Category Archives: 1970s

Top 5: Jack Nicholson Movies

Leave a reply
Hold on, getting a poster of this in my room right now.
According to some recent reports, Jack Nicholson has retired from acting. Then, according to some other reports, Jack Nicholson hasn’t retired from acting. I’m not sure which is true, but I really want to write this article.
It has been nearly three years since Nicholson has been credited in a movie and it doesn’t look like has any projects planned for the future. And at the Oscars this year he seemed, well, old (apparently, his retirement is due to memory loss). I’d love some more Nicholson but if he decided to call it quits now, he’d be leaving behind an amazing legacy. Besides maybe Daniel Day-Lewis and Paul Newman, few actors have had such consistent records. And most importantly, “The Bucket List” isn’t the last credit listed on his IMDB page.
So I don’t know if this is the end of his career or not but either way, it’s never a bad time to celebrate Jack Nicholson. Also, this is a really fun way to put off my homework. 
Read On After the Jump: (Movies are sorted in order of the year that they came out).

Easy Rider (1969)


Before “Easy Rider” roared into theaters and announced that the hippies had taken over Hollywood, Jack Nicholson was getting a lot of small parts in a lot of B-movies which I still want to watch. “Easy Rider” wasn’t supposed to be much, but it subdued all expectations, as did Nicholson as alcoholic lawyer George Hanson. As George, Nicholson embodies Southern Hospitality. While he always seems a little sketchy, he is also nice enough to get a drink with. Nicholson burst with spontaneous little movements, giving the sense that he has as little control over his performance as George has over his own actions. Nicholson turned a small role into an Oscar nominated performance. It was the first of many to come. 

Chinatown (1974)

Nicholson’s filmography reads like a list of some of my favorite movies of all time. Perhaps Nicholson’s performances were always so consistently outstanding during the 70s because he was given the best material that Hollywood had to offer. Yet, Nicholson made every character he played his own. As Jake Gittes, Nicholson churned out a snarky version of a film noir detective. While they would usually be a little more reserved and mysterious, Gittes was instead abrasive and sneaky in his snooping methods. “Chinatown” is one of the darkest movies ever made, yet not enough people seem to give Nicholson credit for being both the protagonist and the comic relief. You better believe that after watching “Chinatown,” you’ll know exactly how to “screw like a Chinaman.”  
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)

Speaking of making characters his own, Nicholson did the same but this time with a character that had already been invented in literature. Nicholson makes R.P. McMurphy the gold standard for all Hollywood anti-heroes. From the second he enters the institution, jumping around and kissing doctors, he immediately lights up the room. Sure, he’s a repeated offender, but he’s so relatable because he’s so honest and real and doesn’t let anyone get the best of him. He’s the kind of person everyone wishes they were confident enough to be. He even stood up to Nurse Ratched. Now that was one scary lady. 


The Shining (1980)

This most remarkable aspect of this horror classic is Stanley Kubrick’s direction. However, Nicholson’s performance is just as important, as it stays away from hamminess and instead he gives a frightening portrayal of one man’s descent into madness. Just like the entire movie, watching Nicholson is a slow build. It’s even more frightening because the motives are so hazy. Fun fact: the now legendary “Here’s Johnny!” line was improvised by Nicholson.

About Schmidt (2003)

This is one of Nicholson’s most un-Jack performances. Instead of just playing Jack Nicholson, he instead played Warren Schmidt, a schlubby Midwestern man who suddenly feels alone and useless after he retires from his job and loses his wife. It’s a quiet, understated performance that’s equal parts awkward, funny, and moving. It was another well deserved Oscar nomination for somebody who probably didn’t need another one, but deserved it anyway.
Guilty Pleasure: Anger Management (2003)- I’m sorry (but not really). This is the only time we’ll ever see Jack Nicholson sing “I Feel Pretty” on film. Don’t take this for granted, people!

Movie Review: Argo

Leave a reply

Ben Affleck pulled off the impossible and made a movie about the making of a movie that isn’t cheeky or ironic. Then again, it’s hard to be overly ironic when the movie you’re making is fake and you’re dealing with a hostage crisis.

“Argo” plays perfectly like a classic thriller: it’s smart, suspenseful, and fun. “Argo” is both an entertaining thriller and a disturbing document of a very bad time in history.

“Argo” is equal parts reenactment, documentary footage, and artistic license. It starts off with a nice refresher  on the past 60 years of Iranian history. In just about a minute, it makes much more sense out of what happened to that country than CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News ever could combined. It goes up to 1979, the year in which the Shah was overthrown and the Iranian Revolution began. Director Ben Affleck gives us a full fledged reenactment of the Iranians breaking into the US Embassy in Tehran. This scene would have felt overlong, if it wasn’t so important to the rest of the story, and directed with nail-biting intensity.


Actually, “Argo” is not about the hostages in the Embassy but rather a select few that nobody knew even escaped. A group of Americans hid out in the Canadian Embassy. The Canadians didn’t quite bother the Iranians as much as the Americans did, as the Canadians never seem to bother anyone, as they are the greatest country ever to exist.*

But I digress. The CIA needs a way to safely get the Americans out of the Canadian Embassy and back to America. Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck) is on it. Tony is good at his job, and, like almost any government agent on film, he just wants to get home and see his son. You’ll hear more about this later in the review.

Tony and his boss Jack O’Donnell (Bryan Cranston) go through every option and can’t find a logical way to sneak the Americans out of Iran. As O’Donnell, Cranston is much more subdued than I’m used to seeing him. But then again, anyone in government who’s most concerned with following orders isn’t going to chew up the scenery. As the clock ticks, no idea seems to work. That is, until Tony comes up with the craziest idea ever: shoot a fake movie in Iran, and sneak an entire fake crew out of the most dangerous country in the world.

“Argo” is a heist film in which the big heist involves the making of a movie. This is the kind of story that can make any film buff go crazy. When rescuing the Canadian hostages, Tony tells them that they all must assume the roles of certain members of a film crew. They must learn and memorize their backstories for when they are questioned at the airport. They are essentially memorizing characters and becoming a part of a lie. While making a fake movie, they are essentially acting one out in real life. And we, of course, are seeing that movie be acted out in real time.

To make this fake movie come true, Tony goes to Hollywood make-up artist John Chambers (John Goodman) who then brings him to legendary producer Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin, who utters a line of dialogue that has already become classic). They bring Tony a script for “Argo,” a B-grade sci-fi film that could be filmed perfectly in the Middle East. They have their cover. It is too bad that the “Argo” within “Argo” never got mad. I’d really like to see this tale of overthrowing a king on a distant planet. The story of the sci-fi “Argo” actually sounds alarmingly similar to what was happening in Tehran during that time. Get on it, Affleck.

“Argo” marks Affleck’s third time behind the camera. With every feature, he gets better and better as a director. He directs “Argo” like a confident, old pro, and not just a young director still searching for his voice. Behind the camera, Affleck is someone who is incredibly well versed in both movies and the art of filmmaking. As he also showed with “The Town,” Affleck has a talent for strictly following genre conventions yet also making them fresh and exciting. He has conquered the chase scene. Towards the end of “Argo,” there is one chase that totally puts any chase in “The Town” to shame. Some of the final chase in “Argo” might be fictionalized, but Affleck knows that part of showing history on film is bending the truth a little bit. After all, even in a story as exciting as this one, facts can be boring.

Sometimes, the cinematic conventions that “Argo” follows work to its advantage, and other times not. While I understand that Affleck just wanted a strong back story for Tony, I would not have minded if they just completely removed everything about his estranged family. It didn’t make Tony any deeper or more complicated as character. All I wanted to see was Tony at work, and how his job effected him. “All the President’s Men” didn’t need to show personal relationships in order to flesh out Woodward and Bernstein. In a movie about the workplace, showing someone being good at their job can often be enough to bring out character.

I am not against character development. However, I am against character development that turns the character into a prototype rather than a human. I can site a more recent example, actually also about the CIA, in the show “Homeland.” The most important details about the CIA Operative main character are how her mind functions and how that effects her job. Tony’s relationship with his son didn’t effect his job. His job effected his relationship with his son. This was mentioned several times, but never explored deep enough. There was one possible ending nestled in “Argo” that would have been a little darker, yet absolutely perfect. Instead, the ending they went with pushes a little too hard to tie things together nicely. Hard-boiled thrillers should never end with a perfectly tied little bow on them.

But maybe I am being a little tough here. After all, Tony’s relationship with his son is partly forged on a love for movies. If it wasn’t for his son watching “Battle of the Planet of the Apes,” Tony might never have thought of his crazy rescue idea. There is something wonderful about the nature of cinema that I think “Argo” showed flawlessly: movies can connect two estranged people, or two people from completely different cultures, in a way that most other art forms can’t. The idea of a story can cross a threshold even if two people don’t even speak the same language. “Argo,” in simplest form, is a love letter to filmmaking. Pay very close attention to the graininess of every shot. That’s on purpose. This could be one of the last times you see a movie that’s actually shot on film.

*Note: I am not Canadian, and they are not the greatest country ever. However, I am a big fan of their country.

Movie Review: The Last Picture Show

Leave a reply

“You ain’t ever gonna amount to nothing.”

The first and last shots of “The Last Picture Show” are nearly identical. However, one is in reverse of the other. The movie marquee, once presenting the next showing, is now empty. After the last picture show has ended, there is not much left to do.

“The Last Picture Show” is such a vivid and knowledgeable portrayal of life in a small Texan town, that it would seem only to come from memory. Yet, director Peter Bogdanovich grew up in Kingston, New York, a place bearing no resemblance to rural Texas. He’s just that good of a filmmaker.


“The Last Picture Show” takes place in the fictional town of Anarene where football is king. This was long before “Friday Night Lights” ever came to be. Except here, none of the action takes place on the field, so glory is even harder to find.

From start to finish, “The Last Picture Show” is powered by the country tunes playing on everyone’s radios, primarily those of Hank Williams. In Anarene, which becomes a character itself, the greatest means of escape are the pool hall and the movie theater, especially that movie theater.

“The Last Picture Show” is a coming of age story in which the teenagers mature in a world that is not vibrant or cultured but instead rather bleak. Think the opposite of “American Graffiti.” As the film progresses, the culture diminishes more and more.

Instead of beginning with dialogue, “The Last Picture Show” starts off with the voices of disc jockeys and the music on the radio, perhaps the guiding voice of that generation. “The Last Picture Show” primarily follows the town’s star football players Sonny Crawford (Timothy Bottoms) and Duane Jackson (Jeff Bridges). Sonny is kind and sensitive and in a relationship with a girl he does not love (Sharon Taggart). Their relationship will not last long. Duane, meanwhile, is confident, handsome and popular. He is first introduced while dating the beautiful Jacy Farrow (Cybil Shepard), Anarene’s equivalent of a movie star; a goddess wearing a scarf. In this drab setting, she is a human oasis.

Everything is in order until trouble comes during Christmas. After a holiday party, Sonny befriends and later has an affair with Ruth Popper (Cloris Leachman), his football coach’s wife. Ruth is miserable and despises her husband, but says she married him as a way of angering her parents. At a time when Hollywood favored youth rebellion against those who raised them, “The Last Picture Show” actually ends up being about a sacred respect for one’s elders. After all, everyone feels a need to rebel at one point or another.

That is what makes this film such a unique coming of age story: it is as much about the adults coming of age as it is about the kids. Coming of age, after all, is the act of discovering how one is supposed to act at a given time in their life. This act can occur more than once during one’s life.

The boys all end up vying for the affection of Jacy. This will eventually lead to each of their downfalls in one form or another. “The Last Picture Show” is less a story as a whole as it is a mosaic of little stories that fall together into a vivid, haunting, yet beautiful, whole. A road trip to Mexico that happens entirely offscreen and a pool hall given to Sonny in an inheritance are just two of the many threads tied together to make a whole. These events don’t need to be seen to have an impact. Watching “The Last Picture Show” brought to mind “On the Waterfront” and the disenfranchised teen rebels of “Rebel Without a Cause.”

Like these movies, “The Last Picture Show” also has a strong emphasis on the little moments that are often ignored in everyday life, yet can’t be ignored in front of a camera. Moments like the one in which Ruth struggles to get her shirt over her head felt improvised, like the moment in “On the Waterfront” when Terry (Marlon Brando) fiddles with Edie’s (Eva Marie Saint) glove. There is something funny and tender about moments like these that make the characters feel vulnerable and achingly real.

In a way, “The Last Picture Show” is not about the loss of innocence leading into the Korean War, but rather about how that innocence was never there to begin with. In Anarene, there is no difference between public and private lives. Jacy and Sonny’s impulse marriage begins partly because Jacy is bored, and partly because she wants to be the talk of the town.

“The Last Picture Show” contains some outstanding work from multiple actors who would continue to make a great impact on cinema. Bridges creates slick, confident characters who you always want to follow, no matter how egotistical or lazy they may be (the lazy part refers to a different movie, of course). So many sides of each character are seen and at one point or another, everyone of them seems either emotional or emotionless. For example, the film’s most indelible scene comes during skinny-dipping at rich boy Bobby’s (Gary Brockette) house. As Jacy gets up in front of everyone to undress, her insecurity is seen in the way she clumsily undresses, and at that moment she becomes more than a spoiled, shallow beauty queen. It might have helped that this was actually Shepard’s first nude scene. No one ever feels like they are acting: they seem to feel so free and comfortable in the skin of their characters that they are simply just existing in their roles. That also comes from the screenplay written by Bogdanovich and Larry McMurtry (who wrote the book that this film is based off of), which is so deeply invested in the local dialect. “The Last Picture Show” comes closer to achieving naturalism as most films ever will.

Despite the lack of culture in Anarene, the bits and pieces of cinema and music throughout aid in telling this story. Think about the clip of “Red River” shown in the theater. Bogdanovich chose it for a reason. Hank Williams’s “Why Don’t You Love Me” is a perfect sendoff song and it provides a melancholy epilogue about how hard it becomes to enjoy what we used to enjoy as we age. Not that the haunting last images needed to be explained, but the song certainly provides the right backdrop.

It would probably be hard to see something like “The Last Picture Show” get made nowadays. Bogdanovich has no shame ending without something uplifting to cling onto. However, that is what helps make the story feel so much more real, as it acknowledges that life doesn’t always end with a big, bright ribbon tied to it. Even the healing and uniting power of movies, which the boys depend on, can’t be relied on anymore, as the theater closes its doors. “The Last Picture Show” will remind you that sometimes closure is not the most rewarding way to end a movie.

Here’s an Idea Hollywood: A modern day update of “The Last Picture Show” about the closing of a small town video store. Boom. I expect to be paid now.

Things That Should Never Happen: An Animal House Musical

Leave a reply

Because even Broadway is afraid of green-lighting an original concept, Universal Pictures Stage Productions announced today that “Animal House: The Musical” is currently in development. At times like these, I look around to make sure reality isn’t actually some giant artistic social experiment by Banksy.

If this didn’t sound cruel enough already to the “Animal House devotees of the world, the news was announced today on the 30th anniversary of John Belushi’s death. So instead of talking about how Belushi transformed comedic acting in such a short amount of time, everyone is talking about “Animal House: The Musical” (yes, I am guilty of this too). Turning “Animal House” into a musical would be a disservice to everything the brothers of the Delta House stood for. “The Lion King” lent itself to a successful musical because it already was one, and “Hairspray” lent itself well to the format (even if it sacrificed some of John Waters’s best black humor). And for every “Saturday Night Fever,” there is a “Carrie.”

“Animal House” is the kind of story that wouldn’t function as well in today’s world, as so many knockoffs immediately followed it. But instead of discussing this, honor Belushi (and “Animal House”) with these great clips after the jump:

Belushi amazingly steals this entire scene with one brief yelp. 

AND he can impersonate Brando. 

How to Deal with Losing: Steven Spielberg

Leave a reply

After this past Sunday’s ceremony ended, I promised everyone I was done with the Oscars for at least the next few months. But as they say in just about every action movie ever made: “just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in.” What I have today is a great clip I was sent this morning of Steven Spielberg reacting to the Oscar nominations in 1976. In the previous year, “Jaws” took audiences by storm. In this clip, Spielberg is none too pleased to find out that despite a Best Picture nomination for “Jaws”, the Academy failed to recognize his directing.

Spielberg blames his snub on commercial backlash. That is a possibility, as most of the nominations in the past few years have been for lower grossing movies. But then again, no one is going to nominate “Transformers” or “Breaking Dawn” for Best Picture. I am guessing the real case is that Spielberg just missed the shortlist, given that the nominated directors were Milos Forman, Sidney Lumet, Stanley Kubrick, Robertrt Altman, and Federico Fellini. That’s a hard group to compete with.

Anyway, this is a great video to give you some insight on what filmmakers think of the Oscars. It will also give you a hint of what the 1970s was like. Its an especially different Spielberg than we were used to, a man who was fighting the system before he ultimately became it.

Watch the video after the jump:

Credit to Ben Silverberg for sending me the video. 

Movie Review: Days of Heaven

Leave a reply

Watching a Terrence Malick film is like taking a stroll through nature. Or in the case of “Days of Heaven,” harvesting it, burning it, and possibly getting killed by it.

“Days of Heaven,” Malick’s second feature, is yet another example of how he brings the natural world to life through film. “Days of Heaven” achieves this on an even grander scale than his previous feature, “Badlands.”
Like his other films, “Days of Heaven” moves at a slow and steady pace, with many often baffling moments. “Days of Heaven” begins in a place that can be described as the opposite of heaven, a steel-mill in early 20th century Chicago. The factory looks more like a third world country than the American Dream. After Bill (Richard Gere), a hard-working but hot-tempered worker at the mill accidentally kills his cruel boss, he flees the city with his girlfriend Abby (Brooke Adams) and his sister for the promise of a better life in the wheat fields of Texas.
No matter how beautiful the sky looks in Texas at sunset, life in the country proves to be difficult, as the wealthy, unnamed farm owner (Sam Shepard) treats his workers like slaves. Bill convinces Abby to marry their boss in order to get a claim to his fortune. Like any get-rich-quick scheme, it ends with more blood and tears than dollars and cents.
“Days of Heaven” is one cinematic story where the story barely matters as you watch it. On a first viewing, the story moves quickly and is hard to follow. That’s partly Malick’s way of telling a story and also because the story is told through the voiceover of a young girl, therefore giving the perspective of a confused child during some very dark events.
While watching “Days of Heaven,” I was convinced that I wasn’t watching a linear story, but instead a detailed tour of the Texas Panhandle. Nestor Almendros received what was probably the most deserving Best Cinematography Oscar ever for his work on this film. The film is shot mostly during the time of day that he describes as the “magic hour,” which is the period of time between sunset and nightfall. During this time, the sky is an almost magical shade of light red. Maybe it shows the false, magical hopefulness of the prosperity of living off of the land. It is also a heavenly presence in the film, something Malick brings into everything he makes.
Under Almendros’s photographic skills, the monotonous colors of the prairie look so vividly alive. As the stalks of wheat sway in the wind, almost in unison, it looks almost as if the fields are instead an ocean. In this film, the landscape is not the background, but rather the life that breaths through it. Some shots seem almost too good to be true. For example, how was a flower growing able to be shot in time lapse, without today’s digital technology? That question will just have to remain a part of the magical mysteries of cinema.
It is intentional, unsurprising, and ironic that the most humane living creatures in “Days of Heaven” are the natural elements of earth and the non-human creatures that inhabit it. The ducks, horses, bison, and many other animals that wander the ranch seem more in touch with the world than the humans there.
As for the people, they are all animalistic and motivated by greed. Bill, who is supposed to be the film’s hero, has none of the qualities of the typical hero. A hero is motivated by a desire to do good and protect those other than themselves. Bill, on the other hand, is just looking out for his own well being. Even the woman he loves is just a tool to make him more powerful.
Like most of the other men Malick portrays in his films, Bill has an underlying aggressive nature, one that usually leads to violence. Unlike Kit Kruthers from “Badlands,” this violent instinct is not a sadistic one but rather one of self-defense. Bill has more in common with the ill-tempered father from “The Tree of Life.”
Malick is purposely a very secretive director. He doesn’t want his personality getting in the way of the messages of his films. If a film is an auteur’s way of expressing himself, Malick does that through “Days of Heaven.” Malick studied philosophy at Harvard, and the actions of the characters in “Days of Heaven” probably don’t represent his moral compass but more a Hobbes like view on man: humans are violent by nature and only act in their best interest.

Of all of the films ever made about the American struggle for prosperity, this is one of the finest. “Days of Heaven” is about both our dependence on the land, and our subsequent betrayal of it. That’s why when the locusts come and black out the sky, it feels partly like nature’s revenge but more like Manifest Destiny biting back.
The downfall of most films is that their characters talk too much and have nothing good to say. Unless you’re as good of a writer as Quentin Tarantino or Woody Allen, embracing silence is a key to success. In “Days of Heaven,” Malick lets the images, along with the sweeping score by Ennio Morricone, do all of the talking. This is what makes “Days of Heaven” more than just a typical Hollywood epic. When you’re trying to tell the story of a country and its inhabitants, sometimes the best way to do so is to just observe. That way you see its beauty, and its horror, exactly as it was intended to be seen.
If You Liked This Movie, You’ll Also Like: Badlands, The Tree of Life, Barry Lyndon, There Will Be Blood, 2001: A Space Odyssey, No Country for Old Men, Once Upon a Time in the West

How Arcade Fire Changed My Life This Year

Leave a reply

“Grab your mother’s keys we’re leaving.”

That is one of the lines from Arcade Fire’s “The Suburbs” now engraved into my mind. I know this is usually a blog focusing on visual media, but it’s impossible to pass up a band as revelatory as Arcade Fire.
Before this year, Arcade Fire was just another indie band. Maybe I was just listening to the hype, or maybe I had just listened to “Wake Up” too many times. Arcade Fire is more than that. They are the indie band that is too cool to be called indie. They are the quintessential alternative band of this era, and a remnant of great music from a time long ago.
Arcade Fire has remained in my mind all year for two reasons mainly. The first was their concert at Madison Square Garden, and the second was their latest album, “The Suburbs.”
I have been to very few concerts, but Arcade Fire’s will likely remain my favorite for the rest of my life (that is, unless, someone reincarnates Nico and gets her to perform again with The Velvet Underground). During it, the band came off as totally, totally not pretentious, and totally unchanged by their recent transition into mainstream fame. Win Butler even apologized and offered to start a song over after the drummer screwed up a beat.
During the concert, I also couldn’t help but be impressed with the huge array of instruments in the band. While most bands will usually consist of a singer, a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer, Arcade Fire has everything from the violin to the accordion. That is why their sounds is always so unique.
Then, there is their album “The Suburbs.” For a while, I was still committed to “Funeral” and was entirely unconvinced that another album could knock it off as their best. After multiple listens, I was proven wrong. Anything that’s truly worth it gets better after multiple viewings (same goes for the band’s underrated sophomore effort, “Neon Bible”).
“The Suburbs” is a marvel of an album for multiple reasons. One reason is simply how great every single song sounds. It’s worth endless amounts of listens.
However, “The Suburbs” is better than the simple label of “good.” That’s because “The Suburbs” brings music back to a better time. While the music of today is focused on the popularity of singles, “The Suburbs” resembles a 1970s concept album. It’s a little more like something Pink Floyd, David Bowie, or The Who might’ve produced rather than something you’d hear from, say, Katy Perry.
The concept album refers to an album that comes together in the end under one common theme or story. “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust”chronicles the rise and fall of a musician from outer space (or something like that). In a more recent example, Radiohead’s “OK Computer” comes together to express themes of modern alienation and striving to be different in a world that demands perfection.
“The Suburbs” may be even more than a concept album; it’s a rock opera. It tells the story of Win and William Butler’s time they spent growing up in suburban Texas. When listened to in order, it tells the story of lost youth aimlessly wasting time, looking to escape, and then appreciating all of their past experiences.
I might have connected so deeply with this album because it has reflected my own experiences wasting time and fighting boredom in American suburbia. Also, in its own unique way, “The Suburbs” is basically a movie. Altogether, it tells a story, and it must be taken in in order for it to be comprehended at the highest level. Sure, you could put it on shuffle, but “Empty Room” is not the same without listening to it seamlessly dissolve into “City With No Children.”
Not only was “The Suburbs” the best album released this year (no disrespect, Kanye), but it is one I can site as having a major impact on how I process art. Listening to “The Suburbs” has trained me to listen to albums as a whole rather than in parts. Full, sequential stories can be even better than tiny parts that don’t connect. Maybe this is why I’ve grown up to be a film critic.
Check out my first review of “The Suburbs.”
Here are a few of my favorite Arcade Fire Songs:

Movie Review: Straw Dogs

Leave a reply

“This is where I live. This is me.”

“Straw Dogs” begins with a shot from above and descends deep down below to a group of children dancing in a graveyard. This is only the beginning of the film’s strange descent into hell on a deprived earth.
“Straw Dogs” is a thriller that could define the anger, alienation, and confusion of a generation in such an entertaining shell. It’s not the thrill-a-minute thriller we usually get. Rather it’s the wait patiently for the thrill kind of thriller.
“Straw Dogs” comes from the mind of Sam Peckinpah, director of some of the most brutal westerns ever made. It’s something of a modern day western set in the British countryside. The outlaw in this case is the constantly working American professor David Sumner (Dustin Hoffman). He decides to escape to a quaint English town with his troubled wife Amy (Susan George). Amy grows constantly more troubled as Dave continues to ignore her for his blackboard of equations.
The rest of the film is less of a plot and more of a series of unfortunate events unfolding. As they encounter more of the whiskey chugging, Christ loving locals, the more trouble they get into. As David and Amy’s marriage deteriorates, they fall into horrible events that involve rape and murder, and a final showdown with the townspeople.
“Straw Dogs” is one of those films that must be examined well below its surface to be truly appreciated. The film is well beyond some wild exploitation horror flick. Rather, it uses violence and sexual perversion to come to a larger point.
Peckinpah is a director who knows how to handle violence better than most others. I would say he was in the same range as Scorsese. When comparing “Straw Dogs” to his previous effort, “The Wild Bunch,” one can find the common, slow-motion violence. This effect is not use to amplify or enjoy the violence, but rather to allow each audience member to truly understand the fact that a life is ending right before their eyes. Yet despite the slow-mo emphasis of every bullet, most of the violence happens so quickly and out of nowhere that you could miss it.
What was even more controversial in “Straw Dogs” than the violence is that infamous rape scene. Beyond its graphic nature, what makes it really so controversial is that little smile Amy cracks during it. Could she be enjoying the act? Or is she just strangely enjoying the attention she hasn’t been getting from her own husband? Some will call it misogynistic, but I think a better word for it is flat out mysterious.
Mystery is one of the strongest elements of “Straw Dogs,” and something that continues to make it so fascinating to this day. The best parts of the movie are its many open-ended questions. The most interesting question lies in the film’s hero-villain complex. An obvious answer could be that the townspeople are the villains. But the even more interesting one is that it’s truly David. Even though he’s the protagonist, and in the end siege we seem to be rooting for him, he is no kind soul. He’s abusive and ignorant of the feelings of others. Not to mention he could be seen as self and, well, a little crazy deep down. This is also perhaps the film’s most disturbing element: this is a world where there is no clear hero to root for. Everyone might as well be the villain.
The hero-villain complex might not have worked out well here without the always amazing work from Dustin Hoffman. He begins the film with his typical, uptight Ben Braddock character and then transforms into something he’s never played before. Just as Hoffman doesn’t seem capable of playing a killer, David doesn’t seem capable of becoming one.
“Straw Dogs” is truly a product of the greatest era in American filmmaking. It comes from a time when directors still had control over what their projects would look like in the end. It was a time when boundaries were still looking to be broken down.
“Straw Dogs” contains a narrative structure commonplace at the time, though has been unfortunately abandoned today. Peckinpah is a filmmaker like Coppola and De Palma who doesn’t like to rush their stories. The siege, which seems like it could’ve been the film’s main plot, doesn’t occur until the film’s way end. Until that point, there is a lot of buildup. While some might find that time being introduced to characters grueling, it is absolutely necessary. Every little object we see, every person we meet, plays an essential role in that incredible finale. “Straw Dogs” is a film that embraces its tiny little details, and never abandons them.
“Straw Dogs” can be looked at as a bold thriller, and a time capsule. Without making a single political statement, the audience is exposed to a generation trying to escape reality while struggling to find and embrace identity. Its influence can be seen in everything from “Taxi Driver” to “Inglourious Basterds.”
When one thinks of a great film, they usually don’t pair it with slow pace and acts of horrible dehumanization. “Straw Dogs” proves that great films don’t have to conform to the audience’s idea of a great film in order to be truly great.
If You Liked this Movie, You’ll also Like: Five Easy Pieces, The Wild Bunch, Deliverance, Taxi Driver, Reservoir Dogs, Badlands, Inglourious Basters, Blood Simple, A Clockwork Orange, Carrie

Movie Review: Black Dynamite

Leave a reply

Something very interesting happened while I was watching “Black Dynamite.” For about an hour, I understood what it was getting at, and what it was trying to do. At that, it was doing well. What I couldn’t help but wonder was: where’s the big punchline?

Then, it came. And then I saw that “Black Dynamite” was not just an homage, nor was it a product, it was a twisted, brilliant little movie of its own.
“Black Dynamite,” a film released last year, is a throwback to the ever influential Blaxploitation genre of the 1970s. As the name suggests, it was a genre that exploited black stereotypes (as well as violence) for the sake of entertainment. In the latest addition, Black Dynamite (Michael Jai White) is a former CIA agent who knows Kung Fu.
After his brother, an undercover agent, is murdered in a drug deal gone wrong, Black Dynamite gets his license to kill back and seeks revenge. In the process, he cleans the streets of drugs and uncovers, a deep, and possibly very lethal, conspiracy.
“Black Dynamite” is more than just an homage to Blaxploitation cinema, it is Blaxploitation. This movie could’ve been released amongst films like “Shaft” and “Foxy Brown” and blended in just fine. It transports us back to a simpler time, when it was still acceptable to call a white person “honky.”
Before I go further, I will admit that I’m only loosely familiar with Blaxploitation films. I know more about them through reputation than actual viewing. Having said that, “Black Dynamite” could capture more than a genre; it even captures an entire era. While watching it, I felt reminded of the underrated “Grindhouse.” Both are films that could easily fit into their eras as they both mimic the little things of the films they emulate such as the lighting and even the sound effects.
On that note, “Black Dynamite” has a score that sounds like the great, smooth Funk of Isaac Hayes. That warm glow of the light makes for a light-hearted, utterly entertaining work of film. Meanwhile, the often grainy, documentary-like cinematography, was common in shoe string budget exploitation films.
Now, as I mentioned earlier, lets talk about that little turning point. “Black Dynamite” goes from purposefully silly exploitation to a sort of over-the-top ridiculousness that becomes almost sublime in a scene where Black Dynamite and his men figure a conspiracy out. In one way, it’s mocking ridiculous explanations for twists in films (I’ll never look at the white board scene in “Shutter Island” the same again). In another way, it hops from one point to another in such a form that only someone with a knowledge of film both great and bad could ever come up with. You’ll be astounded not at the fact that you couldn’t come up with it, but that anyone could ever think of something like this in the first place.
I would definitely credit much of the film’s success to Scott Sanders’ 70s style direction. But much credit should be given to the screenplay, which is co-written by star Jai White. It remains totally in the era and manages to make several running jokes (such as the repeated use of the phrase “jive turkey”) fresh throughout. Despite the film’s extremely short running time, it still manages to get most of what it sets out accomplished. There were a few strands, like a corrupt congressman character, that remained somewhat unsolved at the end. Then again, this is a tribute to imperfect cinema.
“Black Dynamite” is the kind of film I could see myself watching several times and not tiring of it. In its goal of not only evoking a past era, but becoming a part of it, it succeeds admirably. Oh, and I forgot to mention that odd yet almost audacious thing it does with a certain former President of the United States. Guess you’ll just have to find that out for yourselves.

Movie Review: The Conversation

Leave a reply

The next time somebody says to you, “they don’t make ‘em like they used to,” know that they’re likely talking about “The Conversation.” Nobody observes time and space while fully exploiting all the great elements of film quite like Francis Ford Coppola did.

“The Conversation” deserves to be known as one of the great, defining films in the greatest era of filmmaking: The 1970s. “The Conversation” is set in San Francisco and, like any captivating film, captures the life of a person we never wanted to see.
Coppola follows the life of Harry Caul (Gene Hackman). Caul is an expert private surveillance technician. Despite making a living off spying on others, he is extremely protective of his own privacy. Caul has been hired by a mysterious and very wealthy man to spy on what we presume is a very happy couple. This case mirrors one that has haunted Caul and he believes what he has seen is a recipe for disaster, and that he can stop it.
“The Conversation” prevails because it is top-notch at everything it tries to do: it has superb performances, a nail-biting story, and thrills that are actually thrilling. It’s hard to expect anything less from Francis Ford Coppola who also pioneered such other masterworks as “The Godfather” series and “Apocalypse Now.”
Despite the fact that the running time of “The Conversation” is significantly shorter than the running times of his other aforementioned masterpieces, it feels just as lengthy. This is not necessarily a bad thing.
While any other director would normally try and cram as many events as possible into under two hours, “The Conversation” basically only has a few scenes that go on for long amounts of time. In fact, nothing extremely thrilling happens in the film until its last half hour. The rest of the film serves as character buildup. We are given an understanding of Caul’s twisted psyche. Coppola allows the viewer to view him the way a detective would view someone he’s secretly listening to. In this manner, the detective here’s candid conversation up close and thinks he can figure everything out from there. However, the detective is not that person, and doesn’t know the full truth. This is both how Caul seems to view other people and a pretty brilliant mind trick that leaves us totally unprepared for the shocking finale.
Despite the fascination around the central mystery, this is not just a film about a story, but about a person. Hackman, always the dependable performer, brings even more life to Harry Caul. His performance here reminds me of his performance as Popeye Doyle in “The French Connection.” Caul and Doyle are very similar; they both seem to believe they’ve been put on this earth to rid evil in anyway they can.
Caul also has the added dimension of being a walking contradiction: he spies on people, yet will barely share anything of his own life with others. This may be a byproduct of having to remain in hiding for a living. Or, it could just be the work of a raging sociopath. Hackman plays Caul as being a mixture of both of these. This adds to one of the film’s eventual themes of how the world of work often spills over into the world of pleasure and that in the end, every person is vulnerable to being consumed by their job.
This film mainly showcases why Coppola, despite a less prominent future career, deserves to be known as one of the great auteurs of all time. He understands how time and place can be used to forward a story. He understands what type of music to use to jolt the viewer out of their seat. He knows when to place the light in one place and when to place it in another. Most importantly, he knows how to take a story that anybody else could’ve told wrong and figures out how to tell it right.
“The Conversation” is such an exemplary American thriller of the 1970s for many reasons. The film often reminded me of “Chinatown,” “Taxi Driver,” and “The French Connection” for its use of taut camera angles and brilliant use of light and shadows. Also, its musical score is both classical and jazzy, suggesting the great era of Film Noir. The hero of “The Conversation,” like in these other two films, also contains the characteristics of an anti-hero. Basically, the lives of others are being put in the hands of someone with a past too haunted to ever be trusted in a conventional Hollywood thriller.
All of the tense buildup of “The Conversation” is worth it. We get a mystery well worth the wait and a few scenes that simply remind us of the pure magic of good filmmaking. I guarantee the final scene of this film is one that will stay with you. It is a scene that fully respects the idea of image being more powerful then word as Caul rips apart the very floor he stands on and then smashes a statue of the Virgin Mary, suggesting a world that is not only empty of morality, but too paranoid to even care what morality is.