Idiot Boxing: Fargo, seasons 1 and 2 (2014, 2015)

After being blown away by the recent FX series Legion (see my review here), I had to know what creative mind was responsible for it. Turns out that mind belongs to Noah Hawley, whose surprisingly short writing resume included the FX television series Fargo - a show that I had heard rave reviews about but hadn't gotten around to watching. However, with my desire for more of Hawley's work well and truly stoked, I snapped up the series and watched them in fairly short order. My thoughts:

And so it begins. Lester (left) inadvertently meets Lorne Malvo
and somewhat unwittingly sends him along a brutal path that
doesn't end until dozens are dead.

Season 1 (2014)


An amazing and surprising series that seems to do the impossible: take an iconic, singular film and adapt it into an original story that both emulates the spirit and some elements of the original movie and uses the TV mini-series format to perfectly tell a longer and deeper tale.

The story mostly takes place in and around Bimidji, Minnesota, where impotent insurance salesman Lester Nygaard (Martin Freeman) somewhat unintentionally kicks off a spree of violence and murder which belies the otherwise sleepy little town. After the middle-aged Lester is bullied by an old high school nemesis, he meets a mysterious drifter in the hospital - Lorne Malvo (Billy Bob Thornton) - who decides to exact murderous revenge on Nygaard's tormentor. This leads to several unintended murders which eventually pull into their vortex local police officers, including Deputy Molly Solverson (Allison Tolman). Though rather quiet and unassuming, Solverson has an excellent mind for police work, as well as a staunch willingness to do what is right. Unfortunately, she is taken none to seriously by most of her fellow officers. Although she often penetrates through the murky layers covering up the dark deeds in her town, she is fighting a constant uphill battle to track down Malvo and the other people involved in the carnage.

Firstly, the story itself is the stuff of outstanding noir cinema. The murders are dark and disturbing, cutting into not only the obviously repugnant violence inherent in them, but also the shadowy human desires and weaknesses that cause them. And true to classic noir, there are more twists and turns than could possibly exist in reality. When handled correctly though, as they are in Fargo, these complexities create an engaging portrait of good people attempting to reckon with horrendous villains and atrocities. Elements to the story which may at first seem superfluous or included for mere shock value almost always have a place in the larger tale, and these places are revealed as the episodes unfold.

A few more of the oddball and compelling hardcases running
around the Minnesota countryside in this story.

On top of the framework of the ripping crime story is the characters. True to the film which inspired it, Fargo includes an eminently memorable cast of characters. While there are several ways in which this first TV show season draws from the film, perhaps the deftest way is the creation and handling of these characters. Lester Nygaard is a clear echo of Jerry Lundegaard, both being weak-willed sad sacks whose selfish and foolish decisions unleash hell upon those around them. Deputy Solverson is also another version of Marge Gunderson, the deceptively expert female police officer who ultimately tracks down the vicious criminals in the center of the story. There is also Lorne Malvo, who is arguably a darker, more fleshed-out and frighteningly intelligent version of the stoic, homicidal maniac Gaear Grimsrud. Malvo in particular is quite something, played with award-winning intensity by Billy Bob Thornton. Not unlike Heath Ledger's Joker character in The Dark Knight, Malvo is a self-avowed agent of chaos whose entire existence is predicated upon ignoring the rules of empathetic society. He sees himself as a predator who is well within his rights to take whatever he wants from whomever he wants, including life itself. He even delights in sowing little seeds of discord, simply to break people out of what he sees as idiotic patterns of socially prescribed behavior. It's a character and performance that keeps you itching for him to show up again, just to see exactly what he's going to do, even if some of those things are unspeakably horrible.

One other aspect of the film absorbed into this show was the pace and tone. Making no bones about mimicking the Coen brothers' knack for such things, writer and director Noah Hawley decided not to mess with a good and unique thing, giving us plenty of slow and careful scenes displaying the lonely winter landscapes of Minnesota. The show even uses parts of the original soundtrack, with its eerie, lonely strings moaning along, occasionally punctuated with short, quirky percussive instruments. It creates an oddly playful sense, which actually fits the entire show, as dark as it often gets.

Obviously, I found this first season tremendous. Tremendous enough to dive right into the second season...


Season 2 (2015)

In an interesting and somewhat bold narrative move, season 2 takes us backwards in time to 27 years before the events depicted in season one. We go to 1979, when Molly Solverson's father and grandfather found themselves in the middle of a shocking outbreak of violence in their normally quiet little Minnesota town.

It's the end of the 1970s, and the United States is in a massive and violent transition period. The specter of the lost "conflict" in Vietnam hovers over many of the men and women who served in that horribly misguided war. Liberation movements abound, and large-scale corporatization is looming on the near horizon. Amid these larger forces, in Luverne, North Dakota, aspiring feminist and more-than-a-little delusional beautician Peggy Blumquist runs into a man stumbling out of a Waffle Hut. Rather than stop, Peggy continues to drive all the way home with the unconscious man on her hood. At home, her husband Ed, the local butcher, discovers the body and is attacked by the still-living hit-and-run victim. Ed kills the man in self-defense, but what neither he nor Peggy yet know is that the man is Rye Gerhadt - the youngest of the three Gerhardt brothers - key members of the most powerful crime family in the Fargo, North Dakota area. Rye's death sets in motion an ever-escalating sequence of violence and pursuit that pits the Gerhardts, local and state police, and an encroaching Kansas City crime syndicate all against each other in the otherwise quiet region of the American North.

This sophomore season is arguably better than the first, which is saying something. While there are a few general themes and character types that are similar to the first season, this prequel season is very much its own tale, with its own rhythms, beats, twists, and larger themes that stand very much on their own. Sure, knowing and seeing the little connections between this season and the previous one can provide some fun little Easter eggs for viewers, but they are far from essential to any of the relevant aspects of the tale. True to the Coen Brothers' cinema spirit, this season takes a mundane setting and sometime rather common and simple people and thrusts it all into a dark, twisted world of violence and brutality that somehow seems, at alternate moments, out of place and right at home. The sparse and frigid landscapes of the Dakotas and Minnesota convey the rugged individualist spirit required to survive in such regions, and this carries through to many of the characters, weak and strong alike. The linguistic and behavioral quirks are right in keeping with the original movie, though the ten-episode format allows for a larger exploration of those cultural oddities.

Mike Milligan and his eerily silent, twin hatchet men - the
Kitchen brothers. Bokeem Woodbine turns in one of several
excellent performances in this season. 

As with the first season, the storytelling is perfectly tight. In short order, we are introduced to several characters who are compelling for their strengths, weaknesses, grand ambitions, or lack thereof. Virtually everyone turns in excellent performances, though I found the standouts to be Patrick Wilson as Lou Solverson (father to season one's understated yet brilliant herione, Molly), Kirsten Dunst as Peggy, and Bokeem Woodbine as Kansas City crime syndicate enforcer Mike Milligan. Wilson in particular was a breath of fresh air in many ways. Up to the point, we hadn't really seen a completely assured, competent, and steady police officer character. While the character's daughter, Molly, would later become just as capable a detective and officer as her father, the Molly of season one is still fighting a massive uphill battle against patriarchal gender biases and her relative youth, leading to a bit of uncertainty and tentativeness. In season two, Lou is a seasoned police officer and combat veteran from Vietnam. He calls things as he sees them and doesn't balk at doing the right thing, even when it leads into the heart of danger. But he is merely the standout among many strong, fascinating characters whose interactions make so many scenes in this season thoroughly gripping.

One other note on this season - it became clear just how well creator Noah Hawley is integrating certain little homages to the Coen Brothers' work - not just the original Fargo, but even their other movies. Without ever feeling unoriginal or forced, each of the first two seasons has a handful of moments - they might be brief lines of dialogue, a general character type, the framing of certain shots, or some other aspect of the narrative - that are clearly tips of the cap to other films like Miller's Crossing, Raising Arizona, or other Coen masterpieces. It's far from the most important thing, but astute fans of their films will notice and appreciate them.

It's hard to watch these first two seasons and, when added to the number of fantastic TV shows released in the last decade, not agree with the notion that this truly is a "Golden Age" of television. I've already jumped into season 3, and expect equally amazing things from show runner Hawley. 

Retro Trio: Sunshine (2007); The Big Lebowski (1998); Shall We Dance? (2004)

Sunshine (2007)

Director: Danny Boyle

Smart, intriguing sci-fi that goes a bit off the rails in the third act.

Sunshine is set in a future where our sun is slowly dying, leading to a gradual cooling of Earth and the impending, subsequent death of all living things on it. To prevent such a complete devastation, a crew of astronauts is piloting a ship, the Icarus II, towards the sun in order to deliver a nuclear payload to the star's center. This will trigger a rebirth of the sun's energy and allow life to continue on our planet. A similar mission had been sent a few years prior, on the original Icarus craft, but it failed with no word from the crew, who have been presumed dead.

Of course, the Icarus II's trip does not go as planned. Once they get close enough to the sun, they receive some form of message from the original Icarus. The crew make the risky decision to investigate. Technical problems start to emerge after the detour is taken, and lives are lost. Matters go from bad to worse when one of the original Icarus's crew members, Pinbacker, is discovered to be alive and completely insane. Pinbacker sneaks aboard the Icarus II and, convinced that humanity deserves to die, does everything he can to sabotage their mission to deliver the payload.

Sunshine boasts a great many strengths as a film. Written by Alex Garland (28 Days Later, Dredd, Ex Machina), the story is wonderfully smart science fiction. Beyond the mere adventure of the Icarus II's mission, there is plenty of character conflict and psychological probing. The crew must repeatedly make extremely difficult decisions, similar to what is seen in the predecessor film Alien, and also later space travel movies like Europa Report and Interstellar. Such films are all the stronger due to the stakes on every level.

The acting is also top-notch. There are many actors who either were already well-established, like Michelle Yeoh, or have since become so, such as Cillian Murphy, Chris Evans, Rose Byre, and others. Every one of them displays their characters' stengths and weaknesses phenomenally well, which is essential for such science fiction movies to ascend beyond a mere genre piece.

My only real issue with the movie comes from its third act. When the tension is at its absolute peak, the visuals and editing become extemely trippy and herky-jerky, which is a technique that director Danny Boyle has put to good use several times in his career. For Sunshine, however, I found it unnecessary and disorienting. Simply, I lost my sense of spatial orientation bewteen characters and actions. I realize that this might have been Boyle's intent, but this knowledge didn't make it any easier to watch.

This aesthetic gripe aside, I thought that Sunshine was a great piece of science fiction cinema. Along with other Alex Garland-written movies like Dredd and Ex Machina, I've found that rare, reliable sci-fi writer whom I plan to follow faithfully for at least the next several years.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

Directors: Joel and Ethan Coen

Like many fans of this film, I could probably write a doctoral thesis on what I love about it. For the purposes of this blog, I'll keep it relatively short and sweet. I think this movie is an absolute classic, and I can't imagine it ever getting old.

The entire concept has "Coen Brothers" written all over it. What if we tell an LA noir crime story, a la Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler, only instead of a weary but capable PI in the middle of it all, we thrust a burnt-out stoner into the role of protagonist? It's a great starting concept, though it was one which required a lot more spice to make a memorable movie. The Coen brothers were up to the challenge.

If you read a bare-bones, general plot synopsis of the tale, it would bear a striking similarity to film noir - an unsuspecting citizen is mistaken for a wealthy local by a shady and powerful figure. The young wife of this shady and powerful figure is soon after kidnapped, at which point, the protagonist is soon thrown into the machinations of various parties who are interested in the million-dollar ransom put up for her release. The path to resolution is a winding one, along which the protagonist meets many strange characters, each with his or her own motivations.

That blueprint could just as easily have been some lesser-known Hammett or Chandler novel. Instead of Sam Spade trying to navigate the troubled waters of the tale, though, we get "The Dude," a loveable but interminably lazy stoner whose sensibilities never escaped the hippie movement of the 1960s. The powerful figures he meets include the self-aggrandizing Jeoffrey Lebowski, porn producer Jackie Treehorn, and the son of Arthur Digby Sellers ("you ever hear of a little show called 'Branded,' Dude?!"), among many others. Each and every appearance is hilariously memorable, all done in a style that only the Coen brothers would even attempt to pull off.

One of the countless moments of hilarious banter between
oddballs in the movie. This one involves nihilists, marmots,
and the Dude possibly getting castrated. Where else
would you possibly find such a thing?

While the Coen brothers have made snappy, memorable dialogue a regular feature in their movies, none is as highly quotable as The Big Lebowski (Raising Arizona is a contender, but it falls short). Thanks to sharp and quirky comedic writing and brilliant comic acting on the parts of over a dozen actors, nearly every line humorously expresses something about the oddball character who delivers it. From "It really tied the room together," to "The bums will always lose," to "Nobody fucks with the Jesus," and endless others, fans of this movie can send themselves into a tantric frenzy when they get into a room and start firing off line after memorable line.

It is arguable that The Big Lebowski is not "great cinema," and that it is not the Coen Brothers' best movie. However, it is certainly their most beloved. Being such a strange fusion of their unusual, and ususually effective, comic sensibilties and their passion for classic noir cinema, this movie is such a singular work that its cult classic status is more than well-deserved.

Shall We Dance? (2004)

Director: Peter Chelsom

Certainly not my cup of tea, but it's easy to see the appeal for many.

Shall We Dance is the story of John Clark (Richard Gere), a family man in New York City who seems a bit discontent with his normal, though very enviable, life. On his normal bus ride home, he spies a beautiful young woman staring forelornly out of a window to a dance school. He eventually and reluctantly enrolls in dance classes there, albeit without telling his wife, Beverly (Susan Sarandon). He even gets a bit of instruction from the sad muse from the window, Paulina (Jennifer Lopez), an exceptional dancer and teacher.

The movie is almost pure fluff. There is very little that is dangerous or challenging. A few of the characters do experience a tribulation or two here and there, but none of them is so great that it can't be overcome with some laughter and a touch of attitude. The main comic relief comes from the characters Bobbie and Link (Lisa Anne Walter and Stanley Tucci), two oddballs with great passion for dancing. Along with the mere presence of these two, there is plenty of light humor sprinkled regularly through the film, in the form of slapstick on the dance floor or airy dialogue.

The movie accomplishes its goals, thanks mostly to its incredibly talented cast. Supporting members like the aforementioned Walter and Tucci, along with Bobby Cannavale, often sell some rather tepid gags through sheer force of acting talent. Also, having Richard Jenkins give a great deadpan performance in a small role is a welcome element. These things were just enough to hold my attention. They help buoy the primary husband/wife/hot dance instructor relationship drama that takes very few risks and I found only slightly interesting.

Shall We Dance is probably not a movie that I'll need to watch again. It was certainly a good enough movie for those in a rom-com kind of mood.

Before I Die # 552: The Ladykillers (1955)

This is the 552nd of the 1,162 films on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Alexander Mackendrick

A fairly amusing dark comedy, though not as thoroughly entertaining as I had hoped.

I had seen the misguided 2004 Coen Brothers remake, so I knew the basic story. The original is set in 1950s London, England, where a group of thieves pose as musicians who practice their string quartet in the home of the elderly and somewhat loopy Mrs. Wilberforce. They are led by the abundantly sinister Professor Marcus (Alec Guinness), whose master plan involves using Mrs. Wilberforce's home, conveniently situated just above the train station, as a headquarters for a daring robbery of an incoming delivery of cash. The heist initially goes as planned, but things go awry when Mrs. Wilberforce learns of the larceny before the crooks can get the money away from the house. This forces the thieves into the grim conclusoin that Mrs. Wilberforce must be eliminated, permanently. The rest of the movie is comprised of the group deciding who will kill her and how the dark deed will be done.

While that description may sound like a horribly macabre story, rest assured that it is merely the stuff of black humor. This is a great concept, and it is not difficult to see why the Coen Brothers decided to try their hand at updating it. Alas, though the original is certainly far better than the 2004 remake, I did find it a chore to watch much of the time. Many of the scenes and situations smack of a comedy sketch that goes on a bit longer than necessary, and most of the characters, while amusing in theory and stature, lack enough memorable dialogue to make a real mark.

This crew had a lot more potential than was met, especially
given the acting talents involved.

The movie was even more of a disappointment after I had seen the name Peter Sellers in the opening credits. Though quite young at the time, he would go on to become an absolute legend of comedy, so I was hoping for an early look at this budding genius. Alas, there was nothing in the performance that demanded any of Sellers's prodigious comic talents. His character, Harry, was only mildly amusing, and it could have been played by any one of countless other actors. With so much hindsight, it seems to be one of the most obvious wastes of talent that one is likely to find. While the other characters were more interesting in theory, they were never given the script to bring the humor to life.

Now having seen them both, it seems like the original and remake were two parts of a potentially greater whole. The original had the set-up and casting right, whereas the 2004 version misfired on setting and some casting. Conversely, the 2004 version understood how to punch up the dark humor, especially when the bodies start piling up, while the original couldn't maintain the comedic element consistently. An even better comparison lies in the 1949 movie Kind Hearts and Coronets, which also starred Alec Guinnes in a variety of roles. That earlier movie is a case study in dark humor, and The Ladykillers of 1955 might have been better had it taken a few lessons from it.

For those who like dark British humor, this is worth a watch, though I would advise tempered expectations.

That's 552 movies down. Only 610 to go before I can die. 

Film # 89: Miller's Crossing (1990)

Director: Joel Coen

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: five or six

Rapid-Fire Summary

*The plot of Miller’s Crossing is complex, indeed. I’ll keep it streamlined, but if you want a full blow-by-blow, you can check it out here at imdb.

In a Prohibition Era city (name unknown), Irish mobster Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) serves as the right-hand man and consultant to mob boss, Leo (Albert Finney). Tom is highly loyal to Leo, except for the fact that he is sleeping with Leo’s special lady, Verna (Marcia Gay Harden). Verna is known as a con woman of highly questionably morals who is sleeping with both Leo and Tom, possibly in order to protect her brother, Bernie (John Turturro). Bernie is a fellow con artist and bookmaker who has put himself in the crosshairs of Italian mob boss Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito) by undercutting his fixed boxing matches.

Even in the tightest of situations, Tom Reagan is as cool and unflappable as they come. 

Over the course of a few days, Tom gets mixed up with Bernie and has to navigate his way between the rival mob bosses Leo and Caspar, seeming to double-cross one after the other. He uses Bernie, Verna, and whoever else he can in order to keep himself alive. After tensions rise to point of several beatings, murders, and raids on speakeasies, Tom manipulates Bernie into killing Caspar. Tom then kills Bernie, either as a final cover up or a final act of revenge. This leaves Verna, who Tom may secretly love, free to marry Leo, who is finally returned to his place of power atop the criminal underworld. At Bernie’s funeral, Tom refuses Leo’s plea to have him back as his chief lieutenant, but Tom stoically refuses. Tom then watches Leo and Verna walk away.

My Take on the Film

I didn’t even know about this movie until about seven or eight years after its big screen release. Once I did see it, though, it instantly became one of my favorites.

Even after seeing it about a half dozen times now, I still love it. There is so much skill put into how this movie is crafted that I still marvel at it. I’m an enormous fan of the Coen brothers, and I appreciate their studied approach to film making. Miller’s Crossing exhibits so many of the things that they clearly love about movies, and they blended them into a gangster tale like none other.

The story itself is actually pure noir. The plot twists, the seedier elements, the femme fatale, and the gallows humor is exactly what one can find in noir classics like Double Indemnity or Out of the Past. Tom Reagan is as fatalistic and deadpan as the protagonists of the best James M. Cain or Dashiell Hammett novels. As he carefully plots his course through the maze of the deadly forces around him, he might seem devoid of any real emotion. But if you look carefully past his cold words, and you look closely enough at his actions, you can see that there is indeed a soul. The character Verna even points it out in the film when she says, “…you have a heart, Tom. Even though it’s small and feeble, and you can’t remember the last time you used it.”

Despite Tom's apathetic demeanor and biting insults, Verna sees the glimmer of a man who cares. These two corrupted souls dance with and around each other in fantastic exchanges of dialogue.

Actually, the notion of Tom’s heart is really at the center of the movie, as symbolized by his slick Fedora hat. Many of the characters are motivated by pure greed. Leo the mob boss does actually have empathy for others, and Verna seems to care for Tom, but Tom himself is an enigma in many ways. It is only during the few calm, quiet moments in the film that we can see that Tom is not purely a selfish pragmatist. The truth is that he’s clearly smarter than Leo and, if he wanted, could easily manipulate his way to usurping and eliminating Leo to take his position as the top crime lord in the city. The reason he doesn’t is loyalty. We the viewers can’t be sure until the very end, but once you know what has been guiding Tom throughout his ordeals, we can see just how steadfast and intelligent he is.

Maybe the most singular element in the film is the presence of homosexuality. It's not overt, but it is heavily implied that Bernie, Mink, and even the hard-case Eddie Dane are gay lovers. It still seems mildly out of place in what is otherwise a pure compound of the noir and gangster genres. Miller's Crossing is an unusual mob movie in many ways, but perhaps no more so than in this.

True to noir cinematic storytelling, Tom Reagan is in virtually every scene, with very few exceptions. While he certainly holds the screen, the supporting characters are equally engaging (something that is a hallmark of Coen brothers movies). From Leo to Verna, from Bernie to Johnny Caspar and Eddie Dane, and even very minor cameos like Mink (played in staccato by Steve Buscemi) or “Drop” Johnson, the characters indelibly etch themselves into your minds. A lot of this has to do with the dialogue, which has always been a Coen brothers strength. This is where they show their ability to write dialogue that can be tough, poignant, hilarious, or revealing. And in Miller’s Crossing it’s always delivered in a rapid-fire style usually reserved for screwball comedies (which I hate, but the style works brilliantly in this film).

Of course, strong dialogue alone does not a classic movie make. The acting has to be spot-on, and it certainly is in Miller’s Crossing. Gabriel Byrne is absolutely perfect as the ever-stoic, ever-cunning, morally ambiguous Irish mobster Tom Reagan. The other characters all nail their roles perfectly, and there are too many for me to give a role call. However, I will say that an often-overlooked performance is J.E. Freeman as Eddie Dane, the dark counterpart to Tom Reagan. Every interaction between these two arch-nemeses has a great amount of tension, as the two try to out-cool, out-stare, and out-intimidate each other.

Johnny Caspar's right-hand man, the brutal and heartless Eddie Dane. Where Tom uses his wits and tongue to maneuver in their criminal underworld, "The Dane" uses fear and raw force.

Finally, the cinematography itself. This should also come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the Coen brothers’ movies, but this movie looks incredible. It’s easy to see that the sets and costumes were carefully selected to create frame compositions that are simply a pleasure to look at. On top of that, this movie features several great examples of the nearly lost art of visual storytelling, yet another film technique that the Coens have always shown affinity for. In fact, the scene in which Leo dispatches several would-be assassins with a Thompson machine gun is one of my favorite pieces of visual storytelling in any film. No dialogue for about five minutes – just “Danny Boy” playing in the background and some sound effects. I love that stuff, and very few directors have the guts or the skill to do it well.

Miller’s Crossing might not be everyone’s cup of tea, especially if you’re expecting a more traditional gangster movie in the vein of The Godfather or Goodfellas. The Coens imbue their pictures with more “only in the movies” style than those other, more naturalistic films do. Still, if you appreciate superb film making and a novel approach to a time-honored genre, you should give it a try. Anyone who likes the Coen brothers but has not seen this one needs to run to the video store right now and watch it. You won’t be disappointed.

That’s a wrap. 89 shows down. 16 to go.

Coming Soon: Goodfellas (1990)

This will be quite the contrast in gangster films. Miller’s Crossing uses old-school gangsterism as a backdrop for a slick noir tale. Goodfellas was really the quantum leap forward for realism in mafia films. Come on back to see how I enjoy my next viewing yet another of Scorcese’s masterworks (and enjoy it, I certainly will).

Film #25: Double Indemnity (1944)

Director: Billy Wilder

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: 3 (most recently about 2 years ago)

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers)

Insurance salesman and black widow gold digger plot murder of husband; hope to get rich off insurance policy.

The Full Treatment (A complete summary, spoilers included. Fair warning):

In 1940s Los Angeles, clever insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) stops by the opulent home of rich client Mr. Dietrichson to get some signatures on an auto insurance policy. Instead, he meets Dietrichson's sultry younger wife, Phyllis (Barbara Stanwyck). After some flirtatious fast-talk, Phyllis slyly inquires about getting a life insurance policy for her husband, but without his knowing it. The quick-witted Neff immediately smells something fishy and clears out, warning Phyllis that any plot she may have to off her husband and collect insurance money is bound to fail.

And yet, after leaving, Neff can't get Phyllis or her scheme out of his mind. Sure enough, she shows at his apartment later, and they fall into each other's arms. Then and there, Walter agrees to help Phyllis with her nefarious plot. He's sure that, with his knowledge of botched murders through the insurance claims business, they can commit the crime, avoid leaving any evidence, and spend the rest of their lives together off of a $100,000 "double indemnity" insurance policy.


Walter & Phyllis: future lovers and accomplices.

Neff carefully plots the murder and coaches Phyllis in assisting him. With calculated precision, the two get Mr. Dietrichson's unwitting signature on the life insurance policy, then lure him to his own murder, making it seem like an accidental fall from the observation car of a moving train.

At first, it seems as if they will get off scott free. Then, one person starts to smell a rat. Barton Keyes, the eagle-eyed, obsessive claims manager at Neff's office, senses something amiss. Following his instincts, which he refers to as his "little man," the long-time insurance man starts to become ever surer that Dietrichson's death was not accidental. Even more, he feels that Phyllis is the culprit. The only thing he doesn't see is Neff's involvement in the whole thing, but Neff senses Keyes getting closer to the truth.

As the pressure ratchets up, Neff discovers several unsavory things about his co-conspirator, Phyllis. She was, according to Dietrichson's daughter Lola, responsible for the death of the first Mrs. Dietrichson. On top of this, Phyllis has been secretly seeing Lola's boyfriend, Nino, at night for unknown reasons. Neff realizes that he's been played for a sucker.

When Walter goes to Phyllis's house to confront her with his revelations, he throws her deceptions in her face and explains how he plans to see that she will get locked up for the murder of Dietrichson. As a kicker, he plans to absolve himself by killing Nino, who Walter will claim was her accomplice. Phyllis, cornered, pulls a gun and shoots Neff in the arm. Neff clutches her tightly and shoots her dead, the two sharing one final, warped moment of attraction for each other. Nino shows up shortly after, but Neff abandons his plan to frame and kill him, rather telling him to leave and find Lola.

The wounded Neff manages to stagger back to Keyes's office and begins to record his own confession. Just as he reaches the end, Keyes shows up and looks on with sadness and disappointment as his former employee, and perhaps friend, lies bleeding on the floor. As they await the police, Keyes does Walter one final favor - he assists his now one-armed, former friend to light one last cigarette. Sure to be his last.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after the most recent viewing, before any research):

Now we get down an dirty.

After watching several artful cinematic master works and wading through the sophomoric humor of the screwball comedies on this list, I was ready for the downright nastiness of Double Indemnity. This film is a standard just as much as Citizen Kane or Casablanca, but for completely different reasons.

There are no heroes. You have to face this fact - the two main characters are murderers, one merely cold-blooded; the other ice-blooded. Rather than love being the force that attracts one to the other and gives the audience some semblance of a human connection, it's base lust. Walter is entranced by Phyllis' looks and attitude. It's almost like he refuses to realize that he's drawn to her based on the thing that makes her most dangerous - her viper-like magnetism and the promise of sensual delights, even if they're followed by his own destruction. It's this fatalism that's a hallmark characteristic of nearly all film noir protagonists (most notably in the classic Out of the Past - film #31 on the TIME list.)

"She didn't fool me this time." Oh, but she had you all along, Walt. She had you all along...

And yet, at one point, I was hoping that the killer Neff would succeed. This is not because his victim was an evil, or even a bad person. In fact, we don't know much about Dietrichson at all. He's just a pawn with a fat bank account as far as Neff, Phyllis and we viewers are concerned. I think it speaks to the movie writers' skill that there was a moment when, after the murder occurs, I actually wanted Neff to get away with it. How the hell did I become a cheerleader for a murderer?!

I chalk it up to a certain aspect of human nature, one that A-Team leader Hannibal put well: "I love it when a plan comes together." Whatever the plan is, we love to see if someone can pull it off. How else do you explain the appeal of crime movies? Well, Double Indemnity went all the way with it. Instead of giving you something slightly more palatable like bank robbers or a prison escape, you get two people who are going to kill someone for nothing more than greed and lust. Still, Walter's plan is so well-conceived and precise that you can't wait to see if it works, regardless of the motives. There was actually a moment when, as a monkey wrench is thrown into the plan and the risk of discovery increases, I felt nervous for Walter. I was actually sympathizing with a killer!

But more than this is that there is actually some form of redemption in the end. While his veins pump with 33-degree water throughout most of the movie, Walter's senses do return by the end, if only just barely. He sees Phyllis for the black widow that she is and even frees Nino from the frame job that was in place for the oblivious young man. This is what makes Neff more than just an unconscious killer.

Any viewer of this movie is getting treated to pure, unadulterated film noir. The rapid dialogue, the touch of '30s slang, the dark themes, and the deadly femme fatale are all in place. Someone who hasn't seen films in this genre may find them a bit ridiculous at first glance: no one really talks like that. No one could or would really pull these things off. No one place could have so many dynamic characters. All of these things are true. None of these things could or would exist, except for one place - the world of fiction. Whether it was books or film, the realm of noir fiction was a cohesive world all its own. This is why it was such a powerful force in American storytelling for at least two decades. Those broads, booze, and bullets tales had such a great appeal and impact that even as recently as Sin City, noir yet lives, albeit in a small corner of the cinema world.

To pull off such a twisted tale of deceit, you need good performances, and Double Indemnity has them. Fred MacMurray becomes a seminal noir man with his intense, slick talking dead pan. The amazing thing is that he's able to modulate his stoicism by the slightest of degrees, so that you can actually tell when his nerves are eating away at him, as opposed to when he's confident and relaxed. Billy Bob Thornton did this exceptionally well in the outlandish Coen brothers noir film The Man Who Wasn't There, and I suspect he may have studied MacMurray's turn as Neff in Double Indemnity.

I've made my feeling about Barbara Stanwyck pretty clear before. Her role as Phyllis Dietrichson is maybe her best-known role, but I actually prefer her roles in Baby Face and The Lady Eve. I suppose it's that, in Double Indemnity, her character is truly an irredeemable asp whose sex appeal thinly veils the venom stored in her fangs. I think I prefer when she played roles that have a heart, however tiny it might have been.

Edward G. Robinson is also incredible as the claims manager, Barton Keyes. He injects such passion into the character that you almost want to get into the insurance business, as laughable as that is; his enthusiasm is that intense.

Robinson injects so much pinched, focused energy in his role as Keyes that he nearly steals every scene in which he appears. The cantankerous, walking actuarial table does his best to keep Walt in line throughout the tale. Alas, it is to no avail.

All of these ingredients: a pitch-black plot (though a thoroughly entertaining one), engaging characters, and fantastic performances, create perhaps the first classic noir film. It helps to know what you're in for, but if you're ready for it, you'll most likely love Double Indemnity.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (done after further research):

"With Double Indemnity, Billy Wilder took that idea of Americans being a bunch of fast-buck motherfuckers and turned it into art." - Elmore Leonard

And with this statement, I think Leonard sums up a lot. Like Citizen Kane and Casablanca, Double Indemnity has been food for film critic analysis for almost 70 years now. The reason being that this was the first film that artfully told a completely sordid tale that cut right to a very palpable element of the American condition: underneath the attractive exterior lurks a murderous demon.

Perhaps not surprisingly, it took a foreigner to put this idea to film, skillfully. Billy Wilder, a German immigrant who had fled during the early days of the rise of the Reich, was a student of American culture. Apparently, he was riveted by the notion that, in the States, even the most seemingly pleasant and innocuous of people had a murderer slumbering deep inside. All it took was the right trigger to wake it up. In the case of Double Indemnity, the insurance salesman Walter Neff's trigger is the trashy seductiveness of Phyllis Dietrichson.

Hollywood was terrified of this film. The salaciousness. The lack of a hero. These things seemed like poison to major studios, despite the massive popularity of dark themes in the written stories of James M. Cain and Dashiel Hammett. Once Wilder convinced the studio to make it, it was hell to cast. Too many actors and actresses saw it as career suicide. It wasn't until Wilder essentially dared Barbara Stanwyck (with the line, "Are you an actress or a mouse?!"), verbally massaged former nice-guy actor Fred MacMurray, and soothed the pride of usual-top-billed Edward G. Robinson that he had the players he needed.

Once released, Double Indemnity was not dismissed as trash, as one may suspect. Quite the contrary - it was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, winning 1, and is today considered the movie that gave birth to film noir. Never before had such a sinister tale been told with such strong acting, stylishly dark cinematography (in a time when color was growing ever-more common), and with such indelible dialogue. This movie was the parent of many later classics: Out of the Past, The Killers, Wilder's own Sunset Boulevard, and a host of others, both American and foreign.

An interesting note about the writing: the film was co-written by Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler, based on a novella by James M. Cain. Chandler adapting a Cain novella?! That's pulp fiction madness! The really curious thing is that Chandler, Cain, and fellow pulp master Dashiell Hammett all apparently thought the others' works were garbage. I guess there's more than one plumber to dig into the dark pipes of the human psyche, and those different plumbers do not like the looks of each other.

So, why did this film resonate with Americans at this point in time? Some theorize that the time of release, with the U.S. then being familiar to the darkness of man thanks to three years at war, was more receptive to a midnight-black, adult-themed movie. No longer did every movie have to be family friendly, a hero didn't always have to win, you didn't need a song or dance number, and there didn't need to be an overt moral. Double Indemnity was created at the right time and by the right people, released in the right place, and viewed by the right audience.

The descendants of Double Indemnity are many, a few of which were previously mentioned. Along with a host of others, ones of note would be the '80s remake, Body Heat, and of course, Chinatown, which echoes the tone and even some of the exact settings in Double Indemnity. There have been more recent filmmakers who have redone noir films, but not many have the brass to make the attempt, as there is virtually no chance for blockbuster commercial success. A shame, really, as film noir is another example of the kind of world that could only exist on the silver screen. When done right, as with Double Indemnity, it's as good as anything that's ever been put on celluloid.

In parting, it must be pointed out that the Coen brothers, in addition to the more direct homage to noir, The Man Who Wasn't There, based the ultimate cult film, The Big Lebowski on the entire pulp fiction & film noir genres. If you, like I, are a devoted Little Lebowski Urban Achiever, and have ever wondered why exactly the Coens made bowling such an integral part of the film, allow me to illuminate. Here's a still from a really brief scene in which Neff mulls over the possibility of killing for money:

F***ing Neff...that creep can roll, man.

That's a wrap. 25 shows down, 80 to go.

Coming Soon: Meet Me In St. Louis (1944):


I'm really not much of a musical guy. So much so that I'm calling in reinforcements for this one - my lady friend is going to be my copilot during this viewing, making it the first film that I won't be watching alone, like some film-obsessed hermit. We'll see if she can help me confront Judy Garland and...color!!!

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #5: The Crowd (1928)

Director: King Vidor (who wins the award for "Name That Belongs in a Star Wars Movie")

Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: none

The Story (in which I give away the plot and spoil the hell out of the movie for you. Fair warning):

In 1900, on the 4th of July, John "Johnny" Sims is born to a father who envisions his son doing something grand with his life. Fast forward 20 or so years. Johnny arrives in New York where he hopes to prove himself a success, as long as he's "given the opportunity." He grinds at a monotonous job, marries a nice gal, and has two children over the next 5 years, all the while toiling in the same career and persistently confident that his "ship will come in" any day. He goes through several ups and downs: some typical, like domestic feuds with his wife and in-laws; others much more tragic such as losing his young daughter to a traffic accident. After this horror, he quits his job, hops from one low-level gig to another, and nearly commits suicide. In the end, he finds a job as a juggling clown wearing a sandwich board and barely manages to save his marriage. His dreams of making it big are dashed, but he finds some sort of peace with his wife and remaining child. Swirling around it all is the titular "Crowd" of New York - the ever-bustling, ever-callous, never-still swarm of people that pump through the streets and buildings of the metropolis.

Take 1 (My opinion based on one viewing done before any research on the film):

Lame. Simple as that. If took five films to get there, but I've now seen one that I flat-out didn't like. I do need to mention that I had to watch this on a pretty shoddy VHS tape since it's not currently in-print. The picture quality is quite burned out, which leads to extremely bright spots and washes out a fair bit of the detail in many of the scenes. Still, this was hardly the problem. However, before I pummel the shit out of this movie, I'll take a look at the merits that I could see.

The obvious plus is the handful of interesting camera shots. As suggested by the synopsis on the tape jacket (one of those old-school, hefty plastic snap-case jobs that will end up buried in a landfill for at least 1,000 years), several shots were groundbreaking and iconic. There are three or four scenes with striking symmetry. One of them is when the 12-year old Johnny stands in a crowd at the bottom of a staircase leading into his home, preparing to ascend and learn that his father has died. We look down from the top landing and can get a sense of how distant and alone he is. Another, more famous one is our first look at Johnny's first job in New York. Here's a still shot:

Pretty exacting, eh? This scene and several more reminded me of the brilliant Coen brothers/Sam Raimi movie The Hudsucker Proxy (which I suspect drew very heavily from The Crowd), and which used many similar techniques to convey the sense of the cold machinery of big business. The problem, though, is that there's not nearly enough of it in The Crowd. Aside from these few admittedly impressive moments, nearly all of the rest of the camerawork was rather mundane to my eye. Had there been more shots like what you see above, I probably would have been more engaged. As it was, the extended montages of New York City traffic, the Coney Island amusement park, and Niagara Falls were yawners.

The other positive that stood out to me was that, compared to the other films I've watched from this era, The Crowd seems to be edgier and take on slightly risque topics: domestic fights, broken toilets, getting sauced on bootlegged hooch and picking up flapper "wrens", and the nervousness of a honeymoon evening. It lends a bit of verisimilitude to the story and the sense that Sims' story is that of your average fella. But again, it's the story of the average fella in the 1920s. For us 80-plus years later, the things that seem authentic are very different and amount to a slight disconnect. It's a bit hard for me to sympathize with a guy whose grand dream is winning $100.00 in an advertising contest. In the end, I couldn't say that I was overly wrapped up in whether Johnny was going to "make good" or not.

One final thing that brought me a touch of amusement was the dialogue on the title cards. Since the script was trying to convey the speech of the common New Yorker, we get some prime 20s-era slang. I had to chuckle at terms for people like, "old Bean," "you big egg," and admonitions when one of Johnny's co-workers tells him to "quit the high-hat"(a term used wonderfully by Jon Polito in Miller's Crossing).

On a final note, the overall story had a certain admirable appeal in that it served as a social commentary on hyper-urban culture. In this, the film does good work; however, to be truly effective, it really needed to be more tragic, a la the novel Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser or even the previous movie in this review, The Last Command. As it is, things end on a somewhat chipper note, with Johnny and his wife reconciling and moving forward with life. To me, this was a bit of a cop-out and amounts to the filmmakers trying to side-step alienating a popular audience.

Basically, this movie, though not overly long, was a struggle to get through. I don't really recommend it to anyone but hard-core film heads, critics and historians.

Take 2; or: "Why Film Geeks Love this Movie" (written after doing a bit of reading & research on the film.)

It would appear that, after reading a few critical analyses of the film, that the key words are "Everyman" and "camerawork." In a break from standard film topics, The Crowd was the first film to really tackle the plight of the average Joe trying to run with the rest of the pack. The fact that there is no "hero" or "villain" here seems to be one of the two major innovations here.

The second is, as mentioned, the filming. The use of tracking shots to illustrate how John Sims is either in or out of sync with the pulsing mob is still lauded by critics and filmmakers today. Apparently, the topic and style have been used in several other classics like the aforementioned Hudsucker Proxy and Billy Wilder's equally-heralded The Apartment.

Despite having these things pointed out to me and recognizing the merits, I'll never watch this one again. Well, maybe if someone paid me. A lot.

That's a wrap. 5 films down. 100 to go.

Coming Soon: Film #6 - The Man With a Camera (1929):

Based on the poster, I'll undoubtedly have to do stacks of acid before watching this movie in order to make heads or tails of what the hell is going on. Check back in a few to see if I can explain just what on God's green Earth this playbill is about.

Film #1: Sherlock, Jr. (1924)

A Few Thoughts on Silent Film. I'm not a fanatic for silent movies, but they hold a place in my heart. Film school students and historians point to the innovations made by filmmakers from the early 20th century and appreciate them for their technical merits. Most of us, however, don't. Most of us, myself included, mainly want entertainment. And, let's face it, we are now a culture of endless stimuli. The simple combination of visuals and music doesn't quite cut it. The thing that we forget is that film gains most of its power from visuals. The other elements: dialogue, narration, and music, were elements of literature and theater, and simply enhance the visual story being told in films. Before Al Jolson broke the "sound barrier" with The Jazz Singer in 1929, films were all about visual storytelling. Once dialogue was made possible, the gradual de-emphasis on visuals began. These days, the art of telling the story without the aid of words is all but lost. A few major filmmakers of the present and recent past still show this skill. Sergio Leone was a great, Quentin Tarantino is quite an adept, and the Coen Brothers are true masters of it. In a way, the total reliance on facial expressions, body language, prop positioning, camera shots & angles, and choreography to tell the story is pure cinema. With this in mind, let's have a look at one of the earliest icons of silent film:



Times Previously Viewed: 1 (about 10 years ago)

My Thoughts
At 45 minutes, Sherlock, Jr. is not much of a time commitment, and I enjoyed it. As with most silent films, the story is simple: a young projection operator (Keaton) has daydreams of being a world-class detective. Most of the film is given over to an extended fantasy that he has while he falls asleep in the projection booth. He dreams himself into the middle of a case of stolen pearls, outwits the bad guys through a combination of luck and skill, and makes many a narrow escape throughout.

Basically, Buster Keaton was awesome. He seemed to understand, even back then, a universal truth about physical and silly humor - the goofier you're going to be, the straighter you have to play it. Throughout every gag, both obvious and subtle alike, he maintains a stone deadpan that makes for the perfect counterpart to his casual agility, grace and athleticism. This "stone-face" approach still lives today: think very early Woody Allen, Leslie Nielsen in the Airplane and Naked Gun movies, or Ricky Gervais. The thing that makes those bits funny is that the guys pulling them act as if absolutely nothing's amiss. Keaton was way ahead of the curve on this one. I had more than one honest-to-goodness laugh during this short flick.

The diminutive Keaton did all of his own stunts, some of which are pretty astounding when you keep in mind the time period. Here's a montage of some of the hits. Keaton severely fractured his neck doing the one from the train at the beginning. Unfortunately, a few of my favorites were left out (the best bits start at about 5:00 into the video):


Overall, it was a fun watch. Had it been longer, I may have grown a bit tired of the simplicity of the plot and the way that everything is manipulated towards the stunts. As it was, however, I enjoyed it. I may not watch it again any time soon, but it's a great introduction to someone looking for one of the great silent films. I actually think a young kid would still really love this one, too. I mean, what young'un doesn't want to see a goofy little guy nearly getting shot, punched out, run over by trains, and hurled off of motorcycles? Not this one!

Why Film Geeks Love This Film

The answer, like the stories of Keaton's films, is simple: pretty much the same reason the common person liked it - the visual gags and the impeccable orchestration of the stunts. Also, the scene in which Keaton "jumps" into a rolling movie on a projection screen was seen as a major innovation (it's in the middle of the posted visual clip). By today's special effects standards, it seems grossly outdated. At the time, however, it was quite the eye-opener. Here's the complete review by one of the list compilers.

Side Note

On the same DVD as Sherlock, Jr. was an earlier Keaton flick, Our Hospitality (1923). This one was longer, but I actually liked it more. The sight gags were even better, and the story cleverly wove together disparate plot elements, a la the very best episodes of Seinfeld.

Coming Soon...Film # 2 on the list: Metropolis (1927)

This one is considered one of, if not the first great cinematic science fiction masterpiece. Come back in a few days to see what I think of the unblinking stare of that metal chick in the poster. She's going to keep looking at and thinking about you until you come back. Sleep tight.