2020 Blindspot Pick #2: Double Indemnity (1944)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Romance, Thriller

A murderer for money never thinks that he or she
Will be found out like all the rest who murdered foolishly.
“Those others never thought it through; they never planned it out;
They just weren’t careful to remove the slightest shred of doubt.
They acted on an impulse, failed to hide the fatal flaw,
But we would know exactly how to circumvent the law.
We’re smarter, right? More clever, right? When one of us commits,
No justice could contend in this, the coldest war of wits.”

Deep down within the killer’s mind, unconsciously or not,
They soothe themselves with thoughts like these to justify their plot.
And always they delude themselves, for justice, soon or late,
Will find out every criminal and lead them to their fate.
________________________

Rating: Passed/Approved (an easy PG)

Darn, I did not expect to post only one review in the whole month of May, but college is as college does. Nevertheless, I’m back to continue my long-delayed Blindspot series. (Now I’m only four behind this year!) I’ve heard of Double Indemnity for years, noticing its high placement on lists by AFI and other film organizations, yet I never really knew what the name even meant, not being versed in insurance terminology. As it turns out, I’ve seen versions of this plot plenty of times on true crime shows, but this influential film noir treatment brought it to a national audience way back in 1944.

Based on a James M. Cain novella, the script for Double Indemnity was the result of a tenuous collaboration between director Billy Wilder and famed detective novelist Raymond Chandler. As such, it utilizes a clever tool for narration; right from the beginning, insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred McMurray) admits into a dictaphone his role in the death of a man named Dietrichson, beginning an extended flashback of his plot. After meeting the man’s alluring wife Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck), Neff allows her to talk him into a murder conspiracy to get rid of her distant husband and collect on some ill-gotten life insurance, with Neff using his insurance experience to sweeten the pot with a double indemnity clause (which doubles the payment in the case of certain unlikely causes of death, such as a train accident). Yet, their “perfect crime” slowly unravels as Neff’s boss (Edward G. Robinson) becomes more and more suspicious during the investigation.

I haven’t seen many films of the film noir genre, but Double Indemnity certainly fits the bill with its shadowy angles and conspiratorial tension and indeed predates the widespread use of the term by a couple years. Plus, Barbara Stanwyck is a quintessential femme fatale figure, manipulating McMurray’s everyman character into taking charge of the plot she initiates. The film was apparently controversial for its portrayal of murder, which is tame by today’s standards, but the characters’ growing anxiety after the deed is done translates well to the audience. As Neff is forced to “assist” Robinson’s skeptical insurance man in following a trail that leads back to him, I happened to think of other similar plots that must have taken some inspiration from this one, such as 1987’s No Way Out.

Double Indemnity is a Grade-A film noir, but I can’t say it’s a new favorite since film noir is far from my favorite genre. Neff and Stanwyck do a fine job as the conspirators, but their cynically flowery dialogue, sometimes clever, is also sometimes a bit much, carrying on metaphors in ways people just don’t talk, though that’s mainly at the beginning. Robinson, though, is in top form here, stealing his scenes with a vocal panache that can’t be taught. I don’t always have to love a film to recognize it as a classic, and Double Indemnity is, another cinematic testament to the lesson “crime does not pay.”

Best line: (Neff) “Do I laugh now, or wait till it gets funny?”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
689 Followers and Counting

2020 Blindspot Pick #1: What a Way to Go! (1964)

Tags

Classics, Comedy, Musical, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write about a homemade gift, so I merged one I’ve given myself with the set-up of a classic ‘60s film.)

I asked a rich woman what she valued most
Of all the excess she possessed.
She told me of gems from the Ivory Coast,
But they were not what she loved best.

Her multiple husbands had filled her accounts
And heaped her with riches obscene.
But Fabergé eggs and saffron by the ounce
No longer enticed such a queen.

The canvas and carvings of classical pros,
Which every museum would covet,
Served only to gild both the lily and rose,
For only one thing made her love it.

A small piece of paper with “I Heart You” on it
From when her first love was dirt poor.
It quite overshadowed a jewel or a sonnet,
For less with nostalgia is more.
__________________________

MPA rating: Approved (due to some steamy romantic scenes, I’d say it straddles the line between PG and PG-13)

It’s a shameful embarrassment that it’s taken four months for me to finally review the first of my Blindspot picks. Life and work and a certain virus have just delayed my access to actually watching any of the twelve movies I selected at the beginning of the year, but here at last I have begun my catch-up. Before I chose my picks, my mom told me that 1964’s What a Way to Go was one of my late dad’s favorite movies, which surprised me because I never saw it with him or heard him talk about it. But he introduced it to her, and now she’s done the same for me.

Black comedies are a difficult balance of two contrasting genres, so what would such a balance look like in the comparative innocence of a 1964 film? What a Way to Go! is the answer. Shirley MacLaine plays a young widow trying to get rid of her vast amounts of wealth, her inheritance from multiple dead husbands, and after a psychiatrist (Bob Cummings) thinks she’s crazy, she recounts the varied tales of how she accidentally led her lovers to both wild success and early graves.

The best thing about What a Way to Go! is its cast: Dean Martin as a snooty playboy, Dick Van Dyke as an everyman-turned-busybody, Robert Mitchum as a suave millionaire, Gene Kelly as a talented performer, and Paul Newman (as I’ve never seen him before) playing a gruff expatriate. Some of the roles are tailor-made for the actor, such as Gene Kelly’s presence allowing for a song-and-dance number, while others seem designed to make them play against type. It seemed odd seeing Shirley MacLaine so young and attractive when I’ve mainly seen her as a grumpy older lady in Terms of Endearment or Steel Magnolias, but she does a great job as the unluckily lucky widow, even holding her own alongside Gene Kelly when dancing.Most of the goings-on are fairly silly, with the husbands’ unusual (non-graphic) deaths earning more laughs than grief, including a gag that’s crept up elsewhere about trying to milk a male cow. I especially liked how each marriage is compared with a different film genre, launching into a series of vignettes recalling silent comedies, foreign art films, musicals, or posh dramas with ridiculously extravagant costumes from the great Edith Head. All in all, What a Way to Go! was a delightful bit of lightweight absurdity, finding hilarity in repeated tragedy and managing to land a happy ending. It certainly looked like everyone involved had fun making it, as I did watching it.

Best lines: (announcer) “Tonight, in ‘Flaming Lips,’ Pinky Benson proved that a comedy can run five and a half hours. Earlier today, Pinky told us his next film will run seven and a half hours.”

and

(Larry Flint/Paul Newman) “Money corrupts. Art erupts.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
680 Followers and Counting

 

Little Women (1994)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Family, Romance

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem about flowers taking on certain meanings, so I decided to compare flowers with the little women of this film.)

A family of daughters is like a bouquet
Of flowers, all different, that brighten the day.

The rose offers beauty and layers of grace,
With thorns to keep those who would pluck in their place.

The daisy seems simple, but as you look nearer,
Complexity waits for the few who revere her.

The lily looks shy with its petals locked tight
But opens up wide when it knows love and light.

And baby’s breath sighs with its placeholder status
Yet binds us all close in an elegant lattice.

From practical pansy to sumptuous mum,
Each woman and bloom are just right as they come.
_____________________

MPA rating: PG

After thoroughly loving Greta Gerwig’s most recent adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s novel, I had to check out 1994’s similarly acclaimed version from Gillian Armstrong. With such a classic story and relatable characters, it’s clearly hard to go wrong, since this also proved to be a wonderful rendition, even if it didn’t quite match its most recent sister.

The ensemble is full of stars in their prime in the ‘90s: Winona Ryder as Jo, Kirsten Dunst (and later Samantha Mathis) as Amy, Claire Danes as Beth, Trini Alvarado (of Paulie) as Meg, Susan Sarandon as Marmee, and Christian Bale as Laurie, not to mention Gabriel Byrne, Eric Stoltz, and Mary Wickes as well. Unlike Gerwig’s non-linear narrative, jumping back and forth across a four-year gap, this version plays its events in order, which is easier to follow as the March sisters grow up, finding love, heartache, and joy along the way.

So how do the two versions compare? Over and over, I recognized scenes and interactions (which obviously means they came from the book), and I liked them here but couldn’t help preferring the more recent film’s take on them, which might have been reversed if I’d seen this version first. Much of the dialogue that I so loved in the 2019 film wasn’t the same here, a testament to Gerwig’s contribution, yet I still appreciated its simple, often humorous elegance. Individual characters were harder to decide on. Meryl Streep was certainly a more memorable Aunt March than Wickes was. Winona Ryder and Saorsie Ronan are evenly matched as Jo, considering I have a crush on both, but I thought Christian Bale made a more sympathetic Laurie than Timothée Chalamet. Likewise, Friedrich and Jo’s relationship felt slightly more natural and fleshed out here than in the remake.

I must admit one embarrassing thing. I kept being confused by certain differences I viewed as creative choices. Why did they keep giving Beth’s actions to Amy? Only halfway through did I realize I had Beth and Amy mixed up, thanks largely to the casting of the 2019 film. In that one, Florence Pugh plays both the younger and older Amy, but because she looks and is older than Eliza Scanlen as Beth, I thought Amy was the third eldest of the girls, which threw me off when 12-year-old Kirsten Dunst’s Amy was clearly the youngest in the 1994 film. It’s hard to say which is the better option, though. In this film, I thought that the replacement of Dunst with Mathis after the 4-year gap sapped some of the bond formed with Amy, so I can see why keeping the same actress might be desirable, if slightly confusing for people like me. I should really just read the novel.

Ultimately, I loved both versions because they both bring this story to life in a brilliantly traditional way. So many 19^th-century period pieces are centered in Victorian England or focus on some war or significant historical event, so it’s a rare treat to glimpse into the everyday lives of Americans from this time. I may be partial to Gerwig’s incarnation, but both films share a stellar cast and engaging wholesomeness that are equally refreshing.

Best line: (Jo, after Laurie proposes) “Neither of us can keep our temper…”
(Laurie) “I can, unless provoked.”
(Jo) “We’re both stupidly stubborn, especially you. We’d only quarrel!”
(Laurie) “I wouldn’t!”
(Jo) “You can’t even propose without quarreling.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (I’ll tie it with the 2019 version)

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
679 Followers and Counting

The Naked Spur (1953)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Western

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to seek inspiration from a line or phrase from one of the many poetry-themed Twitter bots out there. I found mine, the first line below, from @PercyBotShelley.)

I found shelter in scorn;
I found solace in slurs.
For my drug was disdain,
Just to make the world worse.

My sidearm was spite
And my comfort contempt.
No man was above it,
No woman exempt.

My past was my pain,
Carved upon a stone heart,
It solid would stay
Till my soul would depart.

Or so I once thought.
I had no cause to doubt,
Till love chanced to rain
On a life lived in drought.
_________________________

MPA rating: Passed (I’d say a PG)

With so many recent films to catch up on, it’s been too long since I reviewed an older movie. Westerns have never been my favorite genre, but I can appreciate a good one, and as a fan of Jimmy Stewart, I thought I’d check out one of his best-reviewed films. (Incidentally, he had 14 that have garnered a 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, and this is one of them.)

Stewart plays a bounty hunter named Howard Kemp, who is seeking the wanted murderer Ben Vandergroat (Robert Ryan). Despite initial reluctance, he gains the help of a gold-crazed prospector (Millard Mitchell) and a “morally unstable” ex-soldier (Ralph Meeker), and the three are able to capture Vandergroat and his naïve accomplice Lina (Janet Leigh). Feeling they all deserve a cut of the reward money, the three impromptu lawmen begin the trek to deliver their quarry to justice in Kansas, but Vandergroat begins sowing seeds of discord in their uneasy collaboration.

More so than other westerns I’ve seen, The Naked Spur felt especially well-written, with a special focus on the psychological side of suspicion and desperation. That’s likely why it managed to snag a Best Screenplay nomination at the Oscars, a rare feat for the genre. The way the murderer manipulates his captors is well-played, and all five of the small cast give excellent performances. Stewart’s grizzled and cynical character is almost like a subversion of his past idealistic roles and proves his range as an actor.

Unfortunately, the chemistry between Stewart and Leigh is strained by their age difference, and the ending feels too rushed. I see what the writers were trying to do, demonstrating the importance of letting go of vengeance, but in context, it felt like a dumb decision in service of some symbolism. Nevertheless, the ending aside, The Naked Spur was one of the better westerns I’ve seen and one more Jimmy Stewart movie I can check off my to-watch list.

Best line: (Ben Vandergroat) “Choosin’ a way to die – what’s the difference? Choosin’ a way to live – that’s the hard part.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2020 S.G. Liput
676 Followers and Counting

2019 Blindspot Pick #9: Vertigo (1958)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Hitchcock, Mystery, Romance, Thriller

The birds in flight
May love their height
And laugh at bounded, grounded man,
But gravity
Can guarantee
That staying low’s a better plan.

Some love the thrill,
The view, the will
To see a limit and defy,
Yet none deny
That when you’re high,
It’s so much easier to die.
_____________________

MPAA rating: PG

Vertigo has to be the most critically lauded among my Blindspots this year, and I was quite curious to see whether it would match its reputation, since so many Hitchcock movies have fallen short, for me at least. Vertigo lands somewhere in the middle, confirming my opinion that Hitchcock mostly excelled in creating tension in individual scenes rather than whole movies.

The fourth and last collaboration between Hitchcock and star Jimmy Stewart, Vertigo is a tale of obsession that toys with the possibility of the supernatural. Stewart plays John “Scottie” Ferguson, a cop who retired after a deadly experience with heights but is commissioned by wealthy friend Gavin Elster (Tom Helmore) to investigate Elster’s wife Madeleine (Kim Novak) and her sudden strange behavior. As he learns more about her connection to a suicidal ancestor and develops a relationship with her, he encounters secrets and mysteries that shake him to his core.

As a fan of film, I can say that I am definitively glad to have finally seen this classic of cinema, an oversight that represents exactly what this Blindspot series is meant to solve. Yet it doesn’t hold the same fascination for me that it apparently does for so many. Perhaps it’s because the film’s intrigue was such a rollercoaster. It starts out interesting enough with Stewart as his ever-likable self, but the story really drags during his investigation, which consists of far too much of him wordlessly following Madeleine by car. Maybe it’s just me, but the picture below doesn’t do much for me in the way of tension.

Then comes a famous scene in a bell tower, which is indeed one of Hitchcock’s best for buildup and shock value. Not too much longer, and the reveal of the mystery left my brain working overtime, surprised at the unanticipated twist and giving me a new appreciation for the storyline. Yet what follows becomes a somewhat uncomfortable exercise in obsessive grief (including a weirdly unnecessary psychedelic dream), played out through what would be a deeply unhealthy relationship if not for the audience’s knowledge of its psychological underpinnings. How it ends, while effective, is also anything but satisfying, so abrupt that it made me recall how much I despise the final scenes in North by Northwest and An American Werewolf in London. I know Hitchcock knew how to end a movie, but I wouldn’t know it based on this one.

I certainly can’t fault the actors. Stewart is always good, always, and Kim Novak might be one of my favorites of Hitchcock’s blonde leading ladies. Barbara Bel Geddes is also great as Scottie’s casual friend/former crush, who is short-changed by the ending’s lack of closure. I also liked a cameo by Ellen Corby, who also appeared with Stewart briefly in It’s a Wonderful Life (“Could I have $17.50?”) Likewise, Bernard Herrmann’s hypnotic score is an outstanding accompaniment, and, like the score of Psycho, adds so much to the film’s atmosphere.

All in all, Vertigo is the second best one-word Hitchcock film that ends with an O, as well as the second best Hitchcock film that begins with an injured Jimmy Stewart. Sorry if that doesn’t sound like high praise, though I do appreciate its cinematic contribution of that vertigo effect above. I can see why film enthusiasts like it and why its filming locations around San Francisco have become iconic, and I have half a mind to see it again just to pick up on the hints to the twist that I might have missed the first time. Yet, considering it’s been ranked both 1st and 9th on lists of the best films ever made, I feel like its reputation is somewhat overblown. Psycho is still Hitchcock’s masterpiece as far as I’m concerned.

Best line: (Madeleine) “Only one is a wanderer; two together are always going somewhere. ”

Rank: Honorable Mention

© 2019 S.G. Liput
649 Followers and Counting

2019 Blindspot Pick #8: How Green Was My Valley (1941)

Tags

Classics, Drama

How green was my valley
So many years back!
No paychecks to tally,
No perils to track,
When people seemed good
And the future seemed bright,
Before my childhood
Had receded from sight.

How green was my valley,
How grand the coal mine,
How buoyant my sally
Beneath the sun’s shine!
Now I view the same scene,
As every man does,
Wishing it were as green
As I know it once was.
___________________

MPAA rating:  G

Time again for one of my Blindspots, this time going back to the Best Picture of 1941, which I chose in all honesty because Alex Trebek has said several times on Jeopardy! that it’s his favorite film. Based off a popular book at the time, How Green Was My Valley has never been on my radar for some reason, despite its status as an all-time classic and the fact that it beat Citizen Kane for Best Picture that year. And despite a somewhat excessive length, it’s a moving opus that deserves its accolades.

What How Green Was My Valley most reminded me of was The Waltons, the classic ‘70s show about a Depression-era family in Virginia. Just as The Waltons had periodic narration detailing the poetic remembrances of Earl Hamner, Jr., the narrator of this film (voiced by Irving Pichel) fondly recalls his large family and town life in a 19^th-century Welsh mining village. That narrator is Huw Morgan (played by a very young Roddy McDowall), who as a child watches the changes in his town: the labor strike when the miners rebel against lowered wages, much to the chagrin of his traditional father Gwilym (Donald Crisp); the romantic yearnings of his sister Angharad (Maureen O’Hara) and the new preacher (Walter Pidgeon); the dangers of mining accidents and the unforgiving elements; the religious hymns sung as the miners return home; and the indelible memories and scars all these events leave.

While melodramatic at times and honest about the unsatisfying turns life can take, How Green Was My Valley has an undeniable sweetness to it, both from the familial love among the Morgans and the frequent camaraderie of the townspeople. Individual vignettes stand out, such as a local boxer flippantly defending Huw against a cruel schoolteacher or the village rallying at the recovery of one of their sick members. Of course, there is also small-minded meanness to contend with, suitably denounced by a brilliant speech by Pidgeon’s Mr. Gruffudd, but what remains beyond the heartache are the sweet moments, made bittersweet by the film’s end.

I’m glad to check this film off of my Blindspot list, another classic I probably should have seen long ago. While John Ford’s composition and the cinematography (both Oscar-winning) is stunning, my VC and I agreed that we really wished it had been shot in color (you know, so we could see how green was the valley), especially a scene with a daffodil field, but shooting in black-and-white was a logistical sacrifice since World War II prevented actually shooting in Wales. California works as a colorless substitute, though, and it certainly feels authentic otherwise; oddly enough, the village itself reminded me of the one in Hayao Miyazaki’s Laputa: Castle in the Sky, which isn’t too surprising since the animators based its architecture off of a Welsh mining town. While I think I appreciate Citizen Kane a touch more, How Green Was My Valley deserved its win too.  I’ve heard that, whereas Citizen Kane represented the head, this film represented the cinematic heart of that year. I like that comparison and might have been persuaded to vote the same way back in 1941; classic is classic, after all.

Best line: (Mr. Gruffudd, pre-dating the similar sentiment of Spider-Man’s Uncle Ben) “But remember, with strength goes responsibility, to others and to yourselves. For you cannot conquer injustice with more injustice, only with justice and the help of God.”

 

Rank:  List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
648 Followers and Counting

 

Version Variations: Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939, 1969)

Tags

Classics, Drama, Meet 'em and Move on, Musical, Romance, Version Variations

A young boy’s mind is a fallow field
With unknown promise yet to yield,
And every word their minds import
Of criticism or support,
Of firm reproof or merely sport,
Contributes to the man revealed
At last when boyhood is cut short.

To nobly tend this field with care,
Since parents can’t be always there,
Requires a person resolute,
Profuse with passion, temper mute,
With love of learning absolute.
Such people tasting praise is rare,
But they produce the finest fruit.
_____________________

MPAA rating of 1939 version:  Not Rated (should be G)
MPAA rating of 1969 version:  G

Those who’ve seen my Top 365 movie list might know that I love Mr. Holland’s Opus.  I’ve just always been drawn to the story of an unassuming teacher finding worth in the service of his students.  I’ve always vaguely known that 1939’s Goodbye, Mr. Chips, based on a 1934 novella, was the original version of such a story, but I’d never gotten around to seeing it. When I then learned it had been remade as a musical in 1969, I figured it would be a prime chance to compare the two in one of my overdue Version Variation posts.

The first Goodbye, Mr. Chips is known as one of the members of the great movie year of 1939, managing to win Robert Donat the Best Actor Oscar over some stiff competition, including Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind. Having seen the winning performance, I can now see why Donat edged out the rest, letting his range of sometimes inscrutable emotions play out with great subtlety as he ages from a fresh-faced new Latin teacher in 1870 to a celebrated educator in 1933, weighed down with all the joys and sorrows of a lifetime. (My VC enjoyed the film a lot, but as a huge Rhett Butler fan, her loyalties still lie with Gable.) Like Mr. Holland, the respect Mr. Chipping ends up with is hard-won, but much of it stems from his marriage to the lovely Kathy Ellis (Greer Garson), whom he meets on a European holiday. I would have loved for Garson’s role to have been longer, but, even with limited screen time, her warm presence successfully brings the prosaic Chipping out of his shell, improving his reputation at the school.

In many ways, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is exactly the kind of movie I like, a film spanning decades wherein one character meets various people and experiences alongside the ebb and flow of time, fostering a sense of fond nostalgia. I particularly liked his run-ins with successive generations of the Colley family, showing how static his life at school is while his students go on to have lives of their own. Mr. Holland’s Opus had some similarities, but whereas that film allowed time for characters to be eventually remembered, the turnaround in Goodbye, Mr. Chips is sometimes too fast, introducing a character only for us to learn what happened to them years later in a few minutes’ time. Ultimately, Goodbye, Mr. Chips is well-deserving of its classic status, and while there’s no danger of it supplanting my preference for Mr. Holland’s Opus, it was wonderful seeing a forerunner of a story I’ve come to love.

And then there’s the 1969 remake with Peter O’Toole and Petula Clark, which fits into the not-so-modern sentiment that remakes hardly ever match the original. There’s nothing wrong with making it a musical, allowing the songs to mainly serve as interior monologues, but the songs are largely forgettable, except for a couple clever lyrics, and O’Toole just isn’t much of a singer, trying out the Rex Harrison method of talk-singing but less successfully.

The plot has the same basic elements: Chipping is a somewhat unpopular Latin teacher at a boys’ school who meets and marries a girl named Katherine (Clark) and eventually becomes a mainstay of the institution. There are still the lines of boys sounding off their attendance and a very similar ending, but the filmmakers made significant plot changes elsewhere. For one, the time period is moved up, no longer starting in the 1800s but in the 1920s with Chipping already an established teacher; thus, the war he experiences is World War II rather than World War I.

The worst change, though, is that Katherine is no longer a cycling suffragette Chips meets on a mountain but a music hall singer with an unsavory past, and their formerly brief courtship takes up the entire first half of the film, which also features an intermission to pad out its greater length. There’s pushback against their marriage where there was none before, along with Roaring ’20s parties and O’Toole’s wife-at-the-time Siân Phillips as an annoying socialite. I know I said that I wished Chipping’s wife was in the original more, but I was referring to Greer Garson’s version; the writers of the remake essentially rewrote her whole character, and while Petula Clark was great in the role, it was such a weirdly unnecessary change from the original.

Even so, the latter half (or really third) of the film is much more similar to the first film and is better for it. O’Toole and Clark do well with their roles (O’Toole even got an Oscar nomination and won a Golden Globe), although O’Toole’s Chipping is slightly more stiff and crotchety, even in scenes supposed to be romantic. The film overall was solid enough, but, as with so many remakes, it just doesn’t compare with the original.

I guess films about long-suffering teachers who touch the lives of their students just naturally appeal to me, and Goodbye, Mr. Chips, whatever the incarnation, fits that mold. The original is clearly the better of the two, though, and certainly the one I’d recommend first. While the scene wasn’t in the 1939 movie, I couldn’t help but recall Mr. Holland’s Opus when the second film’s Kathy organizes a school musical with the students, which made me wonder how much either version of Goodbye, Mr. Chips really inspired the 1995 film. They’re so different in setting and character, and yet so similar in theme, particularly in their final heartwarming sentiments (see below). I suppose that’s what speaks to me most of all.

Best line (from 1939 film but something similar in both): (Mr. “Chips”) “I thought I heard you saying it was a pity… pity I never had any children. But you’re wrong. I have… thousands of them, thousands of them… and all boys.”

 

Rank of 1939 version:  List Runner-Up

Rank of 1969 version:  Honorable Mention

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
646 Followers and Counting

 

2019 Blindspot Pick #4: The Longest Day (1962)

Tags

Action, Classics, Drama, History, War

 

“Damn the torpedoes.” “Remember the Maine!”
“Remember the Alamo!” was the refrain
Of the boys and the men
Who fought time and again,
Who offered their country their blood and their pain.

And on June the sixth of 1944,
Such men charged the beaches of Normandy’s shore.
They leaped from the sky
Knowing well they could die,
And waded through carnage that had been their corps.

The weather unfriendly, the Germans less so,
The struggle brought many a foe and friend low.
The Allies that day
Put their grit on display,
And paid a debt we who are living still owe.
_____________________

MPAA rating: G (should be at least PG)

About two years ago, I reviewed Saving Private Ryan, one of that year’s Blindspots, so it seemed only fitting to review another Blindspot pick about D-Day on June 6, the day the world was saved by the Allied forces. The Longest Day may be an older film, but its re-creation of the struggle on the beaches of Normandy is more expansive than Spielberg’s and well worthy of being ranked among the great war movies of all time.

While Saving Private Ryan had a focused plot with developed characters, The Longest Day is much more concerned with the broader history of the D-Day landings: the cautious planning, the German belief that no invasion would come that June, the watching of weather reports, the confusion of battle, and the plethora of individual stories, most of which have a basis in truth. At nearly three hours long, it might have been called The Longest Movie, yet it’s rarely boring. It may take two thirds of its runtime to reach the point that Saving Private Ryan begins, but it offers much more insight into the strategy and planning that went into the assault and the various efforts of the Americans, British, French, paratroopers, and French civilians, as well as the German side, all presented realistically with dialogue in their native tongue.

Saving Private Ryan may be known for its battle scenes, but The Longest Day is no slouch either, depicting the invasion on an impressively epic scale. After the ships hit the beaches, there are a number of jaw-dropping aerial tracking shots that offer an incredible view of the battlefield, and without CGI, I can only imagine the work that went into creating such carefully orchestrated scenes. The fact that many of the cast and crew actually saw action on D-Day and contributed their first-hand accounts, along with many of those who are actually depicted in the film, only adds to the authenticity of the production, something no film in the future could hope to match.

The one thing The Longest Day doesn’t have is clearly defined characters, despite a cast jam-packed with stars of the day. It may have won deserving Oscars for its cinematography and special effects, but there’s a reason it didn’t get any acting nominations, simply because there’s not enough for any one actor to do.  John Wayne, Henry Fonda, and Robert Mitchum are probably the biggest stars, but you’ll likely recognize the names or faces of Red Buttons, Jeffrey Hunter, Roddy McDowall, Rod Steiger, Richard Burton, Sean Connery, and Peter Lawford, to name only a few. With such a who’s who of talent, it was just a tad disappointing that we spend so little time with any of them, sometimes only a single scene, and don’t always find out what became of them. Yet this is a film about the events rather than the people (the name and rank labels are more for context than for actually keeping track of the characters), and there’s nothing wrong with that, especially with so many triumphant, sad, or ironic episodes throughout that are worth telling but don’t necessarily warrant a movie of their own.

My own grandfather was among the men who stormed the beaches of Normandy, and films like Saving Private Ryan and The Longest Day really help me as a detached viewer to appreciate the sacrifices of what was truly the Greatest Generation. As for which film is better, I’m torn. Saving Private Ryan held much more visceral emotion but largely through extreme violence I usually steer clear of; for normal viewing, I think I prefer The Longest Day’s presentation of bloodless action that still denotes the grand and hellish reality of war. Both have their place, one raw and poignant, the other detailed and comprehensive, and I’m grateful to have finally seen both through this Blindspot series. One ship commander tells his men, “You remember it. Remember every bit of it, ’cause we are on the eve of a day that people are going to talk about long after we are dead and gone.” Thanks in part to films like this, he’s absolutely right.

Best line: (said by both an American and a German, an insightful contrast) “Sometimes I wonder which side God is on.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (tied with Saving Private Ryan)

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
633 Followers and Counting

 

VC Pick: Patton (1970)

Tags

Biopic, Classics, Drama, History, VC Pick, War

What wins wars?
It’s a question hard to answer
That no army can refuse.
For if every side could answer it,
No side would ever lose.

What wins wars?
Some would say that it’s commitment
Or resolve to reach the goal.
But commitment breeds fanaticism
If it lacks control.

What wins wars?
Some would point to their resources,
Which are squandered easily.
Some would point to perseverance
Or to strength or bravery.

What wins wars?
All of these are necessary,
But they’re not the final trade.
There’s a risk to every battle;
There’s a price that must be paid.

What wins wars?
‘Tis the soldiers wielding courage
And the strength to persevere,
Those committed to their country,
Without whom we’d not be here.
__________________

MPAA rating:  GP/PG (more of a PG-13 for language)

My VC has been urging me to review Patton for some time now, and I figured Memorial Day was the perfect time for this World War II biopic. Patton benefits from an Oscar-winning performance from George C. Scott and the Oscar-winning screenplay from none other than Francis Ford Coppola, who interestingly credits this film’s success with his being allowed to direct The Godfather.

While other actors are good, including Karl Malden as General Omar Bradley, this movie lives and dies by the effectiveness of Scott in the title role, and from the first iconic speech he delivers in the film’s opening, speaking to the troops in front of an enormous American flag, he embodies General George S. Patton’s patriotic resolve and uncompromising will. The score is similarly iconic, providing perfect accompaniment to Patton’s military ambitions, and certain scenes are distinctly memorable, like Patton’s slapping of a shell-shocked soldier or his shoot-off with a swooping enemy plane.

All that said, war movies from the ‘70s aren’t what they are today. While I’m grateful for the lack of extreme content, there’s not much action, with the focus instead on Patton as a character. That’s hardly a bad thing, but at nearly three hours, the plot loses steam at times and didn’t need to be that long. I also found it odd that the film stopped short of Patton’s unexpected death in a car accident, not even mentioning it in an ending footnote.

As a fan of history, though, I found Patton a great character study of one of America’s greatest generals, providing insight into his lesser known activities as well, such as his passive role in the D-Day invasion and his many difficulties with censoring himself in interviews. He was a monstrous warmonger to some and a nationalist hero to others, a dichotomy of characterizations that the film embraces in equal measure. Considering its balanced treatment and biographical importance, I can see why it won Best Picture that year, in addition to Best Director, Original Screenplay, Film Editing, Sound, Art Direction, and Actor (which Scott famously refused). It also reminded me that Patton himself was a poet, so I ought to add this film to my list of poems used in movies. It’s a bit too long and slow to watch often, but it definitely ranks among the greatest war biopics.

Best line: (Patton) “Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.”

 

Rank: List Runner-Up

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
632 Followers and Counting

 

Version Variations: The Magnificent Seven (1960, 2016)

Tags

Action, Classics, Drama, Thriller, Version Variations, Western

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was for a poem dedicated to some other form of art, so I opted for the film Seven Samurai and its many incarnations.)

In the land of Japan, after warring was done,
An epic and classic of film was begun
By one Kurosawa, director renowned,
Who left cinematic impressions profound.

This film Seven Samurai dazzled the critics
(And still holds a high spot in film analytics)
So Hollywood said, after only six years,
“We’ll do that in English for our Western ears.

“And speaking of western, we’ll re-set the plot
With cowboys and Mexicans. Now that’s a thought!”
So that’s what they did, and it turned out a winner
With quite the ensemble headlined by Yul Brynner.

They didn’t stop there; three more sequels ensued,
But even those westerns were just a prelude.
A Corman sci-fi set the story in space,
Hong Kong made a version with China the place,

And Italy even confused the translators
By making the samurai brave gladiators.
A Bug’s Life was Pixar’s cartoonish conversion,
Then back to Japan for an anime version.

And Hollywood remade the remake it made,
The most recent role that this formula’s played.
Imitation is flattery’s form at its highest,
But would Kurosawa, I wonder, be biased?
_________________________

MPAA rating for the 1960 version:  Approved (basically PG)
MPAA rating for the 2016 version:  PG-13 (pretty strong on the violence)

I haven’t done one of these Version Variation posts in a while, mainly because I haven’t watched an abundance of remakes lately. Yet I stumbled upon the 2016 remake of The Magnificent Seven, and finding it to be an above average western, had to see how it compared to the more celebrated original (not to mention how it compared to the original original, 1954’s Seven Samurai).

Of course, Akira Kurosawa started it all with Seven Samurai, the tale of seven disparate but skilled misfits recruited by desperate villagers to fend off invading bandits. The Magnificent Seven is very much the same tale, simply transplanted from feudal Japan to the mythic American West. Certain scenes and plot elements are common to every version, such as the duel that introduces the most deadly of the bunch or the number of the seven who are killed by the end (though which characters die seems to differ).

All three also feature extremely talented ensembles, led by an established movie star. In the case of The Magnificent Seven, that would be Yul Brynner (1960) and Denzel Washington (2016), both dressed all in black and oozing enough self-confidence to recruit six others with minimal effort. Watching the different versions, it was interesting to pick out the parallels between the other characters. Horst Buchholz (who went on to appear in Life Is Beautiful) plays a scrappy upstart in the 1960 version, clearly modeled after Toshiro Mifune in Seven Samurai, but there’s not really an equivalent character in the 2016 film. As the second recruit, Chris Pratt seems comparable to Steve McQueen’s drifter, while James Coburn’s knife-thrower is unmistakably akin to Lee Byung-hun in the remake. Other comparisons are a little harder, such as Ethan Hawke’s war-haunted Cajun in the remake having elements of both Robert Vaughn and Brad Dexter’s characters in the original.

One thing that is self-evident about the 2016 remake is its effort to be more inclusive in its representation. While all of the original seven were white, the new seven include three whites, one black, one Mexican, one Native American, and one South Korean (who I guess is supposed to represent the Chinese? I didn’t know there were Korean immigrants in the Old West).  Another difference is that the characters in the remake are given far more colorful names; after all, aren’t “Goodnight” Robicheaux and Billy Rocks cooler sobriquets than Britt or Chris or Lee?

While it makes the character comparisons a little harder, the racial changes aren’t unwelcome and don’t make much difference storywise, aside from a clash between the Native American member of the Seven (Martin Sensmeier) and his counterpart on the bad guy’s side (Jonathan Joss, who surprisingly also played Chief Hotate on Parks and Recreation). Speaking of bad guys, that’s another major change; whereas the original’s Eli Wallach played the leader of a Mexican outlaw band, the remake’s Peter Sarsgaard plays a ruthless businessman aiming to buy out the townsfolk for the nearby gold mine (which is notably not in the original, much to Brad Dexter’s chagrin).

Perhaps it might have been different if I had watched the 1960 version first, as most cinephiles did, but I think I actually prefer the 2016 version. The 1960 film is a classic, no doubt about that, with Yul Brynner’s man in black standing up as one of the quintessential western heroes. Yet even though that film has its fair share of gunfights, the 2016 film plays out much more like an action movie, tossing out the love subplot and apparent defeat of the original in favor of bigger and more explosive battles. The body count is higher, but the thrills don’t disappoint, in contrast to the original film’s excessive length and occasional boring parts.

That being said, cheating though it may be, I don’t have any problem grouping the two together for ranking purposes, or even grouping both with Seven Samurai. Seven Samurai may be the most artistic and the 2016 film the most entertaining, but all three are worthwhile. (I’ll draw the line, though, at grouping them with A Bug’s Life, which is also basically the same story. I did like how Charles Bronson’s bond with some local kids was recycled for Francis the lady bug in Pixar’s film.) Many may scoff at the mere idea of remakes, often rightfully, but, like A Star Is Born, this is one story that has endured the test of time and excelled in multiple incarnations.

Best line from the 1960 version: (Vin/Steve McQueen) “It’s like a fellow I once knew in El Paso. One day, he just took all his clothes off and jumped in a mess of cactus. I asked him that same question, ‘Why?’”   (Calvera/bad guy) “And?”   (Vin) “He said, ‘It seemed to be a good idea at the time.’”

Best line from the 2016 version: (Sam Chisholm/Denzel Washington) “What we lost in the fire, we’ll find in the ashes.”

 

Rank: List-Worthy (both grouped with Seven Samurai)

 

© 2019 S.G. Liput
627 Followers and Counting