John Adams, TV mini-series (2008)

John and Abigail Adams, during their younger days in the
Boston area. There's never any doubt as to just how tough
people had to be just to survive in those days. Without some
North Face gear and a Costco nearby, most of us probably
would have been dead inside a month.

A great, dramatic look at one of the less glamorous founding fathers of the United States, looking at some of the seminal moments during the United States' formation and its earliest decades as an independent country.

Based on the book by best-selling biographer David McCullough, John Adams is a 7-part mini-series that dramatizes the many key actions, momentous occasions, and shifting relationships in the long life of the U.S.'s second president. It was this show that taught me, along with probably millions of other people, just how many critical moments in U.S. history involved Adams in one way or another. It's not always dramatic, often depicting Adams's moments of intense boredom and isolation from more important events. And there are plenty of moments dedicated to his relationships with his wife and children, which can often be slower and more tender. But if you enjoy a sense of an authentic, well-rounded look at an important historical figure, then it's hard not to like this.

The show is divided into its seven episodes based on fairly distinct periods in the life of John Adams and the country:

1. His time as a respected lawyer in Boston, before the actual start of the Revolutionary War.
2. The events that build up to the Founding Fathers deciding to declare Independence from Britain, officially declaring war against the most powerful army in the world. 
3. The Revolutionary War, most of which Adams spent in Europe trying to gain support from potential ally nations such as France and Holland.
4. After the U.S. defeats the British, Adams is back in the U.S., representing Massachusetts and negotiating with other states' representatives to form the new government.
5. Adams's eight years as the country's first vice president, serving under George Washington.
6. Adams's single four-year term as the country's second president.
7. Adams's twenty-five years of post-presidential "retirement," mostly back on his farm in Massachusetts. 

George Washington's inauguration in Philadelphia. David
Morse's turn as the country's quiet but beloved first president
was just one of the countless great performances throughout
this series.

Across all seven episodes, we see how Adams was a highly principled, honorable man who stuck to his convictions with intense ferocity. Ferocity, in fact, which often repelled colleagues and sometimes even friends and allies. By all accounts, the man had a vicious temper which often cost him greater support. The show does nothing to sugarcoat this part of his nature, often showing his frequent blowups at anyone who spends more than an hour or two with him. This is one of several aspects of the show which set it apart from many other biopics - it makes very clear that, in more than a few ways, the subject was not always easy to like. But this also drives home the fact that his merits were strong enough to overcome them. As disagreeable and pugnacious as the man could be, John Adams's integrity was such that he reached the highest offices in the country. Even modern historians rate his presidency as generally a positive one, despite only being one term.

All of this is brought to life through amazing film techniques and production values, on every possible level. The acting is impeccable, with Paul Giamatti turning in a masterpiece performance as the stocky, snarling, combative man of rule and law. Playing his wife - noted mind Abigail Adams - was Laura Linney, who exhibits every bit of the intelligence, tenderness, and toughness that the real Mrs. Adams apparently had. And every one of the many supporting actors nailed their roles, from the most famous to the lesser-knowns and unknowns from over two centuries ago. If you know anything about this time period, there's plenty of fun to be had in seeing how founders like Franklin, Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, and others are depicted, and there's plenty to be learned about those people we don't read much about in our history books in school.

The writing is incredible. While the show is based on David McCullough's biography, the scripts were all written by Kirk Ellis, who seemed to have a brilliant eye and ear for distilling key moments into efficient scenes, taught with gravity and emotion. My wife, a poet with an especially keen ear for anachronistic language, was extremely impressed by the authentic diction used throughout the show. This was probably due in part to Ellis's drawing from Adams's and others' original notes and correspondences. However it was done, there's a wonderfully genuine, erudite sound to the dialogue that reminds us of just how learned and articulate this country's leading minds were at the time.

In the third episode, we're treated to more humorous moments,
such as the sore thumb John Adams trying to bully his way
through a wildly decadent France. His partner, Ben Franklin
(far left) had no such trouble in the libertine country.

Then there are the visuals. The sets and costumes are amazing. Not in a dazzling way, but rather they looked like they could have been the very real places the events depicted occurred and the very real clothing that these people wore. I can't be sure, be it seems that there was no artificial lighting used at all - only candlelight when necessary, giving an even deeper sense of authenticity to the look and feel of everything. Going a step further, the showrunners decided not to use any type of makeup or cosmetics that didn't actually exist at the time. We see freckles and skin discolorations, badly stained teeth, and frizzy hair aplenty. Some viewers might find this unpleasing to look at, but I enjoyed the almost tangible reality of it.

The only thing about this entire show that got to me a bit by the final couple of episodes was a minor visual element - that the show uses a ton of closeups. And I don't mean regular closeups. I mean "you can count each scraggly hair in Paul Giamatti's nostrils and ears" kind of closeups. For much of the show's length, this shoulder-to-shoulder proximity works well to convey intimacy, but there was a point where it eventually made me feel a bit claustrophobic.

This is just a great show, and it always will be. I would love to see the same treatment given to several other key figures in this country's history, or any country's history for that matter. Short of reading a thorough biography of a key historical figure, this is maybe the best example of how to tell such a story in cinema. 

New Release! Vice (2018)

Director: Adam McKay

A reasonably entertaining look at certain key aspects of Dick Cheney - arguably the most powerful and influential vice-president the United States has ever had in office. However, it is a look very often colored by writer and director Adam McKay's strong political biases.

Not unlike his smash hit 2016 film The Big Short, Vice adopts a coy, humorous style and tone to dig into some very real historical events. In this case, the nature of Dick Cheney, a man who seemed never to have been "the smartest guy in the room" or much of a politician, but was perhaps one of the most low-key and successful opportunists the White House will ever see. By tracing his roots from a hard-drinking, Yale dropout hanging power lines in Wyoming to and through his time as a congressional intern, Chief of Staff, and ultimately Vice President, we get a portrait of a man guided by little more than a rough set of conservative ideas, a hyper-keen nose for opportunity and power, and propelled by an ability to seem far less threatening than he actually was.

While Cheney is clearly a rather interesting modern historical figure, whose fingerprints are still all over the U.S. political landscape, the more obvious set of fingerprints on this movie are Adam McKay's. My wife even compared it to a Michael Moore film, in that Vice has a style that overwhelms and most likely obliterates much of its substance. The narrative is non-linear. There are several self-indulgent (though funny) flights of humorous fancy, and more than a few wink-wink, nudge-nudge moments directed right at those of us in the audience. Honestly, it felt far too flippant, given the gravity of much of the subject matter. This only grows more obvious as the story arrives at the wars in Afghanistan and especially Iraq. When a filmmaker is essentially laying hundreds of thousands of civilians' dead bodies at a man's doorstep, it seems atonal to be taking little comic jabs at his speaking style and endless series of heart attacks.

The seemingly non-threatening Dick Cheney. Christian Bale
turns in another transformation and excellent performance,
even if cinematic forces beyond his control weaken the film.

Savvy viewers will probably be able to suss out the fact from the fiction, but it's not always easy. In addition, the implications that McKay makes about Cheney are, to be honest, unfair at times. Sometimes painfully unfair. Yes, Cheney had a big enough hand in pushing the Iraq War in 2003 that he deserves a big portion of the blame. One could even argue that he should probably have gone to jail for war crimes. But to suggest that every dead body from that war was solely Cheney's fault is a gross oversimplification. There were no end of hawks and enablers surrounding that debacle, from the president right on down to the tens of millions of Americans who fully supported to war, even as it became more and more obvious that it had been predicated on a massive lie. While I understand that such issues are too complex and uninteresting for an "entertainment" like McKay's movie, I can only think that he should honor the subject's complexity or leave it the hell alone.

Ultimately, I probably agree with McKay's general feelings about Cheney and many of his cohort through the 1980s and 2000s. But I also think that historical events, especially recent ones, need to be handled with respect. What Vice gave us elicits more than a few laughs, but they are laughs that fade once the credits roll and one realizes just what the consequences were of the subject's actions. It is all a subject which deserves a more thorough, sober look through the form of a quality documentary, rather than a streamlined, comic version that leaves out far too many of the other relevant facts and people involved. 

New Release! The Post (2017)

Director: Steven Spielberg

Chalk up another one in Steven Spielberg's "feel good historical drama" category. Like his others, The Post is a fairly predictable (not just factually) story, told by a whole army of supermely reliable veterans who rarely take chances any more.

The movie takes a look at a major moment in modern U.S. history - the release of the Pentagon Papers in 1971 by whistleblower David Ellsberg, who worked very closely with U.S. intelligence agencies. While the story is fairly well known for those who were alive at the time, this film looks at it from the perspective of one of the newspapers who was among the first to publish some of the highly sensitive papers which Ellsberg had illegally spirited out of his offices at the Rand Corporation. The D.C. newspaper The Washington Post was at a major crossroads just as a small sampe of the Pentagon Papers were published by The New York Times. The owner of the paper, socialite Kay Graham, who had inherited it from her dead husband, is deciding what direction to take the paper in. As she positions the paper to become a publicly-traded commodity, she is confronted with the legally thorny issue of the Pentagon Papers, boxes of which have turned up in the hands of the Post's writers and editors. Her dilemma is two-fold: (1) Publish at the risk of bringing the wrath of a vengeful Richard Nixon or take the safe route so as not to scare off investors; and (2) Publish in the name of journalistic integrity or sit on the story so that Graham's many powerful government friends can keep their reputations a bit cleaner.

For my part, the most interesting aspects of the movie were the historical data that I hadn't already known. I already knew a bit about the Pentagon Papers story from the great 2009 documentary The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers. Seeing the story told again, with several added elements, was enlightening to a degree. And the general theme of the fourth estate, a free press, having the freedom to print anything truthful that might be in the public interest, is always a relevant topic, especially these days. And as one would imagine, the movie does everything with top-notch technical proficiency. Spielberg, Hanks, Streep, and the many other great actors in this film are simply too skilled and too professional to drop the ball anywhere. The pacing is brisk, the dialogue hums along, and narrative balls are juggled deftly.

Tom Hanks as Post Editor-in-Chief Ben Bradlee. Like the
characters he plays, Hanks never drops the ball. Knowing this
tends to suck most of the suspense out of movies in which
he stars these days.

All that said, I didn't feel that the movie was a standout in any particular way. Much of this has to do with the fact that, being a historical drama, anyone who knows a bit about the story knows what the outcome will be. This alone takes a fair bit of the air of suspense out of the balloon. When you add to that the mere casting of Tom Hanks, then you have a pretty good idea of exactly where this story is headed, right from the jump. My wife explained it well after we watched the movie when she described how when Hanks is in a movie, everything is going to be fine. That's his ultimate place in the cinema landscape. You need a damaged plane landed? Hanks will be your Sully. You need Somali pirates dealt with? Hanks is your Captain Phillips. You need a communist defector rescued from the clutches of the East Germans? Hanks will walk him right across that "bridge of spies" for you. His essential character in The Post is not really so different, being the man who serves as the defender of the free press and as the guiding light of morality and integrity through the movie. He's excellent at it, to be sure, but it's hardly a stretch for him at this point.

Anyone who's enjoyed Spielberg's recent historical dramas, Bridge of Spies, Lincoln, or Warhorse, is certain to enjoy this one, especially if they don't know much about the Pentagon Papers episode in U.S. history. But anyone looking to see the legendary director and the phenomenal cast stretch or challenge themselves in any way, you'll have to look elsewhere. 

Before I Die #603: Napoleon (1927)

This is the 603rd movie I've now seen out of the 1,187 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working my way through.

Director: Abel Gance

Massive and quite captivating much of the time. This is saying something for a five-and-a-half hour movie.

I'll admit to "cheating" on this one a bit. I didn't watch the entire 320-minute film in one sitting. Rather, I watched it in roughly one-hour segments over six days. This was probably wise, as forcing myself to absorb the whole thing may have done it a great injustice. The movie's title gives you the subject - that titanic force of history, Napoleon Bonaparte. French director Abel Gance, who had created the epic drama La Roue a few years prior, took on arguably the most iconic figure of his country's illustrious history. The movie really covers key moments in the man's earlier life, between Napoleon's boyhood and the moment that he achieves his greatest victories in his Italian campaigns. The movie ends here, not getting into his actual rule of France or his eventual downfall and death in exile on the island of Saint Helena.

The movie is taxing in terms of length, but it is still impressive in many places and in many aspects. The most trying element for modern viewers is likely to be just how overly long some of the sequences extend. Storytelling in film would get far leaner and more efficient over the succeeding few decades, but back in 1927 it was still commonplace for action and battle sequences to go on for five, ten, or even twenty minutes longer than was necessary to make a point or tell a visual picture. Napoleon features many such sequences, which are not helped by the fact that the visuals are not always terribly crisp. Similar to what you find in other large-scale war movies of the time, such as Griffith's Birth of a Nation, certain scenes will be obscured by massive amounts of smoke billowing for long enough to simply frustrate rather than build a sense of place. Certain pursuit scenes also tend to drag in places, in particular a long chase scene in which Corsican government officials pursue a fugitive Bonaparte across the plains of the island. If one were to use modern editing to trim away the fat, this film could probably be a very tight 180 or 210 minutes, rather than the sometimes-bloated 320 in which it clocks.

Like the man he portrays in the film, actor Albert Dieudonne
(left) was small in stature, but could exude an imperious aura
through his posture and steely gaze.

Still, the length aside, I was impressed at many moments in the film. Most obvious was the performance of Albert Dieudonne as the diminutive general. Dieudonne was rather striking as the short but supremely intense, confident, and capable Napoleon, and he often did it with a subtlety rare for starring roles at that time. There are several scenes in which Napoleon shuts down detractors or insolent suboordinates by merely staring them down. This sounds trite, but the scenes actually work, even by today's standards. And while much of movie features Bonaparte carrying himself with the imperious carriage that we associate with the man, there are a handful of scenes and moments when his posture relaxes, typically around his lady love Josephine. The contrast in physical language was essential for the silent era, and Dieudonne did it expertly, without ever overselling it in the way that most of his contemporaries did.

I'm no expert on Napoleon, but I have seen a couple of solid documentaries on the man and read a little bit. This movie was obviously meant to be something of Gance's version of Braveheart for the French - a very rousing, nationalistic look at a powerful and, at certain points, unifying figure in France's history. As such, there are some rather obviously nationalistic elements to the story. Honestly though, now that we're over 200 years past Napoleon and nearly 100 years past this film's release, it is easy to take some simple pleasure out of such scenes. One in particular features Napoleon storming into a regional government office in the island of Corsica, taking the French flag, declaring that the selfish and bickering bureaucrats are not worthy of it, and then using the flag as a sail to flee them and return to the motherland. How do you not get some kind of enjoyment out of such bald-faced patriotism?

Apparently, this movie had languished and been considered somewhat "lost" for many decades, due to there being a lack of a high-quality print. That was recently rememdied when the British Film Institute released a very nice restoration of the entire thing. It is, however, still rather tough to find outside of the U.K. If one is so inclined, though, it is worth seeking out. Fans of film history are bound to appreciate more than a few things about this old epic. Just be ready for a bit of dead weight here and there.

That's 603 movies down. Only 584 to go before I can die. 

Gangster Flick 3-Pack: Salvatore Giuliano (1960); Things Change (1988); Bugsy (1991)

Salvatore Giuliano (1962)

Director: Francesco Rosi

An interesting but dizzying tale based on real events and told with skill and some creativity.

The titular historical figure is presented as an enigma. Between roughly 1940 and 1950, Giuliano was an outlaw who fought for and against various factions, and often for himself, within a fractured Sicily. Between Italian nationalists, Sicilian separatists, aspiring communists, and the Mafia, Giuliano managed to either placate or keep all potential adversaries at bay. Through kidnapping, murder, effective guerrilla fighting tactics, and a juggling of connections, he evaded capture for an entire decade. In 1950, however, he finally met his fate.

The figure of Giuliano is curious enough, but this movie takes a very interesting approach to telling the story. Instead of presenting a sort of biopic with its infamous subject at its center, director Francesco Rosi keeps the outlaw at the periphery. In fact, aside from a few shots of Giuliano's dead body, we never see his living, breathing face in the movie. Instead, the bandit is used to probe into the social and political forces swirling around the Sicilian countryside, and how they both create, sustain, and ultimately wipe out a person of Giuliano's singular nature. It's an engaging approach which had me constantly trying to piece the puzzle together, with mostly satisfying results.

Admittedly, there are some details that I simply could not keep up with. Rosi seems to have made this movie assuming that many of its viewers would be familiar with Giuliano's story, given his infamy and the fact that his life played out only twelve years before the movie's release. Perhaps to an Italian, European, or even a some American viewers in the 1960s, the endless stream of names and factions was easier to keep straight, but such was not the case for me. This chaotic narrative structure was frustrating at times, but never so much that I lost the general thread of the tale.

The cast was apparently mostly stocked with Sicilian locals, which is always a double-edged sword. You get plenty of characters who are the genuine article, in terms of appearance, but they are often lacking in acting skills. This can be a bit distracting.

Salvatore Giuliano is a well-made film with some commendable artistry to it. It's certainly worth seeing for fans of Italian cinema and mafia movies. It makes for an interesting compliment and even prequel film to more modern, realistic takes on the subjects such as Gomorrah. I'm not likely to watch it again, though.

Things Change (1988)

Director: David Mamet

Though noticeably lighter than Mamet's other movies, Things Change is yet another of his that I find competent but far from mind-blowing.

The movie centers on two very different New Yorkers: Gino (Don Ameche) and Jerry (Joe Mantegna). Gino is an elderly shoe-shiner who hails from Italy. One day, two mafiosi approach him with a deal: take the rap and spend three years in jail for one of their associates who bears an uncanny resemblance to him, and in return their bosses will pay him handsomely. Gino accepts, and he is given over to the care of Jerry, a mafia soldier who is in the doghouse with his bosses. Jerry, seeing that the kindly and genteel Gino will be spending his next few years in prison, decides to buck his bosses' orders and fly Gino to Lake Tahoe for a good time. Once in Tahoe, however, Gino and Jerry get mixed up with local mafia members and have to dance around being discovered.

The movie is fairly light-hearted, in the way that few mafia or David Mamet movies are. There are plenty of attempts at charming humor, but I found most of them uninteresting, despite sometimes being unexpected. The bond between Gino and Jerry is a bit touching, but it does smack a bit of sentimentality and a lack of natural progression.

I've now seen about a half dozen David Mamet movies, and I am simply not much of a fan. His plots are fine, and he has a keen eye for visuals. However, his dialogue is very often overthought and has a herky-jerky feel that can feel artificial at times. And for whatever reasons, every Mamet-directed movie I've watched features at least one oddly stiff performance by actors. Things Change is no exception.

This movie wasn't a chore to watch, but it's not hard for me to see why it is currently out of print and it is never really mentioned among the best gangster movies of all time, despite solid performances by great actors like Ameche and Mantegna. Hardly a must-see for mafia movie buffs.

Bugsy (1991)

Director: Barry Levinson

A movie that has several impressive things going for it, but ultimately fails to live up to its potential.

Bugsy tells the story of infamous gangster Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel's final decade of life from 1937 to 1947. The film has three things going for it: some fascinating history of mobsters and Las Vegas, brilliant visuals, and a lot of strong acting. Without these things, the movie would be borderline awful. With them, it all rounds out to be a glamorous but highly messy film.

By all historical accounts, Siegel was a volatile mixture of charm, good looks, and unpredictable violence. Caring less about money than about grand schemes and respect, he thought and lived large. Warren Beatty does a fine job as the iconic gangster, simply oozing confidence and a hair-trigger temper. However, he is often severely let down by an uneven script, which has numerous and odd shifts in tone. Siegel's erratic mood swings rarely feel organic, just as the reactions by those around him are sometimes peculiar if not downright ridiculous. There are also several scenes which perhaps seemed like good ideas on paper but fail in the execution. Having Siegel running around his house in a goofy chef's hat while trying to juggle a child's birthday party and defend himself against his murderous mafia partners is apparently meant to be humorous. Instead, it comes off as odd and a bit tiresome, as do several other scenes. On top of this is that the pacing of the film never seems quite right, with whole months or years zipping by, often with  overly subtle or no time cues to indicate the passage. This plays havoc with the personal relationships, which are a key element to much of the movie's drama.

Despite all of these problems I had with the film, I was fascinated to keep learning a little more about how Siegel was involved in the earliest roots of turning Las Vegas into the Mecca of hedonism and wanton spending that it is today. From the moment we see him and a few friends drive out and see a lone, sad "casino" spark Siegel's ultimate vision, I had to see the movie through to the end. It didn't hurt that the movie is a pleasure to look at, in all respects.

What I had forgotten was just how much praise this movie received back in 1991. It was nominated for ten Oscars, in fact (it only won 2, for Art/Set-Direction and Costume Design). These days, though, it is not even mentioned as being in the same league as all-time great gangster movies, let alone great all-around movies. I am honestly surprised that it received all of that original acclaim, given that it came out a whole year after Goodfellas, which raised the bar so very high for such movies. Bugsy clearly has its merits, but they are equaled by its glaring faults.

New(ish) Releases!! Brooklyn, The Big Short, and Bridge of Spies

Brooklyn (2015)

Director: John Crowley

A great example of a simple tale told exceptionally well.

Brooklyn is the story of Eilis (pronounced "Ay-lish", and played by Saoirse Ronan), a young woman in Ireland who emigrates to Brooklyn, New York in the 1950s. Though very smart and attractive, Eilis goes through most of the typical stages of culture shock and homesickness. She eventually settles into her job and begins a romance with a charming young local man of Italian heritage. Just as she decides to fully commit to him, though, she is pulled back to Ireland by an unexpected tragedy. She is then torn between choosing between her old life in Ireland and her new one in New York.

There is nothing terribly complex about the plot in Brooklyn. Rather, its complexity lies in the emotions at play when someone must make a very difficult, life-altering decision. Eilis's is not a tale of epic, world-changing choices or even wide-sweeping tragedy. Instead, it is about more common life decisions which greatly affect the person who makes them and the people closest to them, when either option will cause severe pain to several people involved. In Brooklyn, the different options are set across the Atlantic from each other, but the vastness of the emotional differences is what gives the movie its dramatic power.

Brooklyn looks amazing. So amazing, in fact, that it is quite obvious that it is a work of fiction. The actors' good looks and the high sheen on every prop and set offers us viewers enough separation to realize that we are not watching a documentary or even a film memoir. This might be a weakness in other films, but in Brooklyn it works since the tale and the acting are organic and masterfully performed. In a way, it actually enhances the struggle and sadness Eilis deals with, given that it is happening in an otherwise supernaturally beautiful place.

I don't know that I will ever need to see Brooklyn again, unless I wish to drink in the aesthetic once more. It was, however, an excellent movie and well worth seeing.

The Big Short (2015)

Director: Adam McKay

Who knew that learning about big finance and a massive recession could be so entertaining?

With a dazzling combination of strong narrative, steady pacing, daring creativity, and phenomenal acting, director Adam McKay crafted Michael Lewis's source book into an educative and often surprisingly fun ride. The movie follows a few groups of individuals who were among the small handful to accurately predict the impending housing market crash in 2008. Leading us through the complicated tale is the fourth-wall battering ram narrator Jared Vennett (Ryan Gosling), a smug financier who takes several breaks from his attempts to get filthy rich betting against the housing market in order to teach us viewers about exactly how things went so horribly wrong. It's a great device that spices up what could otherwise be some rather dull details about the minutiae of high finance. One could rightly argue that it is a narrative crutch, but it is an entertaining one.

The characters central to the story are portrayed as varied bands of oddballs, crusaders, noble aspirants to wealth, or some combinations of those three. The film versions of Michael Burry, the awkward mathematical genius and medical doctor-turned financier, and Mark Baum, a righteously furious financier with a serious grudge against corrupt bankers, are magnetic. The performances of Christian Bale and Steve Carell, respectively, bring them to life in hilarious and fascinating ways to the point that I found myself itching for the next scene with them. While those two stand out, the many players around them all nail their roles to a tee.

The unraveling of the causes behind the greatest economic crash in modern history makes for a fascinating and upsetting education. The Big Short, despite its steady humor, lets us all in on the rampant greed, irresponsibility, and grand-scale corruption that essentially allowed a relatively small group of wealthy bankers and financiers to bilk millions of people out of nearly a trillion dollars. It has a very similar feel to Martin Scorsese's The Wolf of Wall Street, though focused on the entire odious panorama of banking thievery rather than a single avaricious crook and his Biblical hedonism.

I would gladly watch this movie again, if not to try and pick up some of the economic and financial explanations more clearly, then to simply re-watch the great performances and galloping narrative. I don't know that this movie will win the Best Picture Oscar for which it is nominated, but it is definitely in that top tier of candidates.

Bridge of Spies (2015)

Director: Steven Spielberg

Flawless technique. Crisp narration. Strong acting. Fairly predictable story arc. In other words, a Steven Spielberg film.

Bridge of Spies's greatest strengths lie in its source material and in its actors' and director's technical abilities in terms of storytelling in film. At this point in their careers, guys like Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg simply do not drop the ball. Ever. This is not to say that everything they do is fantastic. In fact, I find very little creativity in anything they do. However, they are also masters of professionalism and the technical aspects of film. Their movies always look great, feature clear narratives, and allow top-flight actors to play their roles extremely well. Bridge of Spies is no exception. Sets and costumes look great. The lighting, cinematography, and editing are above reproach. Lines are delivered in appropriate tones and with expert timing. None of this should surprise anyone who has seen more than a few Spielberg's many films. The only criticism that one can level at Spielberg is that he really never takes any artistic chances. By now, though, we know that, as great a director as he is, the man is simply not an auteur.

The story itself is certainly an interesting slice of real history. Hanks plays James Donovan, a brilliant insurance lawyer in the 1950s who is tapped by the U.S government to be legal counsel to Rudolf Abel (Mark Rylance). Abel is accused of spying for the U.S.S.R., and the U.S. government wants to ensure that Abel is shown to be given competent legal advice, so as to avoid any public accusations of mistreatment or lack of due process. The case was one of many such ostentatious political maneuvers during the height of the Cold War between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Donovan does an exceptional job, even managing to help Abel avoid what would have almost certainly been the death penalty. Three years later, Donovan is again recruited to negotiate a prisoner exchange, whereby the U.S. will exchange Abel for a captured U.S. pilot and a captured college student. Donovan must achieve all of this under very shady and uncertain circumstances in a chaotic East Berlin, where the infamous Berlin Wall has just been completed.

The summary itself should spark a fair amount of interest, and the tale is unfolded as well as one would expect from this group of film-making talents. I must say though, as is typical for most of Spielberg's movies, the ultimate outcome was never really in question (and no, I hadn't read anything about this case before seeing the movie). Thankfully, some of the details and the paths which the story takes are a bit surprising, but the ultimate destination held nothing remarkably thoughtful. Of course, this can be due to the limitations of telling a historical tale. This doesn't make it any more exciting, though.

I personally put this movie in that second tier of this year's Best Picture nominees: "Very good, but not winning material". It's a very well-done movie which will probably have no lasting impact on the landscape of cinematic history. 

Oscar Run-Down (an incomplete review)

So here is my run-down of the six of the eight Best Picture nominees.

American Sniper

Director: Clint Eastwood

After the recent weeks of controversy and debate over this film, I finally saw it. I find it to be a very good movie about one singular man's experience with war, though it's not exactly a flawless masterpiece of cinema.

The story is that of Chris Kyle, the deadliest sniper in U.S. military history. Kyle was a man driven to enlist by patriotism and a strong urge to fight very real terrorism. As such, he did four separate tours in Iraq during the 2000s, distinguishing himself mostly through his unmatched skill in long-range shooting, which gave much-needed cover to ground troops. Also depicted are Kyle's struggles to reacclimate to life away from combat and back with his wife and children.

Most things are done quite well in the film, and they speak to Eastwood's deftness as a director. The battle scenes are intense without being gratuitously violent. Kyle's subdued intestity and levity feel extremely authentic, thanks to Bradley Cooper's understated yet nuanced performance. My main problems with the movie come from two places: one is that Kyle's wife, Taya, becomes a one-note refrain of "Don't go." It's an important sentiment, to be sure, but the film never does much to innovate on the theme.

The other, larger, problem I have is that there was clearly some manipulation of the facts in order to present a more exciting film narrative. In fact, I have even heard Cooper himself say that they had always pitched the film to be a "Western in the desert." This is fine in a work of fiction, but when you are telling the tale of a real man and the effects he felt of war, then artificial elements come off as a bit cheap and disrespectful to the subject. It doesn't help that some of these fictional manipulations can be seen as nationalistic propaganda, even if this was not the filmmakers' express intent.

My general feeling about the controversy around the movie is that both sides are blowing things a bit out of proportion, in order to support their pre-existing beliefs. One could perhaps make an argument that there is a hint of propaganda about the film, but it's certainly not clear-cut. However, I really didn't get the sense that the filmmakers were trying to make any kind of grand political or social statement about war. It's simply a well-done look at a gifted soldier and war's brutal effects on him.

Will it win Best Picture? I seriouly doubt it. Eastwood has done better movies, and the flaws are a little too glaring.

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

Director: Alejandro Inarritu

I just watched this one, and it's certainly a trip. Using a heavy dose of Stedicam cinematography and extremely clever editing, Birdman follows Riggan Thompson, a once-immensely popular star whose best-known role as the titular superhero has become an anchor on his soul. Seeking to legitimize himself as a serious artist, Thompson burns through his remaining finances and emotions to try and pull off a successful production on Broadway. It is, of course, no acident that Thompson is played by Michael Keaton, whose "biggest" role was as Batman in the two massively successful Tim Burton movies in 1989 and 1992. Keaton is great as the celebrity going through a very serious mental and professional crisis, and his performance is worthy of the Best Actor nomination that he's received.

The film has a lot ot absorb, and I  must admit to feeling a tad burned out during the last 30 minutes or so. Still, it's mostly an engaging look at a few intense days in the life of a man whose sanity is fraying more with every passing hour. There is plenty of magical realism to be had, and the performances are as impressive as they come. It can be a bit tough to glean an ultimate point through all of the criticism that Inarritu hurls in nearly every direction: celebrities, self-absorbed actors, theater critics, the public, and basically anyone involved with theater or film. Regardless, it's absolutely worthy of the 9 Oscar nomination it got, and it certainly should take home at least a few of the technical awards.

Will it win Best Picture? I doubt it, since the film takes so many pot-shots at every aspect of showbusiness, though it's a highly creative and worthy contender.

Boyhood

Director: Richard Linklater

An excellent film, in keeping with Richard Linklater’s naturalistic style while being a rather new achievement.

Boyhood follows the twelve formative years of a child named Mason, from ages 6 through 18. It is a tapestry of moments, of varying intensity, that leave an imprint on him as he grows towards adulthood. Similar to Linklater’s Dazed and Confused and other films, there is no particular “story” here, other than a single American boy experiencing a rather typical childhood in Texas between 2001 and 2013. He has an older sister; a single, working mother; and a wayward father who is periodically involved in his life. Mason has to deal with his mother’s sometimes strict, alcoholic boyfriends/husbands, his nagging sister, and the attempts to find any sort of purpose in life.

The brilliance of the movie is just how organic and subtle everything is. While there are a handful of shocking and traumatic moments, none of them is the stuff of high cinematic drama. Most of the movie is given over to the little moments that slowly shape Mason: the discovery of female bodies through lingerie catalogues; a casual conversation with his father that alters their relationship ever-so-slightly; a brief shove from a pair of bullies; a stern talk with his photography teacher. These and many more moments tell the tale of a boy who becomes sullen but hopeful that life does have something to offer a young person who is never completely sure of his footing. It’s a long movie, in terms of time (2 hours and 45 minutes), but it never feels it as we smoothly transition through Mason’s childhood years.

I may not feel the need to watch Boyhood again any time soon, but it is clearly an outstanding film achievement.

Will it win Best Picture? Perhaps, given Linklater’s place in American film history and the fact that he hasn’t been honored in such a way before. It is certainly one of the strongest contenders in the field.


The Grand Budapest Hotel

Director: Wes Anderson

It's a Wes Anderson movie, alright.

Told with several chronological jumps and a ridiculously talented cast, we follow the adventures of Gustave H., the legendary concierge at the title Hotel. He's a curious character, who lives to be the very best at his prestigious job, while bedding wealthy women of advanced age. Gustave is sold to us by the hilarious performace of Ralph Fiennes, who completely nails the shifts in register required by Anderson's ever-quirky script. The story is rather ridiculous, as have been all of Anderson's movies to varying degrees, but there is always a unity to each movie that allows us to accept the strange ways in which they work.

I'm of two minds these days about Anderson. He's clearly a unique filmmaker, and I still find his movies amusing and impressive for their exacting detail and singular blend of childlike glee and more universal and profound human sentiment. However, I can't shake the question of whether he's capable of doing something truly outside of the clear niche he's created for himself. In Grand Budapest, we even see the first marks of self-referential narcissism with a montage of other concierges across the globe, with each one being an actor who is an Anderson movie mainstay: Bill Murray, Bob Balaban, and others. The joke is only remotely funny if you know Anderson's films. Such egotism is a bit annoying, in my view.

Will it win Best Picture? No way. Though it might be another tiny step towards the "Life-Time Achievement Award" that Anderson will win 20 years from now.

The Imitation Game

Director: Morten Tyldum

An otherwise very good film made excellent by an outstanding acting performance.

This film, in keeping with the unoffical "biopic" theme of 2014, looks at key moments in the life of British mathematician Alan Turing. Turing is the father of modern computer science, and the film mostly traces his enlistment by the British military to crack the Enigma Code - Nazi Germany's code for military transmission used in World War II. The code was considered unbreakable until Turing and his small team put all of their mental efforts towards cracking it.

The Enigma Code puzzle is the intellectual meat of the plot, given its greater place in world history, but the film takes a close look at Turing himself, who was himself a cipher to many who knew him. Awkward with people and a closeted homosexual (homosexual acts were illegal in England during Turing's life), his struggles with himself are almost as fascinating as his desire to solve logical puzzles. The more personal elements explored in the film wouldn't have had nearly the power that they do if not for a spellbinding performance by Benedict Cumberbatch. Like most in the U.S., I first knew of Cumberbatch through the incredible Sherlock series on the BBC. What I saw in The Imitation Game was an actor going well beyond the norm to bring a singular historic person to life on screen. I have to think Cumberbtach a serious contender for Best Actor.

Will it win Best Picture? There's a very good chance, given how solid the movie is, in all respects.

Whiplash

Director: Damien Chazelle

This is a fantastic movie about obsession, drive, and the question of how far people will go to find and inspire greatness, either in themselves or in others.

The story follows Andrew Neimann, a freshman drummer at a highly prestigious music conservatory in New York City. Andrew's presence, skill, and determination are noticed by the school's most accomplished instructor, Mr. Fletcher, who quickly invites Neimann to try playing with the school's elite jazz ensemble. Neimann's excitement is soon burned away by Fletcher's unrelenting, scathing style of discipline and verbal abuse towards his pupils, especially Neimann. The young percussionist's drive to excel is driven by his own passion for greatness as well as his growing hatred for Fletcher.

The movie is uncomfortable in many places, as we watch Fletcher abuse Neimann in every way imaginable: physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Fletcher's rationale is that only through such manipulation and pressure can a musician become one of "The Greats." To support his theory, he often cites a famous anecdote about legendary jazz saxophonist Charlie "The Bird" Parker having a cymbal thrown at his head. We viewers are left plenty to ponder this notion of artistic acheivement and whether it is worth the cost. The cost, in Neimann's case, is his relationships with family, friends, and other musicians.

The music is the film is great, as you would expect, and the sound and film editing enhance it to a great degree. The highlight is clearly the performance of J. K. Simmons as Fletcher, who brings the sadistic music instructor to frightening life. Simmons will likely win Best Supporting Actor for the role, and he alone is worth watching, even if it can be difficult to witness the maelstrom of torment that he heaps upon Neimann.

Will it win Best Picture? I'm skeptical, due to how specialized the topic is, but it is clearly an all-time great "music" movie.

Selma & The Theory of Everything (and a few final thoughts)

I wasn't able to see either of these movies, try as I might. Based on the buzz, though, it sounds like we can expect Selma to completely get the shaft, while The Theory of Everything may merit little more than a Best Actor award for Eddie Redmayne.

Overall, I have to say that this year's crop of Best Picture nominees is a fairly solid one, though not exactly a year that will be seen as a historically great year. When we look back at these eight films twenty years from now, I don't know that more than one or two of them will have acheived "all-time great movie" status.

A Field in England (2013)

Director: Ben Wheatley

Spoiler-Free Summary

In the middle of a Civil War skirmish in a 17th century English countryside, a trio of deserters inadvertently band together as they flee the nearby carnage. One of the men is an apprentice for a missing alchemist, and he convinces the other two soldiers to search for his predecessor, who had gone missing in that same field some time in the past.

After ingesting some mushrooms with hallucinogenic properties, the two soldiers begin to confuse fantasy with reality, as they are led to find the former apprentice and search for a hidden cache of gold somewhere in the field. Various forms of madness and paranoia occur as the group interacts with each other and other characters, who may or may not be illusory.

Still Spoiler-Free Opinion

Did I Like It?

There are some films that leave you wondering whether you actually enjoyed them or not. A Field in England is one of those for me, even though it's now been about two weeks since I watched it.

There's no doubt that it does leave you guessing throughout, trying to piece together the varied, suspicious, and tantalizingly vague stories that the alchemist's apprentice is foisting on the soldiers. And there is the McGuffin of the buried treasure, which will leave any viewer wondering just what it is that the men are searching for.

The tale grows more twisted and confounding as
the various characters lead, follow, and manipulate
each other for reasons that are oddly frightening
for their lack of clarity.

The telling of the tale, though, can be dizzying, to say the least. Presumably by design, there is a fair amount of incoherence in the story once the mushrooms are taken. There are many jump cuts, disorienting camera angles, and general confusion about who is who and what, exactly, they are looking for and why. Every so often, the film sobers up for a moment and you feel some sense of clarity, but these moments become more fleeting as the tale progresses. Despite all of my questions, though, I mostly felt that there was something I, as a viewer, was missing, rather than something that the director had overlooked. Things are presented with a confidence and control that give the impression of internal logic, even if I couldn't completely wrap my head around all of it. This is to say nothing of the very heavy British accents and colloquial idioms, which can sometimes be a challenge to fully comprehend, even for one who rarely has trouble comprehending thick accents.

This likely sounds like a very masochistic viewing experience, but I assure you that it wasn't. The performances are outstanding, and there is actually some solid humor sprinkled into the dialogue. The levity is welcome, as most of my energy was spent on puzzling things out.

If nothing else, A Field in England leaves an impression. It's unlike any film I've ever seen, and offers hints at many darker, much more mysterious things lurking beneath its ever-shifting surface. It's these unknown components that offer me the intrigue that I enjoy in many tales, even if my curiosity is not completely satisfied by story's end. But this is exactly what is special about this movie - it leaves itself open to multiple interpretations. If you're willing to put in the mental energy these require and don't mind the ambiguity. 

Film #94: Schindler's List (1993)

Director: Steven Spielberg

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: twice (last time about twelve years ago)

Rapid-Fire Summary

For a complete plot synopsis, check here at imdb’s website.

In 1940, the Nazi machine is taking hold in Poland. They are starting to herd all Jews together and force them into ghettos. Amidst these massive and horrific changes, the Czech-German businessman Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson) arrives in Krakow with dollar signs in his eyes. Through clever business machinations and a flare for panache, Schindler quickly ingratiates himself to Nazi high commanders, secures a factory and a Jewish prisoner labor force for himself.

Over the next few years, business is good for Oskar Schindler. His factory produces quality pots and other metal goods, and his chief accountant, the Jewish Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsly) sees that the factory runs smoothly and profitably. IN the early going, the only seeming bump in the road is the assignment of Nazi officer Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) as the commander of the labor camp in Krakow. Goeth is an unpredictable and homicidal maniac who kills Jews without rhyme or reason. Schindler, however, manages to become civil, if not friendly, with the treacherous killer, in the name of keeping the money flowing in.

Oskar Schindler - in the middle of one of his many negotiations. These eventually evolve from purely self interested to completely altruistic.

Gradually, Schindler begins to have a change of heart, though a somewhat quiet and slow-building one. Upon seeing the murderous brutality of the Nazis against the Jews, Schindler, on the gentle but unwavering urging of Stern, begins to bring more Jewish laborers into his factory. He tells everyone that it is simply to maintain efficiency, but those who are closest to him can see that his sympathies for the Jews are growing. Schindler even tries, unsuccessfully, to change the brutal nature of Goeth. This failure aside, he continues to take Jewish prisoners into his factory to save them from the horrors of working in the labor camp every day.

As the War enters its final year, things become more desperate. Word comes down that Hitler has ordered the complete extermination of Jews – the so-called “Solution.” In the face of this, Oskar Schindler takes all of his massive profits, and even convinces a few other businessmen to do the same, and purchases over a thousand Jewish laborers. He assures Goeth that it is merely for convenience, as these laborers and their children are known commodities. The deal is made, and Schindler even ensures their safe transport to Czechoslovakia after his Jewish workers are mistakenly sent to Auschwitz and nearly killed, along with thousands of their fellow Jews.

At the official surrender of the Nazis to the Allied forces, Schindler addresses the hundreds of people that he has saved. The following day, as an ultimate irony and sacrifice, he must flee punishment for the crime of war profiteering.

When the war ends with the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers, the Jews are free, but Oskar Schindler is now, officially, a war criminal for profiteering. With the blessing of the thousand that he helped save, Schindler and his wife flee into the night.

My Take on the Film (done after this most recent viewing)

This was the third time that I’ve seen this movie, and my feelings haven’t changed – it’s a very good film in many ways, but there are a few things that irk me.

Schindler’s List is definitely one of the boldest of Spielberg’s films. The movie portrays the stark and horrific actions of the Nazi regime against the Jews in a way that I had never seen before. It goes far beyond mere sensational, almost action/suspense route that could have been taken. Seeing silent, morose masses of Krakow’s Jewish citizens, lined up to be classified and segregated by the conquering Germans has much more authentic emotional power. This is one of many subtle details that the movie exhibits in order to convey the crushing reality of the Holocaust.

As always, Spielberg is a master of the technical aspects of film. The man has always known how to tell stories through the moving picture, and Schindler’s List is no exception. From the opening scenes of Oskar Schindler schmoozing his way into the good graces of the Nazi commanders, to and through Goeth’s failed attempt at becoming a forgiving overlord, the movie balances dialogue and visuals to tell the tale as well as anything Spielberg has ever done.

The maniacal Goeth and the savior Schindler, during one of their many talks. The two are dark-and-light reflections of one another. This scene displays how effectively Spielberg used the black and white medium. No one can say that the man doesn't know what he's doing with a camera.

Unfortunately, as important as these things are, and as well as the movie does them, there are several gripes that I have. One is that I have always found a certain flatness to the main characters. Oskar Schindler’s soul goes through a massive transformation, and yet we are left with virtually nothing to explain why this might have occurred. Aside from a few ponderous gazers at the horrors around him, we are left in the dark as to why, exactly, this self-absorbed capitalist would abandon his fortune to save a group of people whom he has only seen as a means to his financial ends. There are moments when we get hints, but I’ve always felt a little cheated when it comes to this aspect of the film. There is also an enigmatic quality to Goeth. The character never feels completely real to me – almost more of a monster construct than a person who actually could have existed.

The idea of constructs is another problem I have with the film. Far too many times, I felt as if I could see Steven Spielberg’s hand prints on the movie, and not in a good way. He was clearly trying to present a “realistic” look at the terrors of the Holocaust, and in some notable ways, he succeeded. However, there are a few too many scenes and moments that feel very contrived to me. One is the “secretary” scene, when the libidinous Schindler is “interviewing” potential secretaries by watching them type. This sequence, with no dialogue, is a very wink-wink, nudge-nudge, humorous moment in the movie. In other words, it seems way out of place. There are several others, but none so egregious as the final scene in which Schindler is walking towards his car, about to leave behind all of the people he has saved. In a scene that seemed straight out of a hackneyed melodrama from the 1940s, the hundreds of Jews quietly stand around him as he slowly starts to cry and despair over how many more lives he could have saved, had he not been so selfish. On paper, it seems to make for a great scene. On film though, to me, it seems rather artificial.

The final scene, in which Spielberg and Neeson overplay their emotional hands (in my opinion). The melodrama becomes thick to the point that it does a disservice to the reality upon which the film is based.

Related to this is something that has been a bugaboo in virtually every Spielberg film – shying away from truly, completely shocking the audience, even when it may be appropriate. The particular scene I have in mind is towards the end of the movie, when Schindler’s Jews have all been mistakenly taken to Auschwitz. The women are all stripped naked and forced into a large warehouse, which they and we the audience all presume to be a gas chamber in which they will all be killed. Just at the height of our fears, water rather than gas rains down from the shower heads, merely cleaning the terrorized women. I don’t know whether this event actually occurred, but it struck me as strange that the director, who has already shown us multiple brutal murders in the movie, would shy away from presenting perhaps the most disturbing crimes perpetrated during those years – the mass executions of helpless innocents. I’m not saying that I would have enjoyed seeing such a thing, but this film is clearly not about enjoying what you are seeing. It is about witnessing the atrocities committed against the Jews, and it only seems right to witness the greatest of those atrocities.

Schindler’s List is one of those films on historical tragedy that merely makes me want to learn more about the actual story, not unlike The Last King of Scotland or Hotel Rwanda. In fact, the scene that has by far the most impact on me, and the only one during which I cry, is at the very end, when the credits start to roll. We shift to 1993, when the film was released, and we watch the surviving “Schindler’s Jews” and some of their descendants process towards the real Schindler’s grave and place flowers along it. This is when the reality of the story hits me, and this is when I feel a real sense of loss.

I ultimately think of Schindler’s List as a “near miss.” It tells an important story, and it does many things well. However, I feel that, had the few “Hollywood” moments been eliminated and had Spielberg gone more minimalist in a few of his techniques, the movie would have had even more power.

In other words, three times in more than enough for me. I don’t need to watch this movie ever again.

That’s a wrap. 94 shows down; 11 to go.

Coming Soon: The Legend of Drunken Master (1994)

Ahhhh. A nice breath of fresh air, after emotional weightiness of the prior three movies. Kung-fu action up the wah-zoo. As of writing this, apparently Jackie Chan is in some hot water for an anti-American rant. Whatever. I just want to see one guy jumping around, kicking the stuffing out of a bunch of other guys. 

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.