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 # 93: Farewell, My Concubine (1993)

Original Chinese Title: Ba wang bie ji

Director: Kaige Chen

Initial Release Country: China

Times Previously Seen: none

Rapid-Fire Summary

For a more complete synopsis, you can check out this one at wikipedia. Here is my simplified version:

In China in 1924, the young boy Douzi is given by his prostitute mother to an academy for opera performers. His mother even goes to the extreme length of chopping off little Douzi’s unusual sixth finger, to make him appealing enough to the school’s exacting headmaster, Guan. This is just the first of many forms of suffering that Douzi will face in the course of his next decade of training. For another decade, Douzi and his peers are put through a brutal regimen – one which even results in the suicide of one of his closest friends. Douzi does, however, become very close with Shitou, who becomes his “stage brother” in operatic performances.

Douzi and Shitou graduate from the academy and become opera sensations, taking on the stage names of Cheng Dieyi (Leslie Cheung) and Duan Xiaolou (Fengyi Zhang). The two are most noted for their performances of the classic Chinese opera, Farewell, My Concubine, with Cheng playing the role of the royal concubine and Duan playing the role of the king. Cheng clearly has deeper feelings for Duan and wishes for them to be together in all ways, not merely as operatic partners. Duan, however, refuses Cheng’s advances and eventually marries Juxian, a courtesan who manipulates Duan into the union.

Cheng (right) prepares Duan's makeup before another of their famous performances. The care shown here echoes the tenderness that Cheng harbors for his stage brother.

Over the succeeding four decades, Cheng and Duan’s relationship undergoes several changes, due in no small part to the massive political upheavals of the times. From the Japanese invasion in the late 1930s to the return of nationalism in the late 40s, and all through Mao’s forms of revolution, the two actors experience equally tumultuous emotional shifts. Though they continue to perform their most famous opera intermittently, they must fight through Cheng’s opium addiction, accusations of being counter-revolutionaries, and the ever-present resentment of Cheng towards Juxian. In 1966, after the Cultural Revolution, the two men are forced by a raving communist mob to turn on each other and abandon their passion for the opera and each other.

In 1977, eleven years after their public renunciation of each other and their craft, the two men join up one more time. As they are practicing for a return performance of Farewell, My Concubine, they share a tender moment of recollection at how their close friendship began several decades earlier. Then, in imitation of the forlorn character that he has played so famously, Cheng commits suicide.

My Gut Reaction to the Film:

For as long and ultimately tragic as the story is, I found this movie quite compelling. Though it may be a case of trying to do more than can be done in 180 minutes, there’s still a lot to be said for how strong a film this is.

The most immediately striking feature to anyone who watches even a few brief moments of the movie is the visual aesthetic. The vibrancy and majesty of the emotional, political, and artistic themes explored in the movie come through the stunning sets and costumes. Put simply, the movie is a joy to look at. It calls to my mind another fantastic Chinese epic film – The Last Emperor, which made similar use of color, shading, and lighting to build atmosphere so effectively.

This still shot of Duan and Cheng in costume only gives the slightest hint of just how lavish the film's visuals are. Virtually every scene, including those away from the opera stage, is brilliantly composed and drawn the eye.

The visuals, though, are the window dressing for the real heart of the movie – the tortured existences of Cheng and Duan. The story of these two men could easily be seen as the struggle of artistry and human emotions against overwhelming social pressures towards conformity. Even before the political upheavals begin, it is clear that the Chinese cultural concepts of fate and hard work leave the young Douzi and Shitou no option but to be beaten into what society tells them – actors. There is beauty in the tragedy, as seen by the successes that the two men find on the stage, but it is ultimately doomed to be crushed by blind ideologies that do not seem to allow for individual feelings. Normally, I would not be so interested in the emotional turmoil of a depressive dramatist such as Douzi/Cheng. Yet with this film, I found the tale extremely engaging.

One of the amazing feats of this movie is its dealing with desire and sexuality. I honestly don’t know what the popular Chinese conception is of homosexuality, but it is presented in Farewell, My Concubine as a simple matter of course. Yes, Cheng is gay and seeks to be the lover of his stage partner, but Cheng’s homosexuality is not really the focal point of the issue. The movie makes clear that the driving force is his fierce desire for something that cannot be.

In similar fashion, the tale’s portrayal of political machinery is pleasantly unpatriotic. China is, without a doubt, one of the more fiercely nationalistic countries in the world. I can only assume that a fair amount of “art” produced there in the last century can well be classified as mere propaganda. A film like Farewell, My Concubine not only avoids that label, but even castigates such hive-mindedness by showing how damaging it is to individual liberty. The psychological toll on Cheng and Duan both transcends and is dwarfed by the onward march of Chinese history, making their story both intriguingly regional and surprisingly universal.

As the communist revolution sweep the country, a frightening zeal for conformity and blandness overtakes the populace. Independent thinkers and artists are just some of the many who suffer the rise of this humorless movement. 

There are some aspects of the film that would most likely prevent me from watching it again, however. In a general sense, there is a certain cultural gap that I, as an American, couldn’t completely traverse. Though I consider myself more culturally aware and sensitive that most people, some of the behaviors and attitudes in the film seem to require an understanding of the subtler aspects of Chinese codes and mores. There is a reverence for the Confucian master/student relationships that is puzzling, if not outright perplexing, to someone of my Western upbringing. It can be fascinating at times, but frustratingly enigmatic at others.

On a technical level, the pacing of the film is occasionally herky-jerky. I suppose that it is inevitable when trying to tell a tale that spans 50 years while maintaining emotional depth, and the film probably does it as well as possible. Still, there are some tremendous time jumps that are a tad disorienting. This is exactly the kind of story that would benefit from being told as a television series over the course of six or eight hours, rather than crushed into three.

My most subjective, and probably most lasting, gripe is my feeling towards classic Chinese opera, something that understandably and necessarily is featured throughout the picture. I find the singing style absolutely intolerable. I know, I know. This is my “ethnocentric, Western ear,” but I can’t help it. Try and I might (and I tried the same thing with Japanese noh theater when I lived in that country for two years), I can’t find any pleasure in listening to the high, whining vocalizations that are the hallmark of the art. I’m sure someone with an ear for it would find Cheng’s performances breathtaking. Alas, I found myself simply wishing them to be over so that the story could continue.

The actual opera performance scenes are visual spectacles, but I simply do not have the ear to appreciate the style of the art. 

Farewell, My Concubine is a great film, and I one that enjoyed. It features all that any fan of epic tales of touching, personal tragedy would surely enjoy. I don’t see myself watching it again, but it’s an easy one to recommend.

That’s a wrap. 93 shows down, 12 to go.

Coming Soon: Schindler’s List (1993):

And rounding out the current trilogy of tragedy is Spielberg’s holocaust offering. I’ve seen it a few times, and I found it flawed. I’ll see if my opinion holds after this next (and probably final) viewing.

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

FIlm #92: Leolo (1992)

Director: Jean-Claude Lauzon

Initial Release Country: Canada

Times Previously Seen: none

Rapid-Fire Summary

In a Montreal, Quebec slum, twelve-year old Leolo Lazone is steeped in misery. His family is impoverished, and all of his relatives suffer from some form of severe limitation. His brothers and sisters are all either mentally challenged or lapse into insanity on regular bases. His loving but completely uneducated parents obsess over their children’s bowel movements, and his grandfather not only tries to kill Leolo, but is also a sexual deviant.

While there is no true physical escape for Leolo from his warped environment, he is able to escape within his mind. Through a little bit of reading and a lot of his own writing, he concocts various tales about his own origins and the people around him. Envisioning himself as the son of an unknown Italian, he constantly dreams of being on the gorgeous Italian coast with his beautiful neighbor, Bianca. It is with similar imagination that he deals with the extremely strange behavior of his family and the ways that it affects him.

Leolo in two of his refuges - the bathroom and his writing. The noose around his neck can certainly be seen as a not-too subtle symbol of his life circumstance.

Eventually, the final straw is placed. After attempting to kill his perverted and unstable grandfather and bearing witness to one too many distorted sexual acts around him, Leolo finally snaps. He becomes catatonic and is placed in a mental institution, presumably for the rest of his days.

My Take on the Film

I’ll never watch this movie again.

Don’t take that completely the wrong way. Leolo is, indeed, unique and shows a wealth of skill on the part of writer/producer Jean-Claude Lauzon. In reading a brief summary like mine above, it will seem that the movie has little more than depravity and depression to offer a viewer. This is certainly not the case, but these dour themes are what I ultimately take away from the film.

For a good part of the movie, Leolo actually keeps just to the right side of the line between darkly humorous and simply dark. During the earliest scenes, depicting a very young Leolo being forced by his delusional parents to ingest laxatives and defecate on command, one is almost overwhelmed by how repulsive, desperate, and hopeless his situation is. Yet, once he begins to twist his surroundings into his own imaginative reality, some welcome levity is added. Seeing his pathetically dull older brother go from the classic “90 pound weakling” to a muscle-bound body builder is rather amusing. Also, his regular trips to the psychiatric ward to visit his other family members as they enter and exit various stages of psychosis provide some humorous moments.

One of the somewhat lighter moments in the film - Leolo (middle) about to be hurled into the sea by his brother (left) and an accomplice, so that he can retrieve fishing hooks to be resold.

Still, by the end of the film, there is nothing left at which to laugh. Once his siblings have all gone thoroughly insane and Leolo bears witness to a wretched act of bestiality by one of his peers, the little boy joins his brothers and sisters in their inescapable states of catatonia. For me, at this point, any of the lighter moments from earlier in the film had ceased to have much meaning. While Leolo’s fertile and active mind had given some entertaining and touching attempts at escape, they are all for naught in the end.

Another lesser problem I had with the film is that it is not exactly as original as one would believe, reading many of the critical reviews. One of the more notable scenes, in which the adolescent Leolo explores his sexuality with liver (no, that is not a typo – it is just the kind of thing that this film offers), is actually ripped off from Philip Roth’s novel Portnoy’s Complaint. More generally, the graphic nature of the sordid, impoverished sexuality is something that I have seen in other films such as Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America. And so, there was not even some sense of “bravura” novelty to be taken in.

I must say that the visuals are stunning in the film. The technical merits are laudable, and there is a wealth of clever framing and shooting. The contrasts between Leolo’s stark reality and his vibrant imaginings are made very clear through the camera work and frame compositions. In many scenes, the film is pleasant to look at. However, once again, there are many scenes in which the actions taking place are repugnant enough to undermine an appreciation of the aesthetic skill.

Leolo finds warmth and refuge in this makeshift shelter with his sister. The soft glow of the candles is captured extremely well and conveys the sense of comfort.

On a final note, this film brought to mind a few other, more recent pictures – Terry Gilliam’s Tideland and Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth. Tideland tried to pull a very similar trick, telling the story of a young girl in absolutely miserable circumstances (drug addict parents who both die of overdoses) who copes by envisioning an entire fantasy world around her. Alas, like Leolo, Gilliam failed in my mind, and the story is just far too depressing to be overcome by some bright visuals. Pan’s Labyrinth, on the other hand, actually succeeded. The overall tale is arguably just as downbeat as Leolo or Tideland, but del Toro managed to find the right balance and leave the viewer with the right amount of sweetness to accompany the bitterness.

I would only recommend Leolo to those who are not put off by extremely depressing movies. If such themes do not bother you, you may very well find this movie one of the more creative and engaging of its type. To me, though, one viewing was plenty.

That's a wrap. 92 shows down. 13 to go.

Coming Soon: Farewell, My Concubine (1993):

Don't know much about this one, except that it has the look of a rather sad tale. This will make number 2 in the "depresso 1-2-3 punch" of current films for me, preceded by Leolo and succeeded by Schindler's List. I'll be mixing in some Farrelly brothers movies, just to maintain some kind of balance here. 

Film # 91: Unforgiven (1992)

Director: Clint Eastwood

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: around five or six

Rapid-Fire Summary

In the small town of Big Whiskey, Montana, in 1881, a cowhand becomes enraged at a prostitute named Delilah over a minor insult and slashes her face. Despite calls from Delilah’s fellow prostitutes that the cowhand and his companion be hanged, the sheriff, “Little Bill” (Gene Hackman) merely demands that the two boys pay the proprietor of the saloon/cathouse in the form of horses. The furious prostitutes then secretly pool their money and start spreading word of a bounty for anyone who kills the two cowboys.

To the south, in Kansas, a brash young man calling himself “The Schofield Kid” finds the middle-aged farmer William Munny and asks him to partner up to kill the cowboys for the bounty. The Kid has heard from that Munny was once a fearless and vicious killer who would make a perfect partner for such a dark deed. Munny, now a widower who has forsworn his previously murderous life and with two young children to support, at first refuses The Kid. With his farm failing, though, he changes his mind. He convinces one of his old partners, Ned (Morgan Freeman), to join him on this final killing in order to have a new start for his children.

Will Munny, a brutal killer in the past, now struggles on his farm with his two your children.

Back in Big Whiskey, Little Bill has now heard of the bounty put out and brutally beats and casts out the first bounty hunter who drifts into town to inquire after it – the noted gunman “English” Bob (Richard Harris). When the Kid, Will, and Ned come into town some days after, Will is himself beaten by Little Bill, while Ned and The Kid escape. The three rally themselves and set out after the first of the two cowboys, undeterred by Little Bill’s edict against assassins. When they find the cowboy, however, Ned is unable to bring himself to kill him. Will instead takes Ned’s rifle and shoots the cowboy dead. Ned, realizing that he no longer has what it takes to kill a man, parts ways with Will and The Kid, with Will promising to bring Ned his share of the bounty after the job is finished.

Will and The Kid then find the second cowboy, who actually cut up Delilah, holed up at the ranch he works on. The Kid kills the cowboy and the two make a narrow escape. When Will and The Kid return to just outside of Big Whiskey to collect the bounty, however, they discover that Ned has been captured, tortured, and killed. Suddenly overcome by a dark cloud of vengeance, Will plies himself with alcohol and rides into town alone. Calmly walking into the saloon where Ned’s corpse is prominently displayed outside, Will coldly kills six men, including the saloon owner, four deputies, and Little Bill himself. Though plenty of the townspeople are still alive to stop Will from leaving, they are all too terrified of the killer to even make the attempt.

Will, in Skinny's saloon as he slays all those he feels are responsible for Ned's death. During these moments, all traces of the quiet, tortured farmer have been burned away.

We are told in the end that Will returned to his farm and used his bounty money to move himself and his children away, possible to California where he “prospered in dry goods.”

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

Unforgiven is, in my mind, the greatest Western film. There are others that are more exciting and entertaining, but this one has by far the most depth and arguably the greatest acting.

Clint Eastwood’s masterpiece probably couldn’t have been made much earlier than it was. Being a deconstruction of the mythical West and Western stories, it required all of the popular lore that preceded it, both in literature and film. Eastwood set out tell a story that took a dark and realistic look into the souls of truly dangerous men in the old West, and he did it with expert precision.

At the heart of the film are all of the popular notions of the “Wild West” gunslinger. The mythology around that time and place has been the inspiration for countless tales of adventure for well over a century. The archetypal “deadly guman” has long been one of the most attractive characters in U.S. narrative. Unforgiven gives voice to this attraction through the character Beauchamp, a bumbling fiction writer who at first is following around English Bob as his biographer. His stories of Bob cast him as a noble warrior whose skills with a pistol make him a modern-day knight. Once Bob is thrashed and imprisoned by Little Bill, however, the myth starts to fall apart.

English Bob, left, and his biographer, Beauchamp. It is initially through these two characters that the myths of honorable gunfighters are taken apart.

It is during the scenes between Little Bill and Beauchamp, with English Bob watching from his cell, that we start to get at the reality of killers. With his first-hand knowledge of Bob, Little Bill tears apart Beauchamp’s notions of his idol. We soon see that Bob, though a truly dangerous gunman, is actually a vicious murderer unworthy of any admiration.

But the deconstruction of English Bob is only a prelude. It is with the tale of Will Munny that the truly disturbing truths about gunfighters emerge. With incredible pacing, Munny’s regression from penitent farmer back to unrepentant killer is as captivating as it is terrifying. For most of the film, Munny’s murderous past is merely hinted at, through stories told by other characters such as The Schofield Kid and even Will’s riding partner, Ned. As each bloody story is revealed, Munny tries to assure Ned and himself that he, “ain’t like that no more.” Watching him cling to the new self into which his dead wife molded him is like watching a time bomb trying to diffuse itself.

During his arrival at Bog Whiskey, Munny is still tortured and ill. It's almost as if his modern, peaceful self is slowly coming apart under the burden of trying to keep his homicidal nature at bay.

Any doubt about Munny is removed about halfway through the film, upon the death of the first cowboy. When Ned is unable to pull the trigger, Munny reverts to form. Without blinking, he takes the rifle from Ned’s uncertain hands, takes aim, and kills the young man. It is now clear that, while Ned truly has left his homicidal past behind him, Munny still possesses a true murderer's instinct. As if the contrast between Ned and Munny isn’t enough, is becomes all the more clear when Munny allow The Kid, eager for a kill, to execute the second cowboy later. After the deed is done, The Kid shakily admits that, contrary to his prior boasting, it was his first kill. The Kid is all too aware of the difference between himself and Munny, stating, “I ain’t like you Will.” Will’s response is right at the heart of the film – “It’s a hell of a thing, killin’ a man. You take away everything he’s got and everything he’s ever gonna have.” The Kid then swears off guns and killing for the rest of his life.

It is then, in the final ten minutes of the movie, that we see the true horror of William Munny. After he is told of Ned’s death, a terrifying transformation takes place. For most of the story, Will has been the picture of anguished restraint. He has refused to take a drop of alcohol and has only killed the two cowboys condemned by the bounty. However, when he learns that his friend has been tortured, killed, and put on display, his previous decade of temperance thoroughly vanishes. A cold fire alights in his eyes, his teeth clench, and he grabs a whiskey bottle and methodically starts to drink. By the time he enters the saloon at nightfall, he is Vengeance personified. In front of the group of puzzled and uncertain deputies and other town residents, he brutally shoots the saloon owner, Skinny. Even then, the deputies are clearly too frightened to try and bring down Munny. Even when they do gather their wits and try to square off against him, Munny is too calm under fire to be brought down. By doing little more than keeping his composure, he proceeds to shoot the five men remaining with weapons in their hands. The writer Beauchamp, who has been cowering in a corner and witnesses everything, then tries to question Munny on his “strategy.” Munny debunks any notion of skill or strategy by simple saying, “I was lucky…I’ve always been lucky when it comes to killin’ folks.” With this line, there is nothing left to be lauded in Munny’s actions, not even any kind of “skill.” Like English Bob, he is a mass murderer, though an uncommonly effective one.

Munny's execution of Little Bill. It may be one of the coldest, most haunting killings in all of film. 

Following the rapid departure of Beauchamp, Munny then steps up to Little Bill, who has been wounded but is not dead. Little Bill looks up at Will Munny, and instead of begging or pleading, simply says, “I don’t deserve to die like this.” Munny stares him in the face and delivers perhaps the most haunting line of the film when he proclaims, “Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.” At this moment, Munny is no longer even a spirit of vengeance. He is death itself. Unfeeling. Unthinking. Uncaring of right or wrong.

Those final lines, and others like them in the film, are what set Unforgiven apart. The only other Western I know of that even came close to taking such a hard look at the makeup of the Western gunfighter was The Searchers, with John Wayne. However, The Searchers still had a solid dose of romantic hokum blended into it, and it’s not nearly as even in execution as Unforgiven. Clint Eastwood directed this movie as well as anything he’s ever done, encompassing all of the things that make Western films great, while adding unprecedented philosophical depth.

The story and characters are undoubtedly what make the movie great, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least briefly mention its other merits. The cinematography is incredible, with all of the gorgeous wide-angle shots that you could hope for in a sweeping Western. Even more is the acting. Clint Eastwood does a fine enough job, and it helped that the character Will Munny didn’t call for any spectacular range of emotions (not Eastwood’s forte). The standout performances are Morgan Freeman and Gene Hackman, the latter of whom justifiably raked in a ton of awards for his turn as Little Bill. But even the smaller roles are all played perfectly, from Richard Harris as English Bob right down to the lowly prostitutes and townspeople.

Little Bill, in front of the townspeople of Big Whiskey. Just as important to the tone of the movie, the smaller roles all convey very realistic reactions to violence and death - rage, frustration, and fear.

When I think about Unforgiven as a whole, one thing I often come back to is the notion of freedom. For fans of Western tales, it is often the sense of freedom that is most appealing. The wide-open spaces of the old West have always been thought of as places where a person is free from the restrictions and expectations of “civilized” society. We often assume that this is essentially a positive thing, as it allows a person to be whoever they want to be or discover who they really are. This is a beautiful idea, if you assume that the person you really are is one to be loved and admired. But what if who you really are is someone as terrifying as William Munny? What if, in spite of your every effort to escape it in the quiet, isolated, wind-swept plains of Kansas, you are something that frightens yourself to your very soul? I don’t know if this is one of the intended themes of the film, but it is one that stays with me.

Additional Note: I came across the news that there is currently under production a remake of Unforgiven, set in feudal Japan and starring Ken Watanabe as the "Will Munny" character. Normally, I would be disgusted at the thought of a remake of Unforgiven; however, I can see the potential for a samurai setting to be very successful. I hope they can pull it off.

That’s a wrap. 91 shows down, 14 to go.

Coming Soon: Leolo (1992)

Don’t know anything about this one, but I’m guessing it doesn’t involve Clint Eastwood, ruminations on murder, or and Englishman getting his ass whipped. You never know, though…

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

Film #90: Goodfellas (1990)

Director: Martin Scorsese

Initial Release Country: United States

Timed Previously Seen: probably around eight or nine. Maybe more. 

Rapid-Fire Summary

Goodfellas is a rather epic movie, spanning several centuries. I’ll keep my summary short, but if you want many more of the details, you can check out the synopsis here at imdb’s website. Here’s my version:

In the late 1950s in Queens, New York, young teenager Henry Hill has big dreams. He dreams of becoming a gangster, like the fellows that he sees regularly on the streets of his neighborhood. Though his parents completely disapprove, Henry gets more and more involved with the crime circuit in the area – starting with simple errand-running for book-makers, progressing to orchestrated property destruction, and advancing to the sale of stolen goods. The more he gets entrenched in the life of a criminal, the more he feels welcomed by his fellow criminals, and the more normal it all becomes for him.

This normalized life of larceny follows Henry into adult life (played by Ray Liotta), when he regularly partners with two other noted crooks – the thief and hitman, Irishman Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) and the volatile yet charismatic Sicilian mobster Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci). These three, along with many other local hoods, spend the next few decades of their adult lives robbing, and occasionally killing, their way to lives of luxury for themselves, their wives, children, and mistresses. Though their methods of attaining wealth are highly illegal, all of them keep up the appearances of being responsible family men who are “providers” for their friends and families. This is all in keeping with the Italian mafia tenets of organized crime, to which all of these three men pay homage.

Tommy, Henry, and Jimmy taking a look at on of their many stashes of ill-gotten money.

Eventually, however, things start to crumble. Starting in the later 1970s and into the early 1980s, Henry starts to get involved in selling cocaine. Despite clear warnings from the mafia father-figure, Paulie Cicero (Paul Sorvino), Henry continues to sell the highly illegal substance. His mistakes catch up to him, and he is caught by the police. Now facing the very likely prospect that he will be killed by any one of his criminal associates, in order to prevent him from informing on them, Henry and his wife Karen (Lorraine Bracco) decide that their only recourse is to join the witness protection program. Henry testifies against all of his former friends and criminal associates, thus escaping jail time. However, he lives out the rest of his days in a sterilized suburban neighborhood, far removed from the action, money, and excitement of his former life of crime.

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

Goodfellas is an absolute classic, and it may be the only English-language mafia movie that can hold a candle to The Godfather, in terms of scope, technique, and revolutionizing the genre.

I first saw this movie in the theater when my mother brought me to see it. I was only fourteen or fifteen at the time, and I remember the language blowing me away. The characters drop the f-bomb like most people blink, and violence is as normal as getting a haircut. About an hour into the movie, my mother, who grew up in Queens right at the time that this movie’s events were taking place, leans over to me and says “I think I grew up with these guys.” Now, she didn’t mean that she literally grew up with Henry Hill and the gang; she just meant that she grew up with guys eerily like them. She always said that the dialogue and attitudes depicted in Goodfellas were spot-on, in terms of how the guys from those neighborhoods spoke and acted.

This authenticity has been a hallmark of Scorsece’s New York pictures right from the very beginning. While he’s certainly done other excellent movies that are not based in New York (The Departed, Kundun, et al), his street-level stories have always been his signature ones. The verbal exchanges in Goodfellas, like Raging Bull and Taxi Driver, feel completely organic. Despite being so deeply rooted in a particular region, even people who have never been within a thousand miles of Long Island can sense and be hypnotized and amused by it.

Just another night of booze and poker. This is one of the many scenes in which the dialog and interactions between the New York tough guys are at their most realistic. 

But the dialogue is simply one of several triumphs of this movie. If The Godfather was the ultimate American criminal take on a classical Greek tragedy, Goodfellas is the ultimate deconstruction of the gangster myth. Based on the real story of Henry Hill, the movie depicts the ground-level thugs who made the mob go. There are no honorable Vito Corleones here. Henry Hill and his cohorts were unapologetic thieves and murderers who reveled in their power over others. One line that sums them up fairly well is when Henry Hill is describing Jimmy: “The one thing Jimmy loved to do was to steal. I mean, he actually liked it. Jimmy was the kind of guy who rooted for the bad guys in the movies.” These guys knew they were bad, embraced it, and pummeled anyone who had a problem with it.

Tied to this is probably the element that truly sets the movie apart from other classic gangster movies. Through Henry Hill’s life story, we see the complete and utter sham that the “honor” of the mafia is. All of the seeming friendships that Henry makes are only authentic as long as they don’t threaten any of his fellow thieves’ illicit livelihoods. The moment any one of the crew is suspected of threatening others’ freedom and fortunes, that crew member is not long for this world. The camaraderie is revealed as shallow in the face of real adversity, as evidenced by the protagonist himself. After decades of thinking of his criminal associates as family, he turns on them to protect himself and sends them all to prison. Goodfellas may have been the first film to so carefully and stylishly deconstruct the myth of honor among mobster thieves.

Normally, much of the above would make for thoroughly repugnant, unwatchable characters. Yet herein lies one of the most brilliant part of this movie – at times, you forget what they are and get completely caught up with who they are. Whether it’s Tommy cracking up his fellow mobsters with hilarious stories, Jimmy railing against the stupidity of his partners in crime, or Henry trying to juggle his passionately crazy wife and mistresses, it’s simply fun to watch. Most of the time, you laugh at them, but some of the time you actually laugh with them. There are even times when you feel a twinge of sympathy, as when Henry learns that Karen has flushed their bags of cocaine, their only remaining source of revenue, down the toilet, effectively flushing his entire life down the toilet. His desperation and fear are so palpable that you might be tempted to forget, just for a few seconds, that it’s all his selfish own doing.

Karen visits Henry while he serves time. At this point, it almost seems as normal for us the viewers as it does for the troubled couple and their kids.

All of these moments come through in large part due to the acting. While De Niro rightfully got top billing for this movie and did an outstanding job as Jimmy, it was Pesci, Liotta, and the entire ensemble crew that fully rounds out the picture and makes it come to life. By using that rare combination of world-class actors with lesser known, fully capable New York regionals, not one moment of Goodfellas rings untrue. For the full two-and-a-half hours, they pull you right into a completely different world.

It goes without saying that Scorsese was arguably at his finest with this movie. The cinematography, editing, and music are all blended into a fast-paced story that hums along without missing a single beat. Of his great films (of which there are many), this one is arguably his very best, and one would be hard-pressed to find much fault with it. At this point, anyone who is into crime movies has seen and loves this film. If, by chance, you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor. As long as you are not put off by rough language and graphic violence (none of which is gratuitous, by the way – we need to see how visceral these thugs can be, lest we start to glamorize them), you need to watch this true modern masterpiece.

Henry takes one last look at us from his quaint little house, courtesy of the Witness Protection Program. While he survives, he would hardly call it a "life," as he came to know it on the streets of New York.

A side-note: Any fan of Goodfellas should watch Casino. It’s sometimes called “Goodfellas 2” with good reason. It’s certainly not a sequel, but so much of the tone and feel of it is the same, that one might feel like they’re watching the companion piece to the earlier film. Casino is a bit more sprawling, and some say bloated (I disagree), but it’s another excellent film in the same vein.

That’s a wrap. 90 shows down. 15 to go.

Coming Soon: Unforgiven (1992)

From the movie that deconstructed mafia gangsterism to the movie that deconstructed the American Western film. This is another of my absolute, hands-down, all-time favorites. I’m looking forward to watching it again and writing out my thoughts on the dark tale of Will Munny. 

Film # 89: Miller's Crossing (1990)

Director: Joel Coen

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: five or six

Rapid-Fire Summary

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

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

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

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

My Take on the Film

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coming Soon: Goodfellas (1990)

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

Film #88, Part 3: The Decalogue, Parts VIII to X (1988)

Note: The Decalogue was initially released as a ten-part television series, with each episode being a story in and of itself, though there is some crossover. As such, I have offered my review in 3 parts – one for the first three films, another for the middle four, and this is the third, covering the final three episodes.

Director: Krzysztof Kieslowski

Initial Release Country: Poland

Times Previously Seen: none

Part VIII Rapid-Fire Summary

Elzbieta, a Polish-American scholar roughly in her forties comes to Warsaw to visit a professor of ethics, Zofia, who is roughly twenty years older than Elzbieta. The two are acquaintances, with Elzbieta having met Zofia and translated some of her works on ethics into English. Elzbieta sits in on one of Zofia’s ethics classes, in which various dilemmas are posed. Elzbieta brings up her own story as a child in Poland, during World War II. As a 6-year old Jewish girl fleeing the Nazis, she was refused refuge by a Polish couple, seemingly for not being willing to convert to Catholicism. In fact, Zofia was one of the two people who refused.

Elzbieta and Zofia continue to talk through their painful history together, though the decades have soothed the rawness of their emotions, and they are able to speak calmly about everything. Zofia eventually explains the real reason that she and her husband at turned away Elzbieta at the time – it was because they were part of the Polish resistance, and they had heard that there were German spies posing as Catholics to infiltrate their ranks. Zofia then tells Elzbieta where to find the man who eventually did give her safe haven as a child.

Zofia (back) and Elzbieta talk through their dark past together.

Elzbieta finds the man, still alive, working as a tailor in Warsaw. She goes to his shop and attempts to thank him and talk to him about his having saved her. The man, obviously pained and uncomfortable about his past, kindly but firmly refuses to speak about the event. Zofia, who finds Elzbieta just outside of the tailor’s shop, explains that the man had suffered greatly during and after the war, which is why he does not speak about it.

My Reaction to Part VIII

This episode was a bit of a relief, after the previous three. Just as with episode VI, about the father and daughter, this part eases up on the emotional rawness (I somehow doubt that this is a coincidence – three hard-hitting episodes, followed by one that is less intense. This is very like the first four episodes). This is not to say that it is any less deep or meaningful. In fact, it may be one of the most poignant and meaningful of the first eight. Very few of us will have experienced the marital infidelity, bizarre sexual relationships, or moral quandaries that we see in earlier episodes of The Decalogue. In this episode, though, Zofia’s sense of guilt over a past decision is easier for more of us to grasp.

There is a welcome calm to this episode that sets it apart. The two women featured are both struggling with their feelings over a single incident that has clearly affected them both as deeply as possible. Rather than there being any highly-charged emotional knock-down, drag-outs, this episode is more about quiet exploration of feelings of indebtedness, doubt, and irredeemable guilt.

At this point, it is not surprise that all of the technical elements of the film are top-notch. After seven episodes of the same, this is no longer surprising.

Part IX Rapid-Fire Summary

A surgeon, Roman, discovers that he is impotent. He tells his wife of ten years, Hanka, and he even encourages her to find a lover, should she desire to. She refuses, claiming that there are more important things in a relationship besides sex. Despite this, Hanka does secretly start an affair with a young man named Mariusz. The two have their trysts at Hanka’s mother’s apartment.

Hanka in the foreground, with Roman in the back. Her profound and graphic statement here is at the heart of this episode. In having her own purely physical affair, she both does and does not prove her own philosophy.

Roman eventually discovers Hanka’s affair, though he does not confront her about it immediately, seemingly wracked by uncertainty about what to do. After he does confront her, she soon breaks off the affair with Mariusz, who tells her that he loves her.

Several days after, Hanka goes on a skiing trip by herself. Mariusz, having secretly followed her, attempts to reignite their relationship, but to no avail. However, back in Warsaw, Roman has discovered that Mariusz and Hanka are in the same town. He draws the inaccurate conclusion that they are continuing their affair, and he tries to kill himself. He fails, however, and awakes to find Hanka by his side, assuring him that she will be there with him.

My Take on Part IX

Another episode that takes on the topic of sex, and it is another mature look at what can often be an uncomfortable topic. The one thing that stands out as interesting is the unusual gender roles at play in this story. Once the man’s sexual potency is gone, it seems that he has little in the way of emotional control, and he is unable to truly embrace what he himself suggests – that his wife find a lover. From this point, it is the woman, Hanka, who is in control of virtually every aspect. She does not abuse it in any way, and it strikes me that I haven’t seen many stories (especially not in film) in which the female was both totally in control while also being tender, caring, and loving.

In keeping with the first eight episodes, part nine is another excellent addition to the series.

Part X Rapid-Fire Summary

Two brothers, Artur and Jerzy, meet one another at their estranged father’s funeral. Neither man has seen each other in over two years, though they seem relaxed and closer than one would expect. Artur is a popular punk rock singer, while the older Jerzy has a standard white collar job, a wife and son.

Shortly after their father’s funeral, the two discover that their father had amassed a stamp collection worth a fortune. He had carefully kept it stashed in his run-down little apartment, though with many security devices to prevent thievery. Artur and Jerzy initially decide not to sell the stamps, though they accidentally let one set of valuable stamps be taken by a nefarious stamp collector in the area. They eventually get this one set back, but they unwittingly begin an unfortunate series of events.

Jerzy and Artur. Artur's words are initially spoken about the brothers' father, but the two men are soon both caught up in the same materialist obsession that turned their father into a recluse.

In the following days, the shady stamp dealer convinces the brothers to have Jerzy donate his kidney for his daughter, in return for an extremely valuable stamp that their father was looking for. However, when Jerzy is undergoing the kidney removal, the boys’ apartment is broken into and the entire stamp collection is stolen. After the discovery, each brother begins to suspect the other of the thievery, but they eventually realize that they were both conned by the shady stamp dealer himself. They actually have a final laugh over the affair, and show amusement that they each have bought an identical set of cheap stamps from the local post office.

My Take on Part X

Not what I was expecting as the end to such a long series. Still, it’s very good and I was completely engaged for the entire film.

Maybe it’s because I can understand the obsessive mind of a collector (having been a comic book collector for many years in my younger days), but the notion of a hidden treasure trove of valuables always intrigues me. But this story goes far beyond that. The crux of the story is how a dead and virtually unknown father’s obsession takes over his estranged sons. The two at first seem apathetic towards their new found fortune, and they seem to rekindle their friendship towards each other. Soon, though, the potential wealth corrupts them into making foolish decisions and behaving in conniving ways that run counter to their personalities. It’s actually rather similar to the Sam Raimi film A Simple Plan, though on a much more humanistic level.

As stated, I expected the final episode to have some massive element that perhaps tied all of the previous nine episodes together. I was a tad disappointed that this wasn’t a part of the tale, but this was still an excellent, if slightly more lighthearted, episode in the series.

Final Thoughts on The Decalogue

Firstly, I did discover that, contrary to my belief that the connection to the Ten Commandments was a very tenuous one, almost every episode is, in fact, directly inspired by one of the commandments. Here is the list, by both episode and commandment (you can go back to my other reviews to see how the story actually syncs up the with the commandment:

I.                    “I am the Lord your God; you shall have no other gods before me.”

II.                 “Thou shalt not worship graven images.” *

III.               “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain.” *

IV.              “Honor thy father and thy mother”

V.                 “Thou shalt not kill.”

VI.              “Thou shalt not commit adultery.”

VII.            “Thou shalt not steal.”

VIII.         “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.”

IX.              “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.”

X.                 “Thou shalt not covet (they neighbor’s goods).”

Really, it was only episodes II and III (marked with the asterisks above) that didn’t seem to have a direct link to the given commandment, but there are certainly other commandments at play in those episodes.

 Taken as a whole, this is arguably the greatest film series ever. You certainly don’t need to be a Christian, Jew, or Muslim to appreciate how each of the commandments is merely being used as an area of drama and pain in different people’s lives.

What sets The Decalogue series apart from other drama is the intellectual depth and the performances. Director Krzysztof Kieslowski had the soul of a classic novelist, and seemed to putting hard-hitting human drama onto the screen. He was using the tools of cinema rather than literature, but all of the human elements are there. The people are very real, if sometimes very unusual, and their reactions to the stressful situations hit some very uncomfortable areas of the human psyche.

I came across the little factoid that each 55-minute film had a budget of about $10,000. This means that the entire series, about 9 hours long, was probably done for under $100,000. It goes to show that true artistry does not require lavish sets, glamorous actors, or expensive filming equipment. With the right talent and vision, a masterpiece can shine through. The Decalogue does just that.

I would recommend that anyone and everyone watch this series. I even think it should probably be required viewing in high schools, right along with the literature reading lists that students get in their language classes. If more people watched and pondered the ethical and philosophical questions that are the lifeblood of this series, only good could come of it.

That’s a wrap. 88 shows down; 17 to go.

Coming Soon: Miller’s Crossing (1990)

 This is not only one of my all-time favorite movies, but it also kicks off my most anticipated 1-2-3 punch of this entire project: Miller’s Crossing, Goodfellas, and Unforgiven. Three hands-down modern classics that I never get tired of watching.

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