Goodfella's Movie Blog

Directors Series Wrap-Up

2010-08-13T11:27:00.000-04:00

OK, so the countdown did not conclude with the exact scenario that I would have chosen, but all in all I still found it to be one of the most rewarding series that I have done in the history of the blog. Perhaps it was not as time-consuming or as in-depth as some of the other countdowns, but it was every bit as difficult to make the list and then to try and rank sometimes massive bodies of work. Still, it was fun for me to do. As everyone who follows the blog knows, I am the type of cineaste that takes great pleasure in re-watching favorites. Sometimes, this works to my detriment, as I re-watch films two and three times at the expense of finally getting to the piles of movies that are waiting to be viewed for the first time. But it works perfectly for an exercise like a favorite directors series, as it was an excuse to go back and watch some all-time favorites.

As for this post, I at least wanted to conclude the series as I have all of the other countdowns with a wrap-up post that ties everything together. As I said from the start, the list would have a slant/bias toward American or English-language directors. This is not because I have anything against world cinema, it's just natural that I would give high positions to what I am more familiar with. Thus, 26 of the 30 directors in the countdown worked in Hollywood at some point in their careers. A number of them were born outside of the United States, and did significant work in Europe, but eventually came to the States and found great success. Perhaps this statistic just shows how little I know about cinema in general, but I make no apologies. Everyone on this list is a master and deserves such recognition. As I continue to become familiar with more and more directors (particularly from around the world), they might knock many of these Americans out of such a list. Until then, I stand by my choices and love the work of each director.

What I thought would be most interesting would be to throw up the names of a dozen directors who I painfully was forced to keep out of the Top 30, along with give a brief thought or explanation on their films or why I didn't include them. Although these aren't really in any particular order, the first name on the list was the hardest one to decide what to do with:

-David Lynch: There were times when I thought Lynch would push for the Top 15. Others, as ultimately happened, I wasn't sure I would even include him. The problem I have with forming an overall opinion of Lynch's work is how I tend to respond to his films. He has a few that I absolutely love and think are masterpieces - Mulholland Drive and Lost Highway. But there are others that I flat out dislike - Dune, Wild at Heart, Inland Empire. Even my high regard of Twin Peaks has tempered somewhat. So there is very little middle ground, although Blue Velvet has recently begun to click for me. So basically, it's a very hot-or-cold relationship I have with Lynch, making it very hard to place him in the context of a Top 30. So, I eventually opted to have him just on the outside looking in.

-Michael Curtiz: This would have a been a surprising selection I am sure, but it very nearly happened. And thinking about it now, I easily could have included Curtiz at least at #29 or #30. He might not have the most impressive overall body of work, but he made my favorite movie of the 1930s (Angels With Dirty Faces) and my first or second favorite film of the 1940s (Casablanca). After those two films, though, there is a drop off, with Mildred Pierce being the only other Curtiz film that really does a whole lot for me. Still. those top two are so strong that he very nearly made the list.

-Quentin Tarantino: Similar to the situation I described with David Lynch, I tend to have a hot-or-cold relationship with Tarantino. I still firmly believe that his first two films, Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, are miles and miles ahead of anything else he has ever done. I also enjoy Jackie Brown and have recently come around on Iglourious Basterds, but those few in between do nothing for me. The Kill Bill series I have trouble even taking seriously and Death Proof doesn't really thrill me. In initial drafts of my list Tarantino was included, and in looking at things now he probably makes as a strong a case for me as Spielberg or Ray, but I ultimately sided with the two who have more movies that I enjoy.

-Jacques Becker: It is hard not to take into account the small body of work that I have seen from Becker, but this didn't bar him from the list - after all, I also included Jacques Tati. Still, loving only two films from a director makes it hard to rank him over the other giants he was up against. Even so, I still maintain that Touchez pas au grisbi is one of if not the best French gangster films ever made.

-Jules Dassin: Shockingly enough, Dassin was initially a lock for the list. But when I went to make my rankings of his films, I found that I have a Big Four for him and that's it. Rififi, Brute Force and Night and the City are three of the finest noirs and films of an era. Thieves' Highway is also excellent, even if I consider slightly below the other three. Outside of those, I'm not really a fan of much else. I know that many folks consider The Naked City to be a great film but I have never been a fan. Even so, I still consider myself a huge Dassin fan and cherish those four favorites.

-Raoul Walsh: I feel like I still need to see more Walsh, which might have factored into him not being included. What I have seen though are great ones. The Roaring Twenties remains one of my favorite gangster films and in my opinion one of the best of the '30s. The reputation of White Heat speaks for itself. High Sierra is wonderful. Walsh seems to remain something of an overlooked director - everyone recognizes his work, but few think of him for lists like this.

-William Wyler:: Another classic Hollywood director that sometimes gets lumped in with being a "studio director" but who nonetheless made a number of exceptional films. What might have held him back from the list is that aside from my two favorites - The Best Years of Our Lives and The Letter - the rest of his work remains around the "consistently above average" level. By this I mean that they are very, very good films, but not quite great.

-Sergio Leone: Another odd one to rank, as he made two all-time favorites with Once Upon a Time in the West and Once Upon a Time in America, then a number of films that I just like. The Man With No Name trilogy has a staggering reputation, but I've never really connected with them as so many others have.

-Carol Reed: I've seen a small number of Carol Reed films, but they remain impressive. The The Fallen Idol and The Third Man are an impressive back-to-back combination.

-Joseph L. Mankiewicz: Another studio director that isn't immediately considered for lists like this, but I still love this writer-director's work. All About Eve remains my favorite, but the list of other impressive credits shows his consistency. House of Strangers, Somewhere in the Night, The Barefoot Contessa, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, Julius Caesar - all very solid work, some at least bordering on great.

-Akira Kurosawa: My guess is that Kurosawa would have been a lock for most list from everyone else. In a "greatest directors" series, he certainly would have made mine. I certainly appreciate his craft and recognize the talent. But since this is a "favorites" series, and Kurosawa is not a director I consistently reach for when I just want to sit back and enjoy a movie, I opted not to include him. This shouldn't be taken as disliking Kurosawa though. I love Ran, Throne of Blood, and High and Low. If I sometimes have trouble connecting to samurai films, it still doesn't detract from appreciating the overall craftsmanship and storytelling.

-Bernardo Bertolucci: I think so highly of The Conformist (a Top 10 all-time film for me) that I nearly catapulted Bertolucci into the ranks on that alone. Obviously that didn't happen, but I still gave him strong consideration. What probably kept him out is that The Conformist is _so_ far out in front of anything else he has ever made, it just didn't feel like the overall body of work could overtake those I included on the list.

I AM Alive...

2010-08-04T14:23:00.003-04:00

Sorry for the lack of updates at the conclusion of the countdown... it was just a convergence of things - me being sick, family coming into town, in the process of moving. I won't bore you with the whole saga, but it certainly was a perfect storm of events to keep me away. Now I am in the process of going on a mini-vacation for the rest of the week, so expect some sort of wrap-up post to the director's countdown sometime next week. I have ended every countdown with a post of this sort, so I think the tradition should continue.

Once again, thanks for all the fun that every one contributed to this latest series. We'll wrap it up with thoughts and whatnot next week!

#1: Alfred Hitchcock

2010-07-30T00:05:00.002-04:00

- “Give them pleasure - the same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.”

Perhaps it's a cop-out, or maybe I should just delay this posting as I did Billy Wilder's entry, but after the miserable week I have had I am just going forward now. As you'll notice, this is not a completely written out entry as all of the others have been. I had every entry to done well in advance, except for Hitch's, assuming that I would write it this week while posting the first two runners-up. Then I got sick to start the week and am only now beginning to feel human again. Even so, I'm still nowhere near 100% and have an energy level that is zapped very quickly.

Fortunately, though, there was not a whole lot of drama as to who #1 would be once Scorsese and Wilder were off the board. I've waxed lyrical about my love for a number of different Hitchcock films (Rebecca, Rear Window, Psycho), so I'll direct folks there if they want some more in-depth analysis. What I will add is that I tried to play out scenarios where the obvious choice of Hitchcock at #1 wouldn't happen... and I just couldn't do it. He has too many films that I love, a filmography too deep to be matched. I still need to better familiarize myself with his earlier British period, which will likely just increase my love of the Master of Suspense.

Once again, I apologize to end the series like this, but I'm assuming most everyone will understand. The important thing is that I'm on the mend and that everyone can now post their favorite Hitch lists!

1. Rear Window (1954)
2. Psycho (1960)
3. Rebecca (1940)
4. Vertigo (1958)
5. Strangers on a Train (1951)
6. Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
7. Dial M for Murder (1954)
8. I Confess (1953)
9. North by Northwest (1959)
10. Notorious (1946)
11. The Lady Vanishes (1938)
12. The Birds (1963)
13. Foreign Correspondent (1940)
14. Frenzy (1972)
15. Marnie (1964)
16. To Catch a Thief (1955)
17. Blackmail (1929)
18. The Thirty-Nine Steps (1935)
19. Suspicion (1941)
20. Spellbound (1945)
21. Rope (1948)
22. Saboteur (1942)
23. Lifeboat (1944)
24. The Wrong Man (1956)
25. The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)
26. The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)
27. Stage Fright (1950)
28. Torn Curtain (1966)

#2: Billy Wilder

2010-07-28T00:05:00.002-04:00

- “A director must be a policeman, a midwife, a psychoanalyst, a sycophant and a bastard.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kebqj_grGC0

I love this video and when I saw it for the first time about a month ago while searching for the video I included in the Ernst Lubitsch entry in this series, I vowed that I had to include it in the inevitable Billy Wilder post. For whatever reason, it won't allow emedding, but I encourage everyone to go watch it. It is a great example of that innate gift of storytelling that Wilder possessed – just watch him here, recounting this experience, building it to a climax, but doing so completely off the cuff as if he is just having a conversation with someone. He did the same thing in his screenwriting, effortlessly spinning tales – however believable or not – that are perfectly paced, flawlessly executed and invariably deliver a payoff to live up to any expectations.

While not quite as diverse as the resume of Howard Hawks, Wilder is another classic Hollywood director who tried his hand in a number of genres and hit it out of the park in many different stadiums, so to speak (Hey, the Reds are winning, why not use the baseball metaphor?!). And I don’t mean that he simply made outstanding films in a number of areas, I mean that he helmed movies that are routinely cited as being the best of their kind ever made. Look at the praise they have received. Some Like It Hot was voted the greatest American comedy ever made by the AFI in the year 2000. Double Indemnity is routinely cited as one of the finest films noir ever made. Sunset Boulevard is another classic noir, but transcends such genre classification and is rightly acknowledged as one of the finest movies ever made in Hollywood. With The Apartment, Wilder created not only one of the funniest films of the sound era, but the romantic comedy that countless big budget productions and popular television sitcoms have been mimicking ever since. I could go on with further examples, but anyone familiar with Wilder’s work already knows the score. The man could craft a story in any style or genre and not just make it work, but make it spectacular.

Similar to what I did say for Hawks, though, is that Wilder brought a cohesive vision to each unique project, essentially stamping his own imprint in each genre. Everything Wilder did, no matter how serious, always seems to have been done a bit tongue-in-cheek. Even as Walter and Phyllis were plotting murder in Double Indemnity, the breakneck speed and cadence of the dialog can’t help but make one grin. Ditto for Sunset Boulevard, which at times plays like a black comedy. The outlook that Wilder adopted for much of his work is actually a rather dark, pessimistic one. His films might eventually wind their way to more optimistic territory, but for most of the proceedings Wilder puts on display the sleazy side of human nature. Trysting couples plotting murder for profit. A reporter keeping a man trapped in a cave in order to further is his own career. An insurance man fishing for a promotion by opening his own apartment to company higher-ups to conduct affairs. A down on his luck writer who strings out the money and affection of an ex-star. Initially, these are not immediately likable characters. Yet, Wilder’s wit is enough to keep any of his films from being completely dark. The dialog is so crisp, the situations so entertaining, that eventually you find yourself being won over or rooting for any of them. This of course doesn’t apply to all of his films, but is applicable in many of them.

It must have been easy to impart these themes and views in each of his films, as Wilder co-wrote every film he ever directed. In fact, even after he became one of the most celebrated directors in Hollywood, Wilder was still known to view himself primarily as a writer. Just look at his tombstone, which can easily be seen by doing a simple Google search. The only inscription reads: “BILLY WILDER – I’M A WRITER BUT THEN NOBODY’S PERFECT.” Legend has it that Wilder fully threw himself into directing only because he didn’t want to have to hand over his scripts to those that might butcher them. It is thus no coincidence that he co-wrote every film he ever directed. So it is also worth applauding his writing partners I.A.L Diamond and Charles Brackett who worked perfectly with Billy. Even so, while his focus may have been more on the writing process, Wilder was wily enough to team with technical geniuses, resulting in strikingly memorable visuals. Working with legends like John Seitz, Joseph LaShelle, Charles Lang and others meant that all of his films are wonderful to look at. His directorial technique may not have been groundbreaking, but the results were still spectacular.

I still have a way to go before I have made my way through Billy Wilder’s entire filmography. But I can honestly say that I don’t dislike a single one of the nineteen films listed below, which makes me even more excited to finally get to those that I am missing.

1. The Apartment (1960)
2. Double Indemnity (1944)
3. Sunset Boulevard (1950)
4. Five Graves to Cairo (1943)
5. One, Two, Three (1961)
6. Ace in the Hole (1951)
7. A Foreign Affair (1948)
8. Stalag 17 (1953)
9. Kiss Me Stupid (1964)
10. Some Like It Hot (1959)
11. Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
12. The Seven Year Itch (1955)
13. Avanti! (1972)
14. The Fortune Cookie (1966)
15. Sabrina (1954)
16. The Lost Weekend (1945)
17. Irma La Douce (1963)
18. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)
19. The Spirit of St. Louis (1957)

One day delay...

2010-07-26T16:25:00.003-04:00

Unless things change drastically this evening, I am going to push back the countdown by one day and have it resume on Wednesday. I feel absolutely horrible, with what apparently is not official strep throat but feels the same nonetheless, and have no desire to rush the post for tomorrow. It is ready to go, it just needs to be edited, formatted, etc., which isn't an overly difficult task, but just posting this small message is zapping most of my energy. Sorry for the delay, but I just feel like staying in bed all evening and praying I feel better tomorrrow.

#3: Martin Scorsese

2010-07-25T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “Cinema is a matter of what`s in the frame and what`s out.”

The inclusion is no shocker, although the fact that he did not place #1 might be. Just looking at the name of this blog should give away the fact that Martin Scorsese is not only one of my favorite directors, but also one of the most important in my development as a lover of cinema. He was the first director that made me consciously realize that I was watching a man who excelled at making crossover films – entertaining enough to appeal to a mass audience yet weighty enough for serious scholars and critics to sink their teeth into. It is no coincidence that this blog is named after my favorite Scorsese film. I watched Goodfellas as a kid who was obsessed with all things organized crime and was more interested in anything gangster-related than I was in movies. I came away completely obsessed with film. I knew nothing about technical achievements (and I suppose you could argue I still don’t!), but I was aware enough recognize the sensation that some of Scorsese’s skills produced – the legendary tracking shot at the Copa, the use of “Layla” while revealing the dead bodies. Those moments are what drew me toward appreciating films as more than just simple entertainment.

Really, that opening paragraph alone should be enough to justify placement in a personal favorites list. His films – and Goodfellas in particular – were and are that important to me. I relish each phase of his career. I love the early indie feel of Mean Streets and Who’s That Knocking at My Door? The middle period that produced classics like Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and The King of Comedy is now the stuff of legend and justifiably so. The 1990s saw him produce what I consider to be the finest gangster film ever made and a number of intriguing genre exercises. Even now, when many are quick to dismiss him as over the hill, I find Scorsese in the last decade to have been spectacular – I still have so much fun watching The Aviator and remain in love with Shutter Island. At no point in my journey through Scorsese’s works have I found myself bored.

Knowing a bit about Scorsese himself, hearing him discuss how he personally fell in love with movies, is also very appealing. Watch any interviews of him discussing his favorite childhood films or admired filmmakers. He gets a glint in his eye when he recalls seeing The Searchers for the first time, or watching a Michael Powell classic like The Red Shoes. Like so many of his contemporaries in the “film school generation,” Scorsese is first and foremost a film fanatic. He loves everything about the cinema and takes great pleasure in drawing attention to his own personal favorites. I love this about Marty. I guess you could argue that this attribute really shouldn’t have an impact in a list like this, but I think it is essential to Scorsese. It fuels that passion that he infuses into all of his work. Someone who didn’t love movies as deeply as does Marty would not be able to keep this up for over thirty years.

His technical chops are well-chronicled, and I touch on just a few of my favorites in that opening paragraph. The talent to combine all of the elements of a movie – camera movement, actors, dialog, soundtrack, pacing – into one cohesive, all-consuming experience is his greatest strength. While this is a series devoted to my favorite directors, Scorsese’s longtime collaborator and friend Thelma Schoonmaker at least deserves credit for an assist, as without her continuing presence Scorsese’s films just wouldn’t feel right. In connection with his long association with Schoonmaker, it is also interesting to note the number of longstanding relationships that Scorsese has developed with various actors and personalities over the years, recalling other great directors that preferred using a stock group of players and associates. It is hard to ponder Scorsese’s career without also bringing to mind personalities like Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel, Joe Pesci, Paul Schrader, and Leonardo DiCaprio.

This selection was never in doubt. The only drama came from deciding where in the Top 4 he would land. As for my list below, there will be one notable omission from my list – The Last Temptation of Christ. For whatever reason, I still have not seen it and have remained hesitant to do so. I can’t even explain why this has been the case, it simply has. I know many folks consider it be one of Marty’s very best, so I need to make a point of getting to it, which I will eventually. It should also be noted that depending on when you ask me, Goodfellas could be a routine choose as my all-time favorite movie.

Ask me to fiddle with the rankings tomorrow and Scorsese could very easily be #1. So keep that in mind as the remaining two are revealed. Even more so than in the annual countdown and noir series, these rankings are incredibly fluid.

1. Goodfellas (1990)
2. Raging Bull (1980)
3. Taxi Driver (1976)
4. Casino (1995)
5. The King of Comedy (1983)
6. Shutter Island (2010)
7. Mean Streets (1973)
8. The Aviator (2004)
9. Who’s That Knocking at My Door? (1967)
10. The Departed (2006)
11. Gangs of New York (2002)
12. The Age of Innocence (1993)
13. Bringing Out the Dead (1999)
14. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)
15. Kundun (1997)
16. Cape Fear (1991)
17. The Color of Money (1986)
18. After Hours (1985)
19. New York, New York (1977)
20. Boxcar Bertha (1972)

#4: Preston Sturges

2010-07-23T00:05:00.003-04:00

- “The most incredible thing about my career is that I had one.”

If there was a dark horse to sneak up and steal the top slot in this countdown, it was certainly Preston Sturges. As the series has progressed, I have gone back and forth over who will occupy that first position and in all honesty, I could make a case for each of the top four. In fact, at various times, I’ve floated the idea in my own mind of completing the countdown with each of them. In this case, it was hard to resist the temptation after re-watching all ten of the Preston Sturges films that I own. Sturges, Chaplin and Malick were the only directors that I did this for and it is no coincidence that this refresher course in each man’s oeuvre cemented such prominent placements. It reminded me that I have still not seen a single poor Sturges film, and even more importantly that his top eight pictures are infinitely enjoyable. Even having seen each of them multiple times, I never fail to laugh and smile in the same spots every single time and discover jokes that I overlooked in previous go-rounds. The writing is so well-crafted, the humor so witty and sly to try and slip things past powerful censors of the day; they are light comedies that actually reward close repeat viewings.

Sturges the man is almost as fascinating as the spectacular body of work that he created. His career path is a complete anomaly, not only because of the short window of time in which he shined but for how he entered the film business. Sturges began his career on Broadway, but even his stint there is unique in that he didn’t even begin writing plays until he was thirty years-old. After quickly finding success on the stage, movie executives came calling and lured him to Hollywood. Sturges spent the 1930s working as a writer-for-hire, penning a number of outstanding screenplays like Easy Living and Remember the Night. As wonderful as the dialogue and comedy are in those underrated films, though, it was the astounding seven comedies he made between 1940 and 1944 that account for the Sturges legacy. The legend of how Sturges managed to convince Paramount Pictures to let him try his hand at directing is one of my favorites. Knowing that he had penned a great script, Sturges took it to Paramount and offered a deal – he would sell it to them for only $1 on the condition that he would be allowed to direct it. The discounted The Great McGinty script was good enough to earn Sturges the first ever Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay and the film itself remains a classic. It kicked off arguably the most productive four year span from a director in Hollywood history.

It could be argued that Sturges is so well regarded more for his writing than his directing. When I consider his films, I think more of the humor and dialog of the screenplays than I do virtuoso camera movements or great visuals. But similar to my feelings toward Charlie Chaplin, I don’t think it’s necessary to separate the two components of his work. As Sturges himself would acknowledge, the fact that he wrote his own material was pivotal to his success. “I did all my directing when I wrote the screenplay. It was probably harder for a regular director,” Sturges would reminisce. “He probably had to read the script the night before shooting started.” So there is no question that the writing is integral. But I don’t think that Sturges the director should be completely overlooked. Aside from the humor of his dialog, his best films display a great deal of wonderfully choreographed physical comedy which would seem to require more than a sharp pen. His later classic (“later” in terms of Sturges’ career) Unfaithfully Yours is magically handled from a technical standpoint, weaving together dream sequences seamlessly.

In the end, it matters very little whether you want to specifically credit Sturges the writer or Sturges the director. He was the man at the helm of eight of the greatest comedies I have ever seen. He took the sophistication of Ernst Lubitsch, combined his own brand of screwball antics and situations, and the result was a uniquely Sturges mixture of laugh out loud hilarity, poignant social statements, startling sensuality, and tongue-in-cheek subversiveness. To me, Preston Sturges is at the very least the greatest writer-director of comedy to work in Hollywood in the sound era – if not in any era. His films never fail to make me smile.

1. The Lady Eve (1941)
2. The Palm Beach Story (1942)
3. Christmas in July (1940)
4. Sullivan’s Travels (1941)
5. Unfaithfully Yours (1948)
6. Hail the Conquering Hero (1944)
7. The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944)
8. The Great McGinty (1940)
9. The Sin of Harold Diddlebock (1947)
10. The Great Moment (1944)

#5: Charles Chaplin

2010-07-21T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “I went into the business for the money, and the art grew out of it. If people are disillusioned by that remark, I can't help it. It's the truth.”

Even today, his face is one of the most iconic images in the history of cinema. Just saying his name evokes daydreams of vintage era Hollywood and a period of vibrant creativity in the movie industry. People completely unfamiliar with his films or cinema history are aware of the symbols that he made famous – the Little Tramp Character, the trademark mustache, the top hat and cane. Charlie Chaplin’s contributions to the movie industry cannot be overestimated. As an actor and performer, he was the first comedy megastar of the screen, perfecting a brand of slapstick and physical comedy that has never been equaled. As a pioneer in the industry, Chaplin became one of the first stars to gain virtual autonomy over his projects, writing, directing, producing, starring in, and in many cases writing the music for, his greatest accomplishments. Chaplin the businessman was equally as important. Soon after coming to Hollywood he had already worked his way to being the highest paid actor in the world. In 1919, in hopes of gaining even greater control over every stage of his work, he partnered with fellow film veterans Mary Pickford, D.W. Griffith and Douglas Fairbanks to found United Artists. This was revolutionary for the time.

So to call Chaplin a GIANT is to understate his significance. He is arguably _the_ giant of film.

It’s impossible for me to separate Chaplin the director from Chaplin the actor, or Chaplin the all-around creative genius. And I don’t know that it’s even necessary to do so, even for such a list like this. The reason I say this is because his approach to moviemaking, at least through the most celebrated years of his career, centered on his being able to draw on every talent he possessed in the process of filming. Rarely did he write a completed script before beginning shooting. Instead he started with a general premise, acquired the necessary sets and equipment, and then began tinkering as he went. As one idea came on top of another, the general structure of the film would begin to crystallize and everyone would play off of what developed. The Little Tramp is the perfect character for such a style, as his crazy antics come across just as freewheeling as the director’s.

He was one of the rare comedians who could just as easily make you misty-eyed as he could make you laugh. Aside from the hilarious comedy that is prevalent in his films, it is that sincere heart that infuses Chaplin’s work that appeals most to me. Some may argue that things border on overly sentimental, but the amazing thing is that when Chaplin makes such obvious appeals to emotion, the pathos comes across as genuinely heartfelt. Few directors, actors, or artists period can pull that off and Chaplin did it routinely.

I still have many, many Chaplin shorts to get to, but I feel pretty solid on my ranking of his features.

Features
1. Modern Times (1936)
2. City Lights (1931)
3. The Circus (1928)
4. The Kid (1921)
5. The Gold Rush (1925)
6. The Great Dictator (1940)
7. Limelight (1952)
8. Monsieur Verdoux (1947)
9. A Woman of Paris (1923)
10. A King in New York (1957)
11. A Countess from Hong Kong (1967)

Shorts
1. The Adventurer (1917)
2. The Cure (1917)
3. Easy Street (1917)
4. The Immigrant (1917)
5. Shoulder Arms (1918)
6. One A.M. (1916)
7. A Dog’s Life (1918)
8. Behind the Screen (1916)
9. The Pilgrim (1923)
10. The Floorwalker (1916)
11. The Idle Class(1921)
12. The Pawnshop (1916)
13. The Vagabond (1916)
14. The Count (1916)
15. The Fireman (1916)
16. The Rounders (1914)

#6: Terrence Malick

2010-07-19T00:05:00.006-04:00

- “They’re not intellectual so much as they’re visceral. I don’t know how you explain it… they’re like poems, you know. You can analyze it to death, but it still is not going to get to what this poem is doing to you… to your psyche, your body, you know, it’s never going to solve that.”

- Sam Shepard

Trying to find a quote about direction or film in general from the notoriously reclusive Terrence Malick is a nearly impossible task, so rather than scouring the ‘net looking for one, I thought that this statement from Days of Heaven star Sam Shepard would be the perfect opening to this entry. It comes from one of the extras on the recently released Days of Heaven Criterion Collection, as Shepard describes what drew him to working with Malick. Coming into the project as a writer, Shepard talks about how there was something magnetic in the script, something that pulled him to doing the project, and then attempts to describe Malick's films. And in ruminating on what it is about Malick’s work that maintains such a mesmerizing hold on so many people, he offers this fitting thought. It meshes so perfectly with my own feelings toward Malick’s work that I jotted it down the first time I heard it and vowed to somehow work it into this post.

If placing Francis Ford Coppola was the most difficult task of this project, deciding exactly where to place a man with just four total movies to his credit ran a close second. What exactly do you do with someone who has made only four films over the course of a nearly forty year career? On Thursday in the Coppola entry, I even touched on the fact that at this stage in the countdown that consistency and depth of quality films has to play a role. Such diversity is obviously lacking from a man whose workrate equates to roughly averaging one film released per decade. The issue is compounded by the fact that one of his four films is one that I have only recently begun to grow fond of. So while I might not be maintaining consistency when it comes to criteria in evaluating each director, such standards are irrelevant when I assess my passion for the cinema of Terrence Malick. It is a testament to the transcendent experience of his three films that I do love – two in particular retaining the ability to routinely give me chills at times while watching them – when I do not hesitate in giving Malick such a high placement.

Over the short history of this blog, I have written and discussed Malick’s The New World more than any other film. I’ll direct folks here, where The New World was chosen as my top film of 2005, if anyone is interested in seeing my full thoughts on that film. I also produced a similar post for Days of Heaven, which might not be as gushing as the ’05 entry, but also shows the love I have for that film. What draws me to films like this, which the uninitiated or non-Malick fans find so lumbering and inane? To answer this question, I ultimately return to the Sam Shepard quotation above. I’ve thought many times and can never quite put my finger on it. The more I analyze it, the less I feel like I can explain it. All I know is that Malick’s films have the ability to completely, totally transfix me. The incredibly beautiful images virtually hypnotize me. Even that explanation is an evasion, though, as for me it is more than just the gorgeous cinematography. Many people argue that Malick’s narrative technique leaves much to be desired, but the man has created some of the most powerfully moving drama I’ve ever experienced. The plague and wildfire of Days of Heaven; Witt’s death in The Thin Red Line; the reunion between John Smith and Pocahontas in The New World; and, most especially, the closing sequence with Pocahontas’ death – these scenes are so well done they give me chills. And so as Shepard says, no amount of analysis is going to pinpoint what it is.

Regarding the spectacular visuals in his films, I have written elsewhere about Malick concerning the credit he deserves in this area. Not knowing a whole lot about technical production, I’m always a bit hesitant as to who deserves the bulk of the praise for the look of a film – the director or the cinematographer. Malick’s case is unique though, in that he has worked with a different director of photography on all four of his films, yet all four of them look marvelous. This leads me to believe that Malick himself much be a significant factor in achieving these results.

Malick easily could be a Top 5 selection. Trying to separate favorites at this point is excruciatingly hard. Particularly in this instance, where a movie like The New World is continually inching toward being my all-time favorite film. Perhaps one or two more films like his recent releases and Malick will move toward the very top of a list like this. Bring on Tree of Life!

As a postscript, since I haven't talked about Badlands at all in this post, I thought I would pose this question to everyone. I re-watched it specifically for this series, which was probably the fourth time I've seen it. What struck me about it this time around was how dryly funny it can be. Kit's one-liners and retorts, the off the wall things he says out of nowhere, something about the entire storyline makes me view it as some sort of unique dark comedy. I've never viewed it this way before, but that is all I could think about when watching it this time.

1. The New World (2005)
2. Days of Heaven (1978)
3. The Thin Red Line (1998)
4. Badlands (1973)

#7: Howard Hawks

2010-07-17T00:05:00.000-04:00

- “I'm a storyteller - that's the chief function of a director.”

His is the first name to come to mind when I think of the preeminent American-born directors of the classic Hollywood era. Many of his contemporaries, both in terms of time period and actual talent or stature, immigrated to America and then rose to dominate Hollywood – Billy Wilder, Frank Capra, Fritz Lang, Robert Siodmak were just a few of many who were born in Europe and rose to prominence in Tinseltwon. There were also many other outstanding Americans rising to prominence around the same time – indeed, other great American directors like Anthony Mann and John Huston have already been featured in this series. But in my mind, when I think of the archetypal American director of the period, it is always Howard Hawks.

What makes this such a natural belief is that Hawks not only dabbled in nearly every significant genre of the 30s, 40s and 50s, he produced all-time classics. His comedies of the 1930s are considered to be not only among the best screwball comedies, but some of the funniest movies ever made. Bringing Up Baby and His Girl Friday are routinely listed among the greatest comedies. His original version of Scarface in 1932 is arguably the best of the classic gangster films. The Big Sleep is among a handful of absolutely essential films noir that anyone wishing to familiarize themselves with the genre/style must see early in their quest. Air Force is as good as out-and-out propaganda films get. To Have and Have Not is as close as anyone would ever come to matching Casablanca. The Thing From Another World (which he is commonly assumed to have handled much of the directorial duties on) is a splendid piece of 1950s science-fiction and horror. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a musical comedy par excellence, which even someone like myself who normally has no interest in such films finds outstanding. And westerns like Rio Bravo and Red River are as incredible a one-two western punch as any director – Ford, Mann, Leone, Eastwood, anyone – ever made.

I could go on listing examples, but I think you get the point. There are other directors that can match his versatility, but I can count on one hand the directors who can match his mastery of such different genres and styles. Why was he so successful while moving in such varying fields? It might play like a broken record in these parts, as regulars here at Goodfella’s have heard me say it again and again, but Howard Hawks is simply one of the finest storytellers in the history of cinema. He might not have been a writer like other greats such as Wilder, Welles, and others. But he worked with a core group of writers that brought staggering talent to the page – Jules Furthmann, Leigh Brackett, Ben Hecth, William Faulkner – and whose screenplays inevitable possessed the characteristics that have now come to be recognized as “Hawksian.” Themes concerning friendship, professionalism, and seeing a job through to very end regardless of the consequences are the foundations of a Hawks drama. I still maintain that no one, not even the great Sam Peckinpah, ever handled ideas of bonding and close, intense friendship among male characters better than Hawks.

So with such versatility and excellence, it is easy to understand why I revere Howard Hawks. This is a placement that I almost regret, as I want to nudge him just a little higher. For now, I can’t as the competition is getting far too tough. Suffice to say that from this point on, the list could be inverted and I wouldn’t really quibble with the rankings.

1. Rio Bravo (1959)
2. Red River (1948)
3. The Big Sleep (1946)
4. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
5. To Have and Have Not (1944)
6. Scarface (1932)
7. Twentieth Century (1934)
8. His Girl Friday (1940)
9. Only Angels Have Wings (1939)
10. Air Force (1943)
11. Monkey Business (1952)
12. The Thing from Another World (1951)
13. El Dorado (1967)
14. The Criminal Code (1931)
15. Bringing Up Baby (1938)
16. Tiger Shark (1932)
17. Sergeant York (1941)
18. Ball of Fire (1941)
19. Rio Lobo (1970)

#8: Francis Ford Coppola

2010-07-15T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “A number of images put together a certain way become something quite above and beyond what any of them are individually.”

Placing Francis Ford Coppola in a countdown of this scope has been, without question, the most difficult task of the entire project. Trying to slot him into a comfortable position made me examine exactly how I was judging and ranking each director, and at the end of it all, I’m still not certain that consistency has been maintained. I say this because, as I have repeated many times in discussions on various blogs throughout the ‘net, I am a person who is much more interested in seeing how high one can reach, rather than dwelling on misfires. I don’t care if a director makes ten duds if he manages to squeeze out one or two masterpieces along the way; I’m much more interested in devoting my time to the great ones than worrying about the stumbles. Considering Coppola’s career in that frame of mind, he could make a strong case for jumping all the way to the top spot. If we’re stacking up irrefutable masterpieces, Coppola in my opinion boasts as many as any other director you will find in this Top 30. In my eyes, Coppola _owned_ the 1970s. I’d be leery of anyone claiming that The Godfather, The Godfather: Part II, or Apocalypse Now are not truly great films. I'd personally make the argument of elevating The Conversation to that level as well. On the basis of those four films alone, Coppola would enter this countdown.

And that’s precisely what makes placing him so difficult – it is almost solely because of those four masterpieces that he merits such lofty praise from me. The Godfather Part III and Dracula are very good films, but to me they pale in comparison to Coppola’s best. The conundrum is made even more difficult by the fact that at this stage of the countdown – meaning the Top 10 – every single director has multiple masterworks on their resume. So a certain amount of depth and consistency has to come into play. In that area, Coppola doesn’t quite match up to those ahead of him.

I also am not one of those who constantly cry and lament over the “lost genius” of a once transcendent filmmaker. Make no mistake, I don’t think he has done anything post-Apocalypse Now that comes close to his four masterpieces of the 1970s, but I do still like Dracula the final installment of The Godfather trilogy, and even enjoyed his recent Tetro. Even so, it’s hard not to at least give thought to the “what might have been” scenarios in which he continued making truly great films into the next decade as some of his contemporaries did. Rather than dwelling on such hypothetical situations, though, I instead just return again and again (and again and again…) to my favorite Coppola works. I have yet to tire of The Godfather films. Apocalypse Now arguable trumps them all. The Conversation improves upon Antonioni’s intriguing original vision. For all of the mythology and hoopla that has come to surround his biggest productions - not to mention the seriously grating, conceited personality that he regularly displays - it is important to never forget how great a director Coppola can be.

The top three on my list are completely interchangeable, with any ordering being perfectly acceptable. For now, this is what I will stick with (even though during the 70s poll last year at Wonders in the Dark, I had Apocalypse Now as my #1 for the decade...)

1. The Godfather (1972)
2. The Godfather Part II (1974)
3. Apocalypse Now (1979)
4. The Conversation (1974)
5. Dracula (1992)
6. The Godfather Part III (1990)
7. Tetro (2009)
8. The Outsiders (1983)
9. Rumble Fish (1983)
10. Tucker: The Man and His Dream (1988)
11. The Rainmaker (1997)
12. Jack (1996)

#9: Jean-Pierre Melville

2010-07-13T00:05:00.002-04:00

- "I believe that you must be madly in love with cinema to create films."

I love the title of the Ginette Vincendeau’s biography of Jean-Pierre Melville – Jean-Pierre Melville: An American in Paris. While such an epithet might be a little too constraining in assessing the work of such a great director, I bring it up here because it is one of the qualities that first attracted me to Melville. When I first started to branch out and familiarize myself with films from around the world, Melville was one of the first directors that I turned to. Everything I read about and from the man fascinated me. His obsession and encyclopedic knowledge of classic Hollywood cinema intrigued me, as he was known to worship so many of the same directors, films, and actors that I had grown to love. It wasn’t just cinema either, but his complete love of American culture fascinated me. And in the first films that I watched, I saw the fingerprints of this love of all things American. I was instantly amazed at how he adapted conventions from classic Hollywood noir, gangster films, and crime drama to the streets of his native France – and almost had to pinch myself when I realized that not only did he adapt them, he improved upon them.

But to look at him solely as an American in Paris overlooks how important his French heritage, and the era in which he came of age, is in much of his best work. Melville may be regarded as the greatest director of “gangster pictures,” but his work centered on the French Resistance is just as impressive. Perhaps the two facets of Melville’s work shouldn’t really be separated, though, as he infused a noirish element into these war films, making Army of Shadows an experience unique from any other similar movies of the era.

I began taking stock of all of the Melville that I had seen shortly before this series began, when Doniphon began his wonderful series on Melville at The Long Voyage Home. I encourage everyone to check out Doniphon’s insights into the cinema of Melville, as he provides far more astute observations than you will find in this piece. What I realized in reading Doniphon’s work, and in gathering my thoughts for my own entry here, is why Melville’s work is so durable for me. By durable, I mean the way that it simply stays with you – his are not movies that are viewed for two hours and then cast aside as you move on to the next film. A Melville stays with you, forcing you to ruminate on it, begging you to return to it. Why do his films have such an effect? I attribute it to the unmatched ability of the director to create enveloping moods. There are certainly technically brilliant elements on display in many of his films – the great cinematography in Le Doulos immediately comes to mind, as does the wonderful use of drab colors in Le Samourai – but none of those individual technical achievements are as memorable as the moods and tones Melville creates. Just thinking about Le Samourai makes me think of steamy Parisian streets and a jazz club. Le Doulos instantly has me picturing fedoras and gangsters. Le Cercle Rouge brings to mind the ultimate game of cat-and-mouse. Bob le Flambeur transports me to a casino of some sort. No one has ever been better at creating moods.

There is not a bad movie on my list.

1. Army of Shadows (1969)
2. Le Samourai (1967)
3. Le Cercle Rouge (1970)
4. Le Doulos (1962)
5. Le deuxième souffle (1966)
6. Bob le Flambeur (1955)
7. Le Silence de la Mer (1949)
8. Un Flic (1972)
9. Les enfants terribles (1950)

#10: Sam Peckinpah

2010-07-11T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “I loved Westerns as a kid, and I wanted to see if they held up.”

Like #14 in this series, this is another of my more recent interests. If this countdown had been done just a year ago, Sam Peckinpah would not have been included. My initial reaction to the man known as Bloody Sam, which came from watching his most acclaimed film The Wild Bunch a few years ago, was not as positive as I expected it to be. Perhaps I was still too much in a Howard Hawks frame of mind, as the opinionated director was on record as declaring that he didn’t think too much of the violent and frenzied action sequences that Peckinpah sprinkled throughout The Wild Bunch. Something just didn’t completely click – I liked it, but wondered what all the fuss was about. It’s amazing the transformation that one positive experience can bring about. All it took was one viewing of his notorious Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid to make me a believer. Going into it considering myself at best lukewarm toward Peckinpah, I came away from it completely floored. It still holds the power to transfix me ever time I watch it. That film showed me that the main criticism of Peckinpah’s work – that of it being little more than gunfights and bloodbaths – is completely off the mark. His admitted preoccupation with violence serves a purpose. But even more important, Peckinpah rarely gets the credit he deserves for the subtle, intimate touches he so masterfully intersperses with the violence. There are particular scenes in Pat Garrett and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia that are achingly beautiful in both their visual poetry and content. And these sequences deserve just as much praise as Peckinpah’s chops as a director and editor of action.

This key realization made me not only reassess what little Peckinpah I had seen before PG&BtK, but also to immediately go through the rest of his films. What I discovered was a director that has had me under his spell for months now. Many of his best films are not easy to love, requiring me to watch them multiple times before I felt comfortable with them. Peckinpah has emerged for me as a director with a unique worldview, using almost every filmmaking opportunity to deal with a specific set of ideals. Ideas of fearing death and violence, yet constantly courting it; of the ending of eras; the closing of the Old West; dealing with living past your usefulness. These obsessions constantly return in Peckinpah’s greatest works. Outside of Howard Hawks, no one ever dealt with the strong bonds of friendship between male comrades as did Peckinpah. You will rarely see me use the chic “auteur” label in my writings, but it feels so fitting when discussing Bloody Sam (sorry, I just love that nickname too much not to use it again!).

As you’ll see from the rankings, I’ve come quite a long way from my original assessment of The Wild Bunch. I still don’t rank it at the top of my list as most Peckinpah fans do, but my appreciation of it continues to grow. I wonder how many other people (and would love to hear thoughts on this) change their mind about a film(s) when revisiting it after having delved deeper into a director’s other work? This is precisely what happened with me and Peckinpah’s most famous western. The other thing about Peckinpah’s entire filmography that never ceases to amaze me is that despite how many financial disasters he made, his Top 10 films are consistently outstanding. Ordering may vary, but my guess is that most people will agree with the top ten, and there is not a subpar film in the group. I can’t go so far as to say that he never made a bad film, because later in his career he mailed it on a few duds. But those first ten are all outstanding. A number of them are ridiculously underrated – Major Dundee, even its butchered form, is near great; Cross of Iron is an overlooked war epic; The Ballad of Cable Hogue is irresistible. If I had to the guts to do it, I could easily place Cable Hogue all the way at #3. Before I saw Straw Dogs for the first time, I was led to believe that I might have the same problems I experienced with A Clockwork Orange. I didn’t – in Straw Dogs I actually cared to contemplate why the violence is taking place. The Getaway is sitting at #10, which might come across as a putdown, but it really isn’t. All ten are very good, some flat out great. A few of them I really struggled and went back and forth on while trying to place them. For instance – there were times when I felt both Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia and Cross of Iron should definitely have been Top 5, but I still don’t feel like I have a complete read on either film, Alfredo Garcia in particular. It is such a beguiling movie, one that left me unsure whether I loved or it hated it after watching it.

So as you can see, the Peckinpah bug has really bitten me. These are movies that reward multiple viewings and that show him to be a much more complex director than he is often given credit for. And I’d give almost anything to be able to seen Noon Wine! Is it even available anywhere?

1. Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973)
2. The Wild Bunch (1969)
3. Ride the High Country (1962)
4. Straw Dogs (1971)
5. The Ballad of Cable Hogue (1970)
6. Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974)
7. Cross of Iron (1977)
8. Major Dundee (1965)
9. Junior Bonner (1972)
10. The Getaway (1972)
11. The Deadly Companions (1961)
12. The Killer Elite (1975)
13. Convoy (1978)

#11: Orson Welles

2010-07-09T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.”

Here he is… the three thousand pound gorilla in any list of favorite or best directors. A slight backlash against Mr. Welles has developed from some, due to his constant ranking as the greatest director of all time and the assumption that Citizen Kane must sit atop any ranking of the best films ever made. But if the shoe fits… There is no question that the influence that Welles has had on countless generations of filmmakers to come after him and the technical and structural innovations he used in his work make him a towering figure in the history of cinema. And I admit that the task of placing him in a list like this is difficult after becoming accustomed to seeing Welles unanimously placed at the top of similar projects or pieces about the most important directors of all time.

One thing that I have always pondered is what Welles’ reputation would be like if he had been able to at least moderately adjust to the Hollywood studio system. As everyone knows, the story of Welles post-Kane projects is littered with battles against studio heads and grappling for the final say on editing of his films. The result was that for a bulk of his prime years, Welles was a star without a home. He worked as a freelance director taking the best offers he received. After the war, he directed mostly low budget pictures for studios like Republic and International Pictures. For most of the 1950s he went into self-imposed exile in Europe, picking up money from acting jobs that he used to finance his own directorial projects as best he could. In the 1960s, when he was no longer the boywonder of the entertainment world, he arguably soldiered on to make some of his finest work, even though box office success was a thing of the past. So, the question I often ponder is this: had he been able to fit in better in Hollywood, how would his reputation have been affected? Two interesting options always come to mind. It’s possible that he would have been able to stay in the States for his entire career, resulting in greater exposure for more of his work (outside of Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil, the usual suspects) and his status would only increase. On the other hand, I can’t help but thinking that the independent streak that Welles is remembered for can’t hurt in building his legend. There is something admirable about a man who refuses (or at least goes down fighting) to compromise his vision and decides to strike out on his own rather than submit to the whims of executives. I have no answer to this hypothetical, but it’s an interesting “What if?” I’d be interested in hearing the thoughts of others.

Regardless of all of this speculating, the reputation that Welles currently enjoys is justified. He is the greatest actor-director of the sound era, and arguably of all time. I respect his acting ability so much that I’m not sure which of his two talents impresses me more. No actor was better at launching into on-screen monologues like Welles. As a director, I have always admired his choice of material, involving very in-depth character studies. His constant experimenting with abstract visual styles and techniques is probably his greatest contribution. Pulling away all of the acclaim and hyperbole that has accumulated over the years reveals a director who is every bit as good as advertised. There is a reason that the praise has piled up for decades – Welles was simply a great and visionary filmmaker.

1. Citizen Kane (1941)
2. Touch of Evil (1958)
3. Chimes at Midnight (1965)
4. Othello (1952)
5. Mr. Arkadin (1955)
6. The Lady from Shanghai (1947)
7. The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)
8. The Stranger (1946)
9. The Trial (1962)
10. Macbeth (1948)
11. F for Fake (1973)

#12: Joel & Ethan Coen

2010-07-07T00:05:00.002-04:00

- “One of the pleasures of movies is creating a world . . . it gives you a license to do certain things.”

They may be among the preeminent visual stylists of this era, but it’s hard to deny that the greatest asset the Coen Brothers possess is their unparalleled writing talent. They are equally adept at writing the crass stoner comedy of The Big Lebowski or the casual philosophical wit of A Serious Man. They can write traditional drama equally as well, creating situations and dialogue in Blood Simple and No Country For Old Men. Then, of course, are their famed hybrids, films like Fargo or Barton Fink that aren’t straight comedy but aren’t straight drama either. All of their films have an undeniable “Coens feel” to them, but each one is varied from any of its predecessors. It’s easy to imagine that their scripts are so well written that directors need simply to follow them to a tee and positive results will ensue. In fact, I’ve heard as much in interviews. I remember seeing John Goodman talking about the making of The Big Lebowski and how the screenplay was so spot-on that no one dared change anything about it… even down to following the stutters and cadences that were written directly into the script.

Still, it’s impossible to deny the visual flair that their films boast. And I don’t say this in a Malick-like way, where every film just looks spectacular. Instead, each Coens film is unique, with an appearance that seems to perfectly fit the story being told. Blood Simple captured the gritty, B-noir feel of the murder plot. Fargo lets the snow whites of South Dakota wash over everything. The noirish The Man Who Wasn’t There boasts the best black and white cinematography of recent years. As a modern western of sorts, No Country For Old Men allows the landscape to be shown off through dusk-like lighting and photography. These are just a few examples, but it substantiates what I am saying. They are definitely more than just talented writers who happen to direct/produce.

Even when they are playing it straight though, there is a certain wit or cynicism lying just beneath everything. Like Billy Wilder before them, it’s easy to imagine Joel and Ethan sitting behind the camera with a sly grin on their faces. They are two of the few filmmakers where I have never once thought that they might be taking themselves too seriously. Perhaps they really do, but it never comes across that way to me as a viewer. Their films often seem to aspire toward a deeper meaning – or, perhaps, people are just quickly to look for such interpretations – but they never lose the sense of genuinely enjoying what they are creating.

My top choice is immovable, even if it is far from being their most critically-lauded or brimming with powerful statements. The Big Lebowski is so entertaining, I don’t care, and I still maintain that Walter Sobchak is one of the greatest character creations I’ve ever seen.

1. The Big Lebowski (1998)
2. Miller’s Crossing (1990)
3. Barton Fink (1991)
4. No Country for Old Men (2007)
5. Fargo (1996)
6. The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001)
7. O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000)
8. A Serious Man (2009)
9. Blood Simple (1984)
10. Burn After Reading (2008)
11. The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)
12. Intolerable Cruelty (2003)
13. Raising Arizona (1987)

#13: Jacques Tourneur

2010-07-05T00:05:00.004-04:00

- "Everything must come from inside. It mustn’t be superficial.”

Jacques Tourneur unfortunately remains a director that is fully appreciated by only a select few. To those that delve deeply into the world of film noir or classic horror films, Tourneur is rightly recognized as being one of the preeminent stylists of either genre. For the general movie fan, though, his name is likely to elicit little recognition beyond Out of the Past. At the risk of sounding elitist, I know that most of those reading this post are much more familiar with the work of Tourneur beyond just his most famous film (I know my readers!). And so I think that I will get little argument from anyone when I give him such a prominent placement on this list.

When I hear the name “Jacques Tourneur” I instantly make the connection to film noir, which is interesting because in my opinion he only made one truly great noir - Nightfall pushes closes, but not quite. That one great noir, though, is the most quintessential film of the entire genre/style. I may have rated Out of the Past at #2 in my noir countdown, but I did so reluctantly, as I made clear in my entry. It should be the first film that any newbie to film noir watches and I have yet to meet a single person who dislikes it. Even with this fact, ranking his films shows what an accomplished director of horror Tourneur was. The movies he made with producer Val Lewton are among the finest horror movies ever made. I prefer I Walked With a Zombie, but I know knowledgeable critics who argue that Cat People transcends the horror label is actually a Top 10 all-time caliber film. What makes Tourneur’s horror films so great – and this includes Night of the Demon/Curse of the Demon – is how the scares and horror come not from shock tactics, but from psychological intrigues. Tourneur gets into your mind and plays on universal fears and neuroses. There is no need to for gore or blood; he is talented enough to terrify you without them.

And while he rarely receives recognition for his work with westerns, both that I have listed here are of very high quality. Wichita has recently become available via Warner Brother’s Archive series, which is how I was able to finally watch it. It is a fictionalized account of Wyatt Earp’s (played by Joel McCrea) days in the famed cattle town. I recommend it highly both for fans of westerns and of Tourneur. Canyon Passage is even better and fortunately can be obtained on DVD. I have long felt that if Canyon Passage had a name like Ford, Hawks or Mann attached to it, it would have a reputation as one of the most overlooked westerns of its era. Unfortunately, it has no such reputation, but it should.

1. Out of the Past (1947)
2. I Walked With a Zombie (1943)
3. Night of the Demon (1957)
4. Canyon Passage (1946)
5. Cat People (1942)
6. Wichita (1955)
7. The Leopard Man (1943)
8. Nightfall (1957)
9. Berlin Express (1948)
10. The Flame and the Arrow (1950)
11. Stars in My Crown (1950)

#14: The Archers - Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger

2010-07-03T00:05:00.006-04:00

For those that have frequented Goodfella’s since the days of the annual countdown, this one will certainly come as a surprise. Not just the high placement will be a surprise, but the fact that Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger made the Top 30 at all. As some will undoubtedly remember from the yearly series, I noted that while I did enjoy the couple of Archers films that I had seen, none had really captured me as they had so many people whose tastes my own normally align with. What I also freely admitted at the time, though, was that the sample size I used to base my opinion on was tragically small – I had seen only The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Black Narcissus and parts of The Red Shoes. Black Narcissus was the only one of the three that made me think that maybe, just maybe, I needed to delve deeper. Thinking that perhaps I was missing something, I felt that I owed it to myself to experience more of their work and see what all the hype was about. What ultimately won me over were two films from the classic P&P run, which surprisingly enough, neither of which occupy the top two positions in my rankings below.

Watching A Canterbury Tale for the first time was an experience akin to marveling at a more-charming, innocent Mulholland Drive. It’s a weird comparison, I know, but the indefinable allure of the film drew me in immediately. It is funny, beguiling, innocent, menacing, and haunting all at once. All together, it proved irresistible to me. After watching it, I moved on to A Matter of Life and Death, still reluctantly expecting a nice little bit of patriotic propaganda. Then came the opening ten minutes of what I consider to be one of the finest opening sequences ever put on film. That was it – I had to go back to the beginning and plow through as much of their work as possible. What I found was an unbelievably consistent, impressive body of work. Every film I have listed below is worth seeing, regardless of one’s taste. Keeping in mind that I still have not seen everything they made, I still maintain that there is not a bad film in the bunch.

It should be noted that I am in fact cheating a little bit, as I have listed films that are not actually Powell & Pressburger efforts, but are only films that Michael Powell himself directed. I thought that it was worth acknowledging that he made some worthy films on his own, but none of them for me equal anything that the The Archers did together. I include them in my list, but the true reason that either man has made it into this countdown is their unbelievable success as collaborators. The first eight are the real cream of the crop in my opinion.

What I like most about The Archers work is how the strengths of both men are allowed to be fully utilized – Pressburger supplying imaginative story ideas and tightly constructed scripts, Powell utilizing a fantastic visual sense that is both sweeping in outdoor scenic shots and intimate in tension-filled moments like the A Matter of Life and Death opening mentioned earlier. The two come together and create movies that are bubbling over with emotions – sad, jubilant, poignant, passionate, dark, humorous, and many more. One thing that I don’t see mentioned as much as it should be is the sheer playfulness on display. In much of their work, P&P are dealing with deadly serious issues centered primarily on surviving in the face of horrific warfare or obstacles. And yet, much like Hitchcock’s mischievousness while dealing in murder and mayhem, there is an inescapable sense of good humor dancing around everything. Not so much as to invalidate the seriousness, but enough to generate a definite charm that most other directors would be incapable of producing.

And before going straight to the ranking, I’ll put in a word for what I look to as possibly their most underrated film: 49th Parallel. Scouring the web for reviews and opinions on it, it seems to routinely be dismissed as mere propaganda fluff and just a warm-up to what would come from The Archers in the next few years. There’s no denying its propagandist purposes, but I don’t see this as reason to brush it aside. Many of the greatest films ever made have similar origins (Casablanca, anyone?). Not that I’m ready to anoint 49th Parallel an all-time classic – after all, I place it only at #6 below – but the first half of that film in particular is very strong. It might not manage to maintain that same level for the entire length, but I never tire of watching the camera of cinematographer Freddie Young take in the sweeping Canadian landscapes.

Those top two are unlikely to ever be unseated for me, but A Canterbury Tale pushes close… or perhaps once I get the courage to undertake The Tales of Hoffman, which I purposely have been putting off due to my complete antipathy toward the idea of filming an opera, I’ll be pleasantly surprised!

1. Black Narcissus (1947)
2. The Red Shoes (1948)
3. A Canterbury Tale (1944)
4. A Matter of Life and Death (1946)
5. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
6. 49th Parallel (1941)
7. The Small Back Room (1949)
8. I Know Where I’m Going! (1945)
9. The Thief of Bagdad (1940)
10. Peeping Tom (1960)
11. The Edge of the World (1937)
12. The Spy in Black (1939)
13. One of Our Aircraft is Missing (1942)
14. Contraband (1940)
15. The Battle of the River Plate (1956)

#15: Buster Keaton

2010-07-01T00:05:00.004-04:00

- “When we made a picture we ate, slept and dreamed them.”

Although we have had our spats in the blogosphere, this entry in my favorite directors series owes a nod to Wonders in the Dark’s Allan Fish. Before Allan began his epic countdown of his Top 100 films of the silent era, I wasn’t completely in the dark concerning the cinema of Buster Keaton. I was familiar with some of his more well-known features – The General, Sherlock, Jr., Steamboat Bill, Jr. – but as with most of silent cinema, I hadn’t really taken the time to fully delve into the work. The outstanding series at WitD, and the fantastic reviews posted daily by Allan, were the impetus needed. And while still far from being a Keaton expert, I have at least now made my way through his features and a number of shorts, and come to understand what I had been missing by putting off Buster’s work. I was already a fan of Keaton, and even before diving head-first into the rest of his career, felt certain that Sherlock, Jr. was the best silent film I had ever seen. I still stand by that bold declaration, but realize that he has a handful of features that are nearly just as good, along with an array of shorts that are equally as impressive.

Where does one even begin to praise such a titan of cinema? Keaton’s genius for comedy needs no explanation or analysis and I don’t know if I have enough knowledge to do so anyway. But it is still astounding to watch the physical gags and well-choreographed chases that he performed in his greatest films. Keaton has to be considered the first great stuntman of the screen. Even if his routines are not as harrowing or spectacular as they appear – and I don’t know enough about his production methods to say so – the fact that they come across as magnificently as they do speaks to the unmatched physical gifts he displayed in front of the camera. In an era when technology lacked far behind the creativity of many talented directors, Keaton was able to translate his wildly inventive scenarios into believable adventure-comedies. Watching him do things like clinging to the pistons of a charging train, dodging avalanching boulders barreling down on him, or fighting off deep sea creatures truly separates him from any of his contemporaries. Perhaps other comedians of the era were funnier, perhaps there were adventure stories that provided greater thrills (both debatable points), but I have personally never come across someone who combined the attributes as seamlessly as did Buster. In addition to being one of the greatest comedians of cinema, I think a case could be made for him being one of the earliest action stars.

What ultimately made the greatest impression on me is something that longtime fans of Keaton have probably known all along: for all the praise of his comedy and physical skills, his talent as a director is just as impressive. His films are not just plopping a camera down and taking in whatever the star does in front of it. Although Keaton is quoted as saying that he made his films without any scripts or written direction, I find it impossible to believe that there was not considerable planning and forethought given to how something would play out. If everything was purely off the cuff, then it’s even more impressive. Even so, Keaton clearly understood the possibilities that film provides and made great use of them. The celebrated dream sequence in Sherlock, Jr. feels just as fresh in today’s CGI-dominated movie world as it must have in 1924.

Below, I rate the Keaton that I have enjoyed so far. It clearly is not everything that needs to be seen in Buster’s career – I have seen all of the features where Keaton is generally accepted to have been the director and 14 of his shorts. There are plenty of other shorts that I still need to get to and I look forward to them. It should also be noted, that in some of these films (such as Steamboat Bill, Jr., The Cameraman and Spite Marriage) Buster is not credited as director, but it has been generally accepted that he remained the controlling hand. So perhaps it is cheating a little, but most critical analysis and histories accept Buster as being, at the very least, a co-director in these projects.

Features
1. Sherlock Jr. (1924)
2. The Navigator (1924)
3. The General (1927)
4. The Cameraman (1928)
5. Our Hospitality (1923)
6. Seven Chances (1925)
7. Steamboat Bill Jr. (1928)
8. Battling Butler (1926)
9. Go West (1925)
10. College (1927)
11. Three Ages (1923)
12. Spite Marriage (1929)

Shorts
1. The Scarecrow (1920)
2. Neighbors (1920)
3. Cops (1922)
4. The Goat (1921)
5. One Week (1920)
6. Daydreams (1922)
7. The Blacksmith (1922)
8. The Playhouse (1921)
9. The Paleface (1922)
10. The Electric House (1922)
11. The Boat (1921)
12. Hard Luck (1921)
13. The High Sign (1921)
14. Convict 13 (1920)

#16: Fritz Lang

2010-06-29T00:05:00.005-04:00

- "“Each picture has some sort of rhythm which only the director can give it. He has to be like the captain of a ship.”

Everyone reading this will likely agree that if Fritz Lang never came to the United States in 1936, his output in his native Germany alone would have still been strong enough to warrant placement in a countdown of this scope. Indeed, when you see my ranking of his films below, the top three all come from Lang’s pre-Hollywood days. But I am guessing that most people reading this are also similar to me in that they first came to Lang through his much more widely-available – and arguably more accessible – Hollywood films. Once I made my way through those that were easier to come by, it was inevitable to move on to his more critically acclaimed early days and see how the Lang legend was built. It was surprisingly difficult for me to try and compare and rank the films from these two distinct periods in Lang’s work, particularly when factoring in the fables and tales that have grown concerning the production of many of Lang’s early films. In terms of that hard-to-define quality of “greatness,” few if any of Lang’s American movies can trump those from Germany. Even so, I do love Lang’s American work, almost as much as his earlier German period, and in terms of favorites I place the best of his American work quite high.

These two separate phases make Lang’s complete body of work all the more fascinating, in my opinion, as it is interesting to observe the similarities and differences between them. In visual terms, there is no question that the more experimental and interesting work was done in Germany, as the cinematography and camera work in masterpieces like Metropolis and Destiny are still a marvel to behold almost a century later. His pictures of the 1920s display flair and style that almost immediately identify them as Fritz Lang films. I acknowledge that Metropolis is the greater and better film, but I have recently fallen in love with Destiny and am amazed at how beautifully eerie the cinematography is in that one. It is absolutely brilliant.

His best work on the western side of the Atlantic unquestionably centered on highly skilled crime dramas. Focusing less on technical artistry and experimentation, dark narratives and storytelling characterize these films. Taking a cue from what I consider the best movie he ever made – 1931’s M – Lang became a master at tackling dark subject matter, and even more impressively dark characters. The leading men and women in Lang movies like Fury, You Only Live Once, Scarlet Street, The Big Heat, and others seem like people predestined to hardship and suffering. Even the most hardened, bitter characters are rendered at least somewhat sympathetic in the way that Lang and his collaborators portray them. This ability is a main reason why Lang is one of the few men of the era who can stake a legitimate claim to being the greatest director of film noir. I don’t quite personally give him that mantle, but he is very close.

The sheer number of outstanding films in his total filmography might be the most impressive thing. I have ranked 20, which is nowhere near his entire output, and there honestly is not a bad movie in the entire list. Not all of them are M or Metropolis, and not all of them would be considered favorites, but all are enjoyable and worth seeking out.

1. M (1931)
2. Metropolis (1927)
3. Destiny (1921)
4. Scarlet Street (1945)
5. The Big Heat (1953)
6. While the City Sleeps (1956)
7. Die Nibelungen (1924)
8. Spies (1928)
9. Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933)
10. Clash by Night (1952)
11. House by the River (1950)
12. Dr. Mabuse the Gambler (1922)
13. You Only Live Once (1937)
14. The Blue Gardenia (1953)
15. The Woman in the Window (1944)
16. Hangmen Also Die! (1943)
17. Fury (1936)
18. Western Union (1941)
19. Man Hunt (1941)
20. Secret Beyond the Door (1948)

Up next: We go BLIND! Now things will be like countdowns of the past. Folks making submitting their own lists will not suffer, as I am highly unlikely to roll out a director that people are completely unfamiliar with. Plus, with two days for each entry, there is plenty of time. So the tension mounts! (LOL)

#17: Ernst Lubitsch

2010-06-27T00:05:00.004-04:00

I challenge any fan of classic cinema to watch that clip and not be completely put in the mood to watch the first Ernst Lubitsch film that you can get your hands on. Hearing Billy Wilder talk about Lubitsch, the man he unceasingly championed as his personal idol in Hollywood, truly is inspiring. His love of Lubitsch has become well known through the often repeated story of how Wilder hung a single sign in his office door that asked: “What would Lubitsch do?” The famed “Lubitsch Touch” is what Wilder continually strove to reach. To see an aging Wilder in the above clip, an undisputed master of direction himself, get that glint in his eye as he meticulously describes a scene Lubitsch created decades earlier (although, the astute Lubitsch fan will notice that he ultimately does reference the wrong film!) reiterates why Lubitsch remains such a fascinating director. Very few contemporaries of the sound era could direct comedy as magnificently as Lubitsch. Even today, he towers above contemporary directors.

The fact that so many accomplished directors themselves seemed keen to declare him the greatest director of comedy speaks volumes. Defining the “Lubitsch Touch” is an elusive task, and I’m sure that everyone has a slightly different explanation of what it means. Lately, though, for me the term has come to symbolize Lubitsch’s ability to make absolutely timeless films. His best work remains just as dynamic today as it did when it first premiered. These films maintain the air of sophistication that Lubitsch did better than anyone, while at the same time preserving the underlying sensual nature of his stories. The placement and movement of his camera created tension and sensuality that never would have slipped by Hays Code censors in more demonstrative form. The physical romance that runs through most of his stories takes place off camera, but he is skilled enough to make sure that the seductiveness and sexuality of it all remains palpable.

But who am I to try and describe in words the brilliance of Lubitsch? His films really just need to be experienced. So, on with the list! And I realize that the number of movies I have seen from Lubitsch is nowhere near being complete. He still has a number of musicals and films from his early years that I have yet to see. Everything I have seen, I love, which speaks well about any "new" Lubitsch movies I watch in the future. And while I'm at it, I'd like to point out how close I came to bumping To Be or Not to Be to the top of the list. It and Trouble in Paradise are two of the funniest movies I have ever seen. I couldn't quite supplant Trouble in Paradise, but it is so close. The next four in line could probably go in any order, but this is how I feel at the moment.

1. Trouble in Paradise (1932)
2. To Be or Not to Be (1942)
3. Heaven Can Wait (1943)
4. Ninotchka (1939)
5. The Shop Around the Corner (1940)
6. The Merry Widow (1934)
7. Cluny Brown (1946)
8. The Smiling Lieutenant (1931)
9. The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927)
10. Design for Living (1933)
11. Broken Lullaby (1932)

Next in line: Fritz Lang.

#18: Brian De Palma

2010-06-25T00:05:00.012-04:00

- "So I like to try to go back and develop pure visual storytelling. Because to me, it's one of the most exciting aspects of making movies and almost a lost art at this point."

Brian De Palma can split film critics and moviegoers faster than anyone, Steven Spielberg included. What is so interesting in regard to De Palma is that there is rarely any middle ground in assessing his body of work. To those that appreciate him, De Palma is a technical virtuoso who has inherited the mantle of his cinematic idols. For those that don’t care for his films, he has simply made a career out of producing cheap, second-rate imitations of Hitchcock and other legitimate giants. Where do you fall in this debate? Is there any middle ground among those that dare to venture to each newly-released and critically-panned De Palma film?

Where I fall on the spectrum is obvious since he is included in this list. I have always had at least a limited interest in De Palma, but it was only recently that I went on a serious binge. I had actually shied away from some of his more maligned efforts, figuring if they were panned _that_ badly, then everybody couldn’t be completely wrong… right? Wrong. What is commonly listed as being among his worst films is now sitting atop my list of favorites. And as my appreciation of De Palma’s visual style has continued to increase, so too has my appreciation of his earlier films, as I went back and re-watched movies that I had not seen in some time.

De Palma is one of the great visual stylists working today. Those that dislike his films in general are likely to deny such praise, but I stand by it. The man does things with the camera and editing that rarely fail to impress me. Maybe someone will not enjoy the story, but I am amazed that fans of cinema are not at least mildly interested or impressed by his visual flair. De Palma gets playful, exulting in what he can do with the camera and the film, and this is often interpreted as being tricky and rendering his stories incomprehensible. Certainly, many of his stories can be hard to follow at times. But in most cases, repeat viewings show that De Palma has actually laid things out. The clues might not be easy to pick up, but they are there. Rather than concentrating on them, though, I recommend just taking in the wonderful atmosphere and scenes that De Palma revels in creating. Finding a coherent story and interpretation will be there on repeat viewings.

I’ll be particularly interested to hear thoughts from everyone on some of De Palma’s more reviled films that I hold dear – particularly The Black Dahlia and Mission to Mars. Both have been completely torn apart by critics, but I think they are very, very good.

1. The Black Dahlia (2006)
2. Carlito’s Way (1993)
3. Dressed to Kill (1980)
4. Blow Out (1981)
5. Scarface (1983)
6. Femme Fatale (2002)
7. The Untouchables (1987)
8. Mission to Mars (2000)
9. The Fury (1978)
10. Casualties of War (1989)
11. Body Double (1984)
12. Sisters (1973)
13. Obsession (1976)
14. Carrie (1976)
15. Raising Cain (1992)
16. Greetings (1968)
17. Mission Impossible (1996)
18. Hi, Mom! (1970)
19. Phantom of the Paradise (1974)
20. The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990)
21. Snake Eyes (1998)
22. Murder a la Mod (1968)

Next we come to the man with the famous Touch: Ernst Lubitsch.

#19: Anthony Mann

2010-06-23T00:05:00.005-04:00

- “The shock of glimpsing an entire life, an entire world, in a single little shot is much more important than the most brilliant dialogue.”

Anthony Mann & The Western Renaissance

I post the link to this wonderfully written article, titled “Anthony Mann & The Western Renaissance,” because writer Peter Wild raises a key point that factors into my own assessment of the career of Anthony Mann. Wild’s piece deals with the recent mini-renaissance of high-quality westerns that have been released – The Assassination of Jesse James, the remake of 3:10 to Yuma, The Proposition, Seraphim Falls – and argues that many key elements in these films are heavily influenced by Mann’s work in the genre five decades earlier. It is a very interesting read, and I encourage anyone interested to read through the whole thing, but there is one point in particular that I want to highlight. Wild brings up the fact that there isn’t a single Anthony Mann western that one would likely hold up as “the greatest western ever made.” John Ford has The Searchers, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, and My Darling Clementine. Howard Hawks has Rio Bravo and Red River. Clint Eastwood has Unforgiven. Sam Peckinpah has The Wild Bunch. All have, at one time or another, been listed as possible candidates as the best western of all time.

Despite making a number of outstanding westerns, Anthony Mann has no such signature film. His cycle of Jimmy Stewart westerns is universally praised. Man of the West, seen as one of Gary Cooper’s final great performances, is highly regarded by critics. Overlooked gems such as The Furies have been rediscovered and re-released in the past few years and are beginning to be appreciated. But even I, as a huge Anthony Mann fan, don’t know that I would put forth just one of these westerns as possibly the best ever made. Instead, as Wild points out in his article, the power of Mann’s westerns is apparent when considered in total. Individually, they might not reach the heights of the best Ford or Hawks western, but cumulatively they make up a body of work that places Mann as an equal of any other director to work in the genre. The same kind of argument could probably be extended to cover his work in film noir as well. In my opinion, none of his noirs are quite to that “greatest of all time” level, but when you look at how consistently outstanding his work is and consider a body of work that includes gems like T-Men, Raw Deal, Side Street, Border Incident, and even a noirish thriller like Reign of Terror, it becomes apparent that he really is one of the best.

Particularly with his westerns, I think the main reason why it is not easy to select just one or two of them as his best are that they are all of a consistently high quality. The five “psychological westerns” that Mann made with James Stewart are all great films. But which one is the best? Ask five different movie fans and you could get five different answers. Then you have to consider accomplishments like Man of the West, The Furies, and even Devil’s Doorway which is an overlooked gem. Such consistency makes it hard to pinpoint exactly which of Mann’s westerns deserve to be championed as worthy of the lofty labels mentioned earlier.

And this is without even mentioning the final stage of Mann’s career, that of the epic adventure. I have only seen El Cid from this stage, but I absolutely love it, as I do Mann’s entire output. He was a workingman’s director, who gradually moved his way up through Hollywood and pieced together a wonderful career. There is not a bad film listed below.

1. The Man from Laramie (1955)
2. Bend of the River (1953)
3. T-Men (1947)
4. El Cid (1961)
5. Winchester ‘73 (1950)
6. The Furies (1950)
7. Man of the West (1958)
8. The Naked Spur (1953)
9. Raw Deal (1948)
10. Reign of Terror (1949)
11. Devil’s Doorway (1950)
12. The Tall Target (1951)
13. The Far Country (1954)
14. Side Street (1950)
15. The Tin Star (1957)
16. Men in War (1957)
17. He Walked by Night (officially credited to Alfred L. Werker) (1948)
18. Border Incident (1949)
19. Strategic Air Command (1955)

Reactions to the next entry ought to be interesting and all over the map. Up next is the always controversial Brian De Palma.

And just as a general note, I decided that we're going to the "blind countdown" mode at the midway point, so 15 and in. That's the perk of running things, I can switch it up slightly at my own whim! Revealing each director in advance only gives one off day to prepare any kind of list. But with two days allotted for each posting, the blind reveal still allows a second day for comments and lists. So, to heighten drama for the second half, I think it will work well.

#20: John Huston

2010-06-21T00:05:00.011-04:00

- "Hollywood has always been a cage... a cage to catch our dreams."

I am in no way suggesting that John Huston should be classified as an “underrated” director. How could he be, considering that a number of his top films are rightly regarded as being among the finest ever produced in Hollywood. I do think, though, that his top two or three movies (and I suppose his role in Roman Polanksi’s Chinatown) are viewed as a complete summary of the man’s extraordinary career, which is a shame because there is so much more there. To be certain, his most famous pictures – The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Asphalt Jungle – deserve all of the acclaim that they receive. I love every one of them. But his lesser-known films are of such high quality, it amazes me that they are not more widely praised. The Misfits receives publicity because of the stars attached to it – it was the final film for both Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable, and Montgomery Clift gave one his final performances, and Arthur Miller penned the screenplay – but it deserves recognition as the equal of Huston’s best work. Fat City is one of the four or five best boxing films ever made. The Dead is beautifully poetic. The Night of the Iguana might be my favorite screen adaptation of Tennessee Williams.

This is a man who continued making outstanding films for over forty years, remaining interesting through every phase.

Most of Huston’s films have a general vibe or feeling that make it known that he is the guiding force of his projects. I have seen his auterist credentials questioned, but I rarely have trouble recognizing Huston's style. His movies may not have been personal, but they contained similar threads that stamped them as John Huston films. Part of this I’m sure is due to the fact that, at least early in his career, he almost always had a hand in writing the scripts that he directed. His talents as a writer deserve nearly as much praise as those as a director. Being involved in projects from this early stage allowed Huston to instill a trademark understated cynicism to every film. It isn’t cynicism like one gets from a Billy Wilder film, where Billy is poking fun at everyone and everything. It is a cynicism where a fateful break, a stretch of bad luck, or good old ironic twists triumph in the end. His heroes come oh-so-close to fairytale endings, but never quite get there. Is it a pessimistic view? Some could read it that way, but to me it just feels realistic.

A connection to a modern director that I always think about is a lineage from John Huston and his early crime genre work and current crime film specialist Michael Mann. Both men set up great set pieces centered on heists and mysteries, but both Huston and Mann are more interested in examining why the participants are involved in the schemes and what compels them to take such risks. The heists or action is just the means by which they can examine their main characters.

1. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)
2. The Asphalt Jungle (1950)
3. The Maltese Falcon (1941)
4. Fat City (1972)
5. The Night of the Iguana (1964)
6. Key Largo (1948)
7. The Misfits (1961)
8. The Red Badge of Courage (1951)
9. The Dead (1987)
10. The Man Who Would Be King (1975)
11. The African Queen (1951)
12. Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957)
13. Under the Volcano (1984)
14. Wise Blood (1979)
15. In This Our Life (1942)
16. The Unforgiven (1960)
17. Beat the Devil (1953)
18. Prizzi’s Honor (1985)

Up next, a man who dabbled in many styles and produced classics in all of them: Anthony Mann.

#21: Robert Siodmak

2010-06-19T00:05:00.006-04:00

In case my counting down my 100 favorite films noir did not give it away, I’ll reiterate the fact that I am a film noir junkie. I try and see anything and everything resembling a noir that I possibly can. I have seen a lot in the short amount of time that I have been obsessed and feel like I have a pretty good handle on the greatest stylists in the genre/style. A number of the finest directors to ever work in United States at some point dabbled in noir – Wilder, Lang, Hawks, Tourneur, Ray, Huston, Welles, the list could go on. Some of these names will be, and already have been, featured in this favorite directors series. And even with such giants of cinema, if exclusively considering true noirs produced by such directors, I don’t think that I would choose any of them as my personal favorite handlers of noir. If forced to make such a selection, I’d actually have to go with this man: Robert Siodmak. He made two of the finest noirs of all time, a handful of others of high quality, and was instrumental in developing the template that others followed throughout the classic noir period.

Born to Polish Jewish parents in Germany at the turn of the century, Siodmak was successful in German cinema in the 1920s before the Nazi rise to power. For obvious reasons, he was not a favorite of the Party. Unfortunately, I have not seen any of the work he produced in his native country, but when Universal Studios signed Siodmak to a seven-year contract in 1943, he quickly developed the distinctive style that he has come to be identified with. The horror picture Son of Dracula features expressionistic lighting and visual style that Siodmak would perfect a few years later, allowing him to take a rather standard B-movie storyline and give it a noir feeling. By 1944, Siodmak would embark on a string of noirs and noirish thrillers that matches up favorably with any of his contemporaries – The Suspect, The Spiral Staircase, The Killers, The Dark Mirror, Cry of the City, Criss Cross, and The File on Thelma Jordan all in a five-year period.

Clearly, he did not _only_ make noirs. The Spiral Staircase, The Suspect, Son of Dracula, even The Dark Mirror all contain elements similar to noir, but are not fully enmeshed in the style/genre. So to call him a one-trick pony would be an overstatement. His horror work is just as superlative, with a masterwork like The Spiral Staircase arguably being an even greater visual achievement than his best noirs. Just thinking of the movie the word “black” comes to mind. Dark, dark black. Black to the point of zero visibility. The kind of shadowy, dark black sets that only could be achieved on a sound stage in the classic studio system. It really has to be seen to be appreciated.

Even so, there is a reason that the zenith of Siodmak’s days in Hollywood came at the height of the classic noir cycle. By the mid-1950s, his career was already on a downward path. But watching the movies produced during the decade-long burst of creativity that contains Siodmak’s finest work, it should be quite obvious why I think so highly of him. His use of lighting and shadows is like a textbook in noir. His depiction of anguished characters, carrying baggage from past lives or relationships, is always compelling. Siodmak is certainly not underrated by those that have any familiarity with his work, but his name remains one that deserves to be more well-known. I rank him a master director.

1. Criss Cross (1949)
2. The Killers (1946)
3. Cry of the City (1948)
4. The Spiral Staircase (1945)
5. The Suspect (1945)
6. The File on Thelma Jordan (1950)
7. Phantom Lady (1944)
8. Christmas Holiday (1944)
9. The Dark Mirror (1946)
10. Son of Dracula (1943)
11. Custer of the West (1967)

Next in the countdown is a contemporary of Siodmak's and another man with multiple great noirs (among others) to credit: John Huston.

#22: Stanley Kubrick

2010-06-17T00:05:00.005-04:00

- "If it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed."

In terms of greatness this place - as was John Ford's on Tuesday - is far too low. The Kubrick legacy is one that has aged very well as his status as one of the finest directors to ever work in the medium remains as strong as ever. Ranking him here is no disrespect at all, but simply a matter of personal tastes. When you scroll the bottom of this entry and look at how I rank my favorite Kubrick films, you will notice that my ordering is certainly unique. Normally, devoted Kubrick followers place A Clockwork Orange and 2001: A Space Odyssey at, or at least near, the top. My taste runs contrary to the traditional viewpoint though, which I think says a lot about the overall body of work Kubrick produced over his forty-plus years in cinema. The fact that I can come up with such a different ordering of his films, placing his two most critically-acclaimed movies outside of the top half of the rankings, shows how strong his filmography is. Depending on your taste or preferences, there is something in his work for everyone. I am a sucker for crime dramas and historical epics – thus I gravitate toward classics like The Killing, Paths of Glory, and Barry Lyndon. Others might prefer the more experimental or science fiction, which means that Clockwork and 2001 would justifiably be pushed toward the top. Of course, this doesn’t exactly explain something like Dr. Strangelove, but that movie is beyond classification…

I would point out that this is probably the first time that I have finally decided to boost Dr. Strangelove to the top of a Kubrick list. Ever since I watched The Killing, it has been firmly planted as my personal favorite. Dr. Stranglove I enjoyed from the get-go, but it is a movie that has grown even better for me over time and repeat viewings. My sense of humor is dry and dark anyway, and since Strangelove is as black as a newly-laid driveway, it was likely inevitable that it would come to be my favorite Kubrick.

What has struck me most in my recent Kubrick viewings is (no surprise) the unmatched visual sense that he possessed. A fact that I knew, but never really gave much thought to until I was reminded of it once again by John Greco at Twenty Four Frames, is that Kubrick began work as a semi-professional photographer while still a teenager. A famous photo that he sold to Look Magazine while only 16 can be easily found at various spots on the ‘net. This still photographer’s eye can be seen in the impeccable taste he shows in framing shots. Every movie he ever filmed displays incredible images, regardless of the director of photography or other principals behind the camera. This tells me that Kubrick remained the guiding force and reason for this continued visual excellence.

1. Dr. Strangelove (1964)
2. The Killing (1956)
3. Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
4. Paths of Glory (1957)
5. The Shining (1980)
6. Barry Lyndon (1975)
7. Full Metal Jacket (1987)
8. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
9. Lolita (1962)
10. Spartacus (1960)
11. Killer’s Kiss (1955)
12. A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Next in the series is the the underrated noir and thriller specialist Robert Siodmak.

#23: John Ford

2010-06-15T00:05:00.011-04:00

-“My name is John Ford and I make Westerns.”

I almost feel guilty at placing John Ford at this point in the countdown, as his shadow looms large over so many areas of film history. Nearly every post-1930s director has cited Ford as a major influence on their work – titans such as Kurosawa, Welles and Scorsese have at various times basically declared him to be their favorite director. Bergman declared him the greatest director to ever live. There are even moments when I feel like I should do the same. Why then is he #22 and not closer to the top? In going back through as much of his catalog as I could in preparation for this entry, I came to realize that my passion for his films has much variation. When I watch what I consider to be Ford at his best – The Searchers, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, Grapes of Wrath to name a few – that feeling of watching a master craftsman comes over me. It really does seem like I am witnessing a director without peers. At other times, though, I honestly get a bit listless toward some of his output. It’s not that I think he has made many bad films – quite the contrary, I don’t think any in my list below would be classified as “bad.” Still, a number of them do not necessarily move me one way or the other.

But I don’t want people to think that I am being negative toward Ford. Obviously I am not or he wouldn’t even be in a countdown of this nature. I’m just giving something of an explanation as to why a man who has made multiple films that are of the 10/10 variety for me isn’t in the upper half of this series. Ultimately though, as I said in a past thread here, I tend not to get bogged down in the number of misses a director or artist puts out. I am primarily interested in seeing how high someone can reach with their best output. And as I remarked earlier, Ford at his best is nearly incomparable, particularly in his most famous of genres. Anyone championing The Searchers or The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance as the best western ever made wouldn’t get an argument from me. I might personally place a few before them, but I completely understand the sentiment. As quickly as everyone identifies Ford with the western, though, there is much more to his overall body of work. What stands out to me most, in examining the entire length of his career, is the love that Ford had with the idea of America. He exhibits a fascination with the building of the nation, the myths and fables that developed in the process, and putting his own stamp on the retelling of American history. You can nearly trace the course of American history through his films – from the Revolutionary era of Drums Along the Mohawk, to the early days of President Lincoln in Young Mr. Lincoln, through his triumphs in the American West, all the way through the two World Wars. Historical accuracy is oftentimes dubious at best, but that is not the point. Ford works as a storyteller, not a documentarian, and the results speak for themselves. What makes his version of American history so irresistible is the visual beauty that he gives it all. To this day, no one has shot the expanses of the West as magnificently as did Ford. And it’s not just in the sweeping vista shots that Ford shows his genius. His more subtle touches are equally as impressive. Just watch the first appearance of John Wayne in Stagecoach. It is a simple, yet utterly spectacular introduction of one of the most iconic figures in movie history.

I suppose the finest compliment that could be given to Ford’s work – and one that the old curmudgeon would have appreciated – is how embedded in the American fabric are his films. To many, John Ford and his movies ARE the Wild West.

And before anyone faints at seeing it that low, I'll just say now that I have always had problems with My Darling Clementine. Normally I can get past most any historical inaccuracies - after all, how else can something like JFK or The New World be all-time favorite films? - but with Clementine I never can. They get to me every time, with my viewing last week being no exception. Is this a result of being too familiar with the Earp and Holiday stories? Perhaps, but I'm not really sure. In the end, it looks great but outside of that it doesn't do much for me.

1. The Searchers (1956)
2. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)
3. Stagecoach (1939)
4. The Grapes of Wrath (1940)
5. She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)
6. Young Mr. Lincoln (1939)
7. Fort Apache (1948)
8. They Were Expendable (1945)
9. Wagon Master (1950)
10. The Informer (1935)
11. The Long Voyage Home (1940)
12. The Quiet Man (1952)
13. How Green Was My Valley (1941)
14. Drums Along the Mohawk (1939)
15. Mister Roberts (1955)
16. Rio Grande (1950)
17. My Darling Clementine (1946)
18. Sergeant Rutledge (1960)
19. The Lost Patrol (1934)

The next entry deals with a man that some consider to be the greatest director of all time: Stanley Kubrick.

#24: Clint Eastwood

2010-06-13T00:05:00.013-04:00

- "I love every aspect of the creation of motion pictures and I guess I am committed to it for life."

Is there a more iconic figure in Hollywood today? The question could probably even be framed as “in all of cinema?” Including each facets of his career, meaning both acting and directing, I don’t think there is. The personas he developed as an actor have become completely enmeshed in pop culture. I dare say there isn’t a single person older than their teens that doesn’t know about The Man With No Name or Dirty Harry. But this series is not about great leading roles, it’s about directors. And whether or not the public at large recognizes it or not, Eastwood’s talents behind the camera exceed those he displays in front of it. Don’t get me wrong, I love Eastwood the actor – when he is selective and carefully chooses the proper roles, he is outstanding. What never ceases to fascinate me about him, though, is his willingness to branch out as a director. By this, I mean that although he is still immediately linked to westerns, he has shown himself capable of directing a variety of genre films. And he has succeeded in almost every endeavor. Westerns, crime dramas, war movies, mysteries… the man can handle anything.

Even so, as a huge fan of his work, even I still find it hard to separate Eastwood from the genre in which he made a name for himself. While not every western that he has directed has been great, he has two undisputed masterpieces in The Outlaw Josey Wales and Unforgiven. I would argue that High Plains Drifter is incredibly underrated and borders on such an honor, but I don’t think there is any debate regarding Josey Wales and Unforgiven.

I also find something very appealing about the way that he revisits various themes and styles throughout his work. Distinctive visual styles are maintained through various periods, as he teamed up with specific cinematographers and worked through whole cycles with them. Right from the start in his directorial career he collaborated with Bruce Surtees, whose darkened, hazy cinematography added an edge to every story. When he stopped working with Surtees in the 1980s, Surtees’ former camera operator Jack N. Green stepped in and provided continuity. In fact, it could be argued that the films took an even starker visual style. Just watch Unforgiven; even in lighter moments, there is something gloomy about it all. And finally, the third and current phase with Tom Stern has been equally as impressive, resulting in visual marvels like Mystic River, Flags of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima. Eastwood’s style might not have as much of the visual flair of his mentors such as Sergio Leone, but I like his approach. He teams himself with talented people (like the aforementioned cinematographers) and opts for a slightly less daring use of the camera. What makes up for any lack of bold directorial flourishes is the man’s innate storytelling ability. Some just have a natural affinity for storytelling, and like Howard Hawks, Clint Eastwood has it.

There are certainly some duds in Eastwood’s total filmography, but at the top of his game he is among the best living directors.

1. Unforgiven (1992)
2. Mystic River (2003)
3. The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976)
4. High Plains Drifter (1973)
5. Gran Torino (2008)
6. Letters From Iwo Jima (2006)
7. A Perfect World (1993)
8. Flags of Our Fathers (2006)
9. Play Misty for Me (1971)
10. Changeling (2008)
11. Bird (1988)
12. Pale Rider (1985)
13. The Bridges of Madison County (1995)
14. Million Dollar Baby (2004)
15. Blood Work (2002)
16. Breezy (1973)
17. Absolute Power (1997)
18. Heartbreak Ridge (1986)
19. Space Cowboys (2000)
20. Honkytonk Man (1982)
21. The Gauntlet (1977)

Up next is a master of classic Hollywood and arguably the greatest of all western directors: John Ford.

#25: Woody Allen

2010-06-11T00:05:00.004-04:00

- "I don't want to achieve immortality through my work… I want to achieve it through not dying."

The thought of trying to make it through Woody’s entire filmography before starting this project was nearly enough to call the whole thing off. It would be a virtual impossibility, unless I watched absolutely nothing from anyone but Woody and thus had gaping holes in the lists for many other directors. At the same time, leaving Woody out of such a list would be a total lie on my part – there is little doubt that he ranks among my twenty-five favorite directors. So, with that in mind, I tried to pick and choose as best I could, getting to as many of his films that I had not seen in such a short span of time. His work rate over the last few years makes things infinitely more difficult, as even at 75 years of age, the man still manages to crank out a film every year. Even if they are not of the high quality of his best work, you have to admire the dedication. Anyone willing to do that kind of work after accomplishing as much as Allen has must truly love what he is doing.

It is kind of easy to take potshots at Woody now, considering that his indefatigable work rate has resulted in a number of bad films and that the salacious details of his personal life are now the punch lines to jokes that he would have been making in his prime. While I personally think that his production in the 2000s has been better than it is generally regarded, that wouldn’t be the defense that I would offer when arguing why the man is an all-time great. The 1980s, for me, are far and away my favorite period of Allen filmmaking, as I think his run with Mia Farrow in that decade eclipses even his great collaborations with Diane Keaton. There is much personal preference in that statement, I know, but I don’t hesitate in making such a claim - his 70s output is great as well. More specifically, though, what separates Woody from so many of his contemporaries is his versatility. Fans of his work recognize it quite often, but to the general movie fan at large, a perception still persists that Allen is little more than a comic. Comedy is certainly incorporated in some form into all of his films, but his body of work is incredibly diverse. In the 1980s, specifically, you get to see nearly every facet of immense talent – the satirical side in Stardust Memories; the farcical mockumentary Zelig; the traditional Allen-type film in Broadway Danny Rose; the nostalgia of The Purple Rose of Cairo and Radio Days; the romantic comedy of Hannah and Her Sisters; the serious drama of Crimes and Misdemeanors. Going further back than the 80s, you see even greater versatility in the physical comedy of films like Bananas. There may be unifying themes and elements in each of these films, but to argue that they are all alike is ludicrous.

As for the assertion that Allen always plays himself in his movies, or at the very least is playing the same persona, I can’t necessarily argue. His characters do tend to mirror each other. I would counter in saying that many a great Hollywood star put together amazing careers playing similar characters (John Wayne, Jimmy Cagney), but even that claim is almost unnecessary. I would never argue that Allen is the same kind of acting talent as Wayne or Cagney - he most definitely does not. The thing is, though, he doesn’t need to be. His strengths lie in his direction and his writing. The writing in particular is second-to-none. His acting is not needed to carry one of his films. What should never be overlooked is how good he is at handling a lot of talented actors and using his script to have them play off of each other. For me, Hannah and Her Sisters is the prime example of this.

So here is a Woody Allen list that, unfortunately, comes nowhere near covering his entire filmography. Even still, there are a lot of great films listed here.

1. Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)
2. Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)
3. Annie Hall (1977)
4. Radio Days (1987)
5. Zelig (1983)
6. Manhattan (1979)
7. Broadway Danny Rose (1984)
8. Love and Death (1975)
9. Sleeper (1973)
10. Match Point (2005)
11. Husbands and Wives (1992)
12. Bullets Over Broadway (1994)
13. Interiors (1978)
14. Deconstructing Harry (1997)
15. Stardust Memories (1980)
16. Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)
17. Cassandra’s Dream (2007)
18. Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)
19. The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
20. Scoop (2006)
21. Melinda and Melinda (2004)
22. Bananas (1971)
23. The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (2001)

And still so many to see!

Next up is a true icon and, according to many here at Goodfellas, the man who should properly be called the hardest-working American senior citizen in cinema: Clint Eastwood.

#26: Michael Mann

2010-06-09T00:05:00.007-04:00

- "A 65-ft.-wide screen and 500 people reacting to the movie... there is nothing like that experience."

Michael Mann is what I would call a stylish classical director. In an era when the crime drama became “Tarantino-ed,” full of witty dialog, pop culture references, and non-linear structures, Mann has remained true to traditional storytelling. Although he made a name for himself well before this phenomenon became all the rage, Mann continued making his own classical style of crime dramas throughout this period, completely impervious to the trend. Instead, Mann stayed committed to what he does best. Rather than hinging his narratives on mysteries or spectacle, Mann takes relatively traditional storylines and tells them in a conventional manner. He never resorts to tricks or relies upon mysteries and novel structure. Mann unfolds crime dramas in the tradition of John Huston or Nicholas Ray. He isn’t so much interested in the crime as in the criminals. His stylishness comes from his experimental attitude toward technology and his incredible sense of pacing to action sequences. Where a Tarantino film, or those of his countless imitators, seems cool because of a certain hip factor, Michael Mann’s films are just flat-out cool. They look cool, the atmosphere is cool, they are shot in a manner that conveys the steady vision of the director – they are just flat-out smooth. Comparing trendy directors output to the work of Mann is like holding up the latest pop star to Frank Sinatra. One is a fad, another is eternally cool. Mann is more the Francis Albert type…

The irony for me is that I frame all of this Mann discussion in terms of the crime dramas that have made him famous, when my favorite film of his might actually be a historical romance. I _love_ The Last of the Mohicans. Of course, my reputation for being a sucker for gorgeously photographed historical pieces like this is well established. For now I will tentatively stick to Heat being my favorite of his films, but it’s really close. The other thing that I love about Mann is that he keeps making films precisely as he wants to make them. For the entire decade he has been making crime thrillers where he just drops the audience right into the middle of the story, without any regard for background or supplementary information. If you can keep up, the result has been a wild ride in every instance. If not, as has happened with many critics, the films are panned. Personally, I think he had a wonderful run in the 2000s.

1. Heat (1995)
2. The Last of the Mohicans (1992)
3. Thief (1981)
4. Collateral (2004)
5. Miami Vice (2006)
6. Public Enemies (2009)
7. The Insider (1999)
8. Ali (2001)
9. Manhunter (1986)

Next in line is comedy legend, and arguably the hardest working senior citizen in cinema, Woody Allen.

#27: Jacques Tati

2010-06-07T00:05:00.002-04:00

- "Either it comes off or it doesn't... there's no safety net."

Here is one of my most recent infatuations in cinema, as lately I have fallen completely in love with the films of Jacques Tati. Considering his small body of work it could potentially be difficult to compare him to other titans of comedy, such as Keaton or Chaplin who made numerous features and shorts in their careers. But his genius is completely put across in this abbreviated filmography, as he ingeniously created a singular style and character that stands out from anything else I have ever seen on film.

Tati’s style really is unlike anyone before or since. The influence of the two other comedic geniuses I mentioned is apparent, but Tati’s work is distinctive from both of them. Tati did not make silent films. His beloved Mr. Hulot may have essentially been a mute, but the sounds that permeate the rest of his films are one of the most distinctive features of his work. Tati utilized sound – both of the natural atmosphere and exaggerated sound effects – better than anyone. Simple noises and effects are repeated throughout the course of each film and never fail elicit a chuckle or sly smile from me. Who can forget things like: the swinging door in Mr. Hulot’s Holiday; the sound of the spewing water of the fountain in Mon Oncle, or the clinking of the entrance gate in the same film; the whooshing of the padded chairs in Playtime? And the noises of the natural world are swirling around everything that Hulot does. He lets the sound of the seaside wash over everything Hulot’s Holiday. The machinery, cars and other technologies in Playtime and Trafic are constantly heard, regardless of whatever else is taking place.

His visual style is equally as distinctive. The near complete lack of close-ups creates an interesting dynamic, as rather than always focusing on carefully orchestrated gags, Tati allows the camera to always take in big, wide shots. The audience sees _everything_. Sometimes in fact, such as in Playtime, there is almost too much to take in. You have to watch scenes multiple times to appreciate every nuance. In comedic terms, the effect is equally as interesting. Often, the hilarious antics of Mr. Hulot are actually taking place in the background – so you see things like Hulot awkwardly doing calisthenics on the beach from a distance, while watching normal, everyday scenes in the foreground. It is a unique way to film the antics and gags of a master comedian, which works far better in execution than description.

It is also important to point out that the majority of his comedy isn’t of the Keaton or Chaplin laugh out loud variety – at least in my opinion. Rather, Tati’s humor is more the creation of a story or atmosphere that leaves a perpetual smile on your face. Just seeing the way Tati moves and walks as Mr. Hulot is enough to make me grin. This breezy style of storytelling is off-putting for many, but I find it all incredibly charming. Apparently Tati would meticulously choreograph many of the stunts and gags in his films, which is surprising to me in the sense that everything else about his films screams “laid-back.” Much of the comedy is akin to a joke without a punch line. But there really is no need for a punch line, as his movies are a continually running joke that you never want to end.

I have only seen four of his features. My recent purchase of an all-region DVD player and ordering of Jour de fete from out of the country was not fast enough, as the disc has not arrived yet. Even so, based on only four films, he is more than deserving of this ranking. The top three are essentially interchangeable, although I do slightly lean toward Mon Oncle and Mr. Hulot's Holiday placing a bit ahead of the more celebrated Playtime.

1. Mon Oncle (1958)
2. Mr. Hulot’s Holiday (1953)
3. Playtime (1967)
4. Trafic (1971)

For the next entry we come back to the present day United States with crime drama specialist Michael Mann.

#28: Carl Theodor Dreyer

2010-06-05T00:05:00.008-04:00

- "There is no greater experience in a studio than to witness the expression of a sensitive face under the mysterious power of inspiration."

There will be entries where I have seen very few films from the director, but those select few have had such an impact on me that I must include them in this countdown. Carl Th. Dreyer is a unique example of this issue, though, because he doesn’t have a great number of films easily available to watch. I have seen what I have been able to acquire and all five movies that I have seen have been devastating. As someone who initially had trouble getting into silent cinema, it was Dreyer that made me a believer. If it wasn’t for watching The Passion of Joan of Arc on a cold, dark fall evening, I don’t know that I ever would have done the slight “toe dip” into silent films that I have. It was one of those benchmark movie-watching experiences that I love to talk about.

The stories Dreyer tells are draining, to say the least, so they are not ones that I return to often when I sit down to enjoy a film. The artistry, though, is spectacular, which means once you have the inclination to begin a Dreyer film that you are not going to be able to tear yourself away until it is finished. While undoubtedly gloomy in tone, Dreyer’s stories are as compelling as cinema gets. They hit me like a punch to the gut every time. I have a similar uneasiness whenever I watch his cinema, expecting something bad or unfortunate to befall the characters at any moment. And eventually, something does happen. The genius of Dreyer, and why even if his films are draining for me I continue to return to them, is that he never fails to offer at least a sliver of hope to the viewer. Things might not turn out well for the characters, but there is something inspirational or moving to those watching the drama.

I realize that The Passion of Joan of Arc will likely be the pick for everyone as Dreyer's best film and I would certainly agree. However, I have to put in a strong word for Ordet. I would never dare rank it about Joan, but on a strictly favorites list it is a near dead heat for me. Ordet haunted me (in a good way) like few other films I have ever watched. The atmosphere is eerie, bordering on terrifying, and yet it ultimately becomes yet uplifting. The lighting and camerawork Dreyer uses in the cramped confines of the country home are miraculous. Such a great film.

All five of the films listed below are very good, if not flat-out great. My question to everyone else is what are the other essential Dreyer films that I need to seek out ASAP?

1. The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)
2. Ordet (1955)
3. Day of Wrath (1943)
4. Vampyr (1932)
5. Gertrud (1964)

Next up is French comedic master Jacques Tati.

#29: Nicholas Ray

2010-06-03T00:05:00.008-04:00

- "That’s the obligation of the filmmaker or the theater worker – to give a heightened sense of experience to the people who pay to come to see his work."

Would it be cliché to open an entry on Nicholas Ray by marveling at how the French adored the mercurial director? Anytime a survey of Ray’s career is discussed, or analysis of his work attempted, it is mentioned that during the 1950s few American directors were held in such high regard at Cahiers du Cinema as Ray. Jean-Luc Godard in particular appeared to worship the man, once boldly declaring: “The cinema is Nicholas Ray.” At his best, I don’t know that I would necessarily argue with the sentiments of Godard and other leaders of the French New Wave. The sentiments expressed in Godard’s comment are justifiable considering the skills displayed in Ray’s moviemaking. In the hands of directors of lesser ability, a number of his films would play as little more that pulpy melodrama. As great as movies like They Live By Night and Rebel Without a Cause are, without Ray’s guidance I would argue that they would be average films at best.

Why was Ray able to transform potentially sappy material such as these (among others) and produce classics of American cinema? His visual storytelling, using the camera as an artist would a brush, is always impressive. But most importantly is the delicate way that he handled the themes that most interested him. Similar to how Howard Hawks would become a master at examining the bonds between men in nearly all of his greatest films, Nick Ray studied how outcasts managed to make their way in the world. The ability to convey an unrelenting sense of isolation permeates much of Ray’s work. Rather than being completely depressing, though, Ray also gives these characters glimpses of reconnecting with people or society at large. They might not always get there – such as Jim in Rebel Without a Cause or Dix in In a Lonely Place – but there is at least a glimmer of hope that they might.

I said it multiple times during the noir countdown, but revisiting a number of his best films increased my appreciation of his work even more. I still have a number of Ray films that I need to get to, which I think will shoot him even higher up a list like this. I still have not come close to seeing his entire body of work, but those top 6-7 are incredible. In a Lonely Place and Johnny Guitar are two that I love, love, love. And The Lusty Men is a definite sleeper, a film that will remind Peckinpah fans of his later movie Junior Bonner.

1. In a Lonely Place (1950)
2. Johnny Guitar (1954)
3. The Lusty Men (1952)
4. Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
5. They Live By Night (1949)
6. On Dangerous Ground (1952)
7. Bigger Than Life (1956)
8. Bitter Victory (1958)
9. The Savage Innocents (1960)
10. Party Girl (1958)
11. King of Kings (1961)

Next up is Danish master Carl Theodor Dreyer.

#30: Steven Spielberg

2010-06-01T00:05:00.014-04:00

- “I dream for a living.”

Check your elitism at the door if you wish to proceed with the first entry in this series. And I'll note up front that this one is significantly longer than other entries will be... as you'll see, I go off on some tangents here, just to get some thoughts out there!

I’m kidding with the elitism crack, but there is at least a grain of truth in such sarcasm. I thought I’d kick things off with a man who can divide “serious movie fans” as fast as Brian De Palma. The backlash that has developed against Steven Spielberg in some quarters is mindboggling. I hate to use the word elitist, but it definitely comes across that way. In some quarters of the internet movie community, simply admitting to be a fan of Spielberg’s films is enough to get labeled as a mindless sheep of big-budget Hollywood; as someone incapable of appreciating more subtle, toned down cinema.

I am honestly not pointing this finger at any of the folks that frequent Goodfella’s. Really, none of the blogs that I regularly visit fall victim to such a ridiculous viewpoint. But if you don’t believe me, I urge you to check out various forums and message boards devoted to movies or certain DVD labels and see for yourself. The enormity of the box office numbers that his films generate is likely the first cause of the counterattack. Beyond that though, the general complaint about Spielberg being labeled not just a profitable director, but a genuinely great one, is that most of his films lack the true depth and substance of peers like Scorsese, Coppola, and others. Even more damning, they say, is that he simply panders to cheap emotional reactions from the audience rather than allowing poignant drama to develop naturally. This phenomenon has been most noticeable to me among self-anointed amateur “cineastes” that tend to balk at all things overtly commercial, but it’s evident among a number of critics and historians too. Just read some of the professional assessments of his work:

"As America in the 1990s moves slowly away from the Reagan era, will Spielberg find new materials and adult themes, or will he seek continuing refuge in tried and true formulas? And will those formulas continue to work? And finally, will Spielberg manage to successfully mediate his apparent dual interests - being a modern day mogul in the style of Walt Disney or Cecil B. De Mille as well as being a respected artist whose work requires no apology?" - Charles Derry (International Dictionary of Films and Filmmakers, 1991)

"While it is impossible to deny either his Midas touch or his extraordinary technical proficiency, it has nonetheless become increasingly clear in recent years that he is perhaps more at home with sentimental 'family' fodder than with more sophisticated material." - Geoff Andrew (The Film Handbook, 1989)

Are these people serious? I don’t understand why some are so quick to assume that “commercially successful” and “artistically significant” have to be mutually exclusive. Spielberg has at times fallen into the trap perpetually occupied by his good friend George Lucas of simply overwhelming audiences with special effects. But beneath any effects that Spielberg might employ, the skill he possesses is, in my opinion, undeniable. His technical chops are so well-established in fact, that he is often criticized for being too reliant upon such cold, detached skills. What I think is overlooked is just how good of a storyteller he is. Perhaps he doesn’t have the auterist credentials of other successful directors who rose to prominence in the same era, but the man has a track record of producing compelling stories, regardless of the genre he is working in. Is Raiders of the Lost Ark a matinee action adventure? Yep, it sure is. But even while making a movie that had every intention of breaking the bank at the box office, Spielberg and company simultaneously created a character that people cared and fell in love with. I see nothing wrong with avoiding great philosophical thoughts or statements, and simply concentrating on crafting enjoyable, well-told stories. Is that not what many great directors (Hitchcock comes to mind) set out to do?

Then, when Spielberg did decide to tackle mature themes and stories, he took some flack for those as well. There was still something to nitpick in each of these efforts. Some argue that much of Saving Private Ryan’s reputation is built solely on the famed beach landing. Is this the case? Of course, but that doesn't mean that the rest of the drama is unimportant. The craziest accusation I have seen leveled against Spielberg is that with Schindler’s List – which is unquestionably his artistic zenith – that he intentionally “manipulated” how the audience should respond to Holocaust atrocities. What?! At any rate, I’ll stop reeling off the ludicrous accusations I have seen thrown at the monstrosity that is the Spielberg box office machine. I’ll simply close by saying that I enjoy each stage of Spielberg’s career – his early adventurous cycle and his later, more mature works. In the new millennium he seems to have caught a second (or third) wind and has produced some wonderful films.

Below is my ranking of his films that I have seen (which clearly is not all of them), based purely on personal preference. In terms of greatness, I don’t think there is any question that Schindler’s List would have to be placed at the top. There are a number of his films I still have not seen, and not every one included here is one I actually like, but I think this is a resume that is strong through the Top 10-12.

1. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
2. Schindler’s List (1993)
3. A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (2001)
4. Saving Private Ryan (1998)
5. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
6. Jaws (1975)
7. Munich (2005)
8. Empire of the Sun (1987)
9. Duel (1971)
10. Jurassic Park (1993)
11. Catch Me if You Can (2002)
12. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
13. Minority Report (2002)
14. The Color Purple (1985)
15. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)
16. The Sugarland Express (1974)
17. Amistad (1997)
18. Hook (1991)
19. E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (1982)
20. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008)

- Up next in the countdown: Nicholas Ray. And as a TCM alert to those in the States, one of Ray's more celebrated yet harder-to-locate films THE LUSTY MEN will be shown Wednesday June 2 at 2:00 PM. Set the DVRs or VCRs as necessary.

Also, my hope is to keep discussion centered on the director of the day, holding off the next revealed entry until it's actually posted. Everyone probably already knows this, but it's worth typing it anyway. So all Nick Ray nuts, you'll have to wait until Thursday! (LOL)

Let's try it then...

2010-05-30T11:47:00.006-04:00

We'll see how this works. Since the countdown begins on Tuesday, today would be the proper time to reveal who will be leading it off. Hopefully this systems works, giving folks a few days to contemplate their own lists. If it isn't working at some point in the countdown, please speak up about it. I think it'll go OK, though, because the more interesting thing will hopefully be my thoughts on the director and the way that I personally rank the films. Plus, I am not revealing the whole list at once, so not ALL suspense will be lost. I'm most interested in having people involved, as Nostromo argued in his defense of this approach.

So, here we go... the first director up will certainly elicit wildly varying opinions and assessments of his work, both pro and con. For me, he's a creator of wonderful escapist blockbusters and also deeply personal projects. He is: Steven Spielberg.

Let the countdown begin... start formulating your own lists and thoughts for Tuesday.

Quick Question for the Directors Countdown

2010-05-30T09:02:00.002-04:00

I am still torn on whether to give advance notice on each director in the countdown or just go like before, with a "surprise" posting each day. They are going to be counted down in order of personal preference (roughly), so I can't decide which method would b be best. I know this is a busy holiday weekend here in the States, but if anyone sees this and wants to weight in right before the start of things on Tuesday, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Basically, the two options I would consider going with are this: 1) A normal countdown like I've been doing; 2) Reveal the next director two days before that entry (basically at the end of the previous post) so as to allow everyone to compile their own lists for each person. I honestly can't decide which would be better. So I'll go with whatever everybody else would prefer. If you have a moment, tell me what you think would work best.

RIP: Dennis Hopper (1936-2010)

2010-05-29T13:55:00.004-04:00

I just saw the headline that Dennis Hopper passed today. In all honesty, I didn't realize that he was in such bad shape, and only now remember hearing that he had been battling prostate cancer. At any rate, he had a remarkable run in Hollywood, with a number of credits that would be considered highlights in the careers of many other people - directing a classic like Easy Rider and countless memorable supporting roles. The two that stick me with most are his Photojournalist in Apocalypse Now and Frank Booth in Blue Velvet. He was a truly great actor.

June 1... It Begins

2010-05-21T09:36:00.003-04:00

Just posting an update to say that the directors countdown will begin on Tuesday June 1. Things will work exactly as I described in the earlier post, except that I decided to expand it to a Top 30, so I can comment on a few other directors that I love.

The only thing that I will reiterate is that the rankings of films for each director will be based on my own taste, not necessarily which ones are "best" or "greatest." In a lot of cases, favorite and best will coincide, but not always. I really hope that everyone else will contribute lists as well, as it will be very interesting to compare others feelings toward each director. I also want to point out that I will be including every film that I have seen from each director, but just because a movie is included doesn't necessarily mean that I like it. Many great directors have made some horrible movies, but if I have seen them I am going to include them in the lists. And I should also note that, while the list has not yet been finalized, if there is an abundance of American directors, it may be a result of simply being more familiar with overall bodies of work. I won't be faking anything - I'm going with the directors that I love to follow/watch.

So, until June 1... I'll be doing nothing but watching movies!

The next thing to do...

2010-05-14T21:20:00.003-04:00

OK, I know that I said I would be taking some time off from any sorts of projects, but lately I've been prolific (by my standards) in working on things for the blog, so I figure that I might as well ride the productivity while it lasts. The latest idea I have is another countdown, but not one nearly as labor intensive in terms of writing - believe me when I say that the two countdowns that I have run thus far have been grueling, as I've been writing the entries as I go. My latest idea is inspired by the "Favorites of My Favorites" series that director and blogging pal Jeffrey Goodman ran at the last lullaby (and) peril blog. The idea was that Jeffrey made a case for why he loved a particular director, then ranked his favorites for each of them. I like this idea, as it will allow me to touch on a number of favorites and great films, while also spurring discussion about directors that I love. Even more interesting, it will force me to fill in gaps in director's filmograhies that I am missing, thus getting me to see more films rather than simply re-watching as I tend to do.

The basic premise for me will be the same as how Jeffrey did it - a short intro explaining what appeals to me about a director or something that I find interesting about them. Then, I will try and rank the films that I have seen from each of them. The only twist for me will be in trying to construct a loose Top 25-type list where I am basically counting down my favorite directors. I say loose, because ranking entire bodies of work is probably even harder than ranking individual films. Still, I think it will be fun to try and do. I have been watching movies like crazy lately in order to get started. I'm thinking an every other day format would work well for this one too, but I'm open to thoughts on that one. The reason two days for each entry sounds good is that I hope that each post will spur discussion about the individual directors, what people like or dislike about them, and hopefully other folks contributing lists of their own.

The same disclaimer will apply here as in my other countdowns: I haven't seen everything. In fact, compared to a lot of the knowledgeable folks that visit Goodfella's, I've seen very little. So, for the majority of the directors I get to (particularly ones with huge bodies of work), I will not have seen all of their films. This in no way precludes someone from making a list, in my opinion, as the rankings are going to be purely personal taste. They will be the films that I like best. Which ones am I most likely to return to or look forward to re-watching. The reality is, there will probably only be a few directors where I have seen EVERYTHING they have made. I intend to only include films that I have seen, which means some important ones could be missing, but at least it will be an honest assessment by me.

Thoughts? Additional suggestions or ideas? Let me know what you're thinking. I'm looking toward starting this in June at some point, but would love to hear if this sounds interesting to those that would be following along.

Top 50 of the 2000s: #10-1

2010-05-12T00:05:00.010-04:00

10. The Lives of Others (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2006): Another film that has dropped somewhat from my rough January list, due to nothing about the movie itself. Others are just moving up and have necessitated some juggling of the order. Judging by other movies that that I love – Antonioni’s Blow-Up, Coppola’s The Conversation, De Palma’s Blow Out, even Bertolucci’s The Conformist – this is a movie tailor-made for my tastes. The reason that I am able to love all of these similarly-themed films is that each of them, despite countless parallels, comes at things from a slightly different bent. To me, The Lives of Others has a much more compassionate, longing undercurrent to everything that is happening. Wiesler seems totally committed to the East German state, but behind the icy demeanor, what slowly emerges is a longing for something else. At least that’s my take, whether or not that makes sense to anyone else I can’t say. It plays like a thriller but has a longer lasting impact than any thriller I have ever seen. Furthering the connection to a movie like The Conformist, this is a story that will stick with you long after it has finished. And that is one of the key marks of a great film.

9. Downfall (Oliver Hirschbiegel, 2004): Possibly the most parodied performance of the decade also happens to be among the finest, as Bruno Ganz pulls of a believable turn as the decaying Adolf Hitler. The controversy surrounding the film’s release in Germany is understandable, as it is a testament to the power of Ganz’s performance that he somehow manages to make Hitler at times seem like a regular person. Just admitting that, though, gives the whole movie a very unsettling feel. You see the Hitler that listens to children singing or cares so deeply for his pet German shepherd and almost feel guilty that for a split second you aren’t looking at him as arguably the most evil man of the 20th century. But the humanizing aspect of the performance actually serves to make it all the more horrifying. The thought of a man capable of such kindness to little kids or the women under his care one minute who can then fly into a rage in which he damns the entire population of Berlin to death is disturbing. Hirschbiegel shoots the film very well, showing just enough of what is going on outside the bunker to keep everything in perspective, but never sacrificing the effective claustrophobic environs of the bunker for more combat footage. This is another downer of a film, but one that is absolutely essential.

8. Atonement (Joe Wright, 2007): As I said, 2007 will be featured prominently throughout this series. My estimation of Atonement has continued to grow and I don't think any film (even Eastern Promises) benefited more from watching it again. This movie skyrocketed up my list after I watched it last week. This was originally slotted somewhere in the 20s, but watching the gorgeous photography from Seamus McGarvey is too overpowering to keep it from at least this high of a position. The technical aspects of Atonement are marvelous, not only in McGarvey’s cinematography but also in some bravura camera movements. The famed tracking shot of the beach at Dunkirk is every bit as impressive as it is hailed to be. I love the way that the story is broken up in the first third, with scenes taking place out of sequential order to perfectly reflect the different perspectives of everyone involved. I previously believed that the final two thirds of the film were significantly weaker than the first, but I was just wrong. The war scenes are very effective. This is equal parts mystery, romance, and heartbreaking tragedy. Of all of the films in the countdown, this might have benefited most by my re-watching it before finalizing the list. It is a movie that is enjoyable due to how well-made it is, but distressing to watch it unfold. Drama of the highest order with photography that is achingly beautiful.

7. Once (John Carney, 2006): Another complete revelation to me when I finally watched this for the first time a few weeks ago. As soon as I finished watching it I had to discuss it with somebody and so I immediately shot off an e-mail to WitD’s Sam Juliano (who I knew was a big fan) just to rave about it. He’ll attest to the fact that I was completely gushing. I could not believe that I had waited years to finally get a copy. I have never really been a fan of musicals, which I saw that this is routinely said to be. That label is a misnomer, as this is nowhere near being a musical in the Singin' in the Rain or West Side Story sense. Rather, this is simply a movie about music or dealing with music, not a traditional musical. Then again, even that description might not be completely accurate, as the music is simply the means by which two completely different people are able to connect. The relationship between the Guy and Girl (yes, no names are given) is what matters, not necessarily the music. To be certain, the music is fun and it’s rewarding even as a viewer to watch as the two are able to blend together their musical abilities and magically write a cycle of songs. I could rave about this movie all day and my suspicion is that over time, this is one that will continue to increase in stature. It’s not easy to make such a simple, laid-back movie so incredibly powerful, but John Carney pulls it off. It runs the gamut of emotions – uplifting, funny, sad, poignant, downright joyous. Carney even manages to avoid the predictable conclusion and instead end things with a perfect finish. A great, great movie.

6. The Black Dahlia (Brian De Palma, 2006): I am already anticipating the collective gasp from most followers of the blog. That is, except for you Doniphon – I at least know that you are with me! Whereas Once was a movie that I just never got around to seeing for whatever reason, The Black Dahlia was one that I intentionally avoided. The reviews were unbelievably negative upon its initial release and I assumed that it was one that I could safely skip and move onto other worthwhile films. Once again, Doniphon at The Long Voyage Home clued me into something I was missing. Trusting his judgment, I decided to give it a shot. I loved it. Then, I had to buy a copy and make sure that it was as good as I thought. It held up. In fact, the movie remained stuck in my mind, similar to how the mysterious murder of the Dahlia consumed the two lead detectives of the story. So, this is the biggest limb that I will go out on for this list, as I do not hesitate in anointing The Black Dahlia to not only be among my personal top six films of the decade, but I now consider my favorite film ever directed by Brian De Palma. The main complaint about the film seems to be that the narrative is incomprehensible, but as Doniphon and I have discussed before, this is just De Palma lulling the audience into that belief. Multiple viewings actually show the he basically lays everything out for the audience. A first-time viewer is unlikely to pick up on all of these clues, but they are all out there to be pieced together. This is one of De Palma’s great appeal qualities for me: his ability to make the viewer think he is being tricky, when in reality things are not as complicated as you think. There is also a surreal aspect to chunks of the film that might be off-putting to some, but it works for me in a weird Twin Peaks kind of way. De Palma the visual stylist also shines here, as the sequence where he transitions from a shootout outside a storefront to the discovery of the Dahlia’s body is spectacular.

5. Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003): This one drops a spot from the January rough draft, but only because the four films ahead of it are so strong. I still stand by my often-repeated claim that this is the best movie made by a member of the Coppola family in the last thirty years. This is actually the only film I have seen from Sofia, so she is batting .1000 with me as a director. I had planned on refraining from taking any shots at her turn in The Godfather III, but I can’t help it, she and her father deserve all the razzies they get for that. So, I’ll plead with her not to consider a return to acting at any point in her future. But why would she need to with directorial skills like this? And it’s not just her directing here, as the original screenplay also deserves recognition. What could have easily been dragged into the dreaded cheesy chick-flick territory never even approaches such negatives. Bill Murray should have won an Oscar for Best Actor but was nudged out by Academy favorite Sean Penn in Mystic River. Scarlett Johansson showed the promise here that everyone hoped she would live up to. Unfortunately, I don’t think she has – even in the other films in this countdown that she stars in, Match Point and The Black Dahlia, she comes across as very mechanical. Not in Lost in Translation, though. Here she is almost perfect. What it ultimately comes down to for me and this film, I suppose, is that I find the whole thing charming. Maybe it has something to do with personal experience. Although not the same in terms of age difference, I’ve had relationships that had a dynamic similar to the one here – not romantic, but unique in being different from a normal friendship. That personal connection certainly adds something to the experience.

4. Zodiac (David Fincher, 2007): I don’t see how anyone can watch this film and ever listen to Donovan’s “Hurdy Gurdy Man” and not be reminded of either this movie of the Zodiac killer in general. The association has been imprinted that powerfully in my mind. David Fincher is another director that is popular both among critics and fans, but one that I never really warmed up to until 2007. I liked Se7en, but outside of that found a lot of his other blockbusters to be overrated. Zodiac was very different. What I like most about it is how it can be approached differently by each viewer. By the title of the film, it would seem that the central issue is examining who actually pulled off the sensational murders and taunted the police along the way. But the more that I watch the movie, the more it seems that the true point is examining the effects of obsession. Robert Graysmith becomes so consumed with discovering the killer’s identity – not necessarily bringing about justice, but just “looking into his eyes” – that it ruins the life he has built for himself. Fincher never resorts to cheap tricks or “got ya” moments to create tension. He doesn’t need to – the movie and story are just flat-out scary. I find few movies genuinely scary, but this is one of them. It’s just unnerving to me in a way that few other films have ever matched. The dread that builds up as Fincher follows years of investigation and speculation is beyond compare. The fact that this was not the top film of its year once again speaks to what a monumental twelve months of cinema 2007 was.

3. Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2003): I don’t know how I could write only a capsule of David Lynch’s crowning achievement, or do so without copying everything I wrote in the annual countdown. So I apologize in advance to those that have faithfully followed the blog, as you’ve probably heard much of this before. The experience I had watching Mulholland Dr. for the first time remains one of the most memorable movie-watching experiences of my life. I had no clue what I had just watched, but I didn’t care – I just knew that I had sat through an undisputed masterpiece. I immediately began playing things back through in my mind, trying to put the pieces together. I’ve now reached a point where I think I can put forth a coherent explanation of what happens in the movie, but that’s really unimportant. Part of me thinks that analyzing it any further than I already have might ruin some of the sheer enjoyment I get from watching it. Perhaps this outlook will eventually lead me to understanding and appreciating Lynch’s later incomprehensible Inland Empire? At any rate, I would give anything to be able to once again experience this movie as I did the first time. Dreamy and magical are the words that come to mind when I think about it. Experiences like that are what hooked me as a serious movie nut.

2. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Andrew Dominik, 2007): If forced to make a list of my favorite westerns of all time, I would put The Assassination of Jesse James behind only two other films – Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo and Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. And even then, I’d be tempted to find a way to nudge it toward the top spot! The movie was criminally overlooked when it came time for the 2007 awards season, but it seems to have enjoyed an ever-increasing reputation among those in the blogosphere. Maybe it’s my love of all things Malick that draws me to this film, but similar to that master’s best works, The Assassination manages to cast some sort of spell over me that keeps me enthralled for its three-hour running time. Somehow Roger Deakins lost the Academy Award for Best Cinematography to Robert Elswit’s work in There Will Be Blood, but in my opinion it is a no contest. Deakins here produces some of the finest work I have ever seen. The famed train robbery sequence never does anything less than give me chills. I had reservations about Brad Pitt as Jesse James but he is more than just serviceable, he approaches greatness. Casey Affleck doesn’t just approach greatness; he achieves it as Bob Ford. The personality he creates for Bob is perfect – at times annoying, neurotic, loyal, occasionally bold. The number of great scenes and sequences here come one on top of another: the train robbery, standing on the ice and firing into it, the tense dinner table showdown, the coda that closes the film. It took a lot to keep this from the #1 slot, but as we’ll see, my top selection is also an all-time favorite…

1. The New World (Terrence Malick, 2005): There was certainly no suspense or drama as to what my top pick would be. Anyone who has followed the blog at all knows that not only do I love Terrence Malick, but this film in particular is one that I hold very dear. I mentioned the great experience that I had watching Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. for the first time. I had a similar epiphany with The New World. The great thing about The New World is that I manage to get that same out-of-this-world feeling every time I watch it, even now after having seen it at least six or seven times. I recently bought my third copy of it when I picked up the Blu Ray a few weeks back, which now sits beside the original DVD and the Extended Cut. I hate double-dipping (or in this case triple-dipping) on things, but if anything cries out to be watched in HD or Blu Ray it is the work of Terrence Malick. I pretty much poured out everything I had to say about the film in my review for the annual countdown (so I’ll at least direct folks there for a more thorough discussion). What I will reiterate is the way that I am continually drawn into this movie. Everything about it works for me. In my original review, I described it as “an all-encompassing, overwhelming onslaught of all the senses,” and that is the best way that I can explain it. Malick’s story, where fact and myth are swirled into his own unique concoction, hits me both in the stomach and the heart. The cinematography from Emanuel Lubezki is the best I have ever seen, bar none. The music could not have been more perfectly selected and now I cannot listen to a single note of Wagner’s Rheingold or Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 without wanting to watch this film. I could go on for pages singing this film’s praises. Instead, I’ll encourage folks that haven’t to read the extended piece I already wrote and leave any comments they would like. I will just finish by admitting that the more that I think about it, and more that I watch it, the closer I come to realizing that The New World is probably the best movie I’ve ever seen. If not, it’s damn close.

Top 50 of the 2000s: #20-11

2010-05-10T00:05:00.013-04:00

20. Road to Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002): American Beauty is routinely cited as Sam Mendes’ best film, and in terms of originality and historical significance, I don’t know that I could argue. But the Mendes film that I most often return to is Road to Perdition, which manages to take Tom Hanks miscast as a hitman and make a gangster-slash-road movie that works. Some will argue that Road to Perdition is little more than an average classically-set gangster film, and when I initially watched it in theater I leaned close to agreeing with such an opinion. Knowing the source material, I now have a better understanding of where the story is coming from and am able to get into it completely. But even if someone refuses to accept the story, I cannot see any way that a fan of cinema would remain unmoved by the cinematography from DP Conrad Hall. The lighting is so unique, creates such a singular visual style, that I don’t even know how to describe it. It looks like nothing else I have seen before or since. The most gorgeous cinematography I have ever seen comes from Terrence Malick films. This last work in the career of the great Conrad Hall rivals anything in The New World or Days of Heaven, which is the highest compliment I am capable of giving a cinematographer.

19. Mystic River (Clint Eastwood, 2003): Perhaps I spoke too soon in anointing The Hours to be the favorite to claim the title of “most depressing film in the countdown.” It is hard to top Eastwood’s screen version of Dennis Lehane’s novel in terms of morose, miserable atmosphere. Everything about it brings nothing but impending dread. Once we see a young Dave Boyle abducted as a kid, the predestined fatalistic finale hangs over everything else that takes place. A number of performances are disturbingly impressive, with Sean Penn and Tim Robbins in particular more than up to the darkness of the story. I don’t know how else to describe the story than to say that it is haunting. Ala Howard Hawks, Eastwood simply tells the story and lets the images and acting speak for itself – nothing very tricky or fancy about it at all.

18. The Aviator (Martin Scorsese, 2004): The Departed and Gangs of New York have their proponents, but for me The Aviator remains the best film made by Marty Scorsese in the 2000s. Stepping away from the gritty, street-level films that are his bread and butter, in this case Scorsese opts for a big, colorful, full-blown Hollywood production. By "Hollywood production" I don't mean that it is rare for Scorsese movies to have a huge budget and resources. I am referring to the "hugeness" or it all. This atmosphere is perfect to tell the story of a bombastic personality like Howard Hughes. This film looks like nothing else in the Scorsese catalog, which to me is a definite positive, as it is interesting to see him working with such interesting, vibrant colors. But in staying a Scorsese film, he does not completely abandon familiar territory. While it might not be immediately obvious, Scorsese is the perfect man to bring to life the descent into madness and obsession that consumed Hughes’ life. After all, who else can convey such neuroses than the man who brought us Travis Bickle? DiCaprio is nothing short of outstanding in the role of Hughes.

17. Sideways (Alexander Payne, 2004): My nominee for the best comedy of the decade has to be Alexander Payne’s Sideways. Rather than simply lampooning the pretentiousness of wine aficionados, the movie does a nice job of taking jabs at wine enthusiasts without completely ridiculing them. It comes across as respecting the passion, while laughing at the quirkiness and seriousness with which they approach the hobby. The four lead performances can all make a case for being the best in the film – the love interests played by Virginia Madsen and Sandra Oh are outstanding. But it is the relationship between Miles (Paul Giamatti) and Jack (Thomas Hayden Church) that is the most fascinating. They are hilarious together, as two men who seemingly have nothing in common and yet remain such close friends. It is hilarious to watch as they gets themselves worked up to the point that they obviously cannot stand to be in each other’s presence, yet all the while it is obvious that they will have the other’s back no matter what comes up. Every time I watch it, there are moments in the film where I start prematurely laughing because I am anticipating the witty dialog that Miles or Jack is about to ramble off. Even Miles’ often-played Merlot explosion never fails to make me laugh.

16. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (Steven Spielberg, 2001): I had a weird experience watching this a few weeks ago. When I did my annual countdown, I was certain that I had seen A.I. and felt lukewarm about it. I remembered finding it OK, but nothing great. When I re-watched it last month, by the time the film ended I was completely in shock. Anyone else ever had this happen with a film? Anyway, I realized that there was no way that I had seen A.I. in its entirety and not been blown away. Because, rest assured, it most definitely blew me away. I now believe that I would rank only Schindler’s List and Raiders of the Lost Ark ahead of it in terms of the best from Steven Spielberg. As crazy as it sounds, I was also unaware of the Kubrick connection to the entire project, which shows how little attention I gave this film until recently. It was a terrible oversight on my part and I’m just glad that I remedied it. The whole thing is outstanding, but the section that gives me goosebumps is the one that I keep reading criticism about - the end. I find the coda, after David is frozen for 2,000 years, to be incredible. It is both uplifting and heartbreaking, which I have rarely seen pulled off. I don't know how someone could claim that ending was bogus for being "overly sentimental." Such a reaction is ridiculous and I would guess has a lot to do with the general backlash against all things Spielberg that many people continue to harbor.

15. The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson, 2001): I suppose that I could have revealed this earlier, but with trilogies, I chose only to include my favorite of each series. So, for the classic Tolkien trilogy, I have to go with the first installment. The Return of the King is routinely cited as being the perfect finish to the series and is viewed as the strongest of the films. I slightly give the edge of The Fellowship, although all three are topnotch and are worthy of a placement in this part of the rankings. The amount of stuff that has been written about these films throughout the blogosphere is staggering, and I am nowhere near being enough of a Tolkien aficionado to comment on a lot of what is said. What I will point out, though, is that I have trouble differentiating between the three films in the trilogy. It is not so much that I am an advocate of viewing them as a single movie, but more that they are each of such high quality and flow so well together that I respond equally to all three. What earns Fellowship the nod is that the experience I had watching it for the first time trumps that of the two sequels and thus it will likely remain my personal favorite.

14. There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007): I have to be honest and admit that I am no great fan of Paul Thomas Anderson. He may be one of the most talented and beloved filmmakers in Hollywood, but until There Will Be Blood he had not released a single film that I could say I loved. Hard Eight was a solid enough debut. I liked Boogie Nights, but never felt it was as good as critics claimed it to be. Magnolia I have never understood, as it seems like a lesser Robert Altman. Punch-Drunk Love has its moments when I feel like I’m going to completely go for it, but I’ve yet to ever completely reach that point. With There Will Be Blood, I finally got there. Daniel Day-Lewis turns in another towering performance. Many have accused him of simply aping his role as Bill the Butcher in Scorsese’s Gangs of New York. I can understand the thinking, but Lewis would not be the first to play similar roles and make both of them memorable – do the names John Wayne and Jimmy Cagney ring a bell? And there are some subtle differences. Whereas Bill was merciless throughout, Daniel Plainview manages to keep some of his rage subdued until he reaches a murderous boiling point by movie’s end. Robert Elswit shines as director of photography, displaying a vision of the west that is as barren as anything ever committed to celluloid.

13. Flame & Citron (Ole Christian Madsen, 2008): Following the successful formula perfected by Jean-Pierre Melville in his prime, Danish director Ole Christian Madsen created this potent mixture of noir and war film. The movie looks spectacular, with certain sequences that are as impressive as anything in this countdown. I bring it up every time I mention the movie, but those first fifteen minutes that recount the Nazi conquest of Denmark are spectacular. Combining true wartime newsreels with footage shot specifically for this production, the lead character "Flame" narrates what it felt like to be a proud Dutch citizen watching his nation being taken by force. In a short period of time, the stage is properly set for the tale of espionage and resistance that unfolds. In terms of the many WWII resistance films released this decade, I am in the minority that considers Flame & Citron to be the best. I obviously like Inglourious Basterds and Black Book – I obviously wouldn’t have included in the Top 50 if I didn’t – but give Flame & Citron the slight edge due to the interesting relationship and personalities of the two lead characters. It might not be as intellectual as great Melville works like Army of Shadows, but it is still a wonderful combination of action and drama.

12. Eastern Promises (David Cronenberg, 2007): For the life of me I cannot figure out why A History of Violence is so critically-acclaimed, while Eastern Promises is often looked at only as a reasonably successful follow-up collaboration between David Cronenberg and Viggo Mortensen. The supposedly “compelling issues” raised by A History of Violence have always come across to me as being too forced, too superficial. It felt like it started strong and became too preposterous for me to stomach as things continued to progress. Eastern Promises, to me, towers above its lauded predecessor. The story, at least on initial appearance, is a fairly conventional gangster tale. But there is much more than meets the eye (which I won’t give away) and Cronenberg expertly manages to disguise the secret well into the film. Looking back, there are obvious hints that should make it known, but the first time around I honestly was not completely aware of the twist until it was obvious to anyone with half a brain. The unique thing about this crime story, though, is that like Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in America, rather than tell it in the traditional Italian-American mafia setting, Cronenberg creates an entirely new world for such a gangster epic. In this case, he creates a London underworld where Russian and former Soviet immigrant communities remain ruled by all-powerful crime lords. The whole subculture completely envelops you while watching. There are also a number of wonderfully gritty performances, coming from Armin Mueller-Stahl as the Russian mob patriarch, Vincent Cassell as Mueller-Stahl’s son, and Mortensen as the thug with a heart. Originally slotted just outside the Top 20, I jumped this one way up the list, as I savor it more each time I watch it. It is a tough, brutal movie, but Cronenberg gives everything such a lyricism that it is intoxicating.

11. United 93 (Paul Greengrass, 2006): I don’t know what to say about this film without sounding completely cheesy. To call it “powerful” or “sobering” seems so cliché when dealing with a historical event like 9/11. The fact that the movie itself never once ventures into such tasteless areas speaks to what an accomplishment Paul Greengrass achieves. When the film was first released, I was hesitant as to how it would work and had two main concerns: one, that it was too soon for such a movie to be made; and two, that it would almost certainly be an over-the-top flag-waiving exercise. After watching it, neither concern was ever an issue. The heroism doesn’t feel forced. The horror is never sugarcoated. The documentary style that Greengrass uses gives everything a real-time feel that makes every minute heart-pounding. The story covers many hours, but everything feels like it is happening in real-time as the action cuts from the hijacked plane, to FAA control centers, to NORAD. The story is one that is certainly well-known to any American, and I would guess to most people on the planet that lived through it, so it is shocking to experience the terror that is created as the action moves toward the final storming of the cockpit. Everyone knows what the conclusion will be; many likely know all the details about the buildup. Even so, it is alarming to watch it all play out. The Michael Mann-like approach of simply dropping the audience into the story, without any regard for character development or background information, was the perfect approach to tell this story.

Top 50 of the 2000s: #30-21

2010-05-08T00:05:00.021-04:00

30. Femme Fatale (Brian De Palma, 2002): I love doing internet searches on the films of Brian De Palma, because the range of opinions is so extreme that it makes it virtually impossible to gauge how you will react to one of his movies until you have actually seen it. I have been on a serious Brian De Palma kick for months and the fact that Femme Fatale is in the Top 50 should make clear where I come down on De Palma. Say what you will about him, but the man is a master in telling a story with the camera. Even if you don’t like his plots, even if you believe him to be a hack that has been ripping off Hitchcock for decades, I don’t see how you can deny what an inventive technician he can be behind the camera. The opening shot in this film is a case in point. Rebecca Romijn’s Laure is laying on a hotel bed, watching the final showdown between Walter Neff and Phyllis Dietrichson in the noir classic Double Indemnity. De Palma focuses on the TV, allowing Laure’s face to glare back off the screen, so that we watch her watching the scene. Simple, yet such brilliant work. The early heist scene is both sensual and suspenseful. The story is convoluted as hell, containing unbelievable, hallucinatory plot details. Really, the plot is inconsequential. In my mind, you can either revel in De Palma’s style that is on full display – flashbacks, dreams, split screens, replayed scenes – or if you aren’t a fan to begin with, you probably will not like this one. I am a fan, so I rank it among De Palma’s best. When I watch a quality De Palma film, I feel like I am watching somebody at work who just loves everything about cinema - the techniques, the possibilities, the history. And that always appeals to me.

29. The Return (Andrei Zvyagintsev, 2003): This is another difficult movie to place, at least initially. I have seen it described as being in the “Tarkovsky style,” which for most cineastes is as strong an endorsement as can be given. As someone who has struggled with Tarkovsky from the get-go – I don’t at all dislike his films, they’re just hard for me – I didn’t know what to make of the comparison. After finishing it for the first time, I was equally as puzzled about what to make of the film. It was one of those rare movies where you either love or hate what you just watched and it’s not entirely clear which the case is. The visuals were undeniably spectacular, but what to make of the story being told? It’s one that needs to be fully digested and mulled over. As I scoured the ‘net and looked to see what others thought, I came across a statement form Washington Post film critic Stephen Hunter that summed up exactly how I came feel about The Return: It's not the sort of film one can be said to enjoy, but it is the sort of film that has the clarity of a dream and lingers for hours.” This one worms its way into your psyche and stays there. It is not one that you turn off or walk out of the cinema and soon forget. Director Andrei Zyvagintsev has crafted a movie that uses a MacGuffin worthy of Hitchcock or Huston, yet allows enough allegorical interpretations for each viewer to take something different from it. Everything about the story is ominous, and childhood actors Vladimir Garin and Ivan Dobronravov convey the uneasiness with the skill of veteran actors. Why did their father disappear and then return after twelve years? What is in the mysterious box that he secretly digs up? You’ll have to answer these questions yourself, as Zyvagintsev isn’t conventional enough to tell.

28. No Country for Old Men (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2007): The Best Picture winner in the monumental cinematic year of 2007. Even though I rank it behind at least four or five other movies of the same year, it is an engrossing, haunting film that is as good as advertised. I remain shocked at how successful the movie became, particularly at the box office where it was a smash. I suppose this is a testament to how well it can play as a simple thriller or action movie. To look at it in this fashion, though, is to overlook so many intricacies included in the film (or are at least attempted to be). I say “at least attempted to be” because I do think that some key sections of the book do not translate as seamlessly to the screen as others. I am a big fan of Cormac McCarthy’s novel and the best parts of the book were the inner monologues and ruminations of Sheriff Ed Tom Bell. Some of these were able to be included, many others weren’t. Normally I am not one to make a big stink over “the movie pales in comparison to the book” type of stuff and I am not meaning to imply that. Just pointing out that I can't help but think about my favorite parts of the book whenever the screenplay gives room for the Sheriff to reflect. Tackling the themes of this film is too large a task to accomplish in this limited space. But it’s another instance of a movie that leaves room for interpretation and deserves to be watched multiple times.

27. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (Ang Lee, 2000): I go back and forth on whether my favorite Ang Lee film is Lust, Caution or Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. For now, I stick with Crouching Tiger, although that could change in the future. I’ve said it multiple times on the blog, but I still am shocked that I like this movie as much as I do. Martial arts-related films usually do nothing for me. In this case, the action is so well-choreographed without being dragged out to interminable lengths, that it is much more accessible to viewers like me. Plus, the chemistry that develops between the leads means that there is a very human element to everything taking place in this mystical world. The back-and-forth between Michelle Yeoh and Ziyi Zhang is the most interesting aspect for me, as their relationship walks a line between friendship and rivalry.

26. Bright Star (Jane Campion, 2009): Another film that I immediately knew I liked, but didn’t completely know what to make of. Bright Star is a movie that you need to give some time to really sink in, mull over a few days, and then try and make sense of it later. This is a slow-moving, contemplative look at the relationship between Fanny Brawne and poet John Keats. The deliberate pacing is fitting, allowing the gorgeous visuals to take center stage and the relationship between Fanny and Keats to develop through unconventional means like walks in the forest, love letters back and forth, and information passed by mutual acquaintances. Campion employs a surprisingly simple storytelling technique, but her script makes the love affair between Fanny and Keants feel very natural and real, not the typically sped-up or forced Hollywood romance. The movie has a definite Malick feel, which is great news for Malick nuts like me. The best performance of the movie probably comes from Paul Schneider as Charles Armitage Brown. He is annoyingly perfect for the role and is likely to irritate the viewer as much as he does Fanny. This is the only film I have ever seen from Jane Campion and I am very impressed. The fact that I wanted to watch this one again almost immediately after finishing it is one of the highest compliments I can give to any movie.

25. Black Book (Paul Verhoeven, 2006): Yes, even more WWII resistance. This seems to have been a popular setup for the decade and while I don’t think this is the best movie to touch on the issue, it comes very close to being so. Although Verhoeven returned to his native Holland to make this film, the thing that I love about it is how it plays like a good old fashioned, entertaining Hollywood war film. There are copious amounts of twists, turns, and action to satisfy the most passive of viewers. But the film also contains interesting character studies, particularly in the film of Ellis and the machinations she has to go through in order to survive in different worlds. I am still a neophyte in terms of Verhoeven’s overall body of work, but what Black Book showed was what a technician he could be. He has camera movements – I am thinking of the scene when Rachel and her family are trying to sneak away on the barge – that are sublime. Inglourious Basterds seems to have been anointed as the resistance film per excellence, but Black Book is actually the superior film.

24. The Proposition (John Hillcoat, 2005): This brutal western set in Australia was a revelation to me when I watched it for the first time in 2007. I knew virtually nothing about it but saw it referenced as being the best western released in the last decade. When I got the chance to see it, I briefly agreed with that assessment. Until I saw another western later in the year, I agreed that The Proposition was the best to be released in some time. It is a gorgeously photographed movie, showcasing the sprawling Australian landscape. The natural beauty serves as a contrast to the extreme brutality and violence that characterizes the story. A scene of a judicial whipping in the center of a town is downright cruel. Many have made the connection to the writing of Cormac McCarthy, particularly his novel Blood Meridian, and it’s a natural link. The magnificence of McCarthy’s writing is contrasted by the endless violence of his story, similar to the juxtaposition created in The Proposition.

23. Collateral (Michael Mann, 2004): The third Michael Mann entry in this decade and, in my opinion, his best film of the 2000s. It’s actually very close between all three, but what sets Collateral apart for me is the wonderful atmosphere and tone that Mann is able to create in late night Los Angeles. Mann is a master at disguising action movies or thrillers as burning character studies. He sticks with his latest style of throwing audiences directly into a story, with little background or buildup, but there is just enough of a setup to pave the way for future developments. The early scenes between Jamie Foxx’s Max and a District Attorney played by Jada Pinkett-Smith are wonderful. Some people have argued that the screenplay is weak, but Stuart Beattie’s dialog in close-quarters situations like this is actually outstanding. The discussions between Tom Cruise’s calculating Vincent, a fare that Max picks up and is unwittingly drawn into a series of contract murders, move like a singsong melody which plays well with the muted reds and yellows of streetlights in the L.A. night. Cruise and Foxx both shine throughout the entire film, with their interplay holding everything together. If you think about it, the scenario is preposterous – why wouldn't Vincent’s employers provide him with the necessary transportation? This might be too big of a hurdle for some folks to overcome. But watching it play out, things are so entertaining, and Cruise’s brooding philosophical diatribes so intriguing, that it’s easy to forget the outlandishness of the plot.

22. Up (Pete Docter & Bob Peterson, 2009): My knowledge of animated film is almost zilch, even concerning the wildly popular movies of Pixar. I haven’t seen all of their films released this decade and have come to learn that many actually regard Up as a middle of the road effort in comparison to other successes like Ratatouille, The Incredibles, Finding Nemo, or Wall-E. I haven’t seen the first two so I cannot comment, but I disagree completely about the latter two. Based on my limited experience with Pixar, Up stands head and shoulders above the rest. Not only that, but I think that it is probably the best film released in all of 2009. The fifteen minute silent sequence at the beginning of the film that recounts the life of Carl and Ellie as a married couple is as fine a piece of filmmaking as I have seen the entire decade. It is something on par with great silent directors like Chaplin and Keaton. The remainder of the film is also of high quality, with Ed Asner shining as the cynical Carl – I love his line about he and Russell moving the house across the mountain and how “we're gonna walk to the falls quickly and quietly, with no rap music or flash-dancing.” The interaction between Carl and Russell really is touching and the entire movie plays as a wonderful fable for both children and adults.

21. City of God (Fernando Meirelles and Katia Lund, 2002): Yes, this one was a bit higher when I mad a quick list in January and it has done nothing to deserve falling in the rankings. It is just that other movies continue to get better for me and new entries have moved it down a few notches. Still, it is a powerhouse movie, taking well-known crime story arcs and giving them a fresh feel and power. As I said in my review for the annual countdown, this is one of the few movies that manage to truly appall me. The scene where a young kid is forced to shoot another child is horrifying every time I see it. Rather than repeat myself, I will reiterate what I said in that write-up: “Certainly a great film is not found in a single scene, but for me it undercuts the key criticism that is leveled against City of God: the fact that it retreads a lot of ground that has been covered in previous crime films. To be certain, the influences of American crime dramas are obvious – the realistic, documentary feel of Martin Scorsese’s early works, the quirkiness and sometimes humorous episodic structure of a Tarantino film, the childhood to adulthood scope of countless gangster films. I’ve seen some claim that the only difference is setting the film in the favela of Brazil. Maybe this is true, but it glosses over what an enormous variation this is. Exploring an underworld that most viewers know very little about, it looks at issues of crime and life in the ghetto differently than any of the previously mentioned films. And in the end, its answers, or lack thereof, are no easier to digest than the scene I described in the first paragraph.”

Top 50 of the 2000s: #40-31

2010-05-06T00:05:00.016-04:00

40. Almost Famous (Cameron Crowe, 2000): At one time, this movie was a Top 20 selection for the decade. Unfortunately, it hasn’t held up quite as well on repeat viewings. The appeal of the story is still there, as I would have loved nothing more than to have been alive in this era and leading the life of Patrick Fugit’s character. That being said, while I still enjoy it, I can’t help but seeing it as coming dangerously close to being just a fictionalized story that incorporates as many Led Zeppelin-related rock n’ roll clichés as possible into the tale. It remains wildly entertaining for me and if for nothing other than the music it is worth watching. This entry makes it sound like it is a movie that I dislike, which is not the case or I wouldn't have included it in the Top 50 at all. I am just explaining why it at one time appeared in the top twenty and is now #40. Still one I enjoy watching, if not quite as much as I initially did.

39. Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, 2009): OK, OK, I was wrong. I admit it. When I first came home from the theater and tried to give the latest Tarantino film a rating, I admitted that I liked it but was a bit underwhelmed. I thought it was a 7/10 type movie. Watching it again, though, I quickly realized two things. First, I enjoyed the film a lot more when I didn’t watch every minute expecting laughs like Pulp Fiction. And second, that my original criticism of the film having some fluff sprinkled throughout its near three-hour running time remains valid. I still firmly hold the belief that Basterds is better in parts than it is as a whole. But those outstanding parts are among the best work that Tarantino has done. The opening interrogation scene is superbly paced and shot. The tavern sequence, as some of the Basterds go undercover as Nazi officers, is both fun and intense. The audacity to change history, as Tarantino does in the shocking finale, was probably too bold for me to stomach – even now, I still am a little surprised he had the guts to go through with and, even more shocking, that it was so well received in many quarters. But the quote that has stuck with me since I re-watched it is Christoph Waltz’s Landa declaring that, “In the pages of history, every once in a while, fate reaches out and extends its hand… What shall the history books read?” This, I think, helps to explain what Tarantino tried to do. Whether you buy it or not is a different story. I’m still not completely sure how it works in the end, but it’s an interesting thing to see how a twist of fate could have radically rewritten history. While I ponder my final verdict on the historical liberties, I just have to admit that I have too much fun watching Waltz and Brad Pitt not to place this movie in the list. Does it make me a hypocrite for reassessing my initial reaction?

38. O Brother, Where Art Thou? (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2000): A film title that alludes to anything Preston Sturges-related is halfway home to winning me over. The first movie released by the Coens in the decade remains one of their most beloved, also contributing to a sudden explosion of popularity for the bluegrass and folks artists who performed the music used in the soundtrack. Set in the Great Depression and based loosely on Homer's The Odysseey of all things, the movie somehow works. Its charm is almost irresistible, and even those that aren’t particular fans have to at least acknowledge how infectious the Coen’s playfulness can be. I have to admit to never having been a George Clooney fan, and he does get a bit annoying at times, but on the whole remains humorous throughout. His compatriots in the trek are even more entertaining, as John Turturro (a longtime Coens favorite) is amazing, as is Timothy Blake Nelson. The Depression-era fairy tale is just too much fun to keep off of a list like this.

37. The Hours (Stephen Daldry, 2002): The film most likely to take the title for most depressing in the countdown has to be Stephen Daldry’s The Hours. I didn’t see this one when it initially hit theaters and only recently watched it for the first time. The importance of this detail is that I went into it pretty fresh, without much of an idea of what the story centered on and how its unique structure would work. The three parallel stories, taking place in three different eras, is never fully explained, but this is actually to the film’s benefit. The enigmatic atmosphere created by it is palpable. In reviews that I have read, a lot is made of the gay and bisexual overtones of many of the characters, which seems important to a lot of writers and critics. It didn’t make a bit of difference to me, as I was much more interested in the way that Daldry manages to show the interconnectedness of actions through the ages. One action can have ramifications for years to come. People that have never met can be more alike than relatives. It is a draining, depressing movie, but certainly one of the best of the decade.

36. Match Point (Woody Allen, 2005): Yes, it prominently shows off its influences, calling to mind similar stories like A Place in the Sun and Woody Allen’s earlier Crimes and Misdemeanors. But I have always felt that Match Point is coming from a different place. In A Place in the Sun and Crimes and Misdemeanors, we see two characters wrestling with a decision that they do not want to make but cannot see any other way to solve their problems. It is still a reprehensible decision, but the audience at least sees the anguish they go through in making the choice. In Match Point, Chris seems nowhere near as torn. Perhaps he struggles to actually put his plan into motion, but everything happens very quickly and he admits afterward that he had to do it. I think this distinction in lead characters is significant in allowing Match Point to stand on its own. It is not as good as either of the two earlier movies I mentioned, but it’s still the best work that Woody Allen has done in over a decade. The ruminations on the role of luck in one’s life are interesting, and Woody uses the tennis metaphor to set the audience up in the final act. He uses the opening freeze frame of a tennis ball lingering over the net to toy with the audience in a way that would make even Hitchcock smile.

35. The Man Who Wasn’t There (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2001): If this doesn’t make it obvious, as they are already making their third appearance in the list, I think that the Coens were rarely short of spectacular for the entire decade. The Man Who Wasn’t There is another quirky effort from the brothers, a dark, tongue-in-cheek drama masquerading as a film noir. The black and white photography from longtime Coens collaborator Roger Deakins is arguably the most impressive of Deakins’ superlative career. The characters are every bit as quirky as other memorable Coens personalities, with the supporting actors all adding flavor to the final product – Michael Badalucco as the incessantly chattering brother-in-law; Frances McDormand as the annoying unfaithful wife; Jon Polito as the scheming upstart drycleaner; and Tony Shalhoub as the high-priced defense attorney. But what fully puts the film over is the complete lack of flavor in Billy Bob Thornton’s Ed Crane. Nobody could have made the character fit the title more perfectly than the brooding Thornton. Also worth pointing out is the amazing soundtrack that incorporates Beethoven perfectly.

34. Miami Vice (Michael Mann, 2006):This is another instance where the response to a movie is all over the map. Some consider Mann’s reimagining of the classic TV show to be among the finest crime dramas ever made. Others are convinced that it is the weakest film in Mann’s entire filmography. Both are taking things to the extreme. The best crime drama of the decade? No, it’s not even Mann’s own best crime drama of the decade. But is at as bad as some have declared it? I think not, as evidenced by it’s placement in the Top 30 here. In fact, the horrible reputation that it held among many critics and movie fans kept me away from it for the longest time. When I finally watched, I disagreed with the negative assessment, but could see where some people make take exception. Almost everything is overly stylized and glossy, but Mann holds it all together. It works very well as a straight action movie, but is even better as a Michael Mann examination of what makes criminals, or in this case those pretending to be criminals, tick.

33. The Reader (Stephen Daldry, 2008): I have gone back and forth as to whether this latest Stephen Daldry film deserves to be placed here or close to the Top 20. I’m still not completely sure I am making the best decision, but this is still high praise for a film that elicited varying degrees of critical acclaim. Many reviewers took offense to active participants in the persecution of Jews being portrayed as also being victims of the Nazis and the Holocaust. Hanna Schmitz is convicted of crimes that she apparently did not commit, but does that mean she is completely innocent? No, it does not. But does this in turn justify imprisoning her for anything, even if she is not guilty of the acts for which she is convicted? These are interesting questions without easy answers. Kate Winslett proves once again that she might be the finest actress working today and justifiably earned the Oscar for Best Actress. This is certainly a polarizing film, to the point that I flip-flop myself on my true feelings for it. For now, I keep it as my favorite of Daldry’s two big accomplishments this decade.

32. Gone Baby Gone (Ben Affleck, 2007): The first movie to appear from what I consider the best year of the decade. 2007 was monstrous, particularly in American cinema (or if you want to expand it, English-speaking cinema). Expect much more from this year to be sprinkled through the countdown. This one easily could have been rated even higher, but plot twists are such a tricky thing. For most of its two hours of running time, Ben Affleck shows himself to be surprisingly adept at allowing a tense mystery to believably unfold. His younger brother Casey is light years ahead of him in terms of acting ability and he is allowed to shine in the leading role as Patrick Kenzie. He and Michelle Monaghan have great chemistry together. The knots that Patrick is tied in, conflicted over what he needs to do and what he _must_ do, is gripping stuff. The ending, though – as is so often the case with modern mystery or thriller novels – gets a bit too tricky for its own good. Is it believable? Yes, but it might be just a bit too much. Even so, the drama is engrossing enough to make up for any problems one might have with the conclusion. And Casey Affleck turns in a second incredible performance for the year.

31. Lust, Caution (Ang Lee, 2007): More from 2007, but this time from outside of the English-speaking world. Ang Lee, who had already come to the United States and been highly successful, returned to Chinese cinema to make this Hong Kong-based WWII espionage thriller. The story centers on a group of college students who plot to get one of their own close to Mr. Yee (played by Tony Leung), a collaborator and high ranking official of the puppet government set up by the occupying Japanese. Using pure sex appeal, they manage to get Wong Chia Chi close to him as a mistress. Then an unbelievably deceptive tale of espionage and counterespionage unfolds, boasting enough explicit sex to earn the film an NC-17 rating in the US. The sex scenes can be graphic, but are nowhere near as explicit as the rating would lead one to believe. They are raunchy to be sure, but fall short of being a glorified porno. The atmosphere Lee fosters in recreating war-torn Hong Kong and Shanghai, working with Mexican-born cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, is what sticks with me most. The unhurried pace that Lee takes in telling the story could be hard for some to accept, but it is worth the effort. I think a valid argument could be made that this is the best film Ang Lee has made to date.

Top 50 of the 2000s: #50-41

2010-05-04T00:05:00.003-04:00

50. Kingdom of Heaven – Director’s Cut (Ridley Scott, 2005): I don’t know what it is about Ridley Scott, but the man has a fixation with releasing endless streams of updated DVD editions of his films. Just look at what he has done with something like Blade Runner, making a sport out of seeing how many different ways he can cut the film (to whatever degree), repackage it, and then put it on the market and watch people gobble up more copies. To say it is annoying is an understatement – thank goodness, I’ve never really been a huge fan of that Scott classic and have no need to scoop up any updates or editions. In the case of this much-maligned 2005 release, though, Scott’s DVD of his own director’s cut is absolutely essential to appreciating the film. Although it did make money, the theatrical run of Kingdom of Heaven was a disappointment (particularly in the United States), with critical opinion was mixed at best. The biggest problem with the theatrical cut was the result of disagreements pitting Scott and writer William Monahan against studio executives. The execs wanted the movie to play like a nonstop sword-fighting thriller, while Scott and company wanted to take a more epic approach. The result was that the studio cut the film by 45 minutes, sacrificing key sequences that help to flesh out characters. It was, quite simply, a horrendous editing job. With these sections added back into the director’s cut, the story is much less disjointed. Flashbacks used to give more perspective on why the characters are involved in the Crusades add a lot. Flaws still remain in the film, and those that are hesitant of “historical action epics” like this are still unlikely to care for it. But this is a personal selection, as I for one am a sucker for precisely this kind of film.

49. Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008): I normally am not one that goes for vampire movies, or supernatural/horror films of this sort. I don’t know what it is, but I just have a hard time getting into them. Let the Right One In is so well made, and played out in such a contemplative manner, that these thoughts never really entered my mind. In fact, after watching the movie and mildly enjoying it, it only continued to grow in stature as I ran back through it in my mind. Alfredson does an incredible job of setting the scene, utilizing the snow and a forbidding-looking apartment building to mimic the isolation felt by the young Oskar. And the reason that the supernatural/horror aspect never feels hokey is that Alfredson doesn’t overdo it. The young girl as a vampire isn’t necessarily the focus. Instead, the relationship that develops between Oskar and Eli is most important. The vampire issue is just another layer in that relationship that is slowly built up to being as important as most horror directors would immediately make it. I also marvel at how impressive that final sequence in the school swimming pools is – the direction is superb.

48. Munich (Steven Spielberg, 2005): This may be criminally low, so I will be interested to see how people respond to its placement. I have recently come to appreciate the work of Steven Spielberg even more than in the past – perhaps in response to noticing how much of a backlash he receives from self-anointed amateur cinema experts who seem to feel that anyone who makes a blockbuster cannot be taken seriously. Spielberg’s output in the 2000s provides further proof that such a supposition is ridiculous. As I say, this might be far better than where I am ranking it, and the questions that it asks are certainly worth ruminating – can a violent response ever be controlled? I usually am annoyed at the whole “violence begets violence” theme that is driven into the ground by many films, but I don’t think that necessarily applies here. In my mind, the violent response to the 1972 Munich Olympics hostage issue is justifiable. And I think Spielberg feels this way too. The question he asks, of how you control a mission like this once it takes on a life of its own, is even more interesting than the “violence begets violence” cliché. Eric Bana is terrific in the lead and Spielberg does a fantastic job in creating edge-your-seat sequences.

47. A Serious Man (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2009): This might have been the hardest movie to try and place. The Coen Brothers had another incredible decade, receiving critical praise and box office success. And this 2009 release possesses a lot of the same sophisticated, quirky humor found in all of their films. But A Serious Man is different. For whatever reason, it never received a full-blown theatrical release – I actually HAD to wait for the DVD in order to see it – and is definitely much less accessible than their other releases in the decade. This is what I like to a call a “creeper,” meaning a movie that might not have you walking out of the theater calling it a masterpiece, but one that will play on your mind for days and weeks afterward. By that time, you very well may consider it among the finest work the Coens have ever done. Even now, when I rank it among their best, it is not an easy film to love. It is an unsatisfying film, offering virtually no answers to any of the questions that are posed, but this is precisely the point. Larry, the main character, never seems to find the answers that he looks for as he goes from rabbi to rabbi in search of instruction. So it is no surprise that we in the audience remain equally bewildered. A challenging film for sure, but one that will reward repeat viewings.

46. Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002): _This_ is why I re-watch films so often. Not only do I enjoy watching favorites many times, but I also feel like I need to revisit films that did not connect with me on a first viewing. I went into the theater in 2002 as a Scorsese nut hoping for another gangster epic. And that was the problem. I knew that the story took place well before that time frame, but I was expecting something dealing with the “roots of organized crime” which is actually a larger focus of Herbert Asbury’s original work than it is in Scorsese’s film. The film plays more like a John Ford epic mythology type film - ala something like The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance - recounting how New York City was built. I was pushed toward giving the film a reappraisal when Gangs placed highly in Doniphon’s own countdown of the best of the decade at The Long Voyage Home. I am glad that I did, as it is a far better film than I originally gave it credit for. There are still rough patches to be sure – Cameron Diaz is woefully miscast and is at times cringe-worthy in trying to come across as a pickpocket raised in the slums. DiCaprio is superb as usual, if not quite reaching his highest point. But Daniel Day-Lewis is nothing short of electrifying as Bill the Butcher. This movie could likely earn a spot in many Top 50 or 100 of the decade lists simply on strength of Lewis’ role. He is that good. Oh, and that Scorsese guy also doesn’t miss many opportunities to remind that he can still tell a story through pictures as well as anyone.

45. Inside Man (Spike Lee, 2006): Yes, 25th Hour would be the more obvious choice to include Spike Lee in this countdown, but I am siding with the entertaining personal favorite Inside Man. Perhaps due to having worked in a bank for a few years, something about ingenious bank heist schemes continues to fascinate me. To be sure, similar such plots have been used in past heist films, but it feels unique here. What elevates Inside Man above many other similarly-plotted movies is, in my estimation, two key details. The first is the outstanding chemistry established between Denzel Washington as the negotiator and Clive Owen as the leader of the bank robbers. The cat-and-mouse game is played out superbly, with incredibly well-written dialog from screenwriter Russell Gewirtz. Washington is so smooth as Frazier its hard to fathom that the man is even acting. The other unique element to this film is director Spike Lee and the way that he – like other legendary New York filmmakers such as Martin Scorsese – imbues his films with his own view of the city he loves. Reviews of Inside Man make much of the “melting pot” aspect that Lee includes in the film, but it’s a legitimate observation. The various economic, racial and class differences are on full display as the mystery unravels.

44. Letters From Iwo Jima (Clint Eastwood, 2006): Here we have the second entry of a film that I would guess is ranked higher by those that are fans. At one time, I likely would have agreed and placed it higher, considering it the far superior effort in comparison to Eastwood’s companion Flags of Our Fathers. I no longer think the gap is quite as wide, but definitely remain convinced that Letters is the better of the two. An interesting question I recently saw raised concerning Letters is if it gets extra points simply because of the novelty of an American filmmaker showing a legendary battle from the perspective of the “enemy?” I actually think there could be something to this, but it ultimately doesn’t matter – it is just a flat-out excellent movie, regardless of perspective. Eastwood would seem an odd choice to direct a movie focusing on the perspective of Japanese soldiers on Iwo Jima, but I am struck by what a wonderful fit it actually is. The reason I think it works so well? The theme that permeates everything that takes place behind Japanese lines on Iwo is the same one that Eastwood has dealt with many times in his career as both an actor and director – honor.

43. The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006): This is another film that I have watched quite a few times and go back and forth on where to place. The first time I watched, I thought it was good but far from the film that should have gotten Scorsese his long-deserved Oscar. Subsequent viewings had me feeling even better about it, even to the point of thinking it might be one of Scorsese’s greatest films. Now, I’m more toward the middle of that spectrum, recognizing that there are significant issues with the story, but that these deficiencies are more than outweighed by some outstanding performances and Scorsese’s usual directorial skills. There is an abundance of acting talent assembled here and everybody shows themselves worthy of such company, even if Jack Nicholson at times takes things overboard. Everyone else is very good, from Leo and Matt Damon, to Ray Winstone and Alec Baldwin. The story suffers a bit from trying to compact a Hong Kong trilogy of films into a single movie, and thus the ending feels incredibly rushed and forced. But there are moments that are among the best of recent Scorsese history. As overused as many people think The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” is, I still love that opening voiceover sequence set to one of the greatest songs in rock n’ roll history.

42. Gran Torino (Clint Eastwood, 2008): Yes, I am sticking these Eastwood films near each other and putting the less likely of the two in front. Is Gran Torino as “great” of a film as Letters From Iwo Jima? When I think in terms of “greatness” I think of how a movie will be looked on years down the road, what kind of influence or impact it could have. So in that regard, it most certainly is not. In fact, I think that if made by 98% of the directors out there, Gran Torino would be an unmitigated disaster (some think it is already _is_ a disaster). I personally find something impressive about seeing an arguably cliché-ridden movie put across on the sheer charisma and determination of an actor/director. Many of the racial elements are based on stereotypes, which some viewers find abrasive. I would direct anyone interested to check out Tony Dayoub’s wonderful Cinema Viewfinder blog and search out his feelings on the movie. As he has repeatedly pointed out, the stereotyping of gangbangers and other racial minorities may be offensive, but it works because it mirrors the bigoted “they’re all the same” outlook of Walt. I have seen Gran Torino described as Eastwood’s deconstruction of his Dirty Harry role, similar to Unforgiven being used to reexamine the The Man With No Name persona that made him famous. I don’t think such a comparison is going too far, but the movie stands tall even without such a historical connection.

41. Public Enemies (Michael Mann, 2009): Another one that increased significantly in stature on re-watches, and also a film that will likely polarize viewers. The main reason that I think the movie was off-putting to so many people is the way that Michael Mann has approached many of his recent films. Background info and character histories are chucked out the window. Mann just drops the audience right into the middle of a story and relies on them to fill in the gaps, either through knowledge they already possess or by creating their own theories of why the characters find themselves in their predicaments. Being the history nut (particularly concerning crime) that I am, this strategy is perfectly fine with me – I was well-versed with the Dillinger saga and didn’t really need any background or supporting information to know what was going on. Others apparently did, because I’ve personally talked with people who commented precisely on this issue. Outside of this, Public Enemies features some of the best of Michael Mann – the apartment building stakeout is incredible, as is the closing sequence featuring Dillinger in the cinema. It is amazing how Mann is able to make the final scene feel so poignant. Johnny Depp is wonderful as Dillinger, as I expected him to be. The only bum note for me is Christian Bale, who I don’t know has played a role I have liked since Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V. He doesn’t quite work as Purvis, but I can overlook such a misstep because everything else is so entertaining.

Top 50 of the 2000s Plans

2010-05-02T17:27:00.002-04:00

And so another countdown-related exercise begins. My inveterate need to try and rank, organize and list my favorite movies (and also albums, books, really anything that interests me!) rears its head yet again. This project is less ambitious than the previous efforts, and will take much less time than either of those countdowns, but will be one that is equally rewarding. Spending so much time trying to catch up on the classics that came before my time – a mission that will likely never be fully accomplished – it is very easy to neglect current cinema. What this means is, I don’t go to the theater as much as I should, instead catching up on most movies when they are released to DVD. It just seems like I am able to get more quality viewing in, with some guidance as to what is worth watching and what is a complete waste of the time I have to devote to movies. This strategy works to a point, but ultimately means that I have initially missed out on a couple of movies that I absolutely loved and will be featured in this countdown. So this exercise has been fun in getting to go back and revisit favorites from the last decade and fill many holes.

The same disclaimer that applied to my other countdowns also applies here – I haven’t seen everything. There will certainly be gaping omissions that will puzzle some folks. That just goes with the territory for me. I haven’t seen everything. But, I do think that I have seen enough to make a pretty good list. Also, I have always felt that anyone claiming to remain completely subjective in lists like this is being deceptive. I don't think that's even remotely possible - personal taste has to factor in to some degree. These films are certainly going to be judged based on their quality, but a large dose of personal preference will be the overriding factor. The more appropriate title might be "Favorite 50 Films of the 2000s" but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well.

The format that I think will work best is to make a post with 10 films every other day. So for the Top 50, it will take a week and a half or so. I think the two days for each post allows enough time for people to consider, discuss, and if necessary debate the movies included. As of right now, I’m looking at getting things underway on Tuesday.

An Idea...

2010-04-27T19:00:00.003-04:00

Why simply post a Top 25 at the Wonders in the Dark Best of the 2000s poll, when I can drag it out over an entire week at my own blog before officially submitting my list?! (Ha!) Actually, this is a way for me to direct those that don't normally frequent WitD to stop by and participate in the polling and following the Top 100 that Allan unfolds each day. And also, for my own purposes, to say that what I would like to do next involves the 2000s decade. This isn't a huge undertaking, as the previous two projects were, just something quick that also serves a purpose for finally get up my Top 25 at WitD. As the noir countdown was winding down, I began working on perfecting my Top 25 for the 2000s poll, catching up on films that I had missed and re-watching favorites to perfect placement. So that is where most of my movie-watching has been lately, so why not put it to use?

I know that I posted a Top 20 of the decade at the new year, but that was a pretty quick off-the-cuff effort, and my rankings have changed quite a bit - be it through reshuffling the order or new additions of films that I have seen since making the original rankings. My idea is to actually do a Top 50 here, with daily (or maybe every other day, I don't know) posts that will unveil ten films at a time. These aren't going to contain reviews, but more like thought capsules that express why I'm a fan of each film. I saw this done by Kevin Olsen at his awesome blog Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies and like Led Zeppelin plundering the catalogs of blues legends, I decided I'd sort of rip the idea off here (LOL). I like the idea of this, allowing me to touch on a number of great films in a short period of time, while also solidifying the list that I will be submitting at WitD. There is still much from the decade that I have not seen, but I still think I can make a pretty intriguing Top 50.

I know I said I was going to take some time off, and from massive projects like the Top 100s, I definitely am. But this one is not going to require quite as much time and work in getting each piece together as the noir countdown. So, if all comes together, I'll start posting these next week in all likelihood.

Film Noir Wrap Up

2010-04-26T00:05:00.002-04:00

I don’t know how to approach this wrap-up without sounding cheesy and parroting what I said in summation of the annual countdown last November, but all of the same praise still applies. None of this stuff would be any fun for me if I simply wrote the posts, put them up, and then never heard anything back. The fun for me comes in seeing how other people react to a film, discussing placement, analyzing films if necessary, and then learning about other films for me to seek out. All of that took place over the course of this countdown. For those that were along for the entire ride – I don’t want to single folks out for fear of leaving deserving visitors off, but you know who you are - I give major thanks. It has made the entire project rewarding and worthwhile for me. I can’t thank everyone enough.

As I said going into it, the list is going to be far from definitive. I have seen A LOT of film noir, but I also have not seen many films that likely deserved a shot at placement in the countdown. Initially, I thought this might mean that I shouldn’t be undertaking a task of this scope. But I do have to give credit to a lot of the folks who encouraged me to go through with it – I remember Samuel Wilson and Ed Howard in particular essentially saying, “use your own definition of noir and just do the countdown” (paraphrasing of course!). So I did and I am glad that I listened to such advice.

Still, a Top 100 may look impressive, but it really only scratches the surface. The other thing to point out is that I personally learned much throughout the exercise as well. As has been pointed out to me quite clearly, there are a number of films that likely should be on such a list. Some of the omissions are entirely my own decision. A few recognized classics I have never really cared for (Crossfire, The Naked City, This Gun For Hire, Fallen Angel to name a few). There are other films that I have not seen, but probably should have before making a Top 100 (While the City Sleeps, His Kind of Woman, Odds Against Tomorrow, The File on Thelma Jordon, a lot of Brit Noir). And then there are others that I have had difficulty tracking down copies of, badly want to see, but just haven’t had the opportunity yet (City That Never Sleeps, They Won’t Believe Me, Tomorrow Is Another Day). Whether it was money, time, or effort I’ve just never had the chance to watch them. I’ve been told by someone recently that this basically invalidates the entire effort, and if people feel this way, then so be it. I make no claims to be an authority – I’m just a film buff who loves noir and wanted to get started on a countdown. It actually keeps me excited to know that there are still a number of highly-respected noirs out there that I can look forward to.

Others I consciously left off. Trying to define what is and is not film noir is tricky and I probably wasn’t always one hundred percent consistent. For instance, I included a Melville in Le Doulos, but decided not to include Bob le Flambeur. For whatever reason, I’ve always looked toward Bob le Flambeur as more of a straight heist film – similar to how many people interpret Rififi, which I added to the list. I don’t really know how to explain situations like this then to go back to my “Potter Stewart theory” of defining what I think is a film noir. Deciding which films fit into certain labels or categories was light years harder than doing something like a yearly countdown, so rather than getting bogged down in this morass, I felt it was best just to make a decision and stick with it. Once I got going, I tried not to second guess myself. Is a film like Bob le Flambeur a noir? Possibly. But the flip-flopping that could potentially take place in trying to decide whether to include it (and other films for that matter) in the countdown would have brought everything to a standstill. The same goes for Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter. Many people consider this one of the greatest noirs ever made. It certainly has many characteristics of a noir, particularly with the expressionistic lighting. But to me, it has always played more like a gothic story that has the look of a film noir. There are a countless number of films that have some element of noir – Citizen Kane, A Place in the Sun, Johnny Guitar and a number of noirish westerns – so the list could have been extended infinitely.

The one conscious decision I did make was to leave Alfred Hitchcock out of the countdown. It’s nothing against Hitch – as anybody who follows my blog knows, he is probably my all-time favorite director. It was another situation where deciding what qualifies and what doesn’t gets very dicey. Many people consider Notorious a film noir, but it has never seemed one to me. What about Vertigo? Shadow of a Doubt? Strangers on a Train? The Wrong Man? Cases can be made for each of them, although Strangers on a Train and The Wrong Man are probably the only ones that I would feel completely confident including in such a countdown.

Basically, this is a longwinded explanation of how genre-based countdowns are inevitably going to be tricky. I haven’t seen everything, and of what I have seen, my definition of which ones qualify as film noir is bound to differ from someone else’s. So with that in mind, I would love for everyone to post their own personal lists of their favorite/best noirs. Top 10s, 20s, 100s, whatever... I would just love to see other lists from everyone else!

DIRECTORS

I also thought it would be interesting to see the directors that had multiple appearances in the countdown. This list features a lot of the usual suspects, but some other less-celebrated directors also are highlighted:

-Fritz Lang - 5 films (#20-Scarlet Street; #22-The Big Heat; #66-Clash by Night; #97-The Blue Gardenia; #100-The Woman in the Window)
-Jules Dassin - 4 films (#9-Rififi; #23-Brute Force; #29-Night and the City; #84-Thieves’ Highway)
-Henry Hathaway - 4 films (#32-Kiss of Death; #72-The Dark Corner; #82-Niagara; #95-Call Northside 777)
-Robert Siodmak - 4 films (#4-Criss Cross; #5-The Killers; #19-Cry of the City; #98-Phantom Lady)
-Norman Foster - 3 films (#53-Woman on the Run; #58-Kiss the Blood Off My Hands; #85-Journey Into Fear)
-Samuel Fuller - 3 films (#44-Underworld U.S.A.; #55-Pickup on South Street; #96-House of Bamboo)
-John Huston - 3 films (#10-The Asphalt Jungle; #15-The Maltese Falcon; #73-Key Largo)
-Anthony Mann - 3 films (#37-T-Men; #39-Raw Deal; #68-Side Street)
-Nicholas Ray - 3 films (#6-In a Lonely Place; #69-They Live By Night; #78-On Dangerous Ground)
-Orson Welles - 3 films (#18-Touch of Evil; #51-The Lady from Shanghai; #92-The Stranger)
-Billy Wilder - 3 films (#7-Double Indemnity; #8-Sunset Boulevard; #42-Ace in the Hole)
-Andre de Toth - 2 films (#13-Pitfall; #40-Crime Wave)
-Byron Haskin - 2 films (#31-Too Late for Tears; #65-I Walk Alone)
-Phil Karlson - 2 films (#47-99 River Street; #59-Kansas City Confidential)
-Joseph H. Lewis - 2 films (#27-The Big Combo; #48-Gun Crazy)
-Anatole Litvak - 2 films (#75-Out of the Fog; #81-Sorry, Wrong Number)
-Joseph L. Mankiewicz - 2 films (#43-House of Strangers; #61-Somewhere in the Night)
-Rudolph Maté - 2 films (#50-D.O.A.; #77-Union Station)
-Jean Negulesco - 2 films (#46-Nobody Lives Forever; #81-Road House)
-Otto Preminger - 2 films (#30-Laura; #35-Where the Sidewalk Ends)
-Richard Quine - 2 films (#49-Pushover; #56-Drive a Crooked Road)
-Raoul Walsh - 2 films (#36-White Heat; #74-High Sierra)
-Robert Wise - 2 films (#24-The Set-Up; #71-Born to Kill)

Although Fritz Lang put the most films in the countdown, what was solidified in my own mind after completing the list is that Robert Siodmak and Jules Dassin are, in my opinion, the two greatest directors of film noir. In terms of personal taste, I already knew this to be the case with Siodmak. Re-watching many of the classics reminded how great Dassin was as well. It’s also nice to see directors like Henry Hatahway and Norman Foster, who aren’t normally talked about as much, place multiple films in the list.

So chat away about anything regarding the Top 100 and also please submit your own personal lists!

Where to next? I have no clue… at least a little bit of a break from extensive lists or countdowns.

#1: Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957)

2010-04-24T00:05:00.004-04:00

Released: June 27, 1957

Director: Alexander Mackendrick; Screenplay: Clifford Odets, Ernest Lehman, and Alexander Mackendrick (uncredited) based on a novelette by Lehman; Cinematography: James Wong Howe; Studio: United Artists; Producer: James Hill; Music: Elmer Bernstein

Cast: Burt Lancaster (J.J. Hunsecker), Tony Curtis (Sidney Falco), Susan Harrison (Susan Hunsecker), Martin Milner (Steve Dallas), Sam Levene (Frank D’Angelo), Chico Hamilton (Chico Hamilton), Barbara Nichols (Rita), Emile Meyer (Lt. Harry Kello), Jeff Donnell (Sally)

- “Mr. Falco, let it be said at once, is a man of forty faces, not one - none too pretty and all deceptive.”

Not much suspense left in reaching #1 I suppose, as once the shock of Out of the Past coming in as the runner-up subsided, it certainly became obvious what would take the top spot. That comes with the territory, though, as everyone had a general idea as to what the final ten films would be, so it was just a matter of marking them off the list as things played out.

But, I did at least manage to elicit some shock, which I suppose could create a backlash toward crowning Alexander Mackendrick’s Sweet Smell of Success as #1 in the film noir countdown. The general consensus seems to be that Out of the Past is the more logical choice, and as you can tell from my intro yesterday, I grappled with the decision myself. In terms of “greatness” or historical significance, it’s a no contest, Out of the Past would take the title with very little opposition. My own taste, as of right now, though, leans toward Sweet Smell of Success. Watching it again, I was just too drawn into the darkened atmosphere that James Wong Howe so smoothly creates. I became too intoxicated by Elmer Bernstein’s jazzy score. And the two lead performances remain just as blistering on the ninth or tenth viewing as the first. Ask me in two weeks how I would rank my favorite noirs and the top two might flip, but for now I simply have to go with Sweet Smell of Success.

I have been trying to come up with a greater one-two punch of lead performances that would top Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster and have drawn a complete blank. To my knowledge, such a film simply doesn’t exist. They both give powerhouse turns. Sidney and J.J. are equally cruel, but the actors manage to elicit diametrically opposite sympathies from an audience. J.J. is the nominal villain; the man that everyone wants to see chopped down to size. Sidney is just as devious, but Curtis plays him in such a way that it’s hard not to grudgingly root for him.

As I discuss in the review below, this is a case of all the elements coming together, with all of them playing a significant role in the final product. Lancaster, Curtis, Mackendrick, Wong Howe, Bernstein, Odets, Lehman – without the contributions of each individual person, things would not be the same. They come together to create a dark, cynical portrait of late-night Manhattan that somehow manages to be both repugnant and irresistible. This is another film that I have never grown tired of and can watch at any time.

Oh, and once again, I point everyone to the script. I might throw the term around loosely, but it unquestionably qualifies as a masterpiece.

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If I wanted to get really cute with this review, I would simply post a link to the Odets and Lehman penned screenplay, copy and paste a picture of both Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster in their roles from the film, and end things at that. That would be more than sufficient in summing up why I consider this film to be not just the best of 1957, but among the finest that I have ever seen. In reality, my review of the film is just going to be expounding on these key strengths, while also singing the praises of the stunning nighttime photography of New York City. I almost never refer to a film as perfect, but I have to admit that when it comes to Sweet Smell of Success, there is nothing that I would argue needs to be changed.

The background on how the stars aligned to bring all of the principals in the film together is interesting. The script, cast, and production team were put together in stages, with each new addition to the team adding something to the final product. The story is based on a magazine story by Ernest Lehman that originally was published in 1950, basing the story on his own experiences working in the New York public relations industry. When the film rights to the story were acquired, Lehman quickly began to work to direct it himself. United Artists balked at the idea, not wanting a novice director causing problems. It was then that the producers turned to a director who had not worked in the United States in over twenty years – Alexander Mackendrick. Mackendrick, although born in the U.S., had moved back to Scotland at an early age and had been working in the film industry in Britain since the 1930s. He had made many successful films as a director at Ealing Studios, but with the sale of company, Mackendrick began casting his eyes toward Hollywood. Courted by the Hecht-Hill-Lancaster production company, which had the rights to Lehman’s script, Mackendrick agreed to come back to the States and take over director duties.

Mackendrick and Lehman began working together to tailor the script to the new director’s liking, but soon hit a snag when Lehman fell sick and was no longer able to continue. Into his place stepped Clifford Odets, who began reworking the script even further. I have personally never seen it pinpointed as to exactly what Odets was changing with the script, but it apparently was extensive, as the editing continued even after shooting began. Apparently, it was not changes to the actual storyline, but more of a refining role to improve individual scenes and dialogue. Whatever it was, it worked, as the script is superb, and all three men who had a hand in working on it deserve praise.

It is also Hollywood lore that Universal Studios, which owned Tony Curtis’ contract, was vehemently opposed to him playing the role of Sidney Falco. Curtis, on the other hand, lobbied hard to land the role and fortunately won out – if Curtis ever did better work than in this film, I haven’t seen it. I'll go a step further and say that there are few performances I've seen in _any_ film that top Curtis as Sidney Falco. Orson Welles was supposedly considered for the role of J.J. Hunsecker, a thinly veiled depiction of Walter Winchell, but United Artists pushed for the box office appeal of leading man Burt Lancaster. This is another choice that has been shown to have been correct, as Lancaster showed his versatility. Normally in films noir, Lancaster would play characters that were at heart well-intentioned men, but for whatever reason would be swept up in uncontrollable circumstances. As Hunsecker, he is playing a man with virtually no redeeming qualities.

The screenplay and its story are as biting as you’ll ever encounter. It follows a night in the life of press agent Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis), a PR man who can hustle with the best of them. As with every other press agent in the city, his number one goal in life is to get his clients mentioned in the newspaper gossip column of the powerful J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster). Although promised lines in the column, Falco is continually rebuffed by Hunsecker because he has been unable to deliver on a promise made to J.J. Falco had agreed to break up the romance between Hunsecker’s sister Susan (Susan Harrison) and rising jazz guitarist Steve Dallas (Martin Milner). Until that objective is achieved, Sidney is being shut out from the Hunsecker column.

Over the course of the night, the audience has a firsthand view of Sidney’s bouncing from nightspot to nightspot, meeting with clients, currying favor with journalists and doing his best to schmooze with important people. He also continues doing his damndest to pull Susan and Dallas apart from each other. Throughout the night he also meets with J.J. as the columnist holds court at his usual restaurant table. It is here that we see the power of J.J. Husecker as he has politicians and celebrities coming to him for favors, nearly groveling just to get an audience with him.

I’ve already sung the praises of the screenplay, and I won’t do my usual cut-and-paste of favorite lines (although I will post a link to the actual screenplay: http://www.awesomefilm.com/script/sweetsmell.html). As I said at the beginning of this piece, aside from being my all-time favorite screenplay, there is more than just the excellent writing to admire here. The two lead performances are absolute masterworks, particularly Tony Curtis. Sidney Falco is downright sleazy, with no limitations on what he will do to curry favorable press. In an ironic way, he wears this characteristic as a badge of honor – after all, in his eyes he is just doing his job. As one of his clients tells him, “It’s in a publicity man’s nature to be a liar.” But Sidney goes beyond simply lying. He is outright manipulative, and uses anyone he can to help him out of a jam – his secretary, his sometime girlfriend, his uncle. The amazing thing is that Curtis is so charismatic in the role that you can’t help but at least grudgingly like Sidney. Was this intended by the writers? I don’t know, but if it wasn’t then it is further proof that Tony Curtis as Sidney Falco is the ultimate conman!

All of this action takes place in exactly the setting that one would expect such shady characters to be operating in. I know that I am always harping on the atmosphere of great films, but it’s impossible not to admire the dark New York City streets and nightclubs captured brilliantly by Mackendrick and cinematographer James Wong Howe. They craft the perfect mood for the biting script and subject matter. The streets are dark, with smoke rising from every opening, swirling around the press hounds and P.R. men bustling about and lending a sinister undertone to nearly everyone encountered in the film. This movie isn’t dark in the same sense as other noirs, where there is a doomed feeling attached to every action. It is dark in a very literal sense – everything takes place at night and even when things are happening indoors, they are taking place in dimly lit bars or clubs. It might be reading too much into this fact, but it could very easily be interpreted that these bloodsucking press men are the modern equivalent of vampires who cannot see the light of day. Combine this with the jazz soundtrack of Elmer Bernstein and things are as I (correctly or not) picture New York City to have been at this time.

The story is acerbic and at times can be utterly cruel. Yet it’s always so much fun to watch. Maybe it says something about me and the many other fans of the film that find such biting humor to be so funny and entertaining… I’m not really sure. What I do know is that if we’re talking just pure enjoyment, there are times when I’m tempted to proclaim Sweet Smell of Success as my #1 film of any year.

#2: Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947)

2010-04-23T00:05:00.002-04:00

Released: November 13, 1947 (U.S.A.)

Director: Jacques Tourneur; Screenplay: Daniel Mainwaring (as Geoffrey Homes), based on his novel Build My Gallows High; Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Studio: RKO; Executive Producer: Robert Sparks; Producer: Warren Duff

Cast: Robert Mitchum (Jeff Bailey), Kirk Douglas (Whit Sterling), Jane Greer (Kathy Moffat), Paul Valentine (Joe Stefanos), Rhonda Fleming (Meta Carson), Steve Brodie (Jack Fisher), Virginia Huston (Ann), Dickie Moore (The Kid), Ken Niles (Eels)

Even I am shocked at this placement. This had to be the odds on favorite to take the top spot in the countdown and it came very close to doing so. If I were asked for a recommendation of a single film to show someone as an example of film noir, it would be Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past. If I had another day to think about it, this one might be swapped into the #1 position. It is such a toss-up for me on how to separate my top two that I almost need to go with the classic copout of 1a and 1b. But, I’ll refrain from taking the easy way out, and instead make the toughest call that I have had to make in any of the lists made at this blog.

It truly is a testament to the greatness of this film that I am scrambling to rationalize why it did not finish in the _top spot_. Think about what praise this is for a movie to be ranked #2 in a field as storied as film noir. Out of the Past is so good that it is jarring not to see it at numero uno.

The combination of director Jacques Tourneur and cinematographer Nick Musuraca is one of the great duos in the history of Hollywood. They worked together on a number of masterpieces – I Walked With a Zombie was chosen as my top film of 1943 and Cat People is routinely cited as one of the greatest horror pictures ever made – but even those classics pale in comparison to Out of the Past. The two masters were responsible for preparing the template that allowed Robert Mitchum to deliver his most iconic performance and for Jane Greer and Kirk Douglas to turn in towering performances as well.

If you can’t tell, I almost feel guilty not putting this at #1. No amount of analysis or examination can do justice to how great this film is and how well it holds up to countless viewings. Movies like Out of the Past are why I am obsessed with cinema.

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There are certain films that I find extremely hard to write about or critically examine. These are films that I have some kind of deep emotional connection to – favorites from my childhood, movies that I saw at a key point in my life, or films that were absolutely essential to my development as a fan of cinema. So, I’m usually hesitant to try and overanalyze why I love them so much. This is one of those films. Out of the Past was the first film noir that I ever watched and it was nothing short of earth-shattering for me. I’ve been a noir junkie ever since, getting my hands on every noir I can, but all the time failing to find a single one that matches this 1947 classic. So, with that warning, I’ll go ahead and try to analyze it anyway. If I’m gushing in the review, it’s because this is one of my all-time favorite movies.

Out of the Past is on a shortlist of noirs that I would categorize as quintessential. If someone were to come to me and ask for a definition the style, I would direct them to this and Double Indemnity. If neither of those caught their attention, then it would probably be safe to assume that noir is not for them. The reason for such a bold proclamation? Out of the Past contains all of the archetypal elements of great noir. Adapted from a pulp novel. Private eye main character. Ruthless femme fatale. Shady gangster businessman. A story told in large measure through flashbacks and narration. And an unrelenting sense of destiny at every turn.

Oh, and Robert Mitchum. If Humphrey Bogart crafted the mold for the cool, tough guy noir P.I., then Mitchum perfected it in this film.

The story opens with the Mitchum character of Jeff Bailey working at a gas station in a small rural town. Little is known about Bailey’s history and this secretive nature arouses a bit of suspicion in the small town of Bridgeport, as evidenced by the negative reaction of his girlfriend Ann’s (Virginia Huston) parents. His attempt at distancing himself from his past is destroyed when gangster and ex-acquaintance Joe Stefanos (Paul Valentine) tracks Jeff down at the gas station. Joe tells Jeff that his ex-employer, wealthy gambler Whit Sterling (Kirk Douglas), is looking for him and sets up a meeting.

At this point Jeff is forced to reveal the truth to Ann concerning his life before Bridgeport. While driving to the meeting with Whit, Jeff recounts the tale to Ann, warning her that “Some of it’s gonna hurt you.” He says that his real name is Jeff Markham and that he used to be a New York private eye. A few years earlier, Whit hired Jeff to track down his runaway girlfriend and $40,000 that disappeared with her. The search takes Jeff to Mexico, where he finds the stunningly beautiful Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer). Rather than bringing her back to Whit, Jeff falls in love with her. They sneak away back to the States and begin to live life as a normal couple. But Whit has not forgotten his former love interest, the $40,000 dollars, or the private eye that he hired and who then vanished. Whit enlists Jeff’s old partner, Jack Fisher (Steve Brodie), to track him, which he does after randomly spotting him at a local racetrack. When the partner finds the couple and tries to extort them, Kathie insists that he won’t be revealing anything to Whit. She ensures this by gunning Jack down, then speeding away from the scene and leaving Jeff to bury the body. With Kathie again in the wind, Jeff then moves to Bridgeport and attempts to finally be rid of his former life. This pipedream is forever wrecked when Joe catches up with him at the gas station. Realizing that he has no choice but to confront his past, Jeff agrees to the meet with Whit and plunges himself back into the shady world he tried so desperately to abandon.

While at the meeting with Whit, Jeff discovers that Kathie has reunited with the gangster. Rather than being angry with him, Whit enlists Jeff for another job. But sensing that he might be getting caught up in a frame, Jeff has to navigate a path that keeps him safe from his employer, the law, and a variety of characters he comes in contact with along the way. Will this job set Jeff free from his past? Can he pay his debt to Whit and then resume his life with Ann in Bridgeport? Whose side is Kathie truly on? I’ll let you discover the answers to these questions yourself, as it’s a wild ride for the entire 97 minutes, chock full of plotting, double crossing and tense face-offs. For those that have already seen the film, I’m sure you’ll agree that the answers are always shifting and keep the viewer wondering.

The story has been characterized by some as convoluted, and it is, but don’t let anyone fool you into believing that it’s incomprehensible. The script is expertly crafted by Daniel Mainwaring, adapted from his own novel Build My Gallows High (both written under the pseudonym Geoffrey Homes). For as many twists and turns that take place throughout the story, the screenplay is surprisingly tight, with none of the conspicuous plot holes that have plagued some otherwise great noirs. And the dialog… oh my, the dialog. The lines come shooting out of characters’ mouths like daggers. Some of my favorite lines in all of cinema come from this film and from Mitchum in particular. The examples are numerous and outstanding:

“Kathie: Oh, Jeff, I don't want to die!
Jeff: Neither do I, baby, but if I have to I'm gonna die last.”
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“Ann: She can't be all bad. No one is.
Jeff: Well, she comes the closest.”
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“Kathie: Oh Jeff, you ought to have killed me for what I did a moment ago.
Jeff: [dryly] There's time.”

I could go on for pages. I’ll forever maintain that Jeff’s response in the first example is my favorite line of all time. This dialog is razor sharp and the epitome of cool. The brilliance of these lines is in large measure due to Mainwaring, as just reading them is terrific. But a lot of credit must also go to Mitchum. As Jeff Bailey, he is the personification of the detached anti-hero and makes these words come alive. These witty expressions would be nowhere near as powerful if they weren’t being delivered by the droopy-eyed Mitchum, adorned in an overcoat and stylish hat and with a cigarette hanging between his lips. The way that Jeff Bailey navigates this underhanded world and interacts with such shady individuals, the role calls for someone to be able to add the necessary cynicism to the character. Mitchum is precisely the man. It’s no coincidence that despite being his first top-billing, this is the role for which Mitchum is best remembered. He is that good.

As previously mentioned, the major themes that are found throughout all film noir are on display here, but this film outdoes nearly all of them in key areas. The sense of danger hanging over a likeable, yet flawed character has never been done better. It is impossible to ignore the fact that Jeff _willingly_ walks back into a world and situation that he knows could very well be his downfall. The audience knows this too, and it is distressing to see him continue down a path that everyone involved – audience and characters, Jeff in particular – knows is not likely to end well. To say that there is a sense of doom hanging over the events would be an understatement. And yet, in the end, there is redemption of sorts. The closing scene between Ann and Jeff’s deaf gas station attendant is poignant and reveals that Jeff may have been in control of his destiny all along.

The direction of Jacques Tourneur also deserves recognition. Darkness and shadows are the staples of any director working in film noir. However, few were ever able to utilize them as effectively as Tourneur, as he juxtaposed them with beautiful pastoral settings. Whenever Jeff is in Bridgeport, the scenes are wide open and bright, setting Jeff and Ann in front of a backdrop of rolling mountains, streams, and the country. But as soon as Jeff comes into contact with anyone from his past – be it Kathy, Whit or Joe – the scenes become dark and gloomy. Faces are obscured by shadows and movement becomes sinister as silhouettes creep across the screen. These are interesting contrasts and emphasize the wildly different worlds that Jeff is attempting to jump between.

After spending so much time referring to this as the quintessential film noir, I have to admit that such praise is almost doing the movie a disservice. Pigeonholing it as the best of a specific genre is too restricting for a film this good. Out of the Past is not just one of the best films noir, it is one of the greatest films of all time, period.

#3: Kiss Me Deadly (Robert Aldrich, 1955)

2010-04-22T00:05:00.003-04:00

Released: May 18, 1955

Director: Robert Aldrich; Screenplay: A.I. Bezzerides from the novel of the same name by Mickey Spillane; Cinematography: Ernest Laszlo; Studio: United Artists; Producer: Robert Aldrich

Cast: Ralph Meeker (Mike Hammer), Albert Dekker (Dr. G.E. Soberin), Maxine Cooper (Velda), Cloris Leachman (Christina Bailey), Gaby Rodgers (Lilly Carver/Gabrielle), Nick Dennis (Nick), Paul Stewart (Carl Evello), Juano Hernandez (Eddie Yeager), Wesley Addy (Lt. Pat Murphy), Marian Carr (Friday), Jack Lambert (Sugar Smallhouse), Jack Elam (Charlie Max), Leigh Snowden (Cheesecake), Percy Helton (Doc Kennedy)

As is the case with most cult movies, it seems that viewers either love Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly or find it too over-the-top to take seriously. Where I fall on that spectrum is obvious – I think Kiss Me Deadly is one of the best movies I’ve ever seen. It is a film that stands alone, meaning I can think of few others to really compare it to. Certainly it shares stylistic traits with other great noirs, and the general storyline contains a mystery that will feel familiar. But the apocalyptic nature gives it a flavor all its own.

My thoughts after watching it again are similar to this review from the annual countdown. The expert pacing used by Aldrich once again stands out to me. Never has the paranoia and obsession of a lead character been so skillfully thrust directly onto an audience. Watching the film, you feel exactly like Mike Hammer does – intrigued, feeling perpetually on the verge of solving the mystery, yet never fleshing everything out until it is too late. By the time he (and we as the audience) figures out what is being sought, it is too late to realize that it is not something that he should be so eager to find.

This is a “desert island film” for me, which is ironic because the ending supports the idea of a couple of folks ending up alone on some sort of remote island!

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Kiss Me Deadly remains overwhelming in the number of different ways that it can be enjoyed. It is a movie that contains enough action and entertainment to be enjoyed as your usual noir thriller, yet is also meaningful enough to be analyzed for its cultural significance. The first time that I ever watched it, I came away as a fan of the film, looking it as a slightly above average private eye noir. Comparing it to other similarly structured films, I found it to be good, but wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about it as I am now. I put it aside and carried on with other films before coming back to it a few years later. When I returned to it, now more familiar with the context in which the film was made and its impact on the course of cinematic history, my appreciation skyrocketed. I quickly realized that I wasn’t simply watching a hardened variation of a Raymond Chandler story. In fact, as I’ve come to view it, this story actually plays as something of a swansong to that era of stories and characters.

Opening with one of the most classic of opening sequences, a woman in a trench coat is seen running down the middle of a highway. Standing in front of an oncoming car in order to force someone to stop, she causes private detective Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker) to run his convertible off the road. While giving her a ride to the nearest gas station, Hammer quickly realizes that his new passenger has escaped from a mental hospital and is wanted by authorities. She (Cloris Leachman) convinces him not to turn her in, hauntingly imploring him to “Remember me” if things go wrong. They of course do, as the car is overtaken by assailants and the girl is killed. Hammer manages to survive, waking up in the hospital after spending three days in a coma.

Hammer emerges from the hospital curious as to the circumstances that led to the girl’s death. His interest is further piqued when both law enforcement and underworld personalities begin probing him for information about what the girl may have revealed to him. Rather than focusing on the usual divorce PI work that he uses to make his living, Hammer and his secretary/sometime-girlfriend Velda (Maxine Cooper) begin following any leads on the mysterious girl. The more tantalizing the potential lead, the more obsessed Hammer becomes with unraveling this mystery that no one appears to know the answer to. Following this trail brings Hammer into contact with a wide range of characters, from the girl’s supposed former roommate Lilly Carter (Gaby Rodgers), to underworld heavies like Carl Evollo (Paul Stewart) and his henchman Sugar Smallhouse (Jack Lambert) and Charlie Max (Jack Elam). For all of the leads that Hammer appears to continually be uncovering, he somehow never seems to get closer to the truth – until it’s too late for him to decide whether he really wants to discover that truth. By the time that Hammer finds a mysterious black box, which appears to harbor a substance or force of unspeakable power and intensity, events seem to have spiraled out of anyone’s control.

The fact that Kiss Me Deadly was made toward the end of the “classic” film noir era is unsurprising, as it plays like a rejection of so many of the central tenets that characterized the genre. Whereas Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe may have been poking their noses into places they didn’t belong, in the end they proved themselves to be valuable as they busted crime or saved others from harm. Mike Hammer sees himself in a similar light, acting as if he is the only person who can truly resolve the mystery of what happened to Christina Bailey and what she was trying to hide. No matter who tells him to leave it alone – the police, gangsters, his friend and close confidant Velda – Mike thinks that he can find justice for any wrongs that have been committed. With every tidbit of information he receives, Hammer becomes more intrigued, always appearing to be on the verge of grasping what it is that he is chasing, but never quite unmasking the truth. What he fails to realize is that in his pursuit, he is causing even more damage in the process, and is setting off a chain of events that will lead to catastrophic consequences. When Mike finally does realize that this is what is happening, it’s far too late for him to reverse course. The mysterious black box has already been discovered, there are already other people who covet whatever it is that the box represents, and there is no way for the box to be discarded or forgotten.

The brilliance of director Robert Aldrich in this film is that he shoots the film to make the audience feel the exact same thing. Until becoming fully aware of what is happening (which took me more than a single viewing), the viewer is going to approach the mystery of the story in the same way as Mike Hammer. Each new bit of evidence is seen as bringing us one step closer to discovering why such sinister men were hell-bent on silencing Christina. And with each new clue, we too feel like we might be able to guess what is going on. It never happens. The audience realizes the stakes involved at the same time that Hammer does, and as I said, at that point there’s no turning back. The conclusion is still stunning today, even when it becomes obvious what is going to happen. Right up until the explosive finish, I kept thinking "He's really not going to end the movie like this is... is he?". It works the whole way, which also shows how strong the script from veteran A.I. Bezzerides is. To have something this outlandish and over-the-top come across so well is a testament to strong writing.

Robert Aldrich would go on to much more financially-successful endeavors and would direct films that were much more popular with the general public (The Dirty Dozen, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?), but this B-movie masterpiece is undoubtedly his artistic zenith. This film is stylish to the max, as Aldrich and cinematographer Ernest Laszlo experiment with camera angles and different shot structures. It is little surprise that this film would go on to be a major influence on the French New Wave in the coming years. Aldrich and Laszlo combine to wonderfully capture the gritty feeling of Los Angeles, making every setting and character have a seedy quality. There is also a realization is how adept Aldrich is at handling violence. Filming at a time when explicit displays of violence was not acceptable, Aldrich had to get very creative in order to get across the viciousness of the sequences of events that Hammer is a part of. Simply, yet highly creative shot compositions are able to make otherwise benign sequences become absolutely chilling. The greatest example comes very early in the film when Christina and Mike are captured by the unnamed assailants. The men are torturing Christina, trying to find out what she revealed to Mike. As they are working her over, all the camera focuses on are her feet. We see her feet squirming as she struggles to avoid the pain. When a bloodcurdling scream is heard and the feet give one final anguished jerk, it is clear that the young girl has been killed. Without seeing one drop of blood or a single second of the interrogation, Aldrich still manages to startle the audience.

It is film noir meets Cold War paranoia, which likely sounds like the recipe for a horribly cheesy movie – and in most cases it would turn out this way. Fortunately, Aldrich never allows the film to slip into such territory. Some still argue that the film feels dated, and even if that point is conceded, it does nothing to detract from its greatness. If it’s dated, it’s dated in the same way that The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is dated – meaning that something similar isn’t likely to be made any time soon, but that it’s still better than almost anything else likely to be produced. Even so, I would argue strongly that the film most definitely is not dated. While the makeup of world politics may have changed in the fifty years since its release, the tendency for people and groups to deal in absolutes has not. There are still segments of society who refuse to see things in any way but there own or to follow any course of action but the one that they are certain is right. As is the case with Mike Hammer, this oftentimes can serve to make things worse. This is still a relevant film, with themes that can be applied to circumstances other than the Cold War.

#4: Criss Cross (Robert Siodmak, 1949)

2010-04-21T00:05:00.002-04:00

Released: January 12, 1949

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Daniel Fuchs based on the novel by Don Tracy; Cinematography: Franz Planer; Studio: Universal International Pictures; Producer: Michael Kraike; Music: Miklós Rózsa

Cast: Burt Lancaster (Steve Thompson), Yvonne De Carlo (Anne Dundee), Dan Duryea (Slim Dundee), Stephen McNally (Detective Lt. Pete Ramirez), Tom Pedi (Vincent), Percy Helton (Frank), Alan Napier (Finchley), Griff Barnett (Pop), Meg Randall (Helen), Richard Long (Slade Thompson), Joan Miller (the Lush), Edna Holland (Mrs. Thompson), John Doucette (Walt), Marc Krah (Mort), Esy Morales (Rhumba Band Leader)

That closing shot continues to stick with me. The screen cap that closes this write-up really says it all. It not only reinforces what a visual stylist that Robert Siodmak could be, but it sums up what film noir is all about. When I think of noir and the doomed relationships that populate its greatest films, that image epitomizes it.

If there was a dark horse for the number one slot in the countdown, this would have been it. I couldn’t quite bring myself to move it to that level, over unmitigated cinematic classics that occupy the top three spots, but I was certainly tempted. I consider it to be the crowning achievement of Siodmak’s career, even if it is often overshadowed by earlier efforts like The Killers and The Spiral Staircase. What stuck with me most in this latest viewing was how unsettled the feelings of Steve are throughout the story. He continually refers to how something “was in the cards” and how fate seems to have dealt him a rotten hand, yet at other moments he tells people that he will “make his own decisions.” It’s as if he knows that his own wrong choices are leading him down this path, yet he wants to believe that it is destiny.

Film noir at its finest…

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There has already been a Siodmak-Lancaster collaboration included in this countdown, as Lancaster’s screen debut The Killers was selected at #5 in the series. My love for that film hopefully came through in my review, making clear that I consider it to be among the best noirs that I have ever seen. Going against conventional wisdom, I actually think that in this follow-up effort the two combined to make an even better film. While The Killers may contain more iconic scenes and is routinely cited as being influential on later crime films, Criss Cross remains in my mind as Siodmak’s best film.

To be certain, there are obvious similarities between the two films. A cursory examination of the plot would lead one to believe that they are closely related – the nice guy turning to the underworld (who happens to be played by Lancaster in both instances), a doomed romance, a love triangle, double cross after a heist, use of flashbacks. Each of these elements is seen in both movies. Linking the two would be something of a stretch, however, because these elements are present in countless films noir. The fact that such similar stories and themes are played out in a vast number of movies, and yet The Killers and Criss Cross manage to distinguish themselves from any related films, is testament to the brilliant hand of Siodmak.

In Criss Cross, the focus is on Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster), who returns home to Los Angeles after some months away. He had fled the city in the face of a deteriorating marriage to Anne (Yvonne De Carlo). After returning to his working class neighborhood, reuniting with old friends and visiting old haunts, Steve cannot shake memories of his romance with his stunning ex-wife. While hanging around the bar that the couple frequented together, one night Steve spots Anne on the dance floor. There is obviously still chemistry between the two and they begin to move toward getting back together. However, Steve’s best friend Lt. Pete Ramirez feels Anne is a terrible influence on his pal and manages to drive Anne away from him. In an act equal parts spite and defiance, Anne runs off and marries flashy gangster Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea).

Even the marriage cannot keep the two apart. They continue their romance secretively, realizing that if Slim were to catch them there would be hell to pay. Despite their caution, Slim does manage to catch the two of them together in his house. Thinking fast, Steve manages to concoct a reason for his being alone with Anne. He tells Slim that he came to Anne in order for the opportunity to pitch a job to him. Steve says that he has planned a heist of the armored car company that he works for, using himself as the inside man needed to pull off the job. After the job is agreed to, the necessary scheming transpires, with Steve and Anne secretly planning to double-cross Slim and his gang and escape with the loot.

I will stop short of revealing how everything plays out from this point forward, but there are certain sequences that transpire that I can praise without revealing exactly how the film concludes (in case there are those that have not yet seen it). The heist sequence is fabulous, as Siodmak and cinematographer Franz Planer make use of smoke to convey the complete confusion and disorientation of the heist. Amidst this chaos, it is hard for both characters and the audience to make out who is who. Such confusion is how I would imagine such a tense situation to be and that is precisely the feeling that Siodmak and Planer are able to communicate to the viewer. The other obvious aspect of the heist is that it is somewhat brutal for its time, with guards and burglars alike being gunned down in similar brutal fashion.

Lancaster is his usual excellent self as Steve Thompson. I’m not sure whether I prefer his performance here or as the Swede in The Killers, but I do know that as Steve he creates an incredibly friendly character. He is pulled into the criminality because he is trying to save himself and Anne from harm, whereas the Swede willingly turned to the rackets. While I’ll admit to not having seen the bulk of Yvonne De Carlo’s work, this is as good as I have seen her. The Anne character is intriguing because of her ambiguity. Is she good or bad? Honest or conniving? Even among femme fatales that are horribly callous, there is at least a sense of what their true intentions are. Not so with Anne, who kept me guessing as to whether her loyalty was truly with Steve or if she was conniving with Slim.

The Siodmak-Planer duo must be commended for the portrayal of the city of Los Angeles. That opening flyover shot is great, as the camera swoops over and then descends into Los Angeles at night. The depiction of L.A., and specifically the Bunker Hill section of Steve’s home, has a very realistic quality, showing a working class area that is becoming more and more middle-class in the postwar boom. L.A. is a common setting for noir, but Criss Cross has a feel that makes it distinct from others set in the City of Angels. The underbelly of the city obviously exists, as embodied by Slim Dundee, but for whatever reason there is not quite the same darkness permeating every character as is seen in films such as Double Indemnity.

This lack of omnipresent darkness, however, does nothing to dampen the gloomy conclusion. Rather than type out a long interpretation, I’ll finish in the same way that the film does, with the memorable closing shot.

#5: The Killers (Robert Siodmak, 1946)

2010-04-20T00:05:00.002-04:00

Released: August 28, 1946

Director: Robert Siodmak; Screenplay: Anthony Veiller, Richard Brooks (uncredited), John Huston (uncredited) based on the short story by Ernest Hemingway; Cinematography: Elwood Bredell; Music: Miklós Rózsa; Producer: Mark Hellinger; Studio: Universal Pictures

Cast: Burt Lancaster (Ole “Swede” Andersen), Ava Gardner (Kitty Collins), Edmond O’Brien (Jim Reardon), Albert Dekker (Big Jim Colfax), Sam Levene (Lt. Sam Lubinsky), Vince Barnett (Charleston), Virginia Christine (Lily Harmon Lubinsky), Charles McGraw (Al), William Conrad (Max), Charles D. Brown (Packy Robinson), Jack Lambert (Dum-Dum Clarke), Donald McBride (R.S. Kenyon)

After rereading my entry in the annual countdown for 1946, I feel very satisfied and proud of the entry. There isn’t a whole lot that I feel like I can add without getting repetitive. Instead, my thoughts once again turn to the fact that Robert Siodmak is, in my opinion, the most underrated director of the 1940s. He seems to routinely be pigeonholed – The Spiral Staircase is a great horror movie, The Killers is a great noir – but is never talked about in the same breath with the likes of Welles, Ford, Hawks, and others. Certainly the bulk of his work in this period took place in noir, but his greatest movies transcend genre classification. The Killers, Criss Cross, The Spiral Staircase are flat-out great movies. No qualifier needed.

But… since this is a countdown devoted exclusively to film noir, I will go out on a limb and make another bold statement. Robert Siodmak, in my opinion, can make the greatest case to being the finest director to ever work in the genre/style/whatever you want to call it. His best work is of that high of quality.

So I re-post my original review here and once again marvel at how that opening diner scene never ceases to give me goosebumps each time I watch it.

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All it took in deciding to place The Killers this high in the countdown was re-watching that classic opening scene another time. The aforementioned opening scene and the killing that follows are the only parts of the film based on Ernest Hemingway’s original short story. The biting dialogue and wisecracks of the two hitmen, sent to kill an ex-boxer named Swede for an unknown reason, is possibly the best part of film. The killers, Al (Charles McGraw) and Max (William Conrad), banter with the owner and make clear that they are hired guns simply doing a job. I always smirk when Al asks “What do you do here nights?” and Max mockingly answers “They all come here and eat the big dinner.” The killers then proceed to fulfill their contract, bumping off Swede (Burt Lancaster) without incident.

Following these first 20 minutes, the story is entirely new. Screenwriter Anthony Veiller (apparently with uncredited help from John Huston and Richard Brooks), crafts a story to fill in the background of events that led Swede Andersen to willingly lay in bed and allow gunmen to kill him. The idea of taking a short story like this, which makes perfectly clear that our main character is murdered, and then creating a suspenseful mystery by filling in the details through flashbacks, is very interesting. It doesn’t matter that we know that the Swede will ultimately be murdered. As you follow insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmond O’Brien) researching the life of the Swede, it becomes intriguing to discover how the Swede fell from a first-rate boxing attraction to someone who seemed to welcome his own death. In this sense, the structure of the film is very much like that of Citizen Kane, where we know where things will end but are absorbed in finding out how the story will reach that point.

The plot centers on the Swede after he realizes that his fighting career is over. No longer able to make his living in the ring, Andersen finds that the most lucrative career choice is to enter the numbers racket and work his way up in the underworld. In the process, he becomes enamored with Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), the girlfriend of powerful hoodlum Big Jim Colfax (Albert Dekker). After Swede takes a rap for Kitty and goes to prison to keep her out of trouble, he emerges from jail and is drawn into a robbery scheme put together by Colfax. From there, double-crosses and backstabbing emerge as various members turn on each other. Kitty runs out on Swede and Swede in turn retreats to the small town life he was leading before his murder.

Director Robert Siodmak is not only a celebrated noir director, but one of my all-time favorite directors of any genre. Not knowing the specifics of the production, it is hard for me to pinpoint precisely who is most responsible for the look of this film, so I’ll go ahead and give co-credit to both Siodmak and cinematographer Elwood Bredell. The majority of the film is shot in interiors that are extremely dark. Just witness the image of the Swede lying in bed, surrounded by shadows, listening as his murders scale the stairs to his room. Such dark images are contrasted by the few scenes taking place outside, such as when Reardon visits Lt. Sam Lubinsky (Sam Levene) and they have lemonade on his roof. These scenes are much brighter, creating an interesting distinction between the two settings. These brighter images reinforce the dark underworld that the Swede has entered, and also offer a glimpse of the life that he could have led if he had followed in the footsteps of friends like Lubinsky.

I know people whose opinions I respect that feel scenes like the opening moments in the diner and other times in this film come across as cheesy. I cannot possibly disagree more, but I’ve realized that changing personal tastes is a completely futile exercise. The Killers will always have a special place for me, as it was the film that convinced me that Burt Lancaster was a truly brilliant actor and that Robert Siodmak is a man who deserves much more praise than he currently receives. It is still amazing for me to think that this was Lancaster’s debut film. Still, I am honest enough to admit that this is not a perfect film, as the sudden change in attitude of the Swede as he moves from pugilist to numbers man comes across as rather abrupt and not well-developed. But such a shortcoming is more than made up for by Siodmak’s deft direction and the way that Hemingway’s entertaining short story is expanded in reverse. It is among a handful of my favorite noirs.

#6: In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950)

2010-04-19T00:05:00.005-04:00

Released: May 17, 1950

Director: Nicholas Ray; Screenplay: Edmund H. North and Andrew Solt based on the novel by Dorothy B. Hughes; Cinematography: Burnett Guffey; Music: George Antheil; Producer: Robert Lord; Studio: Columbia Pictures

Cast: Humphrey Bogart (Dixon Steele), Gloria Grahame (Laurel Gray), Frank Lovejoy (Det. Sgt. Brub Nicolai), Carl Benton Reid (Capt. Lochner), Art Smith (Mel Lippman), Martha Stewart (Mildred Atkinson), Jeff Donnell (Sylvia Nicolai), Robert Warwick (Charlie Waterman), Morris Ankrum (Lloyd Barnes), William Ching (Ted Barton), Steven Geray (Paul, the Headwaiter), Hadda Brooks (Singer)

- “I was born when she kissed me… I died when she left me… I lived a few weeks while she loved me.”

The further I dig into the work of Nicholas Ray, the deeper my appreciation of his craftsmanship grows. His visual style is well-documented, and one need only watch something like his aerial shots in They Live By Night to immediately grasp the fact that he had an eye for space and camera movement on par with anyone else in Hollywood. Such technical skills certainly impress me, but what comes through most in his work is the passion. Everything the man directed seems to ooze intensity, whether it is a passionate relationship, a boiling anger, or an unbridled obsession. Nearly all of his films feature characters that openly display this type of raw emotion, which Ray would expertly balance with moments of compassion. This resulted in characters that felt not like players in a film, but fully-developed, lifelike people – sometimes likable, sometimes reprehensible; sometimes gentle, sometimes violent; sometimes caring, sometimes heartless. Like you or me, like real people. For all of the talk of certain types of films or filmmakers creating “ambiguous characters,” Ray’s films remind me that _all_ people are morally ambiguous at some point; some just have a penchant for leaning more toward the dark than the light, or vice-versa.

This comes through loud and clear in what I consider the finest film Ray ever made, 1950’s In a Lonely Place. Big-screen idol Humphrey Bogart gives the darkest performance of his career as Dixon “Dix” Steele, a Hollywood screenwriter who hasn’t seen success in years. He previously enjoyed success, but then reached the point that he could not churn out mundane scripts at the rate that studio executives demanded – he contends that he has to find a story that he truly believes in. So rather than filling his time with work, Dix’s life begins a continual cycle of alcohol and violent eruptions of his legendary temper. One night at popular Hollywood hangout Paul’s, Dix’s agent (Art Smith) tells him he has a novel that a studio is asking to be adapted for the screen. They want Dix to write the screenplay, but Dix shows very little interest in doing any work. Since he refused to read the actual novel, he decides to bring hatcheck girl Martha Stewart (Mildred Atkinson), who recently read it, to tell him the story. After a couple minutes, Dix quickly comes to the conclusion that it is another disposable story and sends Martha on her way. When he awakes the next morning and is greeted at his front door by longtime friend Brub Nicolai (Frank Lovejoy), a police officer, he is told that Martha was murdered shortly after leaving his house.

Dix naturally becomes the lead suspect in the case, but an unlikely witness provides him with enough of an alibi to convince the police to release him pending further investigation. Struggling actress Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame) recently moved into Dix’s apartment complex and testifies that she was up late that night and saw Martha leave the apartment alone. After his release, Dix grows closer to Laurel and a torrid affair begins. The love interest spurs Dix’s creative muse, as he sets off on his most productive writing sessions in years. This results in his producing a brilliant script and plans for marriage with Laurel. But the murder investigation hounds them at every turn, and the more that Laurel learns about Dix’s past – including multiple arrests for assault and other violence – the more she questions the relationship. Is it possible that he really did murder Martha? Even though she doesn’t think so, the question threatens to plague any future plans they make.

The movie runs barely over an hour and a half, which I point out because the economy of it all is astounding. Over the 94-minute running time, Ray guides the viewer through a maze of emotions and interpretations. When the mysterious murder is announced, it is actually pretty obvious to the audience that Dix is not the culprit. We saw Dix give Martha the cab money, send her on her way, and then retire to a hibernation-like sleep. So unless you think Nick Ray is going to pull off one majorly unbelievable swerve, then it is obvious that Dixon did not commit the murder. Or is it? Writers Edmund North and Andrew Solt expertly pace the revelation of details concerning Dix’s violent past, while Ray perfectly times the inclusion of brutal outbursts to ensure that the suspicion festers. The greatest example of this, and arguably the best scene in the entire film, takes place when Dix visits Detective Brub Nicolai and his wife for dinner. While discussing the case, Dix argues that as a longtime writer of murder mysteries, he could solve the crime easier than could the police. Dix sets up a recreation of the fateful car ride, instructing Brub and his wife Sylvia (Jeff Donnell) to act it out. As Dix describes the horrible actions, he becomes completely caught up in the storytelling, in the process getting Brub overwhelmed as well. As Dix gets more amped up in describing the strangulation, Brub loses his own self-control and begins squeezing his wife’s neck to the point that she screams for help. The sadism that can be seen in Dix’s eyes as he narrates the murder makes the question seem even more up in the air.

Still, like Laurel in the film, the viewer is likely to remain at least somewhat confident that Dix did not commit the murder. The greatness of the film derives from the fact that solving the mystery becomes unimportant. The question eventually becomes not did he do it, but does it even matter? Even more terrifying for Laurel is the realization that he is certainly capable of doing something that wicked. That awareness, even without confirmation one way or the other on the actual murder, is enough to keep her from committing. Grahame’s performance as the alluring Laurel is, in my opinion, the finest of her career. The conditions under which she worked on this film are also legendary, as her marriage to director Nick Ray was already starting to fall apart when filming began. It is amazing to consider how their deteriorating relationship mirrored the doomed affair of Dix and Laurel. As Dix began to enter the greatest creative outburst of his career, his relationship with Laurel crumbles under the pressure. So too did the marriage of Ray and Grahame, who separated during filming and would divorce two years later.

Also fascinating is how In a Lonely Place provides commentary on the effect that the Hollywood culture can have on those around it. This is a different interpretation from what is done in another 1950 classic, Sunset Boulevard. In that film, Wilder examines how Hollywood treats past stars, the people that are no longer profitable to those in power. In a Lonely Place looks at what can happen to entertainment personalities who are right in the middle of it all, trying to make a living and get by in that same world. It seems to show that even those who are finding work, who are still productive, can find it just as isolating as those that have been cast aside.

Little more needs to be said about Bogart’s performance – others have said it more articulately than I can. I still maintain that while Rick Blaine is certainly his most iconic role, his performance as Dix Steele is his best. Only Bogart’s turn as Fred C. Dobbs even approaches the same level of darkness seen in Dix. Watching him fight inner demons for the entire film is both unnerving and spellbinding. This is not necessarily a pleasant film to watch, but the craftsmanship on display from the Ray, the principle actors, and the great Burnett Guffey make it so powerful that you can’t help but return to it.

#7: Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)

2010-04-18T00:05:00.002-04:00

Released: September 6, 1944 (U.S.)

Director: Billy Wilder; Screenplay: Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler based on the novel by James M. Cain; Cinematography: John F. Seitz; Studio: Paramount Pictures; Producers: Buddy G. DeSylva and Joseph Sistrom

Cast: Fred MacMurray (Walter Neff), Barbara Stanwyck (Phyllis Dietrichson), Edward G. Robinson (Barton Keyes), Tom Powers (Mr. Dietrichson), Jean Heather (Lola Dietrichson), Byron Barr (Nino Zachetti), Porter Hall (Mr. Jackson), Fortunio Bonanova (Sam Garlopis), John Philliber (Joe Peters), Richard Gaines (Edward S. Norton, Jr.)

As is the case with other films that I have already written extensively about (or at least what I consider to be extensive, meaning in terms of blog posts), I don’t feel it necessary to write completely new takes on such movies. I easily chose Double Indemnity as my #1 for 1944 and it is a no-brainer to place it comfortably within the Top 10 for the noir countdown. Still, I think that there needs to be something additional added onto these pieces, at the very least to show that I’m not piggybacking on past work at this point. And so I made a point to re-watch each of the movies in the Top 10, to bring some new thoughts to each entry.

Watching Double Indemnity for the umpteenth time, there is one thing that drew all of my attention: the work of John Seitz. Since seeing Double Indemnity for the first time, I have never been able to look at venetian blinds the same again. I’m not kidding – anytime I see shadows or light slithering through the slits in such blinds I am reminded of this movie. I have praised Seitz’s work throughout the countdown, particularly in regard to his work in yesterday’s Billy Wilder entry Sunset Boulevard, and all of it is more than deserved. His photography is distinctive. It doesn’t have the grittiness of the work of John Alton. Instead, Seitz’s work is what I like to call stylishly dark. It has smoothness to it, yet never sacrifices the darkness. My realization of just how great Seitz was remains one of the biggest eye-openers of this whole series. I knew he was great, but I didn't fully appreciated the consistent excellence of his work until recently.

My other thoughts on the film are well captured in the piece below. I’ll just add that I go back and forth concerning my favorite Billy Wilder noir. Sometimes it is Double Indemnity, sometimes it is Sunset Boulevard. The fact that they ended up back-to-back in the countdown was not planned, and in fact they only ended up in those positions very late in the process. For now, Double Indemnity wears the crown, but it’s a tough call between such classics.
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- "I killed him for money and for a woman. I didn't get the money and I didn't get the woman. Pretty, isn't it?"

Just looking at the notables involved in every facet of this legendary film is enough to make a classic movie fan or noir buff salivate. The cast is superb, combining diverse on-screen personalities that result in maximum tension. With Barbara Stanwyck having already perfected the role of a manipulative, ambitious vixen in earlier pre-Code films, she is the ideal fit as the calculating Phyllis Dietrichson. Fred MacMurray, who until this point had played mostly wholesome, friendly characters, is cast against type as the man who is drawn into Mrs. Dietrichson’s machinations. It is a brilliant casting decision, as although Walter Neff takes an active role in the planning, the persona of MacMurray manages to convey the sneaking suspicion that the insurance agent is in over his head and is being maneuvered. Edward G. Robinson plays Barton Keyes, a claims adjuster who is hell-bent on uncovering any fraudulent claims submitted to the Pacific All-Risk Insurance Co. While not as ruthless as the gangster characters that made Robinson a star, Keyes is every bit as resolute and determined toward his job. The script is based on a novel by one of the godfathers of pulp fiction, James M. Cain. It is adapted for the screen in part by another of the titans of the hardboiled genre, Raymond Chandler, who infuses his trademark snappy dialogue with the dark themes of Cain’s story. The soundtrack is handled by the celebrated Miklós Rózsa. The photography of John Seitz is appropriately dark and shadowy. And the entire affair is overseen by arguably the most versatile director of his era, Billy Wilder.

On paper, it is a can’t-miss experience. On-screen, it manages to be the equal of such impressive credentials.

It is the story of insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), who finds himself in the middle of a murderous love triangle after doing something as simple as attempting to renew an automobile insurance policy. While on a call to renew of the policy of Mr. Dietrichson, Neff meets his gorgeous wife Phyllis and immediate chemistry is developed between the two. The sexual tension at this first meeting is palpable. As the two begin an affair, Phyllis sheepishly proposes the idea of purchasing life insurance for her husband, then later progresses to planning to kill him in order to collect on the policy. While he at first resists such an evil idea, Walter eventually comes on board, but decides that if they are to go through with it they are going to go for the gusto. If they can make Mr. Dietrichson’s death appear to be an accident, they will collect twice as much through the double indemnity clause.

When Mr. Dietrichon is found dead on railroad tracks, apparently having fallen off the back of a slow-moving train, police are quick to conclude his death the result of an accident. Unfortunately for the plotting couple, Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) and Pacific All-Risk are not as easily convinced. Keyes senses something strange and quickly begins to suspect that Mrs. Dietrichson likely plotted with another man to kill her husband. The relationship between Phyllis and Walter is strained as they try to maintain secrecy and keep Keyes from the truth. Meanwhile, as relations between the couple begin to deteriorate, Walter comes to suspect Phyllis of plotting more than just the murder of her husband.

It may not be my favorite film noir, but Double Indemnity remains one that I would put forth as the quintessential expression of the genre. As I have said previously on this blog, couple this one with Tourneur’s Out of the Past and even a complete neophyte will have a perfect introduction to the elements that have become noir staples. The flashbacks, the shadows, the dark lighting, the femme fatale, the unforgiving determinism – all of these components are on display here. But with Chandler involved in the screenplay and Wilder involved in both the screenplay and direction, there is the unmistakable quality of everything being a bit tongue-in-cheek. This is a story dealing with deadly serious issues, and yet nobody in this film – with the possible exception of the never-tiring Keyes – seems to be taking themselves seriously until it is far too late.

This feeling is due in large part to the sarcastic banter between characters. It is biting, cynical, and at times can feel a bit awkward. Lines like Neff telling Phyllis, “Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket” or “They say all native Californians come from Iowa” at first left me scratching my head wondering where in the heck they came from. I may be in the minority, but I truly do feel like some of the dialogue can be unwieldy. But it does fit with the sarcastic nature of the proceedings for most of the film – at least through the planning stages of the murder – as if there is a joke behind everything.

It is also amazing how tense this film at times can be, when considering that from the opening scenes the audience basically knows the conclusion. Early on we see a wounded Walter Neff stumbling into the insurance office and declaring into Keyes’ Dictaphone that his plan did not work out. Within the opening minutes, the plot that he and Phyllis hatched is outlined and he confesses to committing murder, declaring that he now plans to reveal all to his friend and coworker. Even with all of these details, there are moments in the film that are incredibly suspenseful. Just witness the scene when Keyes unexpectedly barges into Neff’s apartment to discuss the Dietrichson case. Unaware of the visitor, Phyllis pays a visit at the same time. Realizing the potential problem, Neff works to keep the two out of each other’s sight. Because of the opening of the film, we know that Keyes is not going to see Phyllis, and yet there is great tension as Walter tries everything to usher Keyes to an exit. Praise must go directly to Billy Wilder for this, as the direction of scenes such as this reinforces how masterful he could be. He is able to take something as simple as a woman hiding behind an open door and make it thrilling.

The other aspect that I did not initially realize, but that on subsequent viewings came to understand, is the fact that this is a rare example of a film that does not have a single likable character. Phyllis is as devious a character as has ever been committed to celluloid. Although it at times seems as if Walter is being manipulated by Phyllis, it’s impossible to overlook the fact that Walter is a willing participant and contributes significantly to the planning of the murder. Even Keyes, the incorruptible claims adjuster, can be irritating. After all, who likes overbearing insurance employees who will do anything to see to it that no money is ever paid out? The only character I ever remotely felt for was Lola (Jean Heather), Mr. Dietrichson’s daughter, but she is primarily on the periphery. It is this dearth of heroes or likable personalities that makes Double Indemnity such a grim film. No matter how much sarcasm or snappy dialogue is rattled off throughout, it is never enough to overcome the fact that these are unpleasant people all the way around.

#8: Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder, 1950)

2010-04-17T00:05:00.006-04:00

Released: August 4, 1950

a.k.a.: Sunset Blvd.

Director: Billy Wilder; Screenplay: Billy Wilder, Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman Jr.; Cinematography: John F. Seitz; Music: Franz Waxman; Producer: Charles Brackett; Studio: Paramount Pictures

Cast: William Holden (Joe Gillis), Gloria Swanson (Norma Desmond), Erich von Stroheim (Max von Mayerling), Nancy Olson (Betty Schaefer), Fred Clark (Sheldrake), Lloyd Gough (Marino), Jack Webb (Artie Green), Franklyn Farnum (Undertaker), Larry J. Blake (Finance Man #1), Charles Dayton (Finance Man #2), Cecil B. DeMille (Himself), Hedda Hopper (Herself), Buster Keaton (Himself), Anna Q. Nilsson (Herself), H.B. Warner (Himself), Ray Evans (Himself), Jay Livingston (Himself)

- “I _am_ big… it’s the pictures that got small…”

Man, would I give anything to be able to hop into a time machine and go back to see firsthand the incensed reactions of entertainment insiders when they initially encountered Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard. In one of the crowning achievements of his career, the accomplished Wilder turned his bitingly cynical perspective and wit on the very industry that he had become a leading figure in. The apocryphal stories that exist about some of the reactions from Hollywood players are not only hilarious to recount, but telling of how close to home the biting script hit for many of the city’s powerbrokers. Louis B. Mayer was said to have become so incensed after watching the film at Paramount’s initial screening that he approached Wilder and berated him, heatedly asking how he could make such a mockery of the industry that had made him. When these pleas failed to get through, Mayer was rumored to have tried to pool funds from other studio heads to purchase the film negatives and destroy them before they were released. Some contemporaries of star Gloria Swanson’s silent days were offended by the portrayal, thinking that it cast them all in a ridiculous light. Looking at things now, sixty years removed from its initial release, it is possible admit that the biting script Wilder authored with Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman falls short of indicting everything about Hollywood, as was initially accused. But it comes very close to doing so, pointing out, as only Billy Wilder could, how unmerciful the movie industry could be.

Is it a depressing drama? Is it a comedy? A complete farce? Is it even a film noir? In all honesty, as are the best Wilder films, it’s probably a little bit of all these things. Whatever labels you apply to it, though, there’s no denying its greatness. Everything about it – from writing, to directing, to acting, to photography – is damn near flawless. The reason this one is not #1 is purely because of personal preference – I love it, but I slightly prefer a few others – because this might be the best made film in the entire countdown.

The story centers on two people struggling to remain relevant in Hollywood. Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a former newspaperman from Dayton who moves to L.A. in hopes of making a career as a screenwriter. After a few minor successes, his career begins floundering to the point that he is unable to pay the rent or afford the payments on his car, which is in the process of being repoed. The other key figure is Norman Desmond (Gloria Swanson), a former star of silent films that at one time was the most popular actress on the planet. Her films were so successful that studios were built on the proceeds and in the process Norma herself accumulated a small fortune. But when talking pictures came into favor, Norma’s career was completely derailed. With her services no longer wanted, Norma went into seclusion on her Sunset Blvd. estate, living in a fantasy world, having contact with no one but her former director turned servant Max (Erich von Stroheim). The two cross paths when Joe swerves his car onto the Desmond estate while trying to avoid the repo men. When Norma learns that Gillis is a screenwriter, she floats the outlandish idea of the two working on a screenplay for her comeback. Joe plays along, hoping to earn some much needed cash, and stays on the estate rewriting the horrendous script that Norma had worked on for years. Things grow strange when the delusional Desmond develops a bizarre attachment to Joe, keeping him on the premises at all times and leading him to function as her male prostitute of sorts. So when Joe falls for another up-and-coming studio writer Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), the already fragile Norma completely loses it.

The authentic atmosphere of it all bears testament to the accomplishment of Wilder as both writer (along with longtime collaborator Charles Brackett) and director. I haven’t the slightest idea if Hollywood of this era was as petty and unforgiving as it is painted in this movie – my impressions of the studio system of this time come from films like Sunset Boulevard. So I have no clue if this is how the industry really treated past stars. What I do know is that Wilder makes me believe it to be true. After watching Sunset Boulevard – and particularly after hearing how people like Louie B. Mayer reacted – make me think that it _has_ to be true. Even with all of the theatrics and over-the-top performances, it is still that convincing. It has long been put forth that the genesis of the project stemmed from the sad tale of one-time titan D.W. Griffith, who by the 1940s was unsuccessfully begging for work in film. Wilder and Brackett saw this and were shocked, wondering what actually did happen to stars that had fallen from grace. This real-word connection, and its inclusion into the actual film, only adds to the authenticity. When you see what Gillis calls “waxworks” in the film played by the likes of Buster Keaton and Anna Q. Nilsson, even if they aren’t necessarily playing themselves, it carries a ring of truth.

The number of memorable scenes that make up the film are almost too countless to name. Is there a more unforgettable opening sequence? Our narrator leads us to his final resting place, letting the audience know that the body they see floating in a pool is his. Norma descending the stars for her close-up. Joe’s first glimpse of the grounds that make up Norma’s mansion is technically flawless, proving once again that the team of Wilder and director of photography John Seitz were among the finest duos in Hollywood history. If John Alton is the greatest cinematographer to ever work in noir, then surely Seitz has to be a shoo-in for the runner-up position. And it’s not just individual scenes that give the film such charm. It’s the minor touches that Wilder and company add to it all. It is things like the organ in Norma’s parlor that howls as the breeze hits its pipes. It’s the wonderful effect of something as simple as turning on the light in Norma’s recently restored pool. Minor details like these stick with you as much as the great individual scenes.

I don’t have the space to properly address the quality of the performances from the principal actors, but fortunately other more accomplished writers have given them their due. What I will say is that the acting is completely on another level in comparison to nearly any other film. Gloria Swanson, whose career mirrored the similar fall of Norma Desmond, gives the performance of a lifetime. The case can be made that it’s the finest performance by an actress in Hollywood history. William Holden is wonderful as well, but the other role that I always fall for is Erich von Stroheim as the loyal Max. He too plays a character whose story mirrors his real-life experiences and does so with equally spectacular results.

Excuse me for the gushing, but it’s a movie that justifies such fawning. I would guess that everyone reading this has seen it, but if you haven’t, stop reading this now and do so immediately. If you realize that you are unsure whether you’re supposed to be laughing or horrified, then you’ll know that you have properly understood the movie.