Film #56: 8 1/2 (1963)

Director: Federico Fellini

Initial Release Country: Italy

Times Previously Seen: once (about 5 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Star film director attempts to balance the manic production process of his current project with his own flights of fancy and real personal problems.

Extended Summary (A more complete plot synopsis, spoilers included. Fair warning)

Star film director Guido Anselmi (Marcelo Mastroianni) is surrounded by chaos. He is in the midst of producing his latest movie – a high-budget monster that has his creative team scrambling to and fro, trying to meet their distracted director's insufferably vague demands. Wannabe actors and actresses constantly badger Guido for parts in the movie, financial backers seek to know more about the mysterious project, and critics, religious figures, and journalists from all over the world nag him for his views on everything from love to politics to religion. In the middle of the maelstrom, Guido, suffering from poor health, goes to a spa, bringing the entire circus with him.

In his mind's eye, Guido dreams himself a balloon about to be brusquely yanked back to earth.

Added to all of the hoopla surrounding the movie itself are Guido's personal problems. He asks his mistress, the pretty but hopelessly dense and materialistic Carla (Sandra Milo), to join him. She offers a bit of escapist comfort, but only for a short while before the pressures of the film start to weigh down on Guido once more.

Throughout the dizzying tap-dance, Guido often finds his only respite in his own fantasies. He recalls past loves and scenarios, painting them with the exceptionally vibrant palette of his revisionist imagination. From floating above the crowd as a balloon, to interactions with past lovers, to conversations with his dead father, Guido loses himself in his own mind as easily as he lights up a fresh cigarette. However, just like the cigarette, each fantasy burns down to its end, leaving him back in reality.

The ever-chic looking Guido, taking in the world around him. What the mind behind the shades does to that world is anyone else's guess.

His reality becomes even more muddled when, after his desperate plea for mature companionship, Guido's wife Luisa (Anouk Aimee) comes to visit him at the spa. The reunion is amiable enough at the start, but soon turns sour as Luisa realizes that her husband is still the same immature dreamer who has cheated on and left her many times in the past. Their 20-year marriage seems completely destroyed when, at a set of screen tests, Luisa sees that her husband has used their most intimate conversations as fodder for his movie script. She storms out of the screen tests, with only marginal protests by Guido.

By this time, the pressures on Guido to become more active in the filming process, respond to critics, and answer to his financial backers finally get to him. At an ill-conceived tea party at one of the movie sites (with scaffolding for a massive rocket ship), Guido is put on a dais and commanded to give answers. In his mind, he escapes by imagining himself crawling under the table, pulling a gun and shooting himself. In reality, he merely cancels the entire picture and sends the entire hoipaloi packing.

In his final waking dream, Guido stares at the now-useless scaffolding and imagines an entire carnival of characters being led about by a little boy in all white, with a flute. The boy directs everyone off of the stage, remains for a few moments more, and is the last to leave.

My Take on the Film

This is a movie that will divide viewers into 2 clear camps: those who find it incomprehensible, Eurotrash nonsense, and those who find it a phenomenally skillful, humorous and entertaining look at the life and mind of an artist. When I first watched this movie about five years ago, I was probably more in the former group, but I am now with the latter.

If you are a movie viewer who demands a plot-driven story that follows the classic hero/heroine overcoming obstacles to prevail for truth and justice, Federico Fellini is not the director for you, and the film 8 ½ is probably the ultimate Fellini film. This is not least of all because it is certainly the most auto-biographical of his many films. I suppose some may say that a film director making a film about a film director making a film is the height of narcissism and self-aggrandizement. This thought did occur to me, but I dismiss it. For any person who has ever attempted any artistic endeavor, it is not hard to understand the character Guido Anselmi's desire to leave behind the trappings of the material world and vanish into any number of fantasy worlds of our own making. Therein lies the emotion of 8 ½ – the desire of escapism. After all, what are most of us looking for in films but to escape?

That attempt at intellectual analysis aside, the most striking thing about 8 ½ is the portrayal of Guido's daydreams. On my past viewing, I simply wasn't paying enough attention to see how they were related to everything else going on in the film. Now, however, I see the very clear connections and why each and every one of his flights of fancy are touching and/or hilarious. This is part of what is captivating about this movie – the viewer is waiting to see just when Guido will warp the world around him into his own vision, and exactly how he will do it. From the very beginning, in which he imagines himself drifting out of his car stuck in traffic and up into the air like a balloon, to the very end in which he sees his role as director symbolized by the little boy leading around thousands of strange characters, it all points to the absurdities that swirl around the world of art.

This is not to equate the absurd with the useless. Absurdity is the ocean in which many comic treasures can be found, and Fellini was the Jacques Cousteau of finding such. He had a such a great eye for the strange, silly, and wonderful moments in life that entertainers can provide. From the little, insensitive comments towards babbling actors to the hilariously ridiculous visions of Guido as the head of his own harem, 8 ½ runs a spectacular gamut of humor.

The ocean-side prostitute, Saraghina - One of the countless indelible images in the movie.

Not only could Fellini find this great variety of humor, but he could present it in such an appealing, eye-catching way that his films are often a pleasure to watch. Even someone who has no time for the fanciful nature of 8 ½ has to admit that the film is captivating to look at. From the cast, all striking either for their beautiful or singular looks, to the sets, locales, and shot framing, everything is in its proper place in the movie. It all further reinforces the notion that art can provide the order and pleasure that real life rarely offers.

A final merit to be pointed out is that Fellini cut himself no breaks in this movie. While the character who represents him, Guido, is fairly likable and, but the accounts of the ancillary characters, an artistic genius, his failings as a man are made plain for all to see. Once his wife, Luisa, and his sister show up, it becomes clear that, emotionally, Guido is nothing more than a scared and selfish little child. He lies to cover up his infidelities and uses his and his wife's most intimate moments as little more than fodder for his own movie script. What you get is a man who represents many a great artist – brilliant in his medium but sorely lacking when it comes to the quieter, closer moments of life.

I suppose if I can knock this film at all, it is that it ran out of just a little bit of steam by the end. Coming in at over 2 hours and 15 minutes, I found myself flagging a little bit by the time the end was near. I felt that I had received a near overdose of Guido Anselmi's perpetual mental fluctuations and just wanted the end to come. However, I must say that this may have been because it was late at night, and I was probably just tired. Turn my experience into a cautionary tale – set aside the right time to watch this movie.

The final image of the movie, with the little "band leader" boy symbolizing the director himself.

That's a Wrap. 56 shows down. 49 to go.

Coming Soon:Charade (1963)

This one may be a bit of an effort. Despite having some kick-ass actors in it (Cary Grant and James Coburn, to name a few), it also contains one of my least favorite leads – Audrey Hepburn. Come an back to see if I can stomach it.

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

Film #55: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

Director: David Lean

Initial Release Country: United Kingdom

Times Previously Seen: once (about 12 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Bright, charismatic, and quixotic young British officer fosters & leads major Arab military campaigns during World War I.

Extended Summary (Spoilers included. Fair warning.)

In Cairo, in the midst of World War I, a young British military intelligence officer, T.E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole), whiles away his time and immense intellectual abilities making maps. This all changes when his commanding officer decides to send him to the Arabian desert. Despite Lawrence's seeming lack of respect for authority and discipline, he is fluent in multiple languages and shows a rare and genuine interest in the region. He accept the assignment to seek out the British ally, Arabian Prince Feisal (Alec Guinness), and see how his battle against the enemy Turks is going.

In western Arabia, after an arduously scorching journey across the desert, Lawrence meets up with his superior officer, Colonel Brighton, and finds Prince Feisal just as he and his tribes suffer an air raid by the Turks. Although Brighton and high British command urge Prince Feisal to move his people to the south and await British aide, Lawrence expresses his distaste at the Arabs relying solely on foreign assistance, though it comes from his mother country. He convinces one of Feisal's warlords, Sherif Ali (Omar Sharif), to launch an assault on the heavily fortified, Turkish held port city of Aqabbah. To show his confidence in the plan, Lawrence agrees to go along with the fifty-odd fighting men on their perilous trek across the desert towards the occupied coastal city.

Still clad in mostly British soldier gear, Lawrence makes one of his first forays into the scorching Arabian desert.

After a weeks-long journey under the punishing Arabian sun, during which several companions die, Lawrence and Sherif Ali's fighting force clear the desert. They are met by Auda Abu Tai (Anthony Quinn), the local sheik who has been bought off by the Turks not to attack Aqabbah. Ignoring Sherif Ali's disgust and personal desires not to accept help from such a man, Lawrence stokes Abu Tai's pride and thirst for gold, and he convinces him to join forces to take Aqabbah from the Turks. The plan works to perfection, as the Turks never expect a landward attack and are quickly routed. However, Abu Tai is disgusted to find no gold anywhere in Aqabbah, and centuries-long blood feuds threaten to break out between the two Arab tribes. Lawrence decides to head back to Cairo, across the Sinai peninsula, to bring word of the victory and ask for more military aide from his British commanders.

After yet another brutal journey across the desert wastes of the Sinai, this one killing one of Lawrence's body servants, he makes it back to headquarters. The mere sight of him, sun-stroked and wearing a tattered robe of a local khalif, shocks the standard British officers and high commanders. After a few emotional outbursts, Lawrence calms enough to explain the situation in Aqabbah and convince his commanders to supply armaments and training to the Arabs. The goal will be to disrupt the Turkish rail supply chain through guerrilla attacks that Lawrence will lead himself.

Lawrence and Sharif Ali, on the brink of yet another one of their guerrilla raids.

Many months pass, and Lawrence's guerrilla fighters are succeeding beyond expectations. Their hit-and-run dynamiting tactics are sending Turkish supply routes into chaos. The fighters have become famous enough that Lawrence has even attracted an American photojournalist, whom Lawrence is more than happy to indulge.

In the middle of the Arabs' wild successes, however, Lawrence finds himself extremely torn. All this time, he has fought with the Arabs for their own freedom from foreign control, and he has become a hero of near mythic proportions both in Arabia and abroad. Still, he feels a mounting desire to set down the mantle of responsibility, turn away from all of the bloodshed, and just become an average person again. Complicating his moods even more are his equally strong feelings of vanity and sense of importance. It is all of these conflicting emotions that pull Lawrence briefly back to headquarters in Cairo.

At British headquarters, Lawrence makes a desperate plea to be allowed to become just an average soldier again. His commanding officers convince him that he is too valuable and send him back to Arabia.

Once back in Arabia, Lawrence continues to fight, but has become a gruesome specter. He leads his ever-dwindling number of troops northward towards Damascus, where Britain and her allies hope to deal a death blow to Turkish forces. On his march, the previously-compassionate Lawrence no longer balks at wholesale massacres of Turkish forces, and nearly all evidence of his past flamboyance and vanity have been burned away. After another spell of self-doubt, Lawrence actually wanders into a nearby town, allows himself to be captured and brutally beaten by Turkish forces.

After being treated for his wounds, Lawrence returns once again to headquarters in Cairo. This stay is very brief, but before leaving, Lawrence extracts a guarantee from his general and the local British diplomat: that Britain has no designs on moving in and taking over Arabia once they have banished the Turks.

On returning to Arabia, Lawrence's Arab forces make their final push northward, and manage to take over Damascus even before the European forces arrive. As such, the various Arab tribes have sectioned off the city by tribe, leading to different segments of the infrastructure being under that control of rival groups, including his old comrades-in-arms, Sherif Ali and Abu Tai. Lawrence attempts to get the divergent groups to sit, talk, and negotiate, but seemingly for naught. He sees the chaos that is resulting from centuries-old tribalism, and decides that he can do no more. He leaves Arabia and becomes an anonymous British soldier once again.

An exhausted Lawrence makes his final attempts to unify the Arab League, with Abu Tai at his side.

Years later, in 1935, at the age of 47, Lawrence dies in a motorcycle accident. It is only at his funeral that people seem to recall what an extraordinary person he had been, though none can rightly say that they knew exactly what had been in his heart.

My Take on the Film:

Lawrence of Arabia is a true epic, and one that I really enjoyed watching, even if I don't find it flawless.

Part of the reason I enjoyed this massive picture is that I knew what I was in for. Having a running time of 216 minutes staring me in the face, I set aside a Saturday morning with nothing else to do. Mother nature helped me out by adding a rainstorm. Perfect movie-watching weather. Anyone who's thinking of taking in this classic, be sure you understand what's expected of you, and plan accordingly.

So, what does Lawrence of Arabia give you? The most obviously stunning element is the visuals. As far as the TIME list goes, this was only the fourth color film that I've watched (Pinocchio, Meet Me In St. Louis, and The Searchers being the others). In 1962, the vast majority of films were still being filmed in much more cost-effective black-and-white. If they were filmed in color, nearly all backgrounds were painted mock-ups. When Lawrence of Arabia hit the screens, it must have completely blown people away. The sweeping, on-location desert landscapes are incredible. Even someone like myself, who has grown up in an age of unparalleled cinematic visuals, has to marvel at David Lean's eye. The wide-angle shots convey the beautiful vastness and desolation of the Arabian desert, as well as the affects that such a landscape would have on humanity. The setting is clearly as much a character as T.E. Lawrence himself.

One of the almost countless stunning images of the pitiless yet oft-beautiful desert as it surrounds the characters.

The history of the modern Arab world is also a major theme. This may not be of interest to some viewers, but it certainly has a certain bearing, considering the changes the Middle East is undergoing as I write these words. This relatively brief slice of European doings in modern Saudi Arabia and its neighbors is likely to pique the curiosity of most. I realize that it is a dramatized version of events, but I do plan to dig a bit to find out more about this very seminal moment in world history.

Of course, the movie is not called “History of The Middle East”. The titular protagonist is certainly one of the most intriguing people the West has ever produced. A rather tortured intellectual, Lawrence was, by the few accounts that I've read, a walking collection of contradictions. The movie does as well as it can at displaying as may of the facets of T.E. Lawrence as possible. The quiet, ponderous scenes in the desert evoke his passive, philosophical nature; while the desert fighting scenes show a savage, sadistic warrior in the throes of battle rage. We get a fantastic scene of Lawrence alone and preening in his newly-given khalif robes, clearly absorbed in his own vanity; later, we have an emotionally shattered Lawrence begging to return to the British military, desperate to be “just one of the chaps” again.

Of course, it was a very young Peter O'Toole tasked with acting out David Lean's visionary bio-pic. O'Toole's performance is certainly packed with emotion, and is very effective. However, I do have to say that, after three-and-a-half hours, I had grown a bit weary of all of the quivering. It seemed to be the way that was decided upon (by O'Toole or Lean, I don't know) to convey a range of Lawrence's various emotions. Lawrence is angry? He shakes with rage. He's crushed by sadness? He shakes in despair. And so on. There are more tranquil moments that offset this; it's just an impression that I come away with.

The only other element of the movie that I found a bit frustrating is one that probably cannot be avoided. Because the real T.E. Lawrence was apparently such a difficult man to pin down, I came away from the movie rather befuddled by the title subject. As most people are, I am accustomed to protagonists who are, on the whole, clearly defined, be they “hero” or “villain”. Lawrence was one who clearly defied easy categorization. It's the thing that makes him fascinating, but also left me with the sense that the movie's study of him, despite being nearly four hours, was somehow incomplete. I don't really feel that this was due to poor storytelling on the parts of the filmmakers; it's simply the subject matter.

Lawrence of Arabia is a great film, though one that may seem like an unsatisfying trial to many viewers. If you can be patient and drink in everything it offers, its merits shine as brightly as any film's. If longer films without pat conclusions are not your thing, you may not have the wherewithal for this one.

That's a wrap. 55 shows down, 50 to go.

Coming Soon: 8 ½ (1963)

The Italian filmmaker's filmmaker, Federico Fellini's well-known film on making a film. Say all of that five times, quickly.

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

*Note on future content: As a few of you may have notices, I did not include the “Take 2” segment in this review. From this point on, I will cease doing this portion of my reviews, as they had become simply too time-consuming. Henceforth, I will keep it limited to a brief summary and my impressions of each movie. I hope that you will still enjoy them.

Film #54: The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

Director: John Frankenheimer

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about ten years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

U.S. Army officer has mind bent into an assassin during Korean War, comes home, experiences strangeness; Machiavellian mother.

Extended Summary (Complete summary of major story points, MAJOR spoilers included. Fair warning.)

In the thick of the Korean War, Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey) is the thoroughly uppity, humorless and utterly disliked Staff Sergeant of a small platoon. One night, thanks to their traitorous Chinese interpreter, the entire platoon is captured and dragged away by mysterious, black-clad figures.

Fast-forward several weeks. Raymond Shaw arrives home in the United States to much fanfare. We are told that he had escaped capture by fighting his way out of a POW camp, destroying enemy fortifications, and rescuing his entire platoon, save two men, in the process. For these acts, he has been awarded the prestigious Medal of Honor. His plane is met by marching bands and hordes of reporters, as well as his mother, Eleanor Shaw Iselin (Angela Lansbury) and step-father, Senator John Iselin. It soon becomes apparent to the young Shaw that the entire pageant has been set up as a platform for his step-father's political ambitions. Raymond is clearly disgusted and embarrassed by the entire show.

Elsewhere in the country, two of Raymond's fellow soldiers from Korea are having some bad experiences. Major Bennett Marco (Frank Sinatra) and Corporal Allen Melvin are having bizarre and terrifying dreams. In these dreams, they see themselves and their platoon sitting in a hotel lobby, listening to what starts as a lecture on hydrangeas. Eventually, however, it becomes an exposition by a Chinese hypnotherapist, Doctor Yen Lo, to high-ranking communist party leaders from places such as Russia. Lo is explaining to his comrades how he has brainwashed the platoon, but particularly Raymond Shaw. Shaw has become a weapon that, upon seeing or hearing the correct triggers, will follow whatever orders he is given. To demonstrate, he has Shaw kill two of his own squad members in front of the others. At this point in their dreams, Marco and Melvin always wake up.

Bennett and Shaw, brainwashed with the rest of the platoon.

In the waking world, a shaky Marco Bennett is assigned as a press relations attache to a federal congressman. On his first duty, at a small press hearing, he comes almost head-to-head with the blustering Senator Iselin, who shows up unannounced and loudly levels anti-Communist accusations towards many unnamed members of Congress. While the doltish Iselin holds the position of power and the attention of a communist-wary public, it is clearly his wife, the cold and calculating Eleanor, who is behind all of his fear-mongering.

Bennett's dreams continue to disturb him; so much so that he is temporarily relieved of duty. He seeks out Raymond Shaw to find some sort of answers, and finds him working for a left-leaning journalist in New York. In speaking with his ever-misanthropic former subordinate, he learns that he is not alone in his dreams, as Raymond had received a letter from Melvin shortly before. This, however, is all he can tell Bennett. Soon, Marco convinces his superiors of the validity of his suspicions, and he and Melvin are separately able to identify some of the communist leaders they have seen in their dreams. The army decides to let Bennett stay close to Shaw to keep tabs on him.

While being under Bennett's watch, Shaw reveals a seminal moment in his past: the one time that he has both truly loved and been loved. It was with the lovely Jocelyn Jordan, the daughter of Senator Thomas Jordan, the staunchest rival to Raymond's fanatical mother and her puppet Senator husband. Raymond and Jocelyn had a summer of happiness before Eleanor learned of it, and forced Raymond to break it off in brutal fashion. Raymond then enlisted in the army.

Shortly after this revelation of Raymond's past, Major Bennett witnesses a clue to the brainwashing technique through a bizarre accident with a deck of cards. During a random encounter in a bar, Bennett sees Raymond hear the suggestion, “Why don't you pass the time by playing a little solitaire?” Upon hearing this phrase, Raymond robotically follows the suggestion until he overturns the queen of diamonds. Whatever suggestion is made to Raymond after he sees this card will be seen through and completely forgotten by him, no matter how ridiculous or brutal.

Bennett works out the triggering mechanism for Raymond's fugue assassination states.

Raymond's mother decides to throw a costume party with two subversive purposes. She invites her arch-enemies, the Jordans, so that she might reunite Raymond and Jocelyn, thus getting Eleanor closer to her rivals. Also, she reveals to Senator Jordan her plans to spearhead her husband's nomination as Vice-President in the upcoming elections. Jordan informs her that he will seek to impeach Iselin if they do any such thing. In a side room, Jocelyn, costumed as the Queen of Diamonds, steals in upon a dazed Raymond, and inadvertently hypnotizes him into eloping with her.

While all of this is happening, Major Bennett has been back at headquarters, puzzling over Raymond's strange behavior. He eventually puzzles out all of the triggers, and he plans to find Raymond in order to try and de-program him. Whom he finds first, however, is Jocelyn Jordan, who pleads with Bennett to give them 48 hours together while on their honeymoon. She assures Bennett that hers and Raymond's love for each other will overcome any potential brainwashing. Bennett reluctantly accedes.

Back at the Iselin residence, Eleanor schemes. She knows of her son's elopement, and puts her darkest plan into motion: We now learn that she has been the communists' agent in America, and she uses Raymond's triggers to hypnotize him and send him to kill both Senator Jordan and Raymond's own new wife, Jocelyn. Raymond does so, in the same mechanical fashion as he had killed his fellow soldiers.

The slaying of Jocelyn and her father by her own husband. One of the most distrubing scenes I've ever watched.

We also learn that, in addition to eliminating Senator Jordan, Eleanor has even greater ambitions: she has orchestrated the assassination of the presidential candidate who her husband will be running with as Vice-Presidential candidate. Her overall plan is to use the killing, which will happen in mid-acceptance speech, to whip up such powerful anti-communist sentiment that her husband will become president (with her making all the decisions, as usual), enact martial law, and turn the country into a war machine that will crush the supposed “Red Menace”. During her exposition of this plan to her entranced son, she recalls how she had requested an assassin from the communists, not knowing that they would use her own son in an attempt to bind her to them. Alas, she is willing to sacrifice Raymond for her own ends.

Upon hearing of the deaths of the Jordans, Major Bennett is wracked with guilt and self-doubt. He realizes that he could have stopped it, but did not. He receives a call from Raymond and races to meet him in hotel across the street from the fast-approaching acceptance speech for Raymond's detested step-father. Bennett finds Raymond and uses his own deck of cards, all queens of diamonds, to send Raymond into a trance and attempts to “rip out the wiring” by telling him that its all over now, and that he is free of the psychological strings that the scientists attached to him in Korea.

Still, it would seem that Bennett's work has gone for naught. When the speech approaches, Raymond frees himself from Bennett and seems to fall back under his mother's control. He disguises himself as a priest and takes a rifle into a high point in the convention hall. Bennett and another officer get to the speech just as it starts and desperately search for Raymond. As the speech nears the point at which Raymond is to kill the presidential candidate, Bennett spies Raymond's position and runs up to him. Just as he reaches the door, Raymond turns his rifle sights away from the presidential candidate and rapidly shoots and kills both his step-father and his mother. He puts on his Medal of Honor, turns, looks at Bennett, and sadly explains that “nobody else could have stopped them”. Then, he puts the rifle in his own mouth and kills himself.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done before any research)

I'm still trying to get my head around this one. It's not hard to see why so many of the original press releases and posters had things like, “You'll have to watch it again immediately!” Quite true. If I hadn't seen it once already, I would probably feel the same way. Even still, as you can see from the massive plot summary, it's hard to give a thumbnail synopsis of this movie. There are too many bizarre, novel, and absolutely necessary elements to explain.

But really, do they all amount to a movie that I liked? Overall, yes. While there are some clunky elements, I really enjoy the film and recommend it to nearly anyone with a stomach for very dark subject matter and stories that go for the slow reveal.

First, the bad, though perhaps “bad” is not quite the right word. As fascinating and unique as so many of the facets of The Manchurian Candidate are, there are some odd ones as well. Probably foremost are the several false leads that the movie throws at you. In a film that, from its very beginning, is all about not taking things at face value, there are many conversations and happenings that lead you down false paths. Marco Bennett's reading books of odd and varied topics is one of them. In a movie that so masterfully interlocks seemingly disparate and puzzling story elements, this is one that is never explained or connected to any other element. Or if it was, I'll be damned if I can figure it out.

Related to this are two things that are themselves connected. In the middle of the film, a very shaky Major Bennett is on a train and meets the gorgeous Eugenie Rose Cheney, played by the sultry Janet Leigh. The two have a conversation that is, in turns, flirtatious, awkward, and laden with bizarre questions and answers that lead we viewers to think that there is something much deeper going on. Is Rose romantically interested in Bennett or is she some kind of agent for one of the great Cold War powers? Well, it turns out that she merely fancies Bennett. No more, no less. Once this is clear, the strangeness of their initial conversation seems far out of place.

On top of these strange feints and hintings at things that are not there, it seems completely incoherent to have a romantic plot-line that does nothing to enhance the story. Hollywood has always been notorious for this, and rarely has it been more obvious than in The Manchurian Candidate. The characters of Rose Cheney and her wooing of Major Bennett have so little to do with anything else going on in the movie that they are mere distraction. It's utterly bizarre to me that a film that was, in all other respects, so carefully crafted and rich in story would have such a malformed component attached to it. I strongly suspect that this was something that the studio, not the original creative forces, demanded. I plan to find this in my research.

Aside from these clumsy add-ons, the film is a wonderful mind-bender. I can only imagine the impact that it had on audiences in 1962, in the middle of the Cold War, but I have to assume that it took real guts to pull this one off. You have double-dealing, backstabbing, and brainwashing thrown into a dizzying plot-line that rarely gives the viewers a moment to truly figure out whose side they're on. The political climate would have been just post-McCarthyism, who the buffoonish Senator Johnny Iselin is clearly based upon, but having him be the puppet of a communist-backed, double-dealing, viperous marionette in Angela Lansbury is just plain wicked, in all of the right ways. The layers of fear and betrayal going on in this movie are astounding, but never completely out of reach for us viewers. This is a testament to John Frankenheimer's directorial powers.

Raymond Shaw, the last guy you want to be seeing from this perspective.

I suppose that part of me feels that this movie is a sign of the times. Having been released in the middle of the Cold War, when the fear of spreading communism was all-too-palpable, The Manchurian Candidate must have been quite a shocker in that it demonizes both political extremes. The hard-core communists are portrayed as manipulating, soul-less monsters. However, their monstrosity is equally matched by Senator Johnny Iselin and his dictator wife. In the end, the movie is the ultimate condemnation of fanaticism, which gives it a life far beyond the political climate of the Cold War decades.

The acting is quite solid. Sinatra does fine (though he does add in some strange, “Brat Pack”, hipster lingo here and there.) The strongest performances, though, are from Laurence Harvey and Angela Lansbury. Who would have thought that the woman most of us know as a kindly, geriatric sleuth on Murder, She Wrote could so convincingly play an icy, calculating, she-demon? When you see her go to work on both her son and dunce of a husband, you're as scared of her as of the ostentatiously sinister communist hypnotherapist, Doctor Yen Lo.

The visuals are just right for the movie. Done in black-and-white, the stark tone is set and compliments the theme of dual extremes that is explored. There are many shadows and skewed angles that enhance the viewers' sense of unbalance and the warped nature of what certain characters are doing. A bonus for me is that I watched this movie on a cold, rainy day. It was perfect, and I recommend anyone else try the same.

Considering the ultimate fate of Staff Sergeant Raymond Shaw in The Manchurian Candidate, I'll go ahead and say that it is the darkest, most disturbing movie I've seen from the TIME list so far. So many films claim to go to dark places, and some of them even flirt with it, though very few actually plunge right into those shadowy recesses. The Manchurian Candidate doesn't balk at leading you into the abyss. Darkness and all, this movie is one-of-a-kind. So much so that I probably will never watch the recent re-make with Denzel Washington. I never have seen it, and I simply don't see how it can pack the same punch.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research):

Ah-ha. After some digging, some interestings factoids emerge, and I feel less stupid about a few things.

The Manchurian Candidate was adapted from Richard Condon's novel of the same name, published in 1959. Most of the elements from the novel are kept for the movie. However, one notable change was made: In the novel, Eleanor Shaw not only uses her son as an assassin to further her nefarious political goals, but she also leads him into a hypnotized, incestuous relationship with herself. This, as we can all imagine, was not going to fly in a mainstream movie in 1962. The closest the film gets is a rather disturbing, lips-on-lips kiss that Eleanor delivers to her mesmerized son just before the movies' climax.

A curious side-note about the novel: it has since been cited for blatant plagiarism from the Robert Graves classic novel, I, Claudius.

My moment of vindication came when, after reading several critical reviews, including the cinematically erudite Roger Ebert's, it became clear that the conversation between Bennett and Rose Cheney that so befuddled me has been perplexing viewers for decades. Apparently, this was also taken almost word-for-word from the novel and is universally baffling. Ebert, in his review here, offers the interesting notion that we are meant to infer that, though never openly suggested, Rose may also be a communist agent of some type. If this is the case, then the movie is flirting with an ambiguity that may be just as upsetting as any of the other aspects of the story.

The altered "incest" scene, tamed for the masses.

The initial critical reviews were almost unanimously positive. Almost. TIME magazine's rather short review from 1962 does seem to criticize it, but more for lacking some of the literary punch of the novel.

One final interesting note: The Manchurian Candidate was pulled from release and basically never shown between 1963 and 1988. The reason? The Kennedy assassination, which happened a mere week after the movie's premier. Frank Sinatra, who had purchased the rights to the film, reportedly felt it in poor taste to allow a film about political assassination to reap profits for anyone, including himself. So, the movie remained in virtual hiding for 25 years. Good thing for us younger movie lovers, he opened up the cage.

That's a wrap. 54 shows down, 51 to go.

Coming Soon: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)

Law-RENCE! Law-RENCE! Law-RENCE!

Once I find the roughly four hours it takes to watch this behemoth, I'll let you know how it went.

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

Film #53: Yojimbo (1961)

Title for Us English-Speaking Types: “The Bodyguard”

Director: Akira Kurosawa

Initial Release Country: Japan

Times Previously Seen: once (about 8 years ago)

Teaser Summary (no spoilers)

Skilled, masterless samurai whittles away two rival gangs in a dusty Japanese village. Drinks plenty of sake.

Uncut Summary (A full plot synopsis, including spoilers. Fair warning)

In 19th century feudal Japan, Sanjuro Kuwabakate (Toshiro Mifune), a drifter samurai with no retainer, wanders into a tiny village. He soon runs into a small horde of raggedy hoods who bar his path through the town. Not itching for a fight (yet), he casually retreats into the tiny nearby sake shop. While there, the owner, Gonji (Eijiro Tono), explains the ill-fated town's situation. The entire village is the setting of a current stalemate between two rival gang families, headed by Seibei on one side and Ushitora on the other. They are both competing for domination of the local silk and sake trade. The competition is so fierce that each boss has appointed his own mayor and essentially owns a complete half of the village. Sanjuro sees this as a money-making opportunity.

Sanjuro, getting the lowdown and considering his money-making options.

He first strolls over to the Ushitora gang, goads some of them into attacking him, and effortlessly slays three of them in full sight of the Seibei clan, who is watching from the far side of the village main street. He walks over to Seibei and extorts major cash from him to side with him. After the deal, though, Seibei's venomous wife pulls her husband aside and convinces him to kill Sanjuro after he helps them exterminate Ushitora and his minions. Sanjuro overhears this, but does nothing immediately.

Emboldened by his new-found sell-sword, Seibei calls out the Ushitora clan and calls for a showdown. Both sides square off, but just as they are about to begin their slow approach towards each other, Sanjuro throws Seibei's money into his and his wife's faces, loudly proclaiming how insulted he is that they were plotting to assassinate him. He then calmly scales the central bell-tower, overlooking everyone. Seibei, now in no position to back down, begins the slow march towards Ushitora's gang. From on high, Sanjuro gleefully watches what he hopes will be a bloodbath that eliminates both gangs at once, without much effort on his part.

Unfortunately, just as the two gangs are about to start fighting, an inspector rides into town. Sanjuro's plan is stymied. He returns to Gonji's shop to plot his next move. He learns of a nearby murder of a local magistrate (conducted by Ushitora's men), and decides to wait and see which clan outbids the other for his services. He doesn't have to wait long, as Ushitora's comes with a very generous offer. Sanjuro refuses, saying that he has many offers to consider. Later that night, Ushitora's youngest brother, the handsome but psychotic Unosuke arrives, brandishing a brand new pistol.

The night deepens, and Sanjuro approaches Ushitora, offering to spy on Seibei for him. Ushitora accepts and pays Sanjuro. Shortly after, Sanjuro runs across the two drunken thugs who Ushitora sent to kill the magistrate. Sanjuro quickly rounds them up and brings them to Seibei, who pays him handsomely for the chance to have proof of Ushitora's assassination order. Sanjuro then quickly returns to Ushitora and informs him that Seibei has captured his men (leaving out the fact that he's the one responsible). This leads to a quick deal for a hostage swap: Ushitora gets his men back, and he will return one of Seibei's prized stable girls, Nui, whom he had stolen and pimped out to his puppet mayor. After one failed attempt, the deal eventually goes down, much to the dismay of Nui's poor husband and young son. Sanjuro watches the exchange with these last two, and shows no sympathy for the quivering husband.

Sanjuro goes to work. Scum-thugs flee in terror.

Without much ado, the homicidal Unosuke kills the two returned assassins, and his elder brother Ushitora returns Nui to the lecherous mayor's home. Sanjuro learns of the latter and coyly suggests that he check on the house, despite the six armed guards that Ushitora has placed there. Sanjuro goes with Ushitora's middle brother, the dull-witted thug Inusuke. Just before they arrive at the mayor's house, Sanjuro distracts Inusuke, pretends to have inspected the mayor's house, and then tells Inusuke that the six guards have all been killed. Inusuke, without bothering to check Sanjuro's story, runs back to his brother's house to rouse the troops. Sanjuro then storms the mayor's house, easily slaughters the six guards, and grabs Nui, whom he returns to her husband and son, who have been hovering just outside. They try to stay and offer their profound thanks, but Sanjuro disgustedly ushers them on their way.

Ushitora's men soon arrive at the mayor's house, which Sanjuro has just demolished in order to lend credence to his lie that the place had been stormed by a group of Seibei's men. Ushitora buys it, and they all return to his place in anger.

A few days later, Sanjuro is relaxing in Gonji's sake shop when he receives a letter from Nui and her husband, thanking him again for saving their lives. Sanjuro repeats his distaste for such “weak people”, though Gonji openly admires Sanjuro's heroism. Then, the cold-blooded Unosuke arrives with Inusuke. He has had his doubts about Sanjuro's tale about the mayor's house. In addition, he has heard through the grapevine that Nui and her husband have been seen in a nearby village, claiming to have been saved by a single skilled samurai. Sanjuro plays it cool and tries to dismiss the accusations and inconspicuously dispatch the note from Nui, but Unosuke sees and snatches it first. Sanjuro is finally caught in his deception. His sword is taken from him, leaving him all but defenseless.

Back at the Ushitora compound, Sanjuro is locked in a side room and beaten mercilessly for a full day. Eventually, he is left alone and he takes his chance. He crawls inside a chest and waits. When his two thug guards return and don't immediately see him, they believe he has escaped, panic and run out of the room, leaving the door open. Sanjuro painstakingly crawls out the door and, with agonizing slowness and a little luck, manages to evade Ushitora's brothers and gang.

He makes it to Gonji's and asks the sake maker to smuggle him out of town. Gonji and the local casket maker load Sanjuro into a casket and begin to carry him to the local cemetery. Just as they begin their trek, though, they see that Ushitora has launched an all-out assault on Ushitora's compound. Ushitora believes that Seibei is responsible for Sanjuro's escape, and he sets fire to his rival's house, with all of those fleeing the inferno being either cut down by a gang member or gunned down by Unosuke. Sanjuro watches from afar, the fact that half of the town's cancerous crime is dead bringing his battered body some small relief. He is then carried to a safe house on the outside of the village.

Sanjuro spends several days quietly recuperating and practicing hitting a moving leaf with a throwing dagger. He has also heard that Ushitora has fired most of his thugs, now that Seibei's entire crime family is dead. Both Gonji and the casket maker have been smuggling him food and water during this time, but a serious problem emerges. The casket maker informs Sanjuro that Gonji has been discovered and captured, and that Ushitora has him strung up in the middle of town. Sanjuro's decides to cut his recovery shorter than expected.

The final stand-off commences.

In the middle of town, Gonji hangs from a low gibbet, tied around his body and awaiting his fate. Less than a dozen gang members are left to support Ushitora and his two deadly brothers. Sanjuro walks into the center of town, only to be met by these last, most powerful criminals. A few words are exchanged, and then the fighting breaks out. Unosuke, predictably, pulls his revolver first, but Sanjuro is faster and hurls his throwing dagger, striking Unosuke directly in his shooting forearm. With this primary threat neutralized, Sanjuro routinely mows down everyone left with his sword.

With all of the criminals now dead, Sanjuro pronounces the town clean of its human filth and walks out, leaving it to Gonji, the casket-maker, and the scant few others remaining to rebuild anew.

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

To use one of Quentin Tarantino's favorite phrases, this movie is bad-ass. Or, perhaps more accurately, Sanjuro Kuwabakate is bad-ass. So, what accounts for its bad-assitude? I thought you'd never ask...

Before really looking at the greatest strength of this movie, I have to give credit to several other impressive aspects. First is the story. The notion of having a seeming mercenary drift into a lawless town, wreck shop, save the remaining innocents, and coolly walk away from it is legendary. I'll have to do some digging to see if this idea has been used before (I'm reasonably sure it has), but Kurosawa molded it into one hell of a fun film to watch. Waiting to see just how Sanjuro would play one side against the other and take advantage of their own insecurities and paranoia is as entertaining as can be.

Here's a great scene. Sanjuro uses hits wits to con the doltish Inusuke, then his unmatched swordsmanship to dispatch basically everyone else who gets in his way:



The setting itself is worthy of mention. While this tale could easily be told in a large, thriving city, and in a more modern time, doing it in a tiny 19th century village lends a perfect sense of unity to everything that's happening. With such a limited cast of main characters and individual places, one can really sense how connected everything is and just how imminent the dangers are.

Of course, these two previous components are only enhanced by the flawless direction of Akira Kurosawa. By this point, Kurosawa was fully established as a brilliant filmmaker. While I know that he had some critics, I don't think that anyone can see a film such as Yojimbo and deny just how great he was at visual storytelling, pacing, and overall directing. Just one of the many great examples might be early in the movie, when Gonji is giving Sanjuro the low-down on all of the dirty dealings in the village. Both men are inside Gonji's weathered, wooden store, with Gonji excitedly throwing up the various windows as he points out the different factions and ne'er-do-wells. This short scene is filled with so much energy that you almost can't help but get caught up in it.

The crowning element of the whole thing, though, is Toshiro Mifune's turn as Sanjuro himself. Anyone who has seen both The Seven Samurai and Yojimbo has to marvel at the man's range. Sure, both roles were feudal-era Japan swordsmen, but they could not have contrasted more. Six years prior, he played an uncontrollable wildman. In Yojimbo, he portrayed a character as psychologically poised as a bamboo reed and cool as the snowy slopes of Nagano.

However, it would be hasty just to lump him into the standard “calm, calculating maverick hero” department. With Kurosawa envisioning Sanjuro as a generally amoral, eminently scruffy, and only occasionally fallable rogue, he created something new. Mifune brought the master director's vision to full life with his lazy gaze, shifting shoulders, and unhurried manner. Mifune did in 1961 what great character actors like Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt made careers of decades later.

Upon dissection, my guess is that most, if not all, of the components of Yojimbo have their inspiration in other direct sources. Still, I found it to be a fantastically unique and entertaining film. As long as one realizes that the scenarios and characters are rather ridiculous, it's easy to see this movie for the masterpiece that it is.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

As suspected, Yojimbo was not created in a vacuum. Akira Kurosawa, a junky of the western noir and western film genres, apparently took the story and Sanjuro character ideas from one or two Dashiell Hammett novels, namely The Glass Key and Red Harvest. The visual style was adapted from classic John Ford westerns, most notably the now-standard scene of the hero in foreground, enemies in the distance, and dust blowing through the streets. In fact, this last element is almost comically overdone (intentionally?) in Yojimbo.

A great shot of Sanjuro, hopinng to watch the two gangs weed each other out, thanks to his own skillful machinations.

When it was released, Yojimbo was a massive hit. Kurosawa's name had already been well-established throughout the cinema world, both popular and critical, but Yojimbo offered something new. While it was still clearly a samurai movie, the character of Sanjuro provided a rather new creature: a true mercenary with only the odd pangs of morality. Essayist Alexander Sesonske gives a really interesting analysis of it here.

Popular audiences loved the sword-swinging action and the steady dose of sarcasm throughout the movie, and this is no surprise. What was a tad surprising to me is how universal the critical praise was for such a “western style” action film. This original TIME piece, in addition to raving about Yojimbo, offers a really insightful look at Kurosawa himself and his place in Japanese film history (it was already clearly staked out, even back in 1961).

Yojimbo may have borrowed certain elements from other, earlier, sources, but its mark has been so indelible as to have spawned several direct remakes, set in different places. The first, and probably the greatest, is the Sergio Leone spaghetti western, A Fistful of Dollars (1964). Other less notables include the science fiction version, The Warrior and the Sorceress (1984), and the return to black-and-white noir, Last Man Standing (1996). Love the first one. Never seen the latter two.

My final word? Steam up some rice, warm up some sake, and fire Yojimbo into the DVD player!

Coming Soon: The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

Chinese communists! Brainwashing!! Assassination plots!!! Angela Lansbury!!!! Frank Sinatra!!!!! How can one film have literally EVERYTHING??!!! Come on back later and find out!

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

INTERMISSION AWARDS!

Awards presented by myself, a humble cinephile, based on the first half of TIME magazine's 2007 list of “All TIME 100 Films”.

So here it is. I have now made it virtually halfway through the mildly monumental task of watching 100 “shows” (actually 105 since several of them are separate films that constitute a “whole” one). In honor of this middle point, I offer a little intermission in the form of my own awards. There is, of course, no Art Deco statuette, cash prize, or any other reward of any practical use. Merely my respect, admiration, and even derision in one case.

Several of these awards will seem very familiar, as they are right in line with any standard film award show. A few others are of my own design based on other criteria that I and many others often apply to movies. The one thing they all have in common is that they are all thoroughly subjective and completely open to debate.

Without further ado, let's have a look at the “winners” and runners-up, starting with a best of the worst:

“Insufferable” Award - given for excellence in the field of making me wish I could have gotten back the hours of life I lost in watching this film. And the winner is...

Meet Me In Saint Louis (1944)

I would have to be paid some SERIOUS cash to watch this schlock again. The shallow characters, the threadbare plot, the excruciatingly cheesy pop songs. It all added up to two hours that were only made bearable by my girlfriend and I cracking wise through the whole thing. Musicals are my least favorite genre, and Meet Me In Saint Louis only further strengthened its position as such.

Runner-Up: The Awful Truth (1937) – A bunch of fast-talking, condescending aristocrats goofing off. It was about as funny as rickets.

“That Dog Don't Hunt No More” Award- Given to the film that has lost the most luster over the succeeding years. Even the classics sometimes die. And the winner is...

The Crowd (1928)

It seems like the down-to-earth dialogue and several very creative camera shots stamped this movie in the minds of audiences and film aficionados for decades. Eighty-plus years later, this film is about as bland as raw tofu, and nearly all of the humor is unintentional. It still has a smidgen of charm, but overall is tiresome by nearly every modern standard.

Runner-Up: King Kong (1933) – Some people still love this original version, and I have to give it props for originality, ingenuity, and a spirit of adventure. Alas, 78 years of special effects and action movie evolution have seriously dimmed the great ape's former brilliance. Even the Eighth Wonder of the World gradually wears down, I guess.

And now, on to the more positive side of things...

“Fine Wine” Award- Given to the film that I believe will, in the year 2101, still hold a place among great films and be watched and discussed by some schmo like myself. And the winner is...

Ugetsu (1953)

This movie, along with only a few others from the first half, transcends merely powerful cinematic storytelling and brings us into the realm of more universal myth. It taps into centuries-old folktales, and is so well-crafted and faithful to the spirit of such myths that I can't help but think that it will possibly outlast every other movie on this list. And that's saying something.

Runners-Up (tie): The Olympiad (1936) and Man With a Movie Camera (1929). The former will appeal to sports historians for many decades to come, and the latter is perhaps the purest film, in terms of art, on the entire list. Neither one will be disappearing from the cinematic landscape any time soon.

“'I'm Not Talkin' Here!'” Award - Given to my favorite silent film from the list. Those movies in the days of yore when it all relied on either pure visual film technique, great sight gags, or some of both. And the winner is...

The Last Command (1928)

This one packed a serious punch. An epic story that is told in a tight 90 minutes, the brightest among this film's many bright elements is a fantastic leading performance by Emil Jannings, the very first Academy Award “Best Actor” winner for his role as a traumatized Czarist Russian general.

Runner-Up: Metropolis (1927). The original science-fiction masterpiece is still just that – a massive film that was so far ahead of its time that modern viewers can still find things to appreciate. The acting is necessarily way over the top, but the visuals are still well worth taking in.

“Subtitle Me!” Award - Given to my favorite film made by one of those non-English-speaking types. And the winner is...

Sommarnattens leende (Smiles of a Summer Night) [1955]

This early, lighthearted number by oft-depressing Swedish master, Ingmar Bergman, was really fun. If one has to do a 19th-century aristocratic period piece, this is how to do it: sharp visuals, plenty of witty and dry humor, and consistently strong acting. I'll go back to this one sooner rather than later.

Runner-Up: Les enfants du paradis (Children of Paradise) [1945]. Grand in scope and in production, this French mammoth is worth the full 3 hours. It may drag in just a few places, but overall was well worth the time invested.

“Hidden Gem Award” - Given to the film that I previously knew absolutely nothing about, yet enjoyed immensely. And the winner is...

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)

I had never so much as heard of this film, and I feel ashamed for it. It was so damned funny that I'm itching to watch it again already. It was hands-down the darkest comedy from the list so far, and may very well retain that title by the end. The British mastery of finding humor in normally dreadful and morbid doings is on full display in this one, wonderfully accented through Alec Guinness and his eight separate and hilarious roles.

Runners-Up (tie): Dodsworth (1936) and In A Lonely Place (1950). The former was wonderfully-executed tale of the American dream personified in the title character, who then grapples with unexpected personal obstacles. The latter was an incredibly tense character study of a deeply disturbed genius, played by Humphrey Bogart.

“'Just Because You Are a Character, Doesn't Mean That You Have Character' Award” - Given to the individual character that I liked the most. And the winner is...

Rick Blaine, Casablanca (1942)

It may not be an original choice, but Rick is the friggin' man, man. He's tough, sensitive, witty, and above all, smooth. Anyone who watches Casablanca wishes Rick were real and, like all the other characters in the film, rightfully wants to be on Rick's good side. He'll buy you a stiff drink, give you a fair shake, and if he likes you, he'll absolutely go to the mat for you.

Runner-Up: Jeff Markham, Out of the Past (1947). I seem to have a type. Jeff Markham is the archetype noir protagonist: quietly tormented, capable of great nobility, though subject to a few serious demons. He out-thinks, out-smokes, and out-sarcasms every other dark soul in the picture. His Achilles heel, just as with all noir tough guys, is a pretty face masking an absolute Gorgon.

“'I'm A Movie Star, Not an Actor!!'” Award – Given to the man whose performance I dug the most. And the winner is...

James Cagney as Cody Jarrett in White Heat (1949)

The little New Yorker went all in when he played this violent, ruthless, fully psychotic criminal with major mommy issues. Cagney injects every scene he's in with energy that magnetized me to the point that I was watching his every gesture and facial expression. And that's not even getting into the great one-liners he delivers throughout.

Runner-Up: Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates in Psycho (1960). In the most recent movie I watched, I saw a mesmerizing performance by Perkins. He was so naturalistic with all of the divergent facets of Norman Bates that it is still astounding. He alone makes it worth watching the movie.

“I'm Ready for My Close-Up!” Award – Given to the woman whose performance I dug the most. And the winner is...

Barbara Stanwyck as Lily Powers in Baby Face (1933)

In this tale of a downtrodden woman empowering herself by sleeping her way up the corporate ladder, Stanwyck showed herself so far ahead of her time that it's scary. When Hollywood films were still firmly entrenched in more theatrical and dramatic (i.e. “exaggerated”) styles of acting, Stanwyck was one of the few who could seem so relaxed that she made everyone else on the screen look like amateurs.

Runner-Up: Ingrid Bergman as Alicia Huberman in Notorious (1946). I seem to have a type. My favorite female performances would appear to involve either sex or booze, or in Alicia Huberman's case, both. Not unlike Stanwyck's most memorable roles, the adorable Bergman shifted gears in Notorious and was surprisingly adept at playing a reluctant spy with very questionable habits in relation to alcohol and men. A brilliant showing by the classic Swedish beauty.

“Mmmm...This Is An Excellent Movie!” Award – Given to my absolute favorite film of the first half. And the winner is...

Casablanca (1942)

I sure won't get originality points for this, but I can't ignore how much I still enjoy this standard of American film. Casablanca may not be a life-changing film of immense learning or depth, but it contains all of the elements of the magic of movies. It created a fictional place that was equal parts alluring and frightening, characters who were intriguing, charming and strong in turns, and situated all of these elements within a compelling tale that, while very temporal and geographical, seems to transcend these clear boundaries. Add in one of the greatest scripts in film history, and this movie still has enough gas in the tank to be a standard for decades to come.

Other Nominees – These are the four other films that I had to seriously consider for this award, as they are ones that I will certainly return to and enjoy many more times in the future: Double Indemnity (1944), Out of the Past (1947), Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), and The Sweet Smell of Success (1957).

Imagine now the orchestra in a crescendo, not-so-gently telling you that the show is over.

That's a wrap. Still 52 shows down, still 53 to go.

Coming Soon: Yojimbo (1961)

Sword-swinging samurai action from perhaps the greatest samurai film director/actor duo in history: Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune. This one should be fun!

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

Film #52: Psycho (1960)

Director: Alfred Hitchcock

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 8 years ago)

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

Restless secretary steals serious cash, then runs across a socially awkward creep at a motel.

Uncut Summary (A full plot synopsis, serious spoilers included. Fair warning. No seriously, if you have not watched this movie and have intention of doing so, do NOT read this summary!)

In Phoenix, Arizona, Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is a secretary who has an itch to change her life. She's wrapped up with a lover, Sam (John Gavin) who must use much of the little money that he makes on alimony payments. She's been in the same static job for ten years. Her professional and romantic lives are in a complete rut.

And then, opportunity presents itself. Her boss has just completed a major deal with an out-of-town high-roller. The new client comes into the office, makes some overtly lecherous passes at Marion and drops $40,000 on her desk. The money is part of her boss's new deal with the man, and she is charged with putting the money in the bank. Instead of seeing the task through, though, she takes the money and hits the road. She clearly sees this as a chance to join Sam and use the money to live a better life.

Marion, driving away from Phoenix, considers her recent theft.

Once she hits the road, Marion gradually becomes a nervous wreck. She begins to imagine her boss, friends and relatives wondering where she is and just how the imminent pursuit will begin. She eventually pulls over and falls asleep on the side of the road, only to be awoken in the morning by a curious police officer. Rather shakily, she tries to brush the cop off, but only succeeds in arousing his suspicions. She does, however, manage to avoid any kind of arrest or more serious trouble for the time being.

The next night, with rain pouring down and her nerves worn thin, Marion decides to pull into a roadside lodge called the Bates Motel, a twelve-room inn that sits beneath the shadow of an imposing Victorian-era house. She sees the silhouette of an old woman in the window from the road, but it is a young man who comes dashing down to help her. The man, Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), is friendly in his greeting and checks Marion in for the evening. Despite her fatigue, Norman convinces her to have some dinner and chat with him in the motel office.

In the course of their conversation, it becomes clear that Norman is a rather awkward fellow. He explains that the motel, which once was on the major highway, has seen very little business in recent years and that he is inextricably bound to his mother. This surprises Marion somewhat, as she had overheard the woman's voice berating and browbeating Norman in their home a short time earlier. In hearing about Norman's trapped existence, Marion becomes more ponderous and even rethinks her larcenous plan.

In the office of his motel, Norman describes his own lonely life to a receptive Marion.

After she retires to her room (into which Norman briefly peeks through a hidden hole in the wall) Marion seems determined to return to Phoenix, give back the money, and avoid trapping herself by becoming a bona fide felon. Having made this life-preserving decision, she hops into the shower, with horrendous results. A shadowy figure of a woman stalks into the bathroom with a massive knife, attacks and kills Marion, leaving her body on the floor.

Moments later, Norman comes running from the house and into Marion's room, where he finds the horrifying remains of Mother's attack. Once he recovers himself, he carefully gathers up the body, along with all of her personal affects (including the $40,000, which was hidden in a newspaper), loads everything into her car, and pushes it all into a nearby swamp.

Roughly a week later, Marion's sister Lila shows up in California, where Sam works. By now, people back in Phoenix assume that Marion stole the $40,000 and must be with Sam. Sam admits that he knows nothing about this and hasn't seen Marion since their last rendezvous before she stole the money. Also on the case is private investigator Arbogast, who has been hired by Marion's boss to recover the money. Arbogast decides that Marion must have been somewhere close, and he starts looking into all of the nearby motels.

After searching dozens of motels in the area, Arbogast eventually arrives at the Bates Motel. In questioning Norman Bates, Arbogast finds not only probable evidence of Marion's presence in the form of an alias in the motel registry, but also a suspiciously nervous Norman Bates. He doesn't get any direct admissions from Bates, but squeezes an admission from Bates that he saw Marion. Bates also accidentally implies that Marion had spoken with his mother. When Arbogast asks to speak with Norman's mother, however, Norman rebuffs him, explaining that his mother is an invalid and unable to take visitors. Arbogast reluctantly leaves.

After quickly checking in with Lila and Sam, Arbogast decides to return to the Bates motel and try to speak with Mrs. Bates. Once he returns, he quietly strolls directly to the Bates house and enters. As he ascends the stairs, however, the same be-dressed, knife-wielding figure who murdered Marion sets upon Arbogast. Before he can react, he is knocked down the stairs and stabbed to death.

The figure of Norman in front of his family home, where things become more mysterious and murderous.

Back in town, Sam and Lila grow nervous. Having not heard from Arbogast for hours past his stated meeting time, they call the local police. The sheriff is skeptical of what he hears, especially when Sam and Lila relate their notion that Mrs. Bates knows something about Marion's whereabouts. The sheriff explains his surprise by informing the two that Mrs. Bates died ten years before. This raises the question: exactly who is the “Mrs. Bates” back in the Bates house?

Sam and Lila decide to take matters in their own hands and head to the Bates Motel themselves. They have Norman Bates check them in as a phony married couple and hatch their investigation. Sam distracts and interrogates Norman while Lila slips away to the house. She searches through the house, but finds no evidence of “Mother”. Back at the motel, Norman grows very nervous under Sam's questioning, realizes the ploy, knocks Sam out and runs to the house.

In the Bates house, Lila sees Norman coming and scuttles down into the basement. In a far corner, she sees the back of an old, withered woman sitting in a rocking chair, presumably the enigmatic Mrs. Bates. When she turns the chair around, however, she is mortified to see that it is, instead, the semi-mummified and rotted remains of the deceased woman. Just as Lila shrieks in horror, she turns to see the door behind her burst open and Norman Bates, donning his mother's dress and a wig, hoisting a massive blade and ready to kill her. In the nick of time, Sam barrels in and subdues Norman before he can get to Lila.

Some time later, back at the police station and with Norman in custody, a psychologist explains everything. After intense interviewing of Norman, he explains that Norman has been a split personality. That he had, in fact, been so close to his domineering mother as a young boy and man that he felt them to be inseparable. Eventually, however, Norman's mother had taken a lover and began to shun her son. Norman apparently suffered a severe mental collapse and killed his mother and her lover. Unable to take the guilt, his mind fractured further and he began to live out both his own life as well as that of his dead mother. He took it so far that, if he would ever have any yearnings for any other woman, his “Mother” half would lash out and kill that woman. Hence the death of Marion and the subsequent killing of Arbogast.

In the end, Norman Bates was no more. After the final shock and capture, the only personality left was the “Mother” part of his persona. Left in a solitary room, he mutely awaits their judgment, lost in his own mind and delusional to the point that he believes that his current silence and timidity will save him. “They'll look at me and say,” thinks “Mother” while staring into space,”'She wouldn't hurt a fly.'”

A final look at Bates, lost in his own mind.

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

This is definitely one that has seriously lost some of its luster.

Don't get me wrong. This is not because of any flaws in the film; it is simply due to the passage of time and the fact that so many of the elements that were dazzlingly fresh and shocking in Psycho became old hat some time ago.

I realize that I may be smacking around a very sacred cow here, as Psycho is universally acclaimed by critics as a cornerstone of cinema. No argument there. It is obvious that with this film, Alfred Hitchcock took mainstream viewers to places they had never been before, and he changed both suspense and horror films forever. Still, a viewer who is coming into Psycho for the first time is bound to be underwhelmed a bit. I think it helps to look at each of the strongest and innovative elements of the movie and see how they have held up over the past fifty years:

One – The psychological darkness. As far as a I know, Psycho was the first popular movie (by an immensely accomplished and respected director) to take watchers into darker places than they had ever been. The disturbing nature of the brutal knife murders and the probing look at Norman Bates' mental schisms were certainly new ground for the 1960 viewer. Anyone with a shred of morbid curiosity would have been enthralled by the entire concept. Now, in 2011, however, we cannot be shocked by such things as split personalities or fairly graphic violence in movies. Our culture has grown highly aware of bizarre psychological maladies and has seen them used in fiction for decades now, from films like Sisters and Seven, to television shows like Dexter. Within a modern context, this element of Psycho is knocked down several weight classes.

Two – The “twist” at the end. When a crazed Norman comes crashing through the basement door, in drag and knife held high, I admit that it still gives me a bit of a jolt. I imagine that if I had seen it as a viewer in 1960, I probably would have soiled my pants. I can only imagine how many minds were blown by that famous scene and how it probably haunted people for years. Once again, though, a modern viewer cannot be so easily caught off guard. The notion of “the twist” has been done so many times that we are almost trained to anticipate it. The wilder the possibility, the more likely we are to expect it. This cat-and-mouse game between viewer and screenwriter has fueled the entire careers of people like M. Night Shyamalan. In the end, Psycho's finale is now severely watered down.

Three – The sex! From the very earliest movie posters to the first seconds of the movie, Hitchcock makes no bones about titillating you. The very first scene has Janet Leigh in a rocket bra, lounging in a post-coital afterglow in bed with her strapping lover, Sam. Add to this a few other scenes with a touch of skin and the shower scene, and you have a film that probably had the more Puritanical elements of our society up in arms. Once again, though, what was probably highly erotic in 1960 film does not pack quite the same punch these days. It's not that Janet Leigh isn't still sexy in the movie (she certainly is), but one need only scan a magazine rack these days to find no less than a dozen “FHM”-type publications which don covers that go well beyond Psycho in terms of skin and sultriness.

Here's that most famous of shower scenes:



Four – The camerawork. Psycho has, without a doubt, some of the most iconic shots and scenes in film history. It's nearly on par with Casablanca in terms of being so thoroughly entrenched in popular culture that even people who have never seen the film are familiar with several of the images. This strength of the film most certainly does hold up. The composition of some of the scenes is still stunning, and shots like the slow, backward-panning, spiraling shot of a dead Marion on the bathroom floor are just as powerful now as ever.

So, from this little list of mine, only one out of the four groundbreaking elements has anywhere near the same force that it had decades ago.

I should point that, in addition to the camerawork, there are several excellent verbal exchanges throughout the film, most notably between Norman and Marion and Norman and Arbogast. This is part in due to the writing and part due to outstanding acting, with Anthony Perkins turning in a phenomenal performance as the twitchy, intense, creepy and yet oddly vulnerable Norman Bates.

Despite the handful of lasting merits, I would suggest that anyone new to Psycho not get their hopes too high. It's still a good movie, and one worth watching at least once, but I think that any newcomer under the age of 40 will likely not feel it to be one of the greatest films that they've ever seen. For many, there may be a “seen that before” feeling to it all.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research):

There are all sorts of great little tidbits about Psycho; some are well-known and some are pure urban myth.

The book Psycho, written by H.P Lovecraft understudy Robert Bloch, was based on a very real incident of a murderer in Wisconsin. The screenwriter, Joseph Stefano, along with Hitchcock, decided to alter many things in order to appeal to the audience. Foremost is that the Norman Bates character, who in the book is an overweight, boorish and wholly unsympathetic butcher, would become a handsome, mildly charming and very vulnerable person. It's quite a trick that would not have been possible had Anthony Perkins not given such convincing life to the role.

Speaking of Perkins, I learned that he was, in fact, a gay man who had struggled throughout his life under the pressures of homophobic society. Apparently, he was often rather uncomfortable around women, and for decades at odds with his own desires. While he would later be very open about his sexual orientation and find some semblance of comfort, one has to believe that these very strains were tapped into to create such an affecting performance in Psycho.

The shower scene, one of the most famous in all of cinema, is surrounded by all sorts of tales. From the difficulties of setting up and editing a nude scene to using chocolate syrup as blood to Janet Leigh having to lay stock still during the final pull-away shot, all of these were very true. They also amounted to this seemingly simple, 1-minute piece of finished film taking a whole week to shoot. One myth that I myself had shattered is that Hitchcock had ordered that, during the moment Bates pulls back the curtain, the shower water be turned ice cold in order to extract a more blood-curdling scream from Leigh. This, according to Leigh herself, was entirely untrue. Makes for an amusing story, though.

One of the scenes that will seem to drag to modern audiences is the psychiatrist's exposition near the very end. This scene was, in fact, one that Hitchcock initially felt unnecessary. The screenwriter Stefano, however, himself undergoing psychiatric treatment at the time, convinced him otherwise and it stayed. I think this is yet another element that was probably quite interesting to the 1960 viewer but will seem unduly long and all but redundant to us here in the 21st century.

The release of the movie created several trends, as well. The studio, under Hitchcock's adamant demands, ordered all theaters not to allow any late entrants into the shows. In addition, there were rather humorous signs posted outside of many theaters imploring people not to spoil the ending for others. In seeing footage of this, it became clear that Psycho was meant to be at least as exciting as it was disturbing. In fact, Joseph Stefano said he was pleasantly surprise at just how many people, on leaving the theater, would be simultaneously gasping and laughing. He likened it to how people feel when exiting a really good roller coaster. I have to feel that this is exactly as Hitchcock intended. He wasn't trying to create Silence of the Lambs, but rather an engaging thrill-ride of a movie.

The critics, unlike the audiences, were not as amused. Many of them gave it very tepid reviews, such as this original TIME magazine review, and some panned it altogether. Many of these professionals seemed to think it beneath the director of such sharp, colorful, and adventurous movies like North by Northwest, To Catch a Thief, and many others in the prior Hitchcock canon. Joseph Stefano offered another theory on the lukewarm critical reception: that the reviewers were annoyed that they were not allowed to watch previews of the movie, but had to wait until nationwide release like everyone else. Perhaps this is the case, but we'll never know for sure. Curiously enough, several critics who initially torched the film would later list it among the year's best.

I have to repeat that I think any fan of films needs to see this movie at least once. You may not find it to live up to its massive reputation, but it is one that you can have fun developing an opinion on.

This is the original, full-length trailer hosted by the incomparable Alfred Hitchcock himself. It is absolutely hilarious and reveals so much of the man's genius:


That's a wrap. 52 shows down, 53 to go.

Coming Soon: Half-Time Awards!!

In honor of my finishing essentially half of this list that I started a little over a year ago, I will look back over the first 52 shows that I've watched, develop some awards of my own, and dish out completely non-existant prizes. I may drop an F-bomb or two, and maybe I'll post myself in eight different outfits, a la Anne Hathaway. After that little intermission, it's back to the movies!

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