Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973)

Released: October 15, 1973 (U.S.A.)

Director: Terrence Malick; Screenplay: Terrence Malick; Cinematography: Brian Probyn, Steven Larner, Tak Fujimoto; Studio: Warner Bros; Producer: Terrence Malick

Cast: Martin Sheen (Kit Carruthers), Sissy Spacek (Holly Sargis), Warren Oates (Father), Ramono Bieri (Cato), John Carter (Rich Man), Terrence Malick (Caller at Rich Man’s House)

I can think of few directors that are as polarizing as Terrence Malick. In my experience, there is very little middle ground in opinions of his work. Either he is loved and revered for his visual sense and dream-like, flowing narratives, or he is absolutely loathed and labeled as pretentious and boring. I don’t hesitate in placing myself in the former camp, finding his films to not only be distinctive, but among the most captivating in my collection. But with that being said, in regards to this debut film, I come down in the position that I just said tends not to exist – exactly in the middle. While a large percentage of Malick fans consider it his crowning achievement, I view Badlands more as a springboard from which he would move on to great heights with his filmmaking.

The storyline has been done many different times: a young couple sets off on a crime spree, evading laugh enforcement and leaving bodies in their wake. It is loosely based on the real-life murder spree of Charles Starkweather and Caril Ann Fugate. It has quite a bit in common films such as Bonnie and Clyde. This story is narrated by the teenage girl of the duo, Holly (Sissy Spacek), who is naively in awe of her older boyfriend Kit Carruthers (Martin Sheen). Kit is a knockaround greaser-type who bounces around as a garbage man, farmer, and other odd jobs. When Holly’s father forbids her from seeing Kit any longer, Kit tries to no avail to convince him that he truly cares for Holly. This fails and Kit responds by sneaking into the home and declaring that he is taking Holly with him. When the father (Warren Oates) moves to call the police, Kit shoots and kills him. Holly calmly tells Kit that he didn’t need to kill her father, but does little more to resist. Instead, the two set the family home on fire and set off on their cross-country trek.

While narration is often difficult to handle in film, Malick is one of the few directors that utilize it effectively. By using Holly as the narrator, it sets the crime spree in an unusual light. She is so naïve in her descriptions, that without knowing the plot of the movie, an unsuspecting viewer would have no idea that this couple was hiding out from law enforcement, breaking into millionaire’s mansions, and dropping bodies wherever they stopped. Holly is completely indifferent toward the violence. In one telling scene, they encounter another couple on a deserted farm. Not wanting to allow any witnesses to turn them in, Kit pulls a revolver and begins to march the man into a field. Holly follows behind them with the other female, skipping and discussion mundane, common things. She seems completely oblivious to the fact that just yards ahead of her, Kit is holding a man at gunpoint and is very likely going to kill him.


Outside of his violent and murderous outbursts, Kit is portrayed as a regular everyman who is just drifting aimlessly through life trying to find a purpose. He takes pride whenever someone tells him that he resembles James Dean and seems hell-bent on flaming out in similar fashion. Kit recognizes that what he is doing is “wrong,” at least by societal standards, but he too seems to exhibit a complete lack of empathy. When the couple is finally captured, Kit acts almost joyous in lapping up the attention that is paid to him by the local sheriffs.

The issue that I ultimately have with the characters is that they just feel flat. Both Kit and Holly seem locked into the outlooks described above and never stray from them, maintaining these lifeless dispositions even through incredibly violent outbursts. The worst thing that can happen to me in a film is to have absolutely no interest in what happens to the characters that I’m watching. It doesn’t matter whether I wish them ill or well, what is important is that I have some kind of feeling toward them. Neither Holly nor Kit was able to generate much of that feeling for me, and thus I was left with simply enjoying the scenery.

Fortunately, this is Terrence Malick that we’re talking about, so simply “enjoying the scenery” can be a journey in itself. While I think it pales into comparison to some of his later films, the visuals in Badlands are still excellent. The amazing thing is that Malick rotated through three different cinematographers in the course of filming, yet managed to preserve a unified visual style. Watching Kit and Holly traveling across the open lands of South Dakota, driving into mountains and gorgeous setting suns, never fails to keep your attention glued to the screen. It’s not enough for me to place this film in the same lofty status that others have, but it does still make the film worthwhile and enjoyable for me.






As I said, Terrence Malick is among a handful of my favorite directors. Ironically, my feelings toward Malick are the exact opposite of how most serious fans of his work feel. It seems that a majority believe that this debut film was his pinnacle, and that in his three films over the next 32 years he never again reached this level. I completely disagree and feel that he has actually gotten better with each successive outing (which I will also be reviewing in the near future), and that is why Badlands is still an interesting film for me. Even though it’s not a favorite, it’s fascinating for me to be able to see the progression of Malick as a director.

Rating: 7/10

Perfect 10 Reviews

This special subsection of the blog – seen on the left side of the page – is devoted to the films that I find to be so spectacular that I give them a perfect 10/10 rating. I guess to a certain degree that this can serve as something of a “favorite movie” section, as I’m likely to give all time favorites top scores. But, it will also be more than that, as there will certainly be films that may not be personal favorites but that are so well-made that they deserve nothing less than a 10. If it goes as planned, this section should be a nice mix between "classics" of cinema that are held in near universal esteem and personal favorites that I think deserve that same lofty praise. So, any film that makes this list is one that I consider to be among the best of the best and recommend that anyone who loves great cinema should make a point to see at least once.

Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947)

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)

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.

Rating: 10/10

Crimes and Misdemeanors (Woody Allen, 1989)

My relationship with Woody Allen films has always been somewhat subdued. In the past I always tended to like every movie that I saw, but never quite seemed to love any of them. None of them ever quite reached the status of greatness that I hoped or expected of them. I’ve always had an appreciation for legendary films like Annie Hall, Manhattan, and Hannah and Her Sisters, but for some reason was always left with an unfulfilled feeling at the end of each of them. All of this changed upon seeing Crimes and Misdemeanors. It was a revelation. It made me understand that the sum of Woody Allen’s career in cinema was far greater than his riffing on variations of the same character and themes in each of his films. Here, he was able to tackle the same existential ideas that permeate many of his other efforts, but do so in a way that is equal parts tragedy and comedy.

The story is told through two separate storylines, but both concern strained relationships between two men and their respective wives. In the “serious” storyline, renowned ophthalmologist Judah Rosenthal (Martin Landau) scrambles to find a way to keep his young mistress (Anjelica Houston) from exposing their affair to his longtime wife. Ultimately, he reaches the conclusion that his only way out is to have her eliminated and he turns to his connected, streetwise brother (Jerry Orbach) to see that the job is done. In the “comedy” storyline, struggling documentary filmmaker Cliff Stern (Woody Allen) is also in a crumbling marriage. After being coaxed into directing a biography about the life of his Emmy award-winning television producer brother-in-law (Alan Alda), Cliff begins to fall in love with a producer also on the job (played by Mia Farrow). The two tales are interwoven seamlessly, with the narrative jumping between one storyline to the other.

This is another instance where I don’t want to give away too many details as to how things play out, because a lot of the emotional impact of the film comes from experiencing and trying to cope with the anguish as Judah himself does. The flashback scene of Judah remembering the discussions at his family dinner table, with arguments between family members over whether the eyes of God see everything that a person does, is crucial to the entire film. It crystallizes the issues that are haunting Judah and make him wonder if he can ever truly break free from the past relationship. Is the fact that one is not actually caught for a transgression proof that they come away from it unscathed? Or are there other ways, particularly personal and internal, that in due course see that punishment is exacted? Judah struggles with these weighty questions until the very end and the viewer is exposed to the same uncertainty and uneasiness.

The thing that amazes me about this movie is the fact that it works brilliantly on two completely different levels. It is both a comedy and a neo-noir. I’ll admit that the story focusing on Judah and the inner turmoil he goes through in coming to terms with decisions that he has made is the angle that is the most intriguing for me. It’s interesting how his predicament is juxtaposed with the less grave dilemma of Cliff. Even though Cliff’s situation is much less ominous, he still agonizes over his problems with the same intensity with which Judah contemplates contract murder. When the two men finally come together and meet each other at the end of the film, it’s interesting to realize which of the two characters is actually in a better state.

As I’ve already mentioned, this tops my list of best Woody Allen films. But probably the biggest impact that this movie has had on me is that it encouraged me to go back and reexamine other Allen films and I’ve realized that I enjoy his work a lot more than I originally thought. I’m writing this review after having watched Crimes and Misdemeanors for a second time and it’s just as entertaining and thought provoking as the first.

Rating: 9/10

Goodfella's Movie Blog Mission Statement

Although I’ve already posted my first review, I figured that it would still be worthwhile to throw up some kind of “mission statement.” In all honesty, there’s nothing exactly groundbreaking about this blog. It’s simply a place for me to think and write about film and will serve as something of a running log of the films that I’m watching at any given time. The fun for me comes in the fact that although I like to think of myself as a well-rounded movie buff, I’m far from having seen as many films as a lot of the folks who run great blogs around the ‘net. So, in most cases I’ll be writing on films that I’m experiencing for the first time, which in turn will hopefully urge somebody else to give them a chance. I’ll also try and highlight some of my personal favorite films, as I never tire of talking about my old standbys (think you can guess one based on my username?)

The normal format for the posts will simply be a review and thoughts of a film that I’ve recently watched. The key point I want to highlight is that, in spite of the heft of my first post, my reviews are not going to the be the in-depth essays that are contained on many of my favorite blogs. For the sake of time and sanity, I'm not going to try and do this for each film that I watch and review. Instead, most of the entries are going to be quick thoughts, feelings and reactions from films I've seen. There usually won't be a lot of plot summary and back-story. It will mainly be my own opinions and feelings on the film. The key strength of this approach is that it will allow to post a lot more than I otherwise would and I'll be able to touch on and hopefully spark comments on a lot more films. There will be certain films where I will take the time to craft more detail analysis and review, but it won't be the case with every single post.

I’ll also add a rating at the end of each article, which in most cases is going to be a completely subjective view of how much I’ve liked the film. I’m also a junkie for making lists of favorite films, greatest films, etc. So chances are that posts of this sort will appear every so often.

I’d also urge anyone who reads this to check out the movie blog links on the left side of this page. There is some great stuff there, produced by great writers, and enough to keep you busy for days.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Robert Altman, 1971)

The 1970s output of director Robert Altman is not only rightfully celebrated for its excellence but also because of the versatility he displayed in the various genres he tackled, and in many cases deconstructed, with his work. Over the short time span between 1970 and 1975, Altman was nothing short of prolific. During this time he produced his landmark anti-war film M*A*S*H, a complete re-working of the classic Philip Marlowe private eye character in The Long Goodbye, and a film that certainly left an impact on future generations of directors (here’s looking at you Paul Thomas Anderson) with the release of 1975’s Nashville. However the best movie he made during this incredibly creative period may very well be this exceptional 1971 release.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller is unique from nearly any Western to come before it. Until the climax of the film, it is essentially free from the usual macho, tough guy bravado and wild shootouts that have long been staples of the genre. It moves at a pace that could be described as lumbering, focusing more on thoughts and actions of gambler John McCabe than on action to propel the storyline. To refer to this as an anti-western would be cliché, but as the viewer is drawn into the movie it becomes apparent that the picture being painted of the settling of the American frontier is not one that is very pleasant for anyone involved.


The story centers on gambler and entrepreneur John McCabe (Warren Beatty), who rides into the upstart mining town of Providence City. With the reputation of a former gunslinger, McCabe is able to angle himself into the purchase of property on which he plans to build a saloon to house everything from gambling and drinking to a whorehouse. In the process of constructing his business, McCabe meets Constance (Mrs.) Miller (Julie Christie), a veteran madam who convinces him that the real money is in creating a high-class establishment with fine women and equally fine prices. Mrs. Miller manages to convince him that she is precisely the person who can help him create and run the business, promising to import and manage the women herself. After taking her in as a partner, McCabe quickly establishes himself as the leading businessman in town.

The problems start for McCabe when a large mining company begins to make overtures about buying out all of McCabe’s interests in Providence City. Continually rejecting their tempting offers, McCabe believes that he is playing hardball in negotiations, expecting the miners to begin increasing their offers. Instead, the mining company decides to take the business by force, turning the matter over to a mercenary of sorts to see that McCabe is pushed out. On top of this, McCabe’s life is further complicated by the fact that he has fallen in love with Mrs. Miller. McCabe resists Miller’s urgings to leave Providence City and start over in a new town, leading to his inevitable showdown with the mining mercenaries.


The overwhelming sense of griminess and filth is felt throughout the entire movie. Providence City is not like the settings in a John Ford or Howard Hawks Western. The photography from cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond is dark and extremely gloomy. The town is filthy, full of puddles, mud, and grime. Snow seems to fall at nearly all times. It works to create quite a brooding atmosphere, but one that fits perfectly with the pacing of the film and laid-back nature of the characters.

The fact that there is not “action” in the traditional sense for most of the film adds to the dream-like quality. The film simply flows. McCabe is a man who is on a journey to try and find a place of his own, where he can put down roots and escape his “Pudgy” McCabe persona from his past. This is driven home in the scenes of him traveling in the stark Northwestern landscape, set to the haunting soundtrack created by Leonard Cohen. Is he really simply trying to up the ante with the mining company or is he hesitant to sell his business because he appears to have finally found a place of his own where he can be successful? I think that is open for debate, as he only willingly looks to make a deal once he recognizes the forces that have been aligned against him. The gloominess is repeatedly broken up by lighthearted moments and quips, usually coming from McCabe himself. Things like his trademark line of “If a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his ass so much” manage to lighten things, but never to the point where you forget that there is a distinct feeling of doom hanging over the dealings of John McCabe.

This is my favorite performance from Warren Beatty. He plays the character to perfection. He is equally believable in showing McCabe to be an enterprising businessman and in displaying the idiosyncrasies of the character – things like drinking his double whiskey with an added raw egg or the constant conversations that he has with himself. It is an interesting lead character in a Western, as it's a character that is rumored to be a former gunslinger, but not someone who ever comes off as believable in the role. In addition to the persona that McCabe uses to push himself to the top of business in the town, Beatty is able to show how tenuous a grasp that McCabe truly has over his own emotions and situation.

While I don't intend to give away all the details as to how the movie plays out, this article would be incomplete without mentioning the stunning finish to the film. McCabe recognizes that the three mercenaries sent by the mining company are making their way across the town in order to kill him. At over twenty minutes in length, this cat-and-mouse game played out in a heavy snow storm is incredible to watch. Filmed without any soundtrack or background music, it is just with the sounds of the men crunching through the elements and trying to get the drop on the other. It is truly an iconic sequence of events and the final frames of the film are unforgettable.


As already mentioned, Robert Altman made a number of outstanding films over the course of his career, but this is without question my personal favorite. Although it is different from traditional Westerns, it is as atmospheric in its own unique way as any other film in the genre. Equal parts humorous and tragic, Altman manages to draw you deep into the story and keep you hoping that things do not turn out as desolately as you recognize they likely will.

Rating: 9/10