Reel Thoughts

Under discussion:

Shadow of the Vampire  (2000)

What's an Oscar Flashback (tm)?  Read here:

Recommended for my viewing pleasure by a friend was Shadow of the Vampire, for which Willem Dafoe was nominated for the Best Supporting Actor Oscar and for which Ann Buchanan and Amber SIbley were nominated for the Best Makeup Oscar (film year, 2000; awarding year, 2001).  The other nominees in these categories were:

Best Supporting Actor

Traffic - Benicio del Toro (Winner)*

Erin Brockovich - Albert Finney*
Gladiator - Joaquin Phoenix*
The Contender - Jeff Bridges

Best Makeup

How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Winner)*

The Cell

Beginning with this review, the Oscar Flashback entries will now have asterisks next to films in the nominee list noting which of the listed films I have seen prior to viewing the reviewed film.  This is so both you, gentle reader, and I, the forgetful writer, may keep track (or, at least, for the passing interest of it all).

My friend suggested, on a whim, that I borrow Shadow of the Vampire.  I can't quite remember why.  We were discussing something related to misdirection, I think, and then he began talking about this film, which I had never seen.  I believe he was also lauding the performance of Willem Dafoe.  I wish I could remember the context of the conversation, but the film found its way into my hands, and I was more than happy to accept his recommendation.  Other than the fact that this film was nominated for Oscars (something I learned after I watched the film), it also deals in a subject with which I seem to be as obsessed as any other self-respecting member of pop culture these days: vampires.  I love vampires, with the notable exception of the sparkly, teen angst-y kind.  I also love quite a few people in this remarkable ensembe of actors, including John Malkovich and Eddie Izzard.  Thus, I was more than game to give this film a nibble, even though I had very little information as to what the film is about prior to sitting down to watch it.

As it turns out, the film runs, with a bit of a fantasy spin, with one of those Hollywood/movie-dom urban legends that have stuck around for decades and make for interesting watercooler or Scene-It-type-movie-trivia discussion.  F.W. Murnau (Malkovich) directed the famously phantasmagoric Nosferatu, a retelling of the Dracula story.  As Shadow of the Vampire begins, Murnau is about to embark upon his latest horror masterpiece, but the estate of Bram Stoker will not release the rights to the Dracula story to the earnest filmmaker.  Thus, in an effort to create a realistically horrific experience, and possibly to escape potential copyright infringements, Murnau alters the names of the characters and the story situations slightly and ships his cast and crew to Czechoslovakia, where they are to film, eat, and sleep in a castle designed to be that of Count Orlok's, the Dracula copycat in the film.  Murnau has informed his lead actors (including Izzard) that the man playing Orlok will meet them in Czechoslovakia; thus, in an effort to make the scariest film possible, Murnau and company make the trip.  When they first meet their resident vampire-to-be, an unknown actor named Max Schreck (Dafoe), he is dressed in full vampire costume and regalia and brings the phrase "method acting" to a whole new level.  In fact, he informs the crew that he is, in fact, a vampire, an assertion the movie-makers dismiss as part of Schreck's intense preparation for his role, but when members of the film-making team begin disappearing or losing blood alarmingly often, they realize that Schreck might not be acting after all or may simply be the craziest actor ever.  What's more, Murnau seems totally nonplussed by the realization, focused as he is on making the scariest film possible, even if to do so involves actual bloodshed.

Shadow of the Vampire is a quirky theatrical film that blends traditional horror and dark comedy in a manner that is both chuckle-worthy and off-putting.  The movie history urban legend in question was that Schreck was, in fact, a practicing vampire who assumed the Nosferatu character as a means by which to quell his atrocious appetites.  The film, however, doesn't make this premise clear until well into the second act, and it's a matter of viewer interpretation, I believe, whether the film was made with an eye to keeping the viewer guessing or whether the late reveal was simply a storytelling device designed to up the ante of the underlying horror of the story.

In fact, while the story itself is certainly interesting, considering its "what if?" question in the best, most fantastic sense, it plays like a bit of a screwball or ironic comedy, until the fact of Schreck's vampiric tendencies becomes obvious, and then the film turns on a dime to something more akin to the classic horror film that inspired it, even assuming a darkly philosophical stance.  It was a difficult story to get into for me, only because I didn't realize what was happening until later.  Also, Schreck's motivations were never fully explained.  Was he merely being an extreme method actor who took his craft a bit too far?  Or, was he, as his character suggests, one of a long line of vampires looking for food and a legitimate way by which to get it? Or, was I supposed to be intrigued by the fact that the film never truly answers those questions, given its basis in tenuous fact?

It's certainly an unusual story, and the film gets credit for the imagination involved in both the premise and in the visual elements that comprise it.  It also receives credit for casting Malkovich, a perfect choice for playing the eerily obsessed, slightly egotistical director.  He infused so much creepiness into his character, I found him far more disturbing than Max and his purported relationship to the undead.  It further receives credit for casting Dafoe as Schreck and deserved its Oscar nominations, because he was so submerged by the amazingly accurate face makeup and eccentricities of his quasi-fictional persona, it was impossible to tell it was him most of the time.  In fact, I forgot Willem Dafoe was supposed to be in the film at all.

Despite the unusual, quirky, and hard-to-buy foundation for the story, the script was wonderfully written with some truly funny and poignant dialog that in many ways satirized artists' visions underlying the production of any film and, as aforementioned, ruminated on the fact of obsession, whether the obsession is with making the perfect horror film or with having the perfect meal. 

The film's pacing, as rendered by director E. Elias Merhige, was a bit choppy, however, given the snake-like trail the film traversed between the lines of comedy and horror.  Fortunately, the film is short, so the inconsistent pacing was not felt as it might have been if the film had been longer.  The art direction and costuming were grand, evoking an early twentieth century Europe in a convincing way.  The lighting used in certain scenes, and the clever switches in the viewer's perspective from straight film in color to the closed iris of an antique wind-up movie camera in black and white mimicking the Nosferatu movie, were creatively employed touches by Merhige and his cinematographers.

Ultimately though, Shadow of the Vampire resonated like a Scream film, alternating between awkwardly comedic moments and true scares yet operating from a slightly artsier story premise. The film itself was entertaining, occasionally funny, occasionally scary, but was not, in itself, a perfect film, as the plot was razor-thin, and the shortcomings, while bolstering the character of the film in a way, also prevented true enjoyment.  Thus, I confidently rate Shadow of the Vampire a 7 on the patented ratings scale for being shaky but entertaining.  The film does not pass the test, though, as I like my vampires a little more fantastic and a little less strictly eccentric.  Still, it's a decent little film, that, as the Spout page shows, will probably be adored or generally disliked for its quirky if unbalanced approach at historically retelling such an oddly rumored tale.

Under discussion:

District 9  (2009)

My erstwhile vacation not only led me to the multiplex, it also allowed me to take in some random movies rented at friends' and family's homes or that were lent to me on recommendation.  One film I caught quite unexpectedly was District 9.  I consented to watch this film because I had heard some good word-of-mouth buzz at or around the time of its release and because the illustrious Peter Jackson's name was attached to it.  Now, he was only an executive producer, but I thought he might have offered some helpful hints on horror directing or something useful and artistically entertaining to actual director Neill Blomkamp's vision.  Plus, the apartheid allegory of the plot suggested some intelligence injected to an otherwise run-of-the-mill alien invasion-type science fiction film, so I gave it a whirl.

District 9 refers to the equivalent of a concentration camp or internment camp for aliens who have come to visit but have been somehow unable to leave.  Told from the perspective of an alternate, contemporary reality, the story follows an alien spaceship (in the strain of "V") that punctured Earth's atmosphere twenty years ago, hovering above the city of Johannesberg, South Africa, yielding extraterrestrials that resemble large cockroaches.  Some unidentified problem has rendered the aliens and their craft virtually powerless, and humanity's response to the visitors has been largely predictable per our race's sorted history.  Curiosity morphed into fear, as the formerly free-roaming aliens became less ruly, not bound by the laws, rules, and cultural norms of the human race; therefore, the aliens were first segregated and then interred into a section of the city called District 9, where they live in squallor and interact with the dregs of South African society.  An international agency, the name of which I can't remember right now, decides that the alien population, which has grown in size in twenty years, must be moved to a larger, more secluded area away from the humans and undertakes an eviction initiative where the lucky yet hapless bureaucrat in charge, Wikus Van Der Merwe (Sharlto Copley), must lead the door-to-door program that copiously infringes upon individual rights in favor of irrational prejudices.  Unknown to Wikus, however, the aliens have developed a plan to change their fortunes, which may have disastrous consequences for the host planet that has imprisoned them.

I am a science fiction fan.  I have watched a lot of science fiction in my time.  Some of it is formulaic, but science fiction is not a genre that has become confined by its formula.  Every so often, a new premise will emerge that injects the genre with a new excitement and garners new viewers by the hordes, including traditionally non-science fiction fans.

Some viewers of District 9 see the film as one such example of a science fiction vehicle that has somehow breathed life into what is perceived to be a stagnant genre.  First, I'm not so sure that the genre has truly stagnated, except for the fact that few new vehicles have been released in recent years, much less purely original ideas of the type that inspire the loyalty previously discussed.  Second, and more importantly, District 9 is really not that original.  It liberally borrows concepts and plot devices from other science fiction films and television in an obvious and hackneyed way.  Oil that can change a human to an alien?  Try the X-Files.  An omnipresent spacecraft with aliens and humans trying to co-exist?  Try V, except that the humans do not have inconvenient human-skin costumes confusing the proceedings.  The voices of the aliens sound like they are recycled from Star Wars, and the insect-like alien types themselves hearken back to Starship Troopers. When Wikus finds himself inside the alien technology and operates it with his mind, it crosses the intellectual property boundaries of Aliens, the Star Wars prequels, Minority Report, and virtually every virtual reality film released in the last two decades. Speaking of Minority Report, it also explores social themes and cultural philosophy like that other film, only in a more in-your-face, club-one-over-the-head, slightly manipulative way.

Sometimes, the visual effects and spectacle of a film can distract the viewer from some of these obvious robberies and recyclables, but, unfortunately, the visual effects and action aren't exactly new ideas or that well executed in District 9. When the alien beings are not inside buildings and are being illuminated by what is supposed to pass for the South African sunshine, they look like three-dimensional, plastic action figures being posed and re-posed for shot after shot and generally played as some of the poorest CGI seen in a movie in awhile.  In some ways, I was reminded of some of the 50s and 60s scifi films, only the alien protoypes were not crude, per se. They looked better in interior settings, particularly the shack and underground ship of the primary alien who eventually teams up with Wikus to undermine the efforts of the alien-human liaison agency responsible for the eviction initiative.

While Blomkamp adopted a documentary film-style approach to give the storytelling a fresh and original aspect that might have subdued the fiction half of the science fiction and allowed the film to meditate on its social commentary for the viewer's benefit, this approach would do little to fool an avid science fiction fan, such as myself, of the other borrowed story conventions. Additionally, some of the performances of this largely unknown (because they are South African) cast bordered on over-the-top and, therefore, slightly ridiculous (though some responses seemed natural too).  The ridiculous and overly-theatrical performance qualities actually inspired me to laugh on occasion, which I do not believe was the filmmakers' intention at all.

I sat down to watch this film with very few expectations, but when the film stopped, it struck me as largely unoriginal and silly.  I understood what this director was trying to do, and for my money, his attempts at taking a fresh film-making approach are certainly something to be appreciated, but the rest of the film betrayed a mediocrity that I'm surprised other viewers don't see, especially other self-proclaimed science fiction fans.  I also don't understand why the Directors Guild of America almost elected this director as a possible nominee for its top annual prize, though I do believe that Blomkamp has a lot of potential that may better be devoted toward other films with slightly larger budgets.  Ultimately, I felt District 9 was the very definition of hackneyed in just about every way (not even being the first science fiction film to toy with social allegory), and that the documentary technique was its only redeeming feature. While others will no doubt disagree (but this is my blog, so it is what it is), I believe District 9 merits a 5 for utterly mediocre on the patented ratings scale.  It also does not pass the test. Between the impulse to laugh and the impulse to sleep battling their ways through my brain while watching this film (and I'm pretty sure the film is not supposed to be a comedy), I don't think I would benefit from owning it.  Still, to those who enjoy District 9, I highly recommend the other scifi vehicles discussed in this entry that served as obvious influences to the storytellers here, and to those who would watch District 9 anyway, decide for yourselves whether the film pays its debt to the sources from which it so liberally borrows in its final product.

Under discussion:

The Deer Hunter  (1978)

What's the AFI Project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here:http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

The Deer Hunter is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#79)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#30)
The Revised Top 100 (#53)

I have done quite a bit of reading about The Deer Hunter since I watched it a week ago, and I must say that it is an interesting film.  I didn't know much about it prior to sitting down to view it this first time; I'd heard of it, but that's about it.  I knew that the film was controversial in its own way without really knowing why, and I'm not sure on which side of the various controversies to fall now that I have seen it.  My gut reaction to the film was that it was powerful, hard to watch, and too long, yet in thinking and re-thinking about the movie, as I sometimes do with the more haunting examples (and this movie qualifies), my reaction is morphing into something more complicated.

There are 18 films on the AFI's original list that deal with the effects of war on a given population, the film's subject.  These films include Casablanca (WWII); Gone with the Wind (Civil War); Schindler's List (WWII/Holocaust); The Bridge on the River Kwai (WWII); The African Queen (WWI); Apocalypse Now (Vietnam); The Best Years of Our Lives (WWII); Doctor Zhivago (WWI); The Birth of a Nation (Civil War); Taxi Driver (Vietnam); From Here to Eternity (WWII); All Quiet on the Western Front (WWI); M*A*S*H (Korea); The Manchurian Candidate (Korea); Forrest Gump (Vietnam); Platoon (Vietnam); Patton (WWII); and this one (Vietnam).  Some of these films have war as a backdrop for other stories, such as epic romances.  Most of these films talk about the effects of war on either the soldiers as they are fighting it or on their lives and the lives of their families after they come home,  It's a common theme, and yet much of the reverence for The Deer Hunter seems to focus on the fact that it was somehow the first film to depict the effect war, particularly Vietnam, had on small town America.  Perhaps this particular spin - the effect on small towns - is original to this film, but the concept or theme itself is hardly new. The question is whether The Deer Hunter portrays these effects in a way that affects the viewer in a powerful, impacting, fresh, and timeless manner to qualify for greatness as an American film. The Deer Hunter is certainly powerful and certainly creates an impact, but the film's many controversies stem from how the film arrives at its impact, and whether that impact can be generalized to all war films, or whether The Deer Hunter can be held up as a great war film because it's the only film to effectively drive that point home.  Truth be told, I'm not sure that it's fair to classify it either way because of how the story unfolds.

In the Deer Hunter, three Pennsylvanian friends - Mike (Robert DeNiro), Steve (John Savage), and Nick (Christopher Walken) - have enlisted in the army and are going to be shipped off to Vietnam.  The film opens as these three friends and other buddies, including Stan (John Cazale), celebrate their departure and Steve's rushed wedding by going on a final deer hunt in the nearby mountains, an activity that Mike particularly relishes because of the skill it involves, even as Nick would prefer to appreciate what nature has to offer rather than delight in the hunt.  These two characters have more in common than meets the eye, however.  Though Nick is officially attached to Linda (Meryl Streep), there is an unspoken passion between Mike and Linda that is betrayed only by stolen glances and awkward conversation, which is especially true while the friends party at Steve's wedding reception.  This reception lasts an hour (this is no joke; I timed it), before the film reverts suddenly to the beat of helicopter propellers and the smoky haze of the Vietnam War.  Mike has become an efficient and indiscriminating killer and soldier, a fact which frightens Steve and Nick; however, they are captured by Vietcong soldiers and held captive, only to be forced (along with their South Vietnamese allies) to play Russian Roulette for sport and as a means for the enemy to gamble and pass the time.  While Mike manages to alter the circumstances of the game enough to help Nick, Steve, and himself escape, each of the three men are permanently scarred by this incident and are left to three diverse destinies.  After being held captive underwater, Steve loses his legs; Nick, the first to make it to a hospital after rescue but the last to return home, finds himself lost in the Vietnamese Russian Roulette parlors where the game is played for the highest stakes; and Mike eventually returns home, no longer interested in the pleasures- or violence - of deer hunting and seeking comfort from Linda in Nick's absence.  Finding that he has changed more than his sleepy hometown of Clairton, including his buddies like Stan, Mike resolves to find his soldier friends and bring them home too, to various (and spoiled by the Spout page) consequences.

In terms of the jarring effects that war has on anyone anywhere, The Deer Hunter, directed by Michael Cimino, makes its point.  War is bad; it is synonymous with pointless violence and random death, and the Russian Roulette metaphor only serves to drive that point home with an intensity unmatched in some of the other films the AFI listed as great.  This film earns its spot on the Thriller list because the game is, by design, a game of chance where life is literally on the line, and the delight that purveyors of such a game take in it makes it all the more gruesome.

What I am trying to figure out, for my own edification, is why this movie is held up for its powerful focus on the Vietnam War when the film has very little to do with that war, except that it's the war that these three soldiers just happen to fight in.  This movie could have been told in relationship to just about any twentieth century American war, with the same circumstances propagated by a different, bloodthirsty enemy, and the result would be the same.  To that end, The Deer Hunter, with its universal message about the ravaging effects of war, offers a great story with an ending that hits hard even as it softly lands because of the story that was told before it.

Problematically, however, the film really isn't about Vietnam.  It also isn't really about the Mike character, even though he is the titular deer hunter in question.  It's about all of the characters, but Mike, Nick, and Linda are at the center of it all; Mike and Nick particularly illustrate the two extremes of how traumatized soldiers cope.  To that end, the film is at least a half hour too long.  The wedding scene at the beginning, which is clearly designed to endear the viewer to these characters before the effects of the war are rendered, meanders for too long on dancing, frivolity, and the last hurrah vibe of the soldiers' departure.  The actual deer hunt lasted about ten minutes.  The wedding scene could have been halved, and the result would be the same, since the Russian Roulette scenes are designed to be frightening enough where just about any viewer would empathize with the characters being victimized.

The performances are exceptional in this film.  DeNiro and Streep can do no wrong (though their chemistry together, even in the happy parts of the film, felt a bit off).  Christopher Walken received an Oscar for his supporting performance, and it really was the hallmark of the film.  This could not have been an easy role to play, and it was, by far, the most gut-wrenching of the piece.  All of the performers were great, though, even by the less interesting, oafish buddies of the three soldiers.

The score was beautiful, from the orchestral themes to the main theme as performed by classical guitarist John Williams (not the famed film score composer).  The cinematography was also very good, though nothing beats Apocalypse Now in terms of painting a gruesome picture of war in an extremely foreign location, Vietnam in particular, (Platoon is four movies away, though, so we'll see how that one measures up).

This film has been called to the carpet for being racist, another of the prevailing controversies.  I don't know if that's true; after all, the Vietcong soldiers put their southern neighbors before the barrels of the guns too.  I do think the Russian Roulette scenes as a matter of historical accuracy (another controversy) pose a problem and garner much of the race-related criticism because there really is no way to verify that such things existed in the war and exclusively that war and not any others.  I think when this film was released, Vietnam was still fresh in the country's minds, having only ended five or six years earlier, and this graphically portrayed tale socked everyone in the gut.  I think the problems stem from the fact that people try to hold it up as a Vietnam movie when really it should be held up as a movie about the arbitrary nature of war.

If the movie hadn't felt so overlong, I probably would have appreciated it more, if regarded in the way I've babbled on in this review about (i.e. war is bad, Vietnam or no).  While the Russian Roulette scenes were certainly chilling (and graphic!), I'm also not sure how to take them, except strictly as the metaphor that I previously described.  After careful deliberation, and in lieu of the above, I feel this film warrants a 7.5, between shaky/entertaining and minor flaws/very good.  Also, this is not the type of film I usually get into, and I noticed that many of the Spouters who loved this film happen to be men.  I am not, and I sort of wonder if that has any relationship to what I felt about the movie.  Either way, the test does not pass.  I think the film achieved what it set out or what it meant to do, but I also feel that The Deer Hunter has been elevated to be more than what it is (and I can't understand why the film rose so many spots on the Revised list, though I think it is a better film than Amadeus).  The Deer Hunter is certainly powerful, but it also certainly just as flawed.

Under discussion:

Being There  (1979)

What's the AFI project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here:http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Being There is on the following AFI list:

100 Funniest Films (#26)

This film also represents the second of two films featuring Shirley MacLaine topping my Netflix queue, just in case you were keeping track.  This film further represents the first of two films directed by Hal Ashby and the first of six comedies that top the queue as well.

I adore Peter Sellers.  He is weird.  He is also funny in his weirdness.  He is fearless in the execution of his comedy, most of which involved some contortion of his body or his voice or a combination thereof.  Thus, when I became aware of Being There, which I believe happened via Spout (proof that this website works, so may it not die any time soon), I first marveled at the fact that this seemed to be a Peter Sellers film that I had missed somewhere along the way (though, truth be told, I'm sure I've missed many).  I, second, became intrigued by the plot vis-a-vis the poster art for the film.  I did not understand how his character seemed to be walking on air in the teaser posters when the film was supposed to be about an illiterate gardener who finds himself thrust forward in the national political sphere, a satire of sorts.  In any event, I then learned that the film was on the AFI's funny films list, and, thus, I concluded that I had to see it, and what an interesting film it was (watched instantly on Netflix).

Sellers plays Chance, a gardener of a millionaire's estate (who may or may not be his father, that point is never made entirely clear), who knows very little except what the wonders of television have exposed to him.  When the millionaire dies, and the managers of his estate evict the cryptic Chance from the premises, he walks aimlessly through the mean streets of Washington DC only to be hit by a car owned by a wealthy woman named Eve Rand (MacLaine).  She offers him a ride in her limousine and eventually health care at her home courtesy of her husband (Melvyn Douglas), who is dying of some form of cancer.  When she attempts to introduce herself and invites chance to do the same, Chance, in his confusion, mutters, "Chance...gardener."  Eve, thus, assumes that Chance is, in fact, Chauncey Gardiner, a man of some means, as he is dressed in a suit owned by his former benefactor, and as he speaks so politely.  Chauncey, as he is now called, is then brought to the Rands' home, where Mr. Rand takes kindly to his humble intelligence, a presumed genius that comes from Chauncey comparing everything to the steps of caring for a garden.  A chance meeting with the President (Jack Warden), wherein Chauncey unknowingly compares economic growth to the seasonal growth of a garden, results in the unwitting savant being thrust into the political spotlight, with the entire nation captivated (for better or for worse) by his every laconic quip.  Talk is then generated, in which Chauncey is seriously considered as a presidential candidate as well as a candidate for President of the Board of Mr. Rand's companies, all while Eve grows irrepressibly smitten with the erstwhile gardener, Mr. Rand blesses him as his replacement for her caretaker when he dies, and Mr. Rand's physician (Richard Dysart) suspects that there may be more (or less) to Chauncey than meets the eye.

Being There is a clever satire ultimately painting politicians as men of happenstance, no more or less knowledgeable than the illiterate Chauncey aka Chance the gardener. The situations in which Chance finds himself become all the more incredible and, hence, laughable, as he gains only kernels of understanding while the rest of the world sees him as an understated genius.  With Peter Sellers in this role, the film became something ethereal in its subtle sublimity.  It was one of those rare performances that makes the viewer want to laugh out loud except for the bits of doubt and discomfort preventing the situation from being totally funny and just plain uncomfortable.  In that way, the film is genius in its comedic premise, and it deserves its placement on this AFI list because the concept is so original and so well executed.

The execution, however, experiences at least one problem.  The film is frightfully slow, partially due to Sellers' careful delivery of each of Chauncey's short responses and partially because the story does not develop in a traditional way, even if it ultimately develops in a complete and believable way.  Chauncey is the central figure, and the film follows his exploits, but he is really only a bystander in these grand games of chance (it's not just an ironic name).  Thus, the "action," so to speak is driven by the reactions of the Rands and their friends and acquaintances, and they are not as rivetingly funny or any less awkward than Sellers' performance. The romantic tension between Eve and Chance (including one uncomfortable scene in which Lady MacLaine must pleasure herself because Chauncey keeps insisting that he likes to watch...though he means the television) is mostly awkward.  It's laughable in only that most awkward, nervous way.  In fact, the entire story is told in episodes like this one but at the pace in which Chauncey moves through life, which is ploddingly careful, so the lethargic pace grew a bit tedious by the film's conclusion.

The conclusion is also something of a puzzle.  This isn't a flaw; in fact, the ending haunted me so much, I can't stop thinking about the film, and I feel as though I'll have to watch it again just to understand what it meant.  I won't spoil it (other reviews on this page manage to do just that), but it did throw me for quite a loop that I don't feel the film was necessarily developing up until the point.  If the ending could be taken as a literal reveal, the film takes on quite a different meaning.  If the ending is mere symbolism, the symbolism extends the film's meaning to all new and interesting depths and profundity.

All in all, the performances, especially by Sellers but also by the entire ensemble, were wonderful, and the direction by Ashby was superb.  His use of camera angles to capture the various reactions at Chauncey's enigmatic pearls of wisdom and the dramatic pauses used to play out the unexpectedness of those reactions were really quite expert and elicited the most sincere laughs from this viewer .  I just wished that the movie had moved along at a bit of a faster clip; however, perhaps a second viewing would render that point moot as I try to fathom what the ending is or why it is what it is.  In ratings world, I bequeath Being There an 8.5, between minor flaws/very good and perfectly entertaining.  As to the test, I'm not sure I want to own the film, but I do think another viewing may be in order because I think there's more to the film than meets the eye, just as there is less to Chauncey/Chance than what he is assumed to be.  I will say that this film is probably not for everyone. The humor is subtle, as much of it relies on irony; the pace is slow; and Peter Sellers is probably an acquired taste, because he is one of those comedians that not everyone knows how to take.  Still, I found Being There to be ultimately charming, even if it sponsored heavy eyelids.  It's ultimate message is highly profound, meaningful, and uplifting, though, and it may be worth Being There (ahem) to watch the film for that alone.

Under discussion:

Film Name  Production Year

Rocky  (1976)

What's the AFI Project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here:http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Rocky is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#78)
100 Most Heart-Pounding Movies (#52)
100 Years...100 Heroes and Villains (Rocky Balboa is the #7 hero)
100 Movie Quotes (#80 - Rocky Balboa: "Yo, Adrian!")
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#4)
The Revised Top 100 (#57)
10 Top 10's (#2 Sports)

Ok, I have my plastic poncho on.  I have my goggles.  I'm ready.  

I watched Rocky instantly on Netflix.  It was, in fact, the first time I had seen this film all the way through.  Ducking!

Look, people, this is a boxing movie, and I'm not a big fan of boxing. As a sport, I find it rather barbaric.  Staged fighting?  What's the point in that?  Why use gloves to beat someone up?  I digress. As a result, I'm not a big fan of boxing movies, which I have stated in this blog previously.  I had similarly leery feelings about Raging Bull, and I enjoyed that quite a bit, but two things prevented me from ever being interested in seeing Rocky until this project: the whole boxing thing and Sylvester Stallone.  I'm just not a fan of his, either.  I'm not sure that he's much of an actor, and I hate to say it, but Rocky did little to convince me of that.  I can't pick out a film of his that I like; Rocky might be the first, but my like of this film is tenuous at best. Allow me to explain.

The title character, Rocky Balboa (Stallone), is a Philadelphia boxer at the bottom of the rolls.  He used to be an up-and-comer; now he's a down-and-out bum looking for any fights he can find and acting as a hired hand for local loan sharks to make ends meet. His trainer, Mickey (Burgess Meredith), has given up on Rocky and given away his locker.  The only solace Rocky finds in his life is his half-failed attempts to woo a shy pet-store owner named Adrian (Talia Shire), who can't figure out why Rocky is interested in her. Enter Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers), the world's heavyweight champion, who is looking for his next big star-making fight.  Thanks to a back-out, Apollo is on the hunt for a Cinderella opponent to mark the upcoming Bicentennial celebration - an opponent that he can bring up in the public eye only to knock him down later in the ring.  He finds Rocky's picture and resume, and Rocky's life changes drastically, as he finds himself hungering for the potential glory while being aware of where he is in his life and holding on desperately to the shy girl he thinks understands him the most.

Rocky is an interesting film.  I'm not exactly sure why it's praised so highly.  It's certainly an inspiring, feel-good movie about boxing and someone who is determined to reach beyond his station, to make something of himself or to make himself into something that he feels he can respect.  That kind of story is engaging and meaningful, and screenwriter and star Stallone and director John G. Avildsen injected the film with the rags-to-riches or underdog-against-impossible-odds motif in a somewhat new and interesting way that engaged and inspired as it was meant apparently to do.

Yet, the film seemed to plod along without providing Rocky, who does most of the talking and draws most of the focus, much of a back-story.  There are hints and allegations to his childhood, but no information provided about why he decides to be a boxer - or stick with boxing when it becomes such a financially unsound struggle for him.  There are no glimpses into his childhood, and no satisfying exploration of his prior relationship with Mickey.  Rocky meditates long and hard upon how he is unhappy with what he has become and upon how he just wants to prove that he is something more, but the film does not explain why Mickey changes his mind to train him or why Rocky gets so mad at Mickey for giving him up on him to being with, which sounds like it was much earlier than the opening scenes in which Rocky discovers his locker has been given to another boxer, and since Rocky has also seemingly given up on himself in ways.  It felt like pieces of the story were missing throughout the entire viewing experience, which was distracting.

Another missing piece to the story is the reason why Rocky was drawn to shy, nerdy Adrian.  The viewer is made to realize that he met her at the pet store, but what kept him coming back?  He never shares why he likes her.  He spends most scenes in which they are together talking about himself.  If it weren't for Talia Shire's nuanced performance as the understated Adrian, the shy violet who blossoms into a loving girlfriend, this viewer would have completely lost all interest in the film.

Even the fight at the end with Apollo Creed felt entirely anticlimactic. It would have been nice to see all 15 rounds, frankly, and less of the training and fights with Adrian's brother Frankie and Rocky's inarticulate meditation about his state of being.  Perhaps, I'm just missing the point, but I felt the movie unnecessarily dragged in areas and suffered from choppy pacing in general because of these forays into dealing with Adrian's brother, his loan shark boss, and so on.  Perhaps, these plot points were meant to illustrate that Rocky was trying to reconcile all of these new and changing pieces of his life; in my opinion, they distracted from achieving a connection to the Rocky character that would make his journey resonate, at least for this viewer and no doubt others like me.

From a film-making perspective, there was nothing in Rocky that was particularly exceptional; it was shot on a shoestring budget, so the fact that a movie like this gets made is alone impressive.  The Spout page notes that Rocky won Best Picture over Network and Taxi Driver.  I don't understand why, nor do I understand the film's climb on the AFI's Revised list (even as I understand the other rankings).  Don't get me wrong: Rocky was entertaining and inspiring, as the title character undertakes his transformation.  Yet, it was also long, slow, and underdeveloped, considering that the film was essentially a character study masquerading as a standard sports film.  

In essence, I was simply underwhelmed by Rocky.  Perhaps, it's legend looms large because of how Stallone was able to get his script greenlit and his picture made with him as the star.  Perhaps, (spoiler), it's the fact that Rocky wins something in the end, even if it's not the expected thing he was hoping to win,  It's hard to say, but, unlike Raging Bull, which is a boxing movie with style, pizazz, nuance, and skilled direction and performances, not to mention a charismatic main character with a tough climb and a harder fall, and which I loved, Rocky feels a little cookie-cutter, a little run-of-the-mill in its execution, and I'm not sure that it deserves to be one of America's 100 greatest films.  I also disagree with the fact that the film was in any way heart-pounding because I was just a little bored.  Be that as it may, I find myself rating Rocky a 7 for being shaky but entertaining.  I was engaged because, if nothing else, Rocky and Adrian's awkward, shy romance provides some laughs and some touching moments that seemed more interesting and engaging than his actual road to "go all the way" with Apollo Creed. The test, thusly, does not pass because I am just not interested in watching it again.  I'm not sure why I'd recommend this film, unless I knew the potential viewer was a fan of boxing and/or Sylvester Stallone.  It may seem harsh to reduce this film to a mere two dimensions, but the filmmakers, including Stallone himself, didn't quite give his main character the requisite three, so I am not quite apt to do so myself.

Under discussion:

Film Name  Production Year

American Graffiti  (1973)

What's the AFI project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here:http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

American Graffiti is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#77)
100 Funniest Films (#43)
The Revised Top 100 (#62)

I borrowed American Graffiti from my parents' raging 70s movie collection because I had seen this film at least once prior to this current go-round.  I remembered thinking I liked it, but I couldn't remember why because it had been such a long time since I'd seen it.  I remembered that it was directed by pre-Star Wars George Lucas and also had a supporting turn by pre-Star Wars Harrison Ford.  I remembered that it had Richie Cunningham before he was director Ron Howard and pre-Shirley Cindy Williams and a pre-Jaws/Close Encounters Richard Dreyfuss.  I just couldn't remember anything about the film itself, and on second viewing, I think I know why.

American Graffiti tells the tale of a group of newly graduated high school students in the early sixties embarking upon their last hurrah.  Steve (Howard) and Curt (Dreyfuss) are college-bound; Steve is excited by the new adventure, but Curt feels that he might do better to change his mind and stay in his sleepy California hometown. Terry "The Toad" (Charles Martin Smith) is allowed the use of Steve's car and manages to find a beautiful, partying-type girl named Debbie (Candy Clark) to drive around on a date.  John (Paul Le Mat), an older townie who is part of the group but somewhat of a loner, likes to cruise his ad-hoc drag racer but somehow finds himself carting around a 13-year old named Carol (Mackenzie Phillips, pre-drugs) in his deuce coupe.  Steve considers his future with longtime girlfriend Laurie (Williams), even going so far as to tell her that they should date other people while he is away.  That, of course, doesn't sit well with Laurie, so she finds herself in the company of out-of-towner Bob Falfa (Ford), who's been looking for the infamous John to challenge him to a drag race.  Toad loses the car, and Curt finds himself in the company of a gang of hoodlums all while managing to spot a mysterious blond in a white sedan cruising the streets.  As he tries desperately to find her (and avert being pummeled by the tough guys), the night wears on, and adulthood and responsibility loom large for this motley crew.

American Graffiti is less about plot and more about atmosphere. Lucas managed to accurately recreate a time period from his youth that was significant to his development and memory, and the results are both convincing and precise.  They are so precise that the timelessness of this film is questionable, given the fact that while it may ultimately be a teen movie, filled with the usual teen movie exploits (even if it may have been the first of such films), the film depicts a time period that will resonate with one generation and be lost on successive ones.

The atmosphere is so vivid because Lucas managed to assemble so many wonderful ingredients to recreate the vibe of 1962 California.  From the vintage cars (less vintage, perhaps, in 1973, but whatever) to the classic costumes to the smoking soundtrack spun by none other than Wolfman Jack himself and replete with every late 50s/early 60s radio classic, anyone watching this movie who does not become completely engulfed in this era and moment in time must not be paying much attention to the film.  I believe that these ingredients are what inspired the AFI to rank this film and so highly (it jumped 15 spots on the Revised list, replacing Tootsie at 62).

Also, this film pioneered a formula that would only be repeated ad nauseum - though, sometimes, to greater comedic success - in decades to come.  This is the original teen comedy, with familiar character archetypes that crop up in other films, such as the Brat Pack movies.  To that end, one can't fault the original, and Lucas, who also had a hand in penning the screenplay, truly offered a fresh and original concept, even if that concept might have been better recycled and improved upon in the future.

Still, I didn't love this film, and it basically boils down to the fact that I didn't find it all that funny.  It's supposed to be a comedy, and there were some funny situations, but, on the whole, I was kind of bored. The character development was shoddy at best, so there was really no reason offered to care about any of these characters, which were really caricatures of stereotypes - the conflicted player (Steve), the dreamer (Curt), the nerd (Toad), the tough guy (John).  The actual exploits and situations in which these four boys find themselves were also kind of uninteresting and lacking in any comedic punch.  The funniest situation, to me, was the dynamic between John and Carol, the 13-year old who tries to convince John-and herself-that she really should be treated like one of the big kids. The interplay between them, which turns into something sweet and endearing by the night's end, provided the most laughs.

Toad reminded me of Eugene in Grease or any of the Nerds in Revenge of the Nerds, and his attempts to buy alcohol and be suave with Debbie, who likes him because he was "different," proved to be the least interesting plot point.  This may have been the first film to depict this kind of character, but I've seen this scene played out a few too many times.

The performances were also a mixed bag.  Dreyfuss was convincing as the passionate Curt, determined to find his dream woman and have an excuse not to leave.  It felt like Howard and Williams were performing a school play.  The other characters had ups and downs; Le Mat offered nuance in the dynamic with Phillips, while Smith threw it all on the line to mixed success with his Toad.

In the end, I can see why American Graffiti was ranked, and why some people might find it endlessly hilarious, but I think that appeal is limited to only that particular "some people" because of the time period it portrays and the generation to which it relates.  It is not a quintessential teen movie because it doesn't emphasize the spirit of the night - the last hurrah motif - as much as it wallows in the sleepy haze of a bygone era, which limits its appeal.  After all, no one cruises anymore in their spare time, and the pat ending did little to service the overall story, since these friends spend almost no time together in the film.  The limited appeal and lack of performance consistency strike me as flaws enough to merit American Graffiti a 7.5 on the patented ratings scale, between shaky/entertaining and minor flaws/very good.  (Also, this rating seems to be my default for films I find artistically sound but relatively boring).  As to the test, it simply does not pass.  Timeless teen movies to me include Sixteen Candles, the Breakfast Club, Stand By Me - obviously, I hail from a generation following the one who likely cares about American Graffiti.  Potential viewers who are fans of George Lucas and want to experience his film-making before he got lost long ago in a galaxy far away; or those who want to see a bunch of celebrities assembled together before they became truly famous; or those who want to see the birth of the teen film concept, for better or for worse, might find American Graffiti worth the watch.  Whether it strikes a chord with you at the end of the sock hop will depend on what you take away from the film when all is said and done.  Unfortunately, all I was able to take away from it was a few chuckles and a cat nap.

Under discussion:

Dances with Wolves  (1990)

What's the AFI project, you ask?  For more information, or if you just enjoy my bemused ramblings, read here:http://www.spout.com/blogs/pippin06/archive/2008/3/1/25756.aspx

Dances with Wolves is on the following AFI lists:

The Original Top 100 (#75)
100 Most Inspiring Movies (#59)

While blogging about or reviewing Ben-Hur, I said there were only four four-hour films I had patience to sit through or even enjoy.  That may not have been entirely true, though, for the record, I had never seen a four-hour version of Dances with Wolves prior to borrowing a collector's edition DVD copy from my parents.  The cut of the film most people are familiar with is three hours long; apparently, director and star Kevin Costner had an hour's worth of footage to reinstate to the film for home distribution.  In actuality, this four-hour cut adds much to the film and makes me enjoy it more than I used to on previous viewings.

Still, Dances with Wolves is another film that inspires controversy amongst the general film-viewing public, at least in my experience. Some people think it's inspired and inspiring, textured with beautiful photography and cinematography. featuring a strong adapted screenplay, strong performances (including one by Costner himself), and the novelty of being one of the first sympathetic portrayals of American Indians in film to date.  Still others find the film long, protracted, boring, and hollow with Costner and his questionable acting ability and a simplistic view of Indian culture that makes the sympathy of its portrayal somewhat pedantic and trite.  I've seen the film a fair few times and tend to lean more toward the former category.  Yes, it's long, and there are points in the film that make me cringe (at least from performance choices made by ole' Kevin), but, all in all, Dances with Wolves is a beautiful film with a keen eye to the truth in history vis a vis the Indian genocide brought on by western expansion and so-called manifest destiny.

The film follows a Civil War soldier, Lieutenant John Dunbar (Costner).  After a risky move leads to Union success in a fictional battle, Lt. Dunbar is given top medical treatment, military decoration, and the choice of any post he wants.  He elects a fort (Sedgwick) in largely unsettled South Dakota, truly at the edge of the frontier.  He finds the fort abandoned and is alarmed to discover that his nearest neighbors are a tribe of Sioux Indians who are as curious about and cautious of him as he is of them.  Still, both Dunbar and the tribe's holy man, Kicking Bird (Graham Greene), see their awkward introduction as a chance to seek information about the other party; Dunbar is attracted to the Indians' lifestyle, while Kicking Bird wants to know of any influx of white men that may spell doom and destruction for his people.  After cautious meetings at the fort and at the Indians' camp, Dunbar is soon dubbed "Dances with Wolves" (in lieu of an affinity he has for a lone wolf who shadows the fort) and becomes romantically embroiled with Kicking Bird's adopted daughter, a white woman who survived a Pawnee Indian attack at a young age and who goes by the name Stands with a Fist (Mary McDonnell).  It's not long before Dances with Wolves is made one of the tribe and husband to Stands with a Fist, but soon thereafter, the Union army finds the abandoned fort and souvenirs of Dunbar's defection.  When Dances with Wolves attempts to cover his tracks, the Union soldiers detain him, threatening him as a traitor and with the design of torturing him for information about the land and its native occupants.

The appeal of Dances with Wolves stems from Costner's thoroughly sensitive and sympathetic treatment of the Sioux.  Is it overly simplistic?  Perhaps, but remember that Costner was filming one of the first examples of film in which Indians were not the aggressors, begging to be out-gunned and defeated by white settlers trying to set up their piece of the so-called American dream. For such a subject to attain a connection to the audience, generalizing and oversimplifying a culture may have been necessary, and Dances with Wolves works because such a connection to the viewer is provided.  The film does not focus exclusively on the Dunbar character; there are scenes in which the tribal leaders confer amongst themselves about the meaning of Dunbar's presence and the possibilities it may symbolize, and the film isn't exactly meant to be a documentary.  

Maybe Costner just begs for the criticism.  After all, he's what I would call an awkward actor; he has a certain everyman demeanor that gives him some credibility and suspension of disbelief in the characters he chooses to play, but his faults and limits become painfully obvious in roles that challenge him to seek three dimensions.  His performance (which is the fulcrum of the film, since it is told from his point of view and through his sporadic narration) is strongest when he focuses on Dunbar's feelings and fosters connection from Dunbar to the other characters, because it as if Costner is connecting to them and connecting them to the viewer.  His performance is weakest in moments of subtlety, whether that subtlety stems from irony, sarcasm, or quiet moments when the Dunbar character must appreciate or observe something around or before him. Costner may never be a strong actor, but his limitations are not as jarring in Dances with Wolves, quite possibly because the man sees something of himself in the character, and the man as the director had passion in his subject.

The film is beautiful, and anyone who says different is lying to be contrary.  The photography is absolutely stunning, and the use of natural light and focus on the contours of the wilderness truly add texture to a film that is already complexly layered.  And the score! It pains me that of John Barry's prolific film score work, Out of Africa was the only film to earn a coveted position on the 25 film scores list, but this score did not.  The Dances with Wolves score is so beautiful and so epic; I own it on cassette tape (it's my favorite part of the film, personally), and after re-watching the film for this project, I felt inclined to pop the CD version on my wish list.  The score tells so much story and sounds so much like what is being depicted visually, or, perhaps evokes that reaction so heartily; Barry did such great work in creating a score that is essentially synonymous with the visual elements of the film.

Also, the supporting performances were wonderful, including all of the actors who portrayed the various members of the tribe.  Even if the treatment of the Sioux in this film was overly simplistic, the Indian actors' devotion to the material was real, and their performances natural.  Mary McDonnell also offered a fine performance, even if her character's memory of the English language strained credibility (considering that the younger version of the character seemed barely able to use the English language to start).

All in all, Dances with Wolves is a well-made film.  I think it catches most of its flack because it beat out GoodFellas for Best Picture (and Costner, like so many other directors, beat out Scorsese for Best Director).  I enjoy it, though; I think it's a good story rooted in history, and I think the film is brave for championing fact and not the American dream.  I also think the film has a lot of heart, much of which results from the clear passion of its director and star.  Is it one of America's greatest movies ever?  Well, I think, though it is enjoyable, that such a claim is a tall one indeed.  It has good points, but I don't regard the film as one of the 100 of America's best; incidentally, the AFI also changed its mind, replacing the film with In the Heat of the Night (which was new to the Revised list - and is a very very good film).  In the land of the patented ratings scale, I think Dances with Wolves merits an 8 for having minor flaws but being very good - after all, if nothing else, the production values are outstanding, and Costner really is not so annoying (no matter what the naysayers say).  As to the test, I can't see owning the film; I've seen it about a half dozen times, and I feel satiated on that account.  Plus, Dances with Wolves sees ample cable rotation, so, if I really feel the need, I can always search it out for another viewing.  Chances are, I won't.  As for other potential viewers, Dances with Wolves may not be for everyone, but for someone like me, who regards westerns as her least favorite genre, such a potential viewer could do far worse than Dances with Wolves.