Gangster Flick 3-Pack: The Killing (1956); High Sierra (1941); Mesrine (2008)

The Killing (1956)

Director: Stanley Kubrick

An uneven but fairly compelling early work from a film master, and a rather uniquely dark caper movie.

The title of the movie refers to the slang term of making a large amount of money in a short time, as well as the more literal reference to murder. Both meanings are appropriate for this film. The Killing is a caper tale centered on a group who plan to rob a horse track of two million dollars. The head of the group, Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden), is the only professional thief in the group. The others are racetrack employees who, for various reasons, are looking to make a lot of money quickly. Clay plots out a very thorough and meticulous plan which requires expert timing. Once the plan starts to unfold, various hiccups begin to make things even harder than they already were, with Clay doing everything he can to execute his big score.

The movie takes a hard look at the brutal and dark consequences of crime, as do all of the very best noir  movies. All but one or two of the most minor members of the thieving crew are shown to be rather selfish, callous men whose greed or general weakness leads them into ever-more-foolish decisions. Unlike lesser crime films, The Killing does nothing to glamorize the thieves or their unsavory deeds. There is the compelling nature of the plan and its execution, as with all good caper movies, but this hardly overshadows the crew's dark motivations.

The primary distraction in this movie is the dialogue. Many of the characters are constantly spouting off tough guy lines in a rushed manner that spoke to some weak acting and uninspired scripting. This was especially disappointing considering that legendary crime fiction writer Jim Thompson wrote the script. Despite this, had I been watching this movie with someone else, we almost certainly would have been having plenty of good laughs at the abundance of silly, forced lines.

A lesser but rather obvious merit of the movie is the cinematography. This might not come as a major surprise, given that Stanley Kubrick directed this movie. Still, The Killing was his first major, full-length feature film. The then-only-28-year-old Kubrick was already showing his uncanny eye for striking camera angles, lighting, and using visual grammar to tell stories. This alone makes it worth seeing, as it is a very early but major step along a genius's path towards film mastery.

High Sierra (1941)

Director: Raoul Walsh

A compelling basic story buried within some painfully dated dialogue and acting.

I love Humphrey Bogart. While I haven't seen the majority of the many films he was in, I have seen around a half dozen of his best-known and best-loved movies. From these, it's easy to see why he became and still is a movie legend. With this in mind, I was excited to watch one of his relatively early starring roles in a crime movie. I have to admit some disappointment, however.

The story is actually the stuff of very strong noir. Bogart plays Roy Earle, a bank robber who has just been released from prison and is already setting up his next major score. The hard-boiled Earle came from a small town in Indiana, and he seems to have a tiny soft spot for small-town folks. This is clear when he comes across a farming family making its way out to California, whom he helps in several ways. Outside of his tender spot for such people, Earle is a rather severe man who does not suffer fools lightly, and will not hesitate to use violence if he feels the need.

One part of the story revolves around Earle's current big score - a jewelry heist arranged through an old associate of his. His partners in the caper are a couple of young, hot-blooded hoods who Earle dislikes but tolerates. The other part of the tale relates to Earle's relationships with two women; one is a young member of the farming family, and the other is a weary and jaded former dance girl. Seeing Earle try to juggle all of these aspects of his life is the real meat of the movie, and the story takes some turns which are intriguing in their unpredictability. I admire how the movie steered clear of a nice, pat, Hollywood ending.

Unfortunately, I had to work rather hard to maintain my appreciation. Even more than the above-reviewed The Killing, the dialogue and much of the acting in High Sierra have aged horribly. While there are some memorable lines, far too much comes right from the cheap, pulp "dime store hood" handbook. Bogart was a great enough actor that he could sell some of the dialogue better than his supporting cast, but even Bogie could only do so much. Also, the storyline involving the farming family is fraught with completely inorganic and illogical jumps. I feel that this movie served as an earlier, less balanced attempt at what director Raoul Walsh would do far better eight years later with the classic White Heat. I'll watch that latter picture again any time. High Sierra, however, is not one I'll ever return to.

Mesrine (2008)

Director: Jean-Francois Richet

Absolutely brilliant, if grim, biopic of a larger-than-life arch criminal.

Mesrine is the story of real-life French criminal Jacque Mesrine (pronounced "may-reen"), one of the most irrepressible, vicious, and public felons in the 20th century. Mesrine took to crime fairly early in the 1960s, after a stint in the French Army. He quickly became a noted burglar, bank robber, and violent thug with an appetite for women and high living. Though he made attempts at leading a "straight" life, they were few and relatively short-lived. For nearly all of his adult life, Mesrine was committing serious and violent crimes, eluding capture, being captured, or escaping from prison. A fair number of his exploits played out in the public eye, thanks to an image he created of himself which appealed to certain sects of the French masses.

Prior to watching this 2-film epic, I had no idea who Mesrine was, but I was fascinated. The movie urged me to look up some facts about the man, and it would seem that the film does not embellish his wild life. His story is told with a vibrance and energy found in some of the best gangster movies, such as Goodfellas or Bonnie and Clyde. The main difference with Mesrine, though, is that there is even less whitewashing of the man's most despicable actions. While it's made clear that Mesrine possessed good looks and charisma enough to seduce women, fellow criminals, and the French public at large, it doesn't balk at showing that he was also a brutal murderer who would torture or even kill anyone who offended his massive ego. The actions which play out on screen can be terrible, but I still found them compelling, given what an outsized persona Mesrine fashioned for himself.

A classic knee-capping, true to the violent nature of the title
character. It's so brutal that you might fail to notice just how
masterful the colors and  lighting of the scene are. This is
typical in these two movies.

The technical aspects of the movie are impressive. The set design and cinematography are first-rate, casting the ugly but oft-exciting world of Jacque Mesrine's life into a palatable light. The acting is also exceptional, with Vincent Cassel turning in a phenomenal performance in the title role. Some of the transitions between time periods can feel a bit rushed, which is surprising for a movie released in two parts and adding up to over four hours. This may just be a function of the sheer quantity of curious activities in which Mesrine invovled himself. The creators could probably have justified adding a tad more to it and making it a mini-series or a trilogy, if they thought anyone could stomach another hour or two of a rather detestable figure like Mesrine.

Mesrine is one of the darker, harder-hitting gangster movies one is likely to see. For those who enjoy well-executed dramatizations of very real and very frightening criminals, though, this movie is difficult to top. 

Gravity (2013)

Director: Alfonso Cuaron

Spoiler-Free Summary & Reaction:

Gravity tells the tale primarily of Doctor Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) as she attempts to avoid and escape an “all Hell breaks loose” scenario in Earth orbital space. Stone is a medical engineer working on installing an updated system to the Hubble Space Telescope. She is being assisted by veteran astronaut Matt Kowalski (George Clooney), who is on his final space mission. While working on the telescope, however, a massive disaster elsewhere in orbit sends massive amounts of debris hurtling towards the astronauts. As the debris slashes through their own equipment at devastating speeds, multiple times, Kowalski tries to help Ryan overcome her terror and personal fears to survive.

This movie is one that I absolutely recommend seeing on the big screen, with the bells and whistles of IMAX and 3D, if possible. I’m not much of a 3D fan, but this one is well worth it. (If you go in the near future, get to the theater early, so you can snatch up a good seat). The visuals are just as amazing as everything you’ve heard or read, and Cuaron and his crew obviously paid extremely close attention to detail in attempting to represent the experience of being in space to the 99.9999% of us humans who will never go. Sure, there’s plenty of action to keep the blood pumping, but there are also chillingly quiet moments that will stoke other phobias that you may not even know you had (agoraphobia being an obvious one).

Just one of the seemingly countless shots that will have your eyeballs rubbing their eyeballs.

While the visuals alone make the movie worth shelling out your $15 to $20, the plot is decent enough. No, it’s not groundbreaking or creative, but it provides a plausible premise for the film’s action. Of course, space seems the kind of place where it doesn’t take a lot for humans to get into some very serious trouble, and this is true for Gravity.

The weakest points of the film are the characters and dialogue. The actors do just fine, and Bullock may likely get an Academy nod for her performance as the terrified yet essentially tough Doctor Stone. To be honest, though, I found her character unbelievably sheepish during the first half or so of the movie. From what I know of the N.A.S.A. astronaut program, the men and women who actually make it into space are some of the most unflappable humans who have ever lived. Stone’s demeanor and reactions before and during crisis stretch plausibility at times.

Clooney does well playing, well, George Clooney. They almost could have just called him Danny Ocean or any of the other half dozen cool-as-a-cucumber charmers that he’s played so well over the years. And this is another element that stretches credibility a tad – I had a hard time imagining an astronaut, even a supposed veteran like Kowalski’s character, being so flippant and carefree about much of what transpires. I suppose that he offers the audience the chance to breathe a little bit, given the tension that runs throughout the film, but it’s all a little too smooth for my sensibilities.

The dialogue is probably the weakest part of the entire production. It’s often cheesy and clichéd, especially the messages about bucking up in tough situations. I honestly can barely remember many of the verbal exchanges between any of the characters. When dialogue is used sparingly in a film, as it is in Gravity, it’s preferable to me that it actually be more memorable.

Though flimsy characters and dialogue will often torpedo a film, such is not the case with Gravity. It’s still one hell of an achievement in film-making. This is undoubtedly one that will periodically be brought back to big screens for decades to come, giving people thrills. If you haven’t caught it yet, get out there.

A Few Recommendations of Other “Spacey” Films:

Here are a few other space movies that came to mind as I watched Gravity:

2001: A Space Odyssey (duh) – Stanley Kubrick did, in 1969 and with far more limited technological wizardry, what Cuaron updates and polishes in Gravity. He conveyed the sense of exploring space in visual ways that have blown away audiences ever since its release. Though the characters are mostly forgettable in 2001, the speculative theories about the ramifications of technology and the human desire to expand and explore give 2001 much more intellectual meat for us to sick our mental teeth into.

Almost as expansive as the cosmos themselves, 2001: A Space Odyssey encompasses far more than some of the more dramatic or adventure-oriented space films made.

Solaris (1971) – Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky’s answer to Kubrick’s 2001, Solaris is arguably every bit as transcendent, while adding far more personal humanity to a space exploration tale. While both films feature slick visuals, Solaris pulls viewers’ attention inside the human psyche in ways that the expansive 2001 does not.

The Right Stuff (1980) – Telling a dramatized version of the original United States space program’s earliest years, I’ve always felt that this film portrays astronauts as the always unshakable, often arrogant daredevils that they really were and are. An insanely all-star cast and solid film-making result in a great historical and dramatic epic.

For All Mankind (1989) – A great, concise documentary that compiles some of the best footage that N.A.S.A captured from the inaugural Moon landing, all set to a meditative Brian Eno musical score. A movie that gives you a sense of just how dramatic a feat it was for humans to, in fact, set foot on a different planet. 

That's a wrap. The next film I'll review is The Conjuring, from earlier this year. 

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

Film # 74: Barry Lyndon (1975)

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 12 years ago)

*Weird, Egotistical Note: After now watching 74 shows from TIME’s “100 All-TIME Films” list, this is the first film released within my lifetime. Funny to think that, as viewers were seeing this movie for the very first time, I was wailing away in a crib on a military base in South Carolina.

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

18^th century Irish commoner spends lots of time on many rungs of the social ladder. Duels and massive decorative hats abound.

Extended Summary (Longer plot synopsis, including spoilers. Fair warning.)

What follows is a fairly complete summary. For a meticulously detailed synopsis, check out imdb’s version through this link.

Late 18^th century Ireland. Redmond Barry (Ryan O’Neal) is a young lad whose father is killed in a duel. He soon falls in love with his cousin, Nora, who returns his affection readily. However, when Nora accepts a marriage proposal from a stately, if uppity, English officer, Barry becomes furious. He insults the officer to the point of demanding a duel. Barry shoots the officer, seemingly killing him. On the advice of his cousins and his second, an Irishman in the English army named Grogan, he flees his hometown for Dublin, hoping to escape the inevitable pursuit of the law.

Langdon getting held up as he flees from the English army.

On the way to Dublin, Barry is robbed of all but his clothing. Desperate for any kind of escape, he joins the British army and heads off to war. After a few brief skirmishes and witnessing the death of his lone friend, the rediscovered Grogan, Barry decides to desert his post. Using a stolen officer’s uniform and identification papers, Barry enters Prussian-controlled areas near Holland. His hope is to return to Ireland.

Instead, he is captured by a savvy Prussian officer, Captain Potzdorf (Harry Kruger), and forced to join the Prussian army. Barry spends several years with Prussian forces, among a regiment composed mostly of scoundrels and cold-blooded killers. From these, Barry learns the cold means of survival and the arts of deceit. In one particular battle, Barry saves Potzdorf. This act is rewarded with back-handed recognition, a reward, and some small measure of trust.

Barry is recruited by Potzdorf and the Prussian Minister of Police to keep tabs on a suspected spy, a gambler of Irish origin named the Chevalier de Balibari (Patrick Magee). Barry readily accepts; however, upon meeting the Chevalier, he becomes emotional in the company of a fellow countryman and betrays his true mission. The Chevalier takes him in and the two become co-conspirators. Barry helps the Chevalier cheat nobles in games of chance, at the same time feeding the Prussian government useless information about his new confidant.

Eventually, Barry and the Chevalier manage to concoct a ruse to escape from Prussia unscathed. They then spend several years traveling around Europe. The Chevalier continues to cheat wealthy aristocrats out of their money, and Barry assists by successfully dueling any reluctant debtors.

Barry plies his trade as a master duelist, a perfect profession for any amoral rogue with the necessary skills.

Barry eventually sets his sights higher – true wealth in the form of the English countess Lady Lyndon, whom he meets at a gambling table. Barry courts the married Lady, which infuriates her aged and decrepit husband. The Lord Lyndon is so enraged, in fact, that when he starts an argument with the calculating Barry, he dies of a heart attack. This leaves the way wide open for Barry to swoop in and marry the love-struck Lady Lyndon and assume his new title – Barry Lyndon.

Over the next several years, Barry’s married life on his wife’s English estate disintegrates. While his wife stays home and looks after her son from her first marriage, Sir Charles, and hers and Barry’s son, Bryan, Barry himself lives a life of opulent leisure. His excessive drinking and philandering does not go unnoticed by his step-son, Sir Charles. Though merely ten years old when his mother remarries, the boy quickly develops acute hated for his rogue of a stepfather. This hatred only grows stronger as time passes.

Within these years, Barry’s mother comes to live with them and she points out how Barry needs to attain his own title, thus decreasing his total reliance on his wife’s fortune. Following this advice, Barry begins to spend lavishly on art, parties, and greasing the social wheels for his ascendancy into “higher spheres” of social worth. Things seem to be moving in the right direction until, at a party on the Lyndon estate, Lord Charles bursts in and announces his utter hatred for his stepfather in front of the guests. The enraged Barry mercilessly attacks his step son and pummels him in front of their guests. Word soon spreads of Barry’s brutality, and his “friends” completely ostracize him.

Barry turns his attentions toward his natural son, Bryan. As opposed to his horrid treatment of Lord Charles, Barry showers Bryan with true love and affection. Unfortunately, Bryan suffers a terrible horse riding accident just before his ninth birthday and dies a few days after. Barry and Lady Lyndon are so distraught that Barry’s mother must take over the family’s finances. When she dismisses Lady Lyndon’s closest associate, the vicar Reverend Runt, word gets out to Lord Charles, who has been living away from his family’s estate after the beating received at the hands of his stepfather.

Barry in the center of the frame, Attempting to drown his sorrow over his son's death. Little does he know that things are about to get even worse...

Lord Charles, supported by some of his family’s close friends, seeks out Barry and challenges him to a duel. In a secluded barn, Lord Charles wins the right to the first shot, but misfires. Upon his chance to return fire and likely kill Lord Charles, Barry opts to fire his pistol into the ground. Lord Charles, instead of being satisfied, demands another shot. He takes it and hits his stepfather in the leg. Barry is taken to a nearby inn for treatment, while Lord Charles rushes back to his family estate and quickly reasserts control over the household.

Barry must suffer his leg being amputated. More than this, though, he is given an ultimatum from Lord Charles – leave England forever and accept a 500 guineas annuity from the Lyndon family, or stay and suffer arrest on the grounds of his massive debts. Barry leaves England, and we are told that he returned to continental Europe to return to the gambling profession, “without his previous success”.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Written after this recent viewing, before any research.)

A story about this viewing of Barry Lyndon:

My girlfriend and I sit down a few evenings ago to watch it. The film moves on at its’ leisurely pace and time clicks on. At roughly the 90-minute mark, the “Intermission” screen pops up. My girlfriend goes slightly slack, her eyes widen, her jaw drops, and she asks, “How long is this movie?!” With a semi-knowing grin, I turn and reply, “It’s three hours long. We’ve got 90 more minutes to go.” Eyes still wide, she shakes her disbelieving head. After hanging in for another 30 minutes or so, she gives up and goes to bed. I stay up and watch the full film, enjoying it right up until the end.

This little tale of our viewing I think sums up how nearly all people feel about Barry Lyndon – you either love it, or you see it as too long and dull to take. Clearly, I am in the former group.

I have to say that this is one of those movies that you have to know what you’re in for and be in just the right state of mind to watch. Barry Lyndon is slow. Extremely slow. Kubrick took the approach of relying far less on dialogue and far more on slow zooms of panoramic landscapes and interiors. If you prefer more kinetic action and emotional dialogue, the three-hour Barry Lyndon will be an effort in frustration. I, however, love watching the movie. The lush colors, attention to detail, and expansive wide-angle shots are like classic works of art slowly coming to life (emphasis on “slowly”). The beauty of the natural surroundings, castles, and costumes throws into contrast the dastardly deeds that people are committing throughout the film.

This is the very first shot of the film, both in filming terms and in dueling terms. The entire visual style and story theme are set up within this shot - breathtaking beauty wholly encompassing human destruction.

The story itself is epic in scale, and I’m a sucker for a good epic. Following the roughly twenty-year rise and fall of Langdon Barry is a spectacle, as it allows the viewer to traipse through the Europe of William Makepeace Thackeray (the author of the source novel). To be sure, there is some interpersonal exploration done, but the movie is mostly given to sweeping powers of the times - war and class distinction – and their effects on humanity.

One of the recurring themes in the film is the duel, and it is these scenes that are most striking and intense to me. While all of the duel scenes (three with pistols, one with swords) are incredibly hypnotizing, it is the final one between Barry and his stepson, Lord Charles Bullingdon, that is an absolute masterpiece. The measured ritual with which the scene plays out and the very visible terror on the face of Bullingdon are perfection. The scene plays out with agonizing deliberation, forcing you to get into the heads of those involved. Once you do this, it’s not difficult to imagine just how terrifying a prospect it must have been to stare at someone standing ten paces from you, and you stared into their eyes just before they killed you or vice versa. It’s a version of Sergio Leone’s extended western gunfights, though a far more chilling one.

Guiding us through Barry’s journeys is a bemused narrator. As a rule, I find narration in films to be something of a crutch, borrowed from the realm of literature. Films should be able to tell their stories through visuals and dialogue. However, there are a few films in which it can enhance, and Barry Lyndon is a mixed bag. At times, the narrator’s commentary is tinged with sly gallows humor that I can only guess was Thackeray’s and which adds some welcome levity. In other moments, it does indeed seem a cheap way out of conveying humor or emotion directly through the characters’ words or actions.

Barry, we are told by other character and the narrator, is a hot-blooded young man. You'd hardly know it from his face here, which is the same bland expression he wears through nearly the entire film.

This downplay (or lack of) emotional dialogue is probably one clear reason that people may not like this movie. There is an overall stillness to the movie, save perhaps a few scenes of warfare and brief fighting. Knowing that Kubrick was a meticulous perfectionist, I am quite sure that this was intentional, and this tranquility pervades even to the acting. Even during tense confrontations and emotional moments, everything is very placid. While this is soothing in most places, after about two-and-a-half hours, the characters almost seem devoid of any real feeling.

This sensation of dead calm would not be so obvious if not for the performance of the title character actor, Ryan O’Neal. Some of the film’s minor characters do actually show more spirit. In stark contrast, O’Neal’s facial expression almost never changes throughout the movie, which leaves the viewers to rely on the narrator and guesswork to glean Barry’s true desires. Perhaps we viewers are supposed to take this as an outward sign of Barry’s emotional detachment, but it really just comes off as flat and unengaging most of the time.

This brings up the other reason most people probably dislike this movie. The morning after I watched it, my girlfriend and I discussed it. As she considered how Barry is a mostly despicable character, she rightfully wondered, “What’s the point?” I imagine countless other viewers have asked the same question. When I ponder the answer, I always return to the epigram of the film:

With this final message, we are left to wonder perhaps not about the point of the movie, but rather about the point of all of the violence and pain depicted in the movie. Violence and pain that certainly was based on real actions of the times. In watching Redmond Barry get caught up in the materialism and territorial struggles of his age, I can’t help but think of a movie critic who suggested something very cogent about Stanley Kubrick’s films. Kubrick’s movies, while covering a vast spectrum of genres, including war, action, science fiction, horror, and drama, all had the same basic message underlying them: humans are not fallen angels, but rather ascendant apes. Barry Lyndon, like all of Kubrick’s other films, shows just how not just one person but an entire society can slip into barbarism. Even when the players are dressed in the finest of clothes, living in the plushest of mansions, and possessing the most stunning of lands, they are no less capable of the basest primitive cruelties.

A happy message, it is not. But it is certainly one worth pondering. Barry Lyndon gives you the chance to calmly mull it over while drinking in the cultural splendor of a bygone age. It’s not for everyone, but I’d recommend everyone at least watch the 90-minute first act and find out for themselves.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after a little further research.)

A few surprises on things that I’ve found (and not found) in reading up a little more in Barry Lyndon.

The movie was, as mentioned, based on a far lesser known novel my William Makepeace Thackeray, who is now far better known for Vanity Fair. Barry Lyndon, though, is often referred to as the first “anti-hero” English novel. Kubrick clearly kept this idea true to its roots. Kubrick also kept the setting and characters basically the same, though he took out a few family connections that were in the novel. One such is that the Chevalier de Balibari (as I probably should have figured, based on the name) is, in the book, actually an uncle of Barry’s who had fled Ireland. The novel’s tale goes that he was kicked off his land and dispossessed by the Lyndons themselves, into whose family Langdon marries much later. This is probably a more interesting plot connection, and I wonder why Kubrick left it out. Perhaps he felt it far too convenient, but who knows?

Another interesting departure from the novel is that the film ends significantly before the novel’s tale, with several notable differences. In the film, the story ends just after Barry is shot and loses his leg in the duel with Lord Charles, and he is forced to leave England, accepting his modest annuity. In the book, the duel does not exist, and Barry actually becomes a member of British parliament. He sends his step-son to the Americas to fight in the Revolutionary War, and is accused of trying to have his son killed. He is stripped of his title and forced out of the country. Eventually, he is jailed for debts and spends the final seventeen years of his life in prison, with only his elderly mother to attend him. Obviously, Kubrick couldn’t tell all of this story using the measured pace that he wanted, so he chucked it.

A fairly recent edition of Thackeray's original novel. Kubrick was faithful to most key elements, but made several notable changes.

Another interesting difference between novel and film is the tone. From what I’ve read on it, Thackeray’s novel is told in first person by Barry himself, with an overtly humorous tone. In it, Barry is an early example of the “unreliable narrator”, who seems oblivious to his own shortcomings. Kubrick eschewed this and achieved a much more objective look at the character and his world. This accounts for the very detached feeling of the movie.

When released, Barry Lyndon was something of a disappointment. While it did pull in seven Academy Award nominations (winning four in the technical categories of art direction, costumes, cinematography, and music) and received fair critical acclaim, it did not win over all critics or the public, especially those with high expectations of Stanley Kubrick. In his original review in 1975, Roger Ebert probably summed up a lot of the feeling of the day. He described it as having “the arrogance of genius” and lauds its many brilliant merits. He does, however, note of O’Neal’s performance that “Kubrick has directed Ryan O’Neal in the title role as if he were a still life. It's difficult to imagine such tumultuous events whirling around such a passive character.” This is really the only critical note I found of O’Neal’s flat-line turn as Barry.

In recent years, Barry Lyndon has gradually gained more attention as one of the greatest of films. More and more, critics seem to be willing to see its cold, calm tone not as an example of a bad decision on Kubrick’s part but rather a very unique and artistic way of observing and telling a human story. One can call it hopeless or dreary, and I can’t necessarily argue, but I have to say that I will always find it mesmerizing.

That’s a wrap 74 shows down. 31 to go.

Coming Soon: Taxi Driver (1976)

Oh, boy. Anyone who’s seen this movie knows that it contains every ounce of dark despair that the mid-1970s United States could muster. It’s also an incredible piece of film making, and the first of three Martin Scorsese movies on the list. Come on back in about a week or so to see what I make of my return to the sad tale of Travis Bickle.

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

Film # 58: Dr. Strangelove: Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: Roughly 7 or 8 (Last time – about 5 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Wingnut general unleashes nuclear bombers on Russia. Loads of bizarre and hilarious characters fumble their way through the insanity.

Extended Summary (More complete synopsis; spoilers included. Fair warning)

In the middle of the Cold War, at Burpelson Air Force Base, deranged, rogue brigadier general Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) sends out a “go” code to an entire fleet of bombers. His orders are for them to dump their nuclear payloads onto scores of targets inside the Soviet Union.

General Jack D. Ripper - the man who seeks to annihilate the entire Soviet populace based on a rather...unusual theory.

When word of this catastrophic attack command reaches the U.S. War Room, General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott) is called to confer with the country's executive and military leaders. Turgidson is a buffoonish hawk, completely caught up in the Red Scare, and suggests that the U.S. simply allow the unauthorized attacks to take place, as this will give them the upper hand in a Third World War. President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers) scoffs at this and starts the process of contacting the U.S.S.R. In an attempt to warn the Soviets and seek a solution.

In the air and fast approaching Soviet air space in the crew of one of the B-52 bombers, this one being flown by Major “King” Kong (Slim Pickens). The crew is rather nervous about getting the attack codes, as it signifies the start of all-out nuclear war. Still, the crew is determined to carry out their mission.

Back in the War Room, it soon becomes very clear than recalling the bombers is an impossible task. General Turgidson explains to all present that recent and obscure legislation allows for a single general to enact an attack under his own authority under certain provisions. While these provisions were not met, the rogue General Ripper has ceased to care. The President grows more desperate.

General Buck Turgidson continues his half-baked attempts in the War Room to bulldog the rest of his peers and superiors into pressing the attack on Russia.

Back at Burpelson, British group captain and executive officer Lionel Mandrake (Peter Sellers again) soon discovers that the supposed Russian attack is not true, and he confronts General Ripper. Ripper locks Mandrake into his office and explains his reason for launching the bomber attack: he believes that the communists are taking over American “bodily fluids” through fluoridation. At this point, it is clear than General Ripper is thoroughly insane. Mandrake demands the recall codes, but to no avail. He must await his psychotic superior's next move.

In the War Room, President Mandrake calls on the Soviet premier and calls in the Soviet diplomat in an attempt to resolve the crisis. In explaining the impending catastrophe, it is revealed that the Soviets have just created a “doomsday device” that will exterminate all life on the face of the earth, should any attack be made on the Soviet Union. The choices are now stark – the president enacts two assaults: one by the Americans on Burpelson Air Force Base, in order to wrest the recall codes from Ripper; and another, Soviet attack on the B-52 bombers that are rapidly approaching their targets inside the Soviet Union.

At Burpelson, the base has come under attack by the U.S. Army, and Ripper fights back. With Mandrake attempting to reason with him, Ripper keeps up his fight until the last moment. When it is clear than he can hold out no longer, Ripper commits suicide, seemingly taking the recall codes with him into the hereafter. However, Mandrake puzzles out the codes from some of Ripper's desk scribblings. After a bizarre hold-up at the hands of a dense and over-zealous army officer, Mandrake reaches the president.

In the War Room, the government's plan seems to have worked. The Soviets have shot down many of the American bombers, and the codes sent along by Mandrake have recalled all of the others. All, that is, except...

...the B-52 piloted by Major Kong. Their coding equipment having been shot up, they have not received the recall code from base. In addition, they have eluded all attempts to shoot them down. With gumption that is almost admirable, they make it to one of the targets and attempt to drop their payload. However, the bomb doors are jammed. In a final act of wherewithal, Major Kong straddles the bomb, fixes the bomb door wiring just above it, and rides the bomb down to its target. Nuclear winter has begun.

Major Kong succeeds in bringing his payload. Personally.

Back in the War Room, the mood is understandably somber. That is until the floor is taken by the wheelchair-ridden Doctor Strangelove (Peter Sellers, yet again), an ex-Nazi-turned American adviser. He seems oddly chipper about the entire scenario. He explains that the world's leaders can survive within caves beneath the earth. In his scenario, he suggests that the military and political leaders will take precedence and that they will have ample provisions to survive. In addition, in order to repopulate the earth after the fallout clears, they will need a high ratio of women to men. The cherry on top is that these women will need to be exceptionally attractive, so as better to allow the men to function in their role as procreators. With all of this to ease their worries, all of the men in the War Room seem to have already moved far beyond the nuclear apocalypse taking place above their very heads, to the point that they are already plotting how to get a leg up on post-Apocalyptic competitions with the Russians.

Did I Like It?

If you noticed how many times I've seen this film before, the answer is obvious. This most recent viewing did nothing to change my mind – this movie is one of the greatest comedy films of all time.

Now sure, there are probably other movies that I've laughed at more, and there are probably some comedies that have been wittier. But for balancing sheer inventiveness, zaniness, and canny social commentary, Dr. Strangelove is all but untouched.

While the theme of lampooning the Cold War era political philosophies of fear-mongering and arms racing may seem dated, it surely is not. The entire notion of the pre-emptive strike will never go away, and Dr. Strangelove takes the idea to its Swiftian extreme. Considering how the specter of nuclear holocaust continued to haunt the world for decades after the book and movie's release, Dr. Strangelove has serious staying power. By pushing the era's prevailing martial ideologies a little (I stress “a little”) further, it's easy to see how laughably insane they were. (We can laugh now, anyway.)

Beyond the brilliance of the story line and its execution is the real strength of the movie – the actors. Dr. Strangelove is mostly populated by caricatures goofy enough to laugh at, but also frighteningly real for what they represent. Such a strange balancing act can only be pulled off by just the right cast, and this film got it perfectly. Sterling Hayden as the chillingly calm, thoroughly insane General Ripper is as horrifying as he is hilarious. (His interactions with Mandrake are some of my favorite scenes in any movie). I can't imagine gung-ho pilot Major King Kong being played by anyone other than uber-hick, Slim Pickens. Even the bit role of Sergeant “Bat” Guano is done to pitch perfection by Keenan Wynn and his fantastically mispronounced catchphrase, “pre-versions”. As excellent as all of these, and other, actors are in the film, they are far surpassed by one of the all-time greats.

Peter Sellers, who had some of the most memorable comic performances of all time throughout his career, pulled off his greatest feat in Dr. Strangelove. In playing the amusingly sober Commander Mandrake, the oddly pliant President Muffley, and the hilariously twisted title character, he utilized every one of his considerable acting skills. It's been said of Sellers that few people (if any) actually knew the real man, for he would so completely lose himself in the characters that he was playing. In watching Dr. Strangelove, it's not hard to believe this. If you didn't know better, you may not even guess that the same actor is playing all 3 vastly different roles, as each of the three is busting your gut in vastly different ways. Just seeing him is more than worth the price of admission.

Officer Mandrake does his best to weather the storm of deranged General Ripper's apocalyptic dementia. Seller's role as Strangelove may be more iconic, but his turn as Mandrake is far funnier to me.

One interesting mental note I made as I watched the movie this most recent time – I had a moment of emotional guilt, not unlike when I was watching Double Indemnity earlier in the list. At the moment when the B-52 crew is trying to desperately make their bomb run, I felt myself pulling for them. Major Kong, the all-guts patriot/pilot redneck, shows no end of moxy by shrugging of missile attacks, broken fuel lines, and other malfunctions to get to his target and drop his payload. As I watched him almost single-handedly overcome each obstacle, I admired the simple yet brave soldier. Then I realized, “Wait a minute...this guy's about to trigger the ultimate nuclear winter!!!” There's something about watching a truly determined character use sheer willpower to smash through barriers that's gratifying, often regardless of their ultimate goal.

So yeah – I love this movie. I'll certainly watch it many more times in the years to come, and I can't recommend it highly enough. There may be a few moments where things seem a little slow (particularly in the B-52 scenes), but this film is a masterpiece the likes of which may never be duplicated.

That's a wrap. 58 films down, 48 to go.


Coming (Very) Soon: A Hard Day's Night (1964)

The Fab Four in one of their early feature films. I certainly respect, if not exactly love, the Beatles. Let's see how they did on the silver screen.

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