ones have some good nuances too. I wanted to dislike this movie at first because it began by toting the fact that it won Lichtenstein's "Golden Squirrel" award or another such snobby-sounding thing. First: no one knows or cares what that is except for people who awarded it and already know who won. Second: putting things like that into the movie itself, as opposed to on the DVD cover or something, taints the movie in my opinion. It makes the movie seem like an exhibition and not a piece of art. I ended up liking the movie anyway though. It centers on a low-level gangster in Atlantic City during a time when it was becoming a low-level town. It's not played in a sorrowful manner but the underlying sadness is present through the whole movie. Even the way the city is portrayed feels cold and ancient. The only scenes with warmer visual and audio tones are the scenes with Susan Sarandon. That really helps the film to subtly make you feel the redemptive qualities of her character in relation to Burt Lancaster. Burt is perfectly cast as the washed-up and never-taken-seriously gangster. When I first saw that he was the star I thought to myself, "I can't take him seriously in this part." Then I noticed that no one in the movie takes him seriously either so the casting turned out to be good. Essentially he's playing a character who is running rackets like the old days but who was never a big shot in the old days. It would be like if the last surviving member of the Justice League was the guy who used to fix Batman's car and he was trying to be taken seriously as a superhero. Susan Sarandon plays the young woman with the dark past, looking for a new beginning yadda yadda. Something about her sister and ex (or should be ex) husband coming into town, and she's been impregnated by him and they're druggies. Or hippies. Tough to tell the difference sometimes. The sister is kind of hilarious in how out of place she is within the film with her talk about "vibes" and "inner chi." That's pretty much the whole movie, it's kind of funny, kind of sad, kind of touching. Of course Burt ends up falling in love with Susan, since the opening scene of the movie is her rubbing lemon juice all over herself in plain view of him. So he either has to be in love with her and she says, "ew gross, you're like forty years older than me" or she says "all right then." Since the guy could never catch a break in life, it's good that it worked out the way it did otherwise the movie would have been needlessly depressing. So I can't go all out in recommending the film since it's not overly excellent, but it was well done for what it was.

Another film I moderately enjoyed was On Golden Pond. Ordinarily this would be one of those times where I'd say, "it's not that I don't like this movie, but the fact that it was nominated for Best Picture irks me." Well either I really am losing my curmudgeon-ness or there was such a slew of bad movies in the 80s that I'll take whatever I can get. I wouldn't quite call this a Hallmark movie, but since it contains once-great actors after their prime, a relatively small cast, and a predictable story I'd say it at least qualifies as an above-average HBO film. It's a character study of characters we all recognize from other movies and from real life. My dad tells me that everybody pretty much knew it would be Henry Fonda's last film, and Katharine Hepburn was on her way out of the business too, and Jane Fonda's relationship with her father somewhat mirrored their relationship in the movie. Actually my dad only told me those first two things, the third one was from IMDB. I just didn't feel like starting a new sentence. Anyway, the film centers around some old people at their vacation home reflecting on how much time they've spent there and looking to what little future they have left and trying to come to terms with some family issues. It's totally predictable but it's still enjoyable, and it had a few nice touches that provided more of an emotional hook than I expected. My favorite one of these was during a fishing scene between Henry Fonda and his in-movie grandson wherein they catch a fish and Henry decides to throw it back. It's a small little scene but the way that he says to throw it back and the sorrowful manner in which we see him toss the fish back come together to tell us that he was contemplating his own mortality. Oddly enough, and this is one of my stranger comparisons, it reminded me of a similar scene in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That's a fairly overlooked movie that had the misfortune of coming out opposite the first Pirates of the Caribbean. It's not a terrific film but it's pretty cool and Sean Connery is in it. And Sean's character is the classic "aging adventurer" who compares himself early in the movie to an old tiger. Then later in the movie he is standing guard at a cave entrance while the others are sleeping and a tiger approaches, and he can't bring himself to shoot it for the same reason that drove Henry to throw the fish back. It's the little scenes such as this that are often the highlights of films for me, and it brought me into On Golden Pond enough that I felt a connection to the characters. I realize I spent about as much time talking about LXG as the movie I was supposed to be talking about, but it's tough to think of things to say about a movie that features a cast of about 10 (including extras) and spends most of its time showing old people bickering. For what it was, I enjoyed it. And I look forward to seeing more of Henry Fonda, because though this movie was the end for him it is the beginning for me.

That would have been a nice end to this blog entry, but there's plenty more to go. And now is the paragraph I've been waiting to write for months: Raiders of the Lost Ark. This might have been the last time that an awesome summer movie with a nerd following and actually impressive filmmaking was nominated. Which might imply that summer action movies with bad filmmaking get nominated sometimes. They don't. Thankfully. Because they give movies like this a bad name. Speaking of the name, the title doesn't begin with "Indiana Jones and the" and I refuse to write it as such. Because the film itself remains with the original title. This is not the case with another HUGE nerd movie from 1977, but I'll discuss that when I get to it. Now then, as I said before I do like the third movie a bit better but that's largely because I like the trials at the end and Sean Connery is in it. He's gotten two shout-outs this entry, that's pretty good. I wish I could reference him more because that would be an indication of better films in the queue. This first film paved the way though, and in a lot of ways it set the standard for the modern summer film. It has action, a great story, amazing and iconic music, but also an interesting character at the forefront. In this way it was far ahead of its time because only recently have we seen a lot more summer action films that can be similarly described. Most of them are more along the lines of Die Hard (which came out after Raiders but is the best example I can think of) which is a pretty great action movie but not an achievement as a film. But Indiana Jones is a great character with a great director at the helm: Steven Spielberg. The film isn't without its flaws, or perhaps I should say "flaw" because Karen Allen's character is really the only annoying aspect of the movie. When they reunite for their adventure we see Indy's shadow on the wall, larger than life, and with her reaction we are told everything we need to know about the character. He is perceived by others as this monumental and flawless hero and adventurer, but that's really just a projection of the real man. We see this real man in his true colors near the end of the film, in easily my favorite scene in the movie and one of my favorites ever. Before I describe it, here's a little background on the story: (in case you are deprived and haven't seen it) Indiana Jones is an archaeology professor who also hunts down ancient artifacts in exotic and dangerous places. In this particular movie, he's been hired to find the Ark of the Covenant so that the Nazis can't get their hands on it. Right then: onto the scene. Near the end, Indy has a rocket launcher pointed at the Ark and the main villain steps aside to allow him to fire and blow it up. But he can't do it. Because the villain knew that Indy wanted to see what was inside just as much as anybody. See now, your classic action hero would never do that. He would always do what was best for the world or for morality or whatever. But Indy isn't really a hero, he's more like an adventurer. He does what he does for his own personal satisfaction and he'll probably save some people along the way but that's not his primary objective. So even though the day ends up being saved (by none other than God Himself as it turns out) the fact remains that things could very easily have gone the other way because of Indy's own personal gratification. The fact that they made a movie that could be enjoyed by the casual theater-goer while still employing creative filmmaking and writing a conflicted main character is astounding. So I think it fully deserved the nomination it received and though we don't live in a world where it would ever win, I'm glad we live in one where it exists anyway.

Boy what a pleasant blog entry this has been, too bad commies had to ruin it with Reds. Now let's all say this in unison: just because you made a 3-hour plus movie that is coherent doesn't mean you should have. I'm being more harsh on this movie than I should, stylistically speaking, but it's pretty much a movie that wants you to feel for communists. I can recognize with a lot of people, but they're not among them. I wept for Luthor. I wept for Vader. I won't weep for Marx (except Zeppo because he never got any good lines). Facetiousness aside, my main problem with this movie is that its pacing is all off. It intercuts interviews with people who experienced the events of the film in real life with the fictionalized portrayal. While I do like the interviews, I think that format worked a lot better on the miniseries Band of Brothers because they put the interviews at the beginning and then the rest of it was the fictional portrayal. This allows the viewer to become immersed in the story. When I was watching this movie I felt like I was watching a really, really, really well-produced History Channel documentary. I can appreciate the scope of the film and certainly the impressive cast it assembled, including: Diane Keaton, Gene Hackman, and Jack Nicholson (who is in freaking everything except for stuff that he turned down). And of course the main star is Warren Beatty, who also directed, wrote, produced, and likely catered it. It's probably a good thing he made this in 1981 when the fight against communism was in the form of the Cold War and didn't involve any McCarthyism. Otherwise the whole cast and crew would've probably been deported. Then Jack Nicholson never would have played the Joker, so that's why that would have sucked. Diane Keaton never reprising her Godfather role for Part III: would've been mildly disappointing but whatever. Okay, I'll stop ripping on the pinkos (promise). Any time that there's a person like real-life journalist John Reed, Beatty's role, who is passionate enough about something to put himself in harm's way to gather info about it and then put himself in the spotlight by writing about it: that's admirable. So I admire his personal story, and the movie is well-done at times and well-acted but I don't think it earns its running time (not even close) and with the added issue of the pacing it makes the film kind of boring. And I hate to say that because I love long movies and I hate when people are bored by them, but I was quite honestly not interested during a lot of the film. And I'm unemployed and have nothing to do. If I paid money to see this in theaters I'd have been pissed. So I give them credit for pulling together the resources necessary to make the film, but I also give the Academy some rare credit for not tossing the Oscar to the longest film nominated simply for its "epic" scale.

Not to say I exactly think the winner is one of the all-time greats, but it's a good movie: Chariots of Fire. This is one of those films I probably should have seen as a child, instead of an hour ago. Because when you've seen as many movies and TV shows as I have, it's tough not to look at it like a piece of meat. It makes me sad to say that since I used to really get caught up in movies as a true viewer and now I'm flirting with being a film snob. In fact, the only things stopping me from being a film snob are my frequent pop culture references to things film snobs would never watch. Also my obsession with Batman. And the fact that I own Prince of Persia because it's fun and the girl is hot. Okay, you've convinced me. I'm not a snob. Which is good because I'm about to sound pretty snobby, you ready? I think this movie was over-hyped for me because I previously thought it centered on Eric Liddell's refusal to run on a Sunday. Not only is that a small part of the movie (though crucial, to be sure) but I also thought that the film focused more on Eric's quasi-rival Harold Abrahams. I found him a lot more interesting in some ways, because he was running as a result of rampant anti-semitism. Whereas Eric was running for the glory of God, which is cool too but it's also a little cheesy. And even though things worked out, if I read a story in the paper about a guy who refused to run on a Sunday for religious reasons and then was disqualified, I'd be pissed. Not for reasons of religious persecution, but instead because my feeling is: if you've been given a talent and you believe it's from God (not saying I don't believe that, but this is a rant blog not a pamphlet one) then shouldn't you use it to glorify God? The way I see it, as long as you get your worship time in there at some point then you should be good to go. I never understood how me sitting around watching DVDs on Sundays after church would bring more glory than me going and doing something productive like working. But that's just me ranting about non-film stuff. The movie itself kind of reeks of the 80s, but it doesn't bother me too much. I'm glad the famous music isn't overused too, because I've heard it so much in parody that I now can't take it seriously. Some of the audio sounds like it's a badly dubbed foreign film, but maybe that's just representative of Britain's production qualities (zing!). It's an inspiring story, and I'm glad that popular movies that are uplifting get a win sometimes. Depressing movies are good every now and again to admire as movies, but when you watch a bunch at once (like I've been doing) it can get to you. So I must admit that even a quasi-snob like me who looks at films like meat managed to shed a few tears for Eric Liddell and his story.

See how I made it sound like I never cry during movies when I do that all the time? Usually it's during superhero movies though, or every episode of Lost. Well, aside from the commie lovefest (had to get one more shot in there) this was a pretty great year. Will the next one be as good? Probably not. It will be the last year in the 80s that I review though, which is uplifting. All I know now is that it will contain: normal people, the daughter of normal people, and DeNiro in black and white instead of sepia.