Movie Masterworks

“Then may He give me the strength to unhorse you. And send you with one blow, back across the sea.”

Synopsis: All the elements of Sir Thomas Malory’s classic ‘Le Morte Darthur’ are here: Arthur (Nigel Terry) removing the sword Excalibur from the stone; the Round Table’s noble birth and tragic decline; the heroic attempts to recover the Holy Grail; and the shifting balance of power between wily wizard Merlin (Nicol Williamson) and evil sorceress Morgana (Helen Mirren). With Patrick Stewart, Gabriel Byrne and Liam Neeson in notable early screen roles, ‘Excalibur’ serves up, ‘The New Yorker’s’ Pauline Kael wrote, “one lush, enraptured scene after another.”

My Thoughts: I’ve seen “Excalibur” more times than any other movie, at least 50. My brother and I watched it often when we were children because it was one of the few video tapes we owned. We got to the point where we could recite the entire movie word for word to each other. Our copy was brought back by our mother who taught a medeval epic class at her college. It was my first real exposure to the Authurian legend and I was hooked from then on.

This movie has everything guys love in movies: chivalry, adventure, knights, combat, friendship, honor, intrigue, love, betrayal, wizards, battles, castles, jousting… “Excalibur” holds a special place in my heart because of the memories it conjures up. It made me want to be a knight. Though I couldn’t ever be an Authurian knight, I could in the sense of upholding ideals such as honor and courage. Even the music from Wagner stirs the blood. This is the movie that made me love movies. There are so many memorable quotes and images which I will try to convey.

“I have walked my way since the beginning of time. Sometimes I give, sometimes I take, it is mine to know which and when!”

“Talk. Talk is for lovers, Merlin. I need the sword to be king.”

“Show the sword! Behold! The Sword of Power! Excalibur! Forged when the world was young, and bird and beast and flower were one with man, and death was but a dream!”

“He who draws the sword from the stone, he shall be king. Arthur, you’re the one.”

“Good and evil, there never is one without the other.”

“Swear faith to me, and you shall have mercy! I need battle lords such as you!”

“I am Lancelot of the Lake, from across the sea. And I have yet to find a King worthy of my sword.”

“Not a boast, sir. But a curse. For I have never met my match in joust or duel.”

“Move aside! This is the king’s road - and the knights you joined arms against were his very own.”

“Lancelot: Your rage has unbalanced you. You sir, would fight to the death, against a knight who is not your enemy. Over a stretch of road you could easily ride around.
Arthur: So be it. To the death!”

“My pride broke it. My rage broke it! This excellent knight, who fought with fairness and grace, was meant to win. I used Excalibur to change that verdict. I’ve lost, for all time. The ancient sword of my fathers, whose power was meant to unite all men… not to serve the vanity of a single man. I am… nothing.”

“The Lady of the Lake!”

“STAND BACK! Be silent! Be still! That’s it… and look upon this moment. Savor it! Rejoice with great gladness! Great gladness! Remember it always, for you are joined by it. You are One, under the stars. Remember it well, then… this night, this great victory. So that in the years ahead, you can say, ‘I was there that night, with Arthur, the King!’ For it is the doom of men that they forget.”

“Looking at the cake is like looking at the future, until you’ve tasted it what do you really know? And then, of course, it’s too late.”

“Knights, of The Round Table!”

“We are innocent, but not in our hearts.”

“When a man lies, he murders some part of the world.”

“That’s the one thing of yours I don’t want! The quest knights have failed. They’re all dead. And YOU… are dead, too. I shall come back and take Camelot by force!”

“Any man who would be a knight and follow a king… follow me.”

“Now, once more, I must ride with my knights to defend what was, and the dream of what could be.”

“Come father. Let us embrace at last.”

“I cannot give you the land. Only my love.”

“DO… as I command! One day, a King will come, and the Sword will rise… again.”

“I have often thought that in the hereafter of our lives, when I owe no more to the future and can be just a man, that we may meet, and you will come to me and claim me as yours, and know that I am your husband. It is a dream I have…”

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.”

Synopsis: A landmark movie in the film noir tradition, Roman Polanski’s ‘Chinatown’ stands as a true screen classic. Jack Nicholson is private-eye Jake Gittes, living off the murky moral climate of sunbaked, pre-war Southern California. Hired by a beautiful socialite (Faye Dunaway) to investigate her husband’s extramarital affair, Gittes is swept into a maelstrom of double dealings and deadly deceits, uncovering a web of personal and political scandals that come crashing together for one, unforgettable night in… Chinatown.

Critique: Could Chinatown be made today, in a Hollywood climate that rewards productions with no ambition and demands happy endings? Probably not. Even in 1974, screenwriter Robert Towne wanted a more upbeat conclusion, but Polanski believed that the film’s true path intersected with tragedy. From the vantage point of almost 30 years distance, it’s difficult to argue with the director’s interpretation. Had Towne’s vision held, the mediocre climax would have robbed Chinatown of an element of its power. One has to wonder whether it would be held in as high regard.

The most interesting aspect of the ending is how, although much of Chinatown is concerned with the unraveling of the San Fernando land buying conspiracy, the eventual resolution involves events that have nothing to do with the “big picture” and everything to do with the warped relationship between various key characters. In its final moments, we appreciate the manner in which Chinatown works both as a mystery and as an exploration of a deeper, more personal human tragedy. Gittes is not an unattached observer, as many private investigators are, and his involvement lends greater impact to the conclusion - especially since we see events through his eyes. He is, after all, our surrogate throughout the film.

Ever since film noir reached Hollywood, the detective has become a type, with film noir being his playground. It takes a Herculean effort to transform this type into a character and to replace the formula with a story, and Chinatown’s success in both of these regards is one of the reasons it is universally viewed as a classic. The movie is a nearly flawless example of movie composition, with close examination revealing how carefully it was put together. For those who take a less studious and more visceral approach to movie viewing, it’s also worth noting that Chinatown is a superior thriller - one that will keep viewers involved and “in the moment” until the final, mournful scene has come to a conclusion.

-James Berardinelli, ReelViews

My thoughts: The story of “Chinatown” unfolds like the layers of an union until you reach the core. Jack Nicholson gives one of the best performances of his career and John Huston is wonderful. Huston’s character (Noah Cross) exudes an aura of oily sleaziness that can be felt through the screen. This movie revived the Film Noir genre.

Sam: [singing] You must remember this / A kiss is still a kiss / A sigh is just a sigh / The fundamental things apply / As time goes by.

Critique: If we identify strongly with the characters in some movies, then it is no mystery that “Casablanca” is one of the most popular films ever made. It is about a man and a woman who are in love, and who sacrifice love for a higher purpose. This is immensely appealing; the viewer is not only able to imagine winning the love of Humphrey Bogart or Ingrid Bergman, but unselfishly renouncing it, as a contribution to the great cause of defeating the Nazis.

No one making “Casablanca” thought they were making a great movie. It was simply another Warner Bros. release. It was an “A list” picture, to be sure (Bogart, Bergman and Paul Henreid were stars, and no better cast of supporting actors could have been assembled on the Warners lot than Peter Lorre, Sidney Greenstreet, Claude Rains and Dooley Wilson). But it was made on a tight budget and released with small expectations. Everyone involved in the film had been, and would be, in dozens of other films made under similar circumstances, and the greatness of “Casablanca” was largely the result of happy chance.

The screenplay was adapted from a play of no great consequence; memoirs tell of scraps of dialogue jotted down and rushed over to the set. What must have helped is that the characters were firmly established in the minds of the writers, and they were characters so close to the screen personas of the actors that it was hard to write dialogue in the wrong tone.

Humphrey Bogart played strong heroic leads in his career, but he was usually better as the disappointed, wounded, resentful hero. Remember him in “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” convinced the others were plotting to steal his gold. In “Casablanca,” he plays Rick Blaine, the hard-drinking American running a nightclub in Casablanca when Morocco was a crossroads for spies, traitors, Nazis and the French Resistance.

The opening scenes dance with comedy; the dialogue combines the cynical with the weary; wisecracks with epigrams. We see that Rick moves easily in a corrupt world. “What is your nationality?” the German Strasser asks him, and he replies, “I’m a drunkard.” His personal code: “I stick my neck out for nobody.”

Then “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” It is Ilsa Lund (Bergman), the woman Rick loved years earlier in Paris. Under the shadow of the German occupation, he arranged their escape, and believes she abandoned him–left him waiting in the rain at a train station with their tickets to freedom. Now she is with Victor Laszlo (Henreid), a legendary hero of the French Resistance.

All this is handled with great economy in a handful of shots that still, after many viewings, have the power to move me emotionally as few scenes ever have. The bar’s piano player, Sam (Wilson), a friend of theirs in Paris, is startled to see her. She asks him to play the song that she and Rick made their own, “As Time Goes By.” He is reluctant, but he does, and Rick comes striding angrily out of the back room “I thought I told you never to play that song!”. Then he sees Ilsa, a dramatic musical chord marks their closeups, and the scene plays out in resentment, regret and the memory of a love that was real. (This scene is not as strong on a first viewing as on subsequent viewings, because the first time you see the movie you don’t yet know the story of Rick and Ilsa in Paris; indeed, the more you see it the more the whole film gains resonance.)

The plot, a trifle to hang the emotions on, involves letters of passage that will allow two people to leave Casablanca for Portugal and freedom. Rick obtained the letters from the wheedling little black-marketeer Ugarte (Peter Lorre). The sudden reappearance of Ilsa reopens all of his old wounds, and breaks his carefully cultivated veneer of neutrality and indifference. When he hears her story, he realizes she has always loved him. But now she is with Laszlo. Rick wants to use the letters to escape with Ilsa, but then, in a sustained sequence that combines suspense, romance and comedy as they have rarely been brought together on the screen, he contrives a situation in which Ilsa and Laszlo escape together, while he and his friend the police chief (Claude Rains) get away with murder. “Round up the usual suspects.”

What is intriguing is that none of the major characters is bad. Some are cynical, some lie, some kill, but all are redeemed. If you think it was easy for Rick to renounce his love for Ilsa–to place a higher value on Laszlo’s fight against Nazism–remember Forster’s famous comment, “If I were forced to choose between my country and my friend, I hope I would be brave enough to choose my friend.”

From a modern perspective, the film reveals interesting assumptions. Ilsa Lund’s role is basically that of a lover and helpmate to a great man; the movie’s real question is, which great man should she be sleeping with? There is actually no reason why Laszlo cannot get on the plane alone, leaving Ilsa in Casablanca with Rick, and indeed that is one of the endings that was briefly considered. But that would be all wrong; the “happy” ending would be tarnished by self-interest, while the ending we have allows Rick to be larger, to approach nobility “it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world”. And it allows us, vicariously experiencing all of these things in the theater, to warm in the glow of his heroism.

In her closeups during this scene, Bergman’s face reflects confusing emotions. And well she might have been confused, since neither she nor anyone else on the film knew for sure until the final day who would get on the plane. Bergman played the whole movie without knowing how it would end, and this had the subtle effect of making all of her scenes more emotionally convincing; she could not tilt in the direction she knew the wind was blowing.

Stylistically, the film is not so much brilliant as absolutely sound, rock-solid in its use of Hollywood studio craftsmanship. The director, Michael Curtiz, and the writers (Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein and Howard Koch) all won Oscars. One of their key contributions was to show us that Rick, Ilsa and the others lived in a complex time and place. The richness of the supporting characters (Greenstreet as the corrupt club owner, Lorre as the sniveling cheat, Rains as the subtly homosexual police chief and minor characters like the young girl who will do anything to help her husband) set the moral stage for the decisions of the major characters. When this plot was remade in 1990 as “Havana,” Hollywood practices required all the big scenes to feature the big stars (Robert Redford and Lena Olin) and the film suffered as a result; out of context, they were more lovers than heroes.

Seeing the film over and over again, year after year, I find it never grows over-familiar. It plays like a favorite musical album; the more I know it, the more I like it. The black-and-white cinematography has not aged as color would. The dialogue is so spare and cynical it has not grown old-fashioned. Much of the emotional effect of “Casablanca” is achieved by indirection; as we leave the theater, we are absolutely convinced that the only thing keeping the world from going crazy is that the problems of three little people do after all amount to more than a hill of beans.

-Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

My thoughts: Love stories don’t get much better than this. Ingrid Bergman is heart wrenchingly beautiful; not glamorous beauty but the natural beauty of youth and vitality. She really is stunning. When I think of classic movies, I think of “Casablanca” first.

“You see, this is my life! It always will be! Nothing else! Just us, the cameras, and those wonderful people out there in the dark!… All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.”

Synopsis: Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond, an aging silent film queen, and William Holden as the struggling writer who is held in thrall by her madness, created two of the screen’s most memorable characters in ‘Sunset Boulevard’. Winner of three Academy Awards®, director Billy Wilder’s orchestration of the bizarre tale is a true cinematic classic. From the unforgettable opening sequence through the inevitable unfolding of tragic destiny, the film is the definitive statement on the dark and desperate side of Hollywood. Erich von Stroheim as Desmond’s discoverer, ex-husband and butler, and Nancy Olson as the bright spot in unrelenting ominousness, are equally celebrated for their masterful performances.

Critique: One of the most difficult things to explain is a phenomena that is ground into our collective consciousness so deeply that it becomes an instant cliche. The shock of recognition is immediate, intense & irreversible. We can never go back to seeing the world as we did before. Prior to “Sunset Blvd.,” only employees within the film industry knew the truth about stars like Norma Desmond. They were rich, isolated & unemployable, but why make a film about such a depressing subject? When Billy Wilder did make a film about the twilight world of Norma Desmond & her live-in lover Joe Gillis, Louis B. Mayer told Wilder that he’d disgraced the industry & should be run out of town. Wilder gave Mayer a two-word dismissal evocative of Mayer’s dismissal from MGM the following year, after a 27 year reign. The future belonged to harshly critical mavericks like Wilder: Mayer was history.

Originally, Wilder intended for Joe’s ghost to tell us the story of his wasted life from a slab in the mortuary, surrounded by corpses. Instead, we get the story from the bullet-riddled body in Norma’s swimming pool. The body might have been played by Montgomery Clift, but the story of “Sunset Blvd.” evidently hit too close to home: Clift was living with a fading star from the flapper era, Libby Holman, & he turned down the revealing role. William Holden had never played such a sleazy role as Joe Gillis. He knows that spoon feeding hope to a doomed & desperate woman is wrong, but he doesn’t care. After all, Max the butler is doing the same thing & Max used to be a great director. So was the Oscar-nominated star who played Max Von Mayerling: Erich Von Stroheim. Von Stroheim, who once insisted that film extras wear meticulously accurate underwear, plays a supporting role with all the autocratic swagger he can muster, but Wilder’s pitiless dialogue reveals the truth: Max was Madame Desmond’s husband before he became her butler.

Youth is represented by Nancy Olson as Betty Schaefer & Jack Webb as her fiance Artie Green. Betty & Artie are bursting with unjaded artistry & untested idealism, & are thus the perfect pigeons for a cynic who wants to forget that he’s already sold his soul. The past is represented by glorified versions of Hedda Hopper & Cecil B. DeMille, who play themselves as savvy survivors, & by silent stars Buster Keaton, Anna Q. Nilsson & H.B. Warner, who appear as musty, if still breathing, waxworks at the altar of Gloria Swanson’s Norma. The bright-eyed young girl who’d first bounced around a movie set in 1918 & would still be making movies over 65 years later, gives Norma a jolt of satire amidst the sparks of restless energy. Earlier choices for Norma included Mary Pickford (who could not have played Norma to save her soul) & Pola Negri (who might have been able to give Norma a uniquely exotic spin), but no one was better at capturing a woman who lived in the past than Swanson, who really didn’t give a damn about the past. “Sunset Blvd.” nurtured a new mythology about Hollywood which has persisted since its release in 1950. It fuels the content of tabloids & chat shows. Movie stars do not live happily every after in the year 2000. They can’t gain a pound at the waist or lose a dime at the box office without whispers of their sad last days being routinely recorded with all the delicacy of an ambulance siren. Billy Wilder, who left Hitler’s Germany to toil in the blinding California sun, came, saw & showed us ourself in striking & unforgettable ways. “Sunset Blvd.” drives his indelible observations home.

-Monica Sullivan, Movie Magazine International

“Rosebud.”

Critique: Seldom are films so carefully crafted, and more seldom still do they have so much to say. Citizen Kane, Orson Welles’ masterpiece, which he made at a very early age, is often jokingly called “the best German film Hollywood ever made” due to its similarity to the dark, haunting, surreal pictures Germany was producing at the time. More seriously, it is called, simply, “the best film ever made.”

As with all great films, Citizen Kane’s theme is completely absorbed in its characters. It presents them, then judges them, taking a firm moral stance. The characterization and acting are flawless. Joseph Cotten as Jedediah Leland, Agnes Moorehead as Kane’s mother, and Orson Welles as Kane himself make particularly unforgettable impressions.

The central character, of course, is Charles Foster Kane, who utters the most famous dying word in all of filmdom in the opening scenes. “Rosebud.” But what does it mean? A curious reporter, whose face we never see and whose shoulder we’re always looking over, is determined to find out. He interviews the people Kane was closest to, and they tell their stories in flashback. Audiences of the day were unaccustomed to the non-linear chronology of the narrative; in 1941, it was unconventional to say the least.

The glimpses we get of Kane’s life, from varying points of view, are haunting, tragic, and resounding. Kane’s life was a grand success in politics and business — less so in domestic terms. But had he found what was so important to him that he’d make it his dying thought? Finding out is a fascinating experience, one of the most involving cinema has to offer.

The film is a grand if harsh statement on the human spirit. Equally compelling is how meticulously the film is constructed. Every frame is so purposefully composed, every line of dialogue and stage direction so carefully planned, all to further its theme and punctuate the action. Volumes have been written about the artistry in Citizen Kane and still there is more to say. Conscious decisions were made about every detail — how far apart characters stand from each other, where individual shadows fall, what objects appear in the background, etc. One famous shot involves Kane and Leland talking to each other. Leland is drunk and spouting off at Kane. The camera shoots the scene from floor-level, which, aided by Leland’s wavering drunkenness, turns the moment into a surreal, dreamlike tempest of emotions.

Most of the techniques Welles employed to make the film had been used before, but never in such a dynamic manner, or in such quantity and diversity, or with such consistent effectiveness. And they were all employed in service to the film’s complex subject matter, as is proper but which is often not the case.

What’s Citizen Kane all about? Answering that question is what first-time viewers and long-time critics have been pondering since the film’s release. Coming up with valid insight is not difficult, but comprehending all this film has to offer, even after repeated viewings, is. In other words, there’s always more to see and learn by watching Citizen Kane yet one more time.

At-A-Glance Film Reviews

My thoughts: From a technical perspective, Citizen Kane is the greatest film of all time. But it’s not the most entertaining film of all time.

“We’ve become a race of Peeping Toms. What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change.”

Synopsis: None of Hitchcock’s films has ever given a clearer view of his genius for suspense than ‘Rear Window’. When professional photographer J.B “Jeff” Jeffries (James Stewart) is confined to a wheelchair with a broken leg, he becomes obsessed with watching the private dramas of his neighbors play out across the courtyard. When he suspects a salesman may have murdered his nagging wife, Jeffries enlists the help of his glamorous socialite girlfriend (Grace Kelly) to investigate the highly suspicious chain of events…Events that ultimately lead to one of the most memorable and gripping endings in all of film history.

Critique: Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window - made in 1954 and just restored for re-release - is a miraculous film. It’s a witty, sexy, supremely entertaining thriller. It’s also the most provocative meditation on moviegoing ever made.

On its face, it’s an allegory so transparent it risks banality. Photographer L.B. Jefferies (James Stewart), immobilized with a shattered leg, spends his convalescence spying on his neighbors. Alone in his apartment, he has a multiplex to himself, with a different genre playing in each window. There’s Miss Lonelyhearts’ tearful melodrama, the romantic farce of Miss Torso and her suitors, and the stark drama of the travelling salesman and his bedridden wife, which soon begins to look instead like a murder mystery.

The film remains unsettling because Hitchcock took such sadistic glee in implicating the audience in Jefferies’ voyeurism. When his girlfriend admonishes him for his ghoulishness, she’s talking to us as well. Hitchcock is rigorously exacting in the extent to which he forces us to experience the events through Jefferies. The camera angles match his position (when he uses a camera’s zoom lens to get a better view, we finally get the closer shots we’ve been craving) and the soundtrack reveals only what he could hear, burying his neighbors’ conversations in the ambient drone of city buses. The scenes are kept short and always end in fades. This has the effect of making the material seem abrupt and somehow unfinished, leaving us hanging on for more, as desperate as Jefferies for the next revelation. When he finally pushes past simple voyeurism and begins to act on his suspicions, the risks he takes on become our risks; our identification with him is so complete that moments that might have been nicely suspenseful jolts in a typical thriller become terrifying.

-Gary Mairs, Culturevulture.net

“Do you think I’m just anyone? Do you?”

Synopsis: The dramatic portrait of the famed British officer’s journey to the Middle East, ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ is one of the most critically acclaimed and beloved films of all time. Assigned to Arabia during World War I, Lawrence courageously unites the warring Arab factions into a strong guerrilla front and leads them to brilliant victories in treacherous desert battlefields, where they eventually defeat the ruling Turkish Empire.

Critique: Lawrence of Arabia is often regarded as David Lean’s masterpiece and contains some of the most amazing photography ever captured on film.

The plot involves the true story of T E Lawrence, a young English officer who led the Arabs to victory in their revolt against their Turkish imperial master during the First World War but who then after achieving so much fame and glory died in a motorbike accident that could have been suicide.

The most famous features of the film are the photography of the desert and the music. Maurice Jarre’s famous theme is now synomous with anything dry and deserty. David Lean spent several years in Jordan and Morocco making the film and is said to have spent days waiting for the “right” sunrise. However his perfectionism paid off and the shots are fantastic with wonderful pieces of editing.

However Lawrence of Arabia is not just a sandy visual feast. The performances are also superb. Claude Rains is suitably suave as the diplomat and Jack Hawkins appropriately brusque as General Allenby. Alec Guiness is almost unrecognisible in his amazing turn as Prince Feisal. However it is the performances of the two young leads (Omar Sharif as Ali and Peter O’Toole as Lawrence himself) which deserve the most credit. Neither actor had starred in an international film before Lawrence of Arabia but they proved themselves worthy of their casting and, of course, went on to have very successful careers.

Through their subtle performances, O’Toole and Sharif make one of the most interesting aspects of the film the interaction of the two main characters. When Lawrence first meets Ali, the latter guns down a fellow Arab for drinking at a well belonging to Ali. Lawrence accuses Ali of being “silly, barbarous and cruel” and yet ultimately as the plot unfolds it is shown that it is Ali who is the more humane and rational of the two for, as his career takes off, Lawrence becomes caught up in his own glory that increasingly brings out his sadism and near insanity. Lawrence of Arabia exemplifies Lean’s amazing eye for beautiful shots and brilliant editing, but is also a sensitive study of an enigmatic and tragic figure.

Review by Alicia Forsyth Taken from EUFS Programme 1996-97

“You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.”

Isn’t it ironic that one of the greatest Westerns ever made was directed by an Italian, filmed mostly in Spain with an international cast, and dubbed? Usually, I regard watching a foreign language film dubbed rather than with subtitles as a sin, but this is the only exception. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is not just a Spaghetti Western, it’s THE spaghetti western. It’s the film that made Clint Eastwood a star and turned the Western genre upside down. Before it was a simple formula, white hats vs. black hats, everything was clear cut and there is usually a happy ending. Now in GB&U, we have anti-heroes, morally ambiguous characters, likable because of their flare, wandering through a story with many twists and turns. The sensational opening credits indicate The Good, the Bad and the Ugly will not be typical Western fare. Bright reds, greens and blues are splashed across the characters faces to the sound of gunfire while trumpets blare. When the director’s name, Sergio Leone appears, everything gets blown away by cannon fire.

In the opening scenes we are introduced to the main players. First the Ugly, a bandit played by Eli Wallach, who has all the cunning avarice of a hungry predator or a Richard Hatch. Tuco “the rat” has lived a hard life which has hardened him in turn. His sole motivation is money. Then we meet the Bad, who wears a black hat and rides a black horse, played by Lee Van Cleef. Sentenza, the bad, is a cold blooded murderer with piercing dispassionate eyes. We can almost smell the malice he emanates off the screen. He is just as greedy as Tuco but totally amoral. Lastly the man with no name, the Good is introduced. Only known as “Blondie,” the Good is a laconic gunman played by Clint Eastwood. The film’s title is a bit of a stretch because all three men are bad; it’s just a matter of degree. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, are all preternaturally good with a gun and they all have a unique style. They roam the vast barren landscapes fearlessly, until chance and greed bring them together, and set them on a quest for $200,000 in gold.

I won’t divulge any more of the plot on the off chance you are one of the few who have not seen this great flick. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, debuted in Rome with about a 3 hour run time. It was felt this was too long for American audiences so the runtime was reduced to about 161 minutes. A new DVD version was recently released that restores the American version to match the original Italian version. One of my favorite things about the new release is the 5.1 surround sound. It really makes Ennio Morricone’s score, one of the most original in movie history, come to life. I still get chills when Tuco searches for the grave in the “ecstasy of gold” sequence. The restored footage needed to be re-dubbed since it was originally spoken in Italian. Ironically, the voice actor for the late Lee Van Cleef sounds more authentic than Clint Eastwood and Eli Wallach. Eastwood’s and Wallach’s voices have changed from 40 years ago but the restored scenes play well. The new transfer is first rate. The cinematography ranges from wide panoramas showing the vastness of “Texas” to extreme close-ups of the actors. I also like the little details Leone includes in GB&U. You see the steam rise from the food eaten by Sentenza and a wayward mongrel scared off by Tuco when he enters the cemetery. The ending of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is one of the best I’ve seen. Only Sergio Leone could draw out the tension for so long. Quentin Tarantino called The Good, the Bad and the Ugly the “best directed movie of all time.” As far as “Westerns” go, only Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid comes close in terms of entertainment value.

“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”

Synopsis: The “dialogue is scintillating, characters…extraordinary, direction…perfect and production as fine as anything 20th Century Fox has turned out” in Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s “captivating” (Variety) Oscar winner for Best Picture. From the moment she glimpses her idol at the stage door, Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) moves relentlessly towards her goal: taking the reins of power from the great actress Margo Channing (Bette Davis). The cunning Eve maneuvers her way into Margo’s Broadway role, becomes a sensation and even causes turmoil in the lives of Margo’s director boyfriend (Gary Merrill), her playwright (Hugh Marlowe) and his wife (Celeste Holm). Only the cynical drama critic (Oscar winner George Sanders) sees through Eve, admiring her audacity and perfect pattern of deceit. Thelma Ritter and Marilyn Monroe co-star in this acclaimed classic, which won six Academy Awards and received the most nominations (14) in film history.

Critique: All About Eve isn’t just a great movie about the theater, it’s a great movie about talent. Talent has nothing to do with being a nice person; if it did, Celeste Holm’s long-suffering wife would be center stage, not catty Margo Channing. It used to be, in old musicals, the snooty star would break her foot, and the sweet, plucky understudy would be vaulted to stardom. Mankiewicz’s tale is a variation on that chestnut–in this case the ingenue, Anne Baxter’s Eve Harrington, is a snake, and she still gets pretty much what she wants.

The reason? She may not be good, but she’s good at what she does. Ability beats virtue any day. Which is why Mankiewicz can’t bring himself to punish Bette Davis’ glorious Margo for her ego, her temper, and her insecurity. As George Sanders’ deliciously wicked theater critic Addison DeWitt tells her, “You’re maudlin and full of self-pity. You’re marvelous.”

Even if you’ve seen All About Eve a dozen times, there’s always something new to catch in Mankiewicz’s sumptuous, spiked plum pudding of a script–the knowing banter between Margo and her director boyfriend Bill (Gary Merrill), the way Margo smirks at hateful Addison before chomping down hard on a stalk of celery. Every character has been blessed with a viper’s tongue, down to Margo’s skeptical maid (the perpetually underrated Thelma Ritter), and it’s a pleasure to hear them bicker: No other movie makes being smart and cynical look like more fun.

-Jim Ridley NashvilleScene

My thoughts: I had never seen Betty Davis until seeing her in All About Eve. What she lacked in beauty she made up for in raw force of personality. A young Marilyn Monroe also steals scenes, drawing the camera to her like a magnet. Along with the film’s personalities, it’s the dialogue that makes All About Eve so memorable. If I had to sum this movie up in one word, it would be “sharp”… sharp dress, sharp minds, and sharp tongues.

“Thus Barry fell into the very worst of courses and company. And was soon very far advanced in the science of every kind of misconduct.”

Synopsis: How does an Irish lad without prospects become part of 18th-century English nobility? For Barry Lyndon (Ryan O’Neal) the answer is: any way he can! His climb to wealth and privilege is the enthralling focus of this sumptuous Stanely Kubrick version of William Makepeace Thackeray’s novel.

For this ravishing, slyly satiric winner of 4 Academy Awards®, Kubrick found inspiration in the works of the era’s painters. Costumes and sets were crafted in the era’s designs and pioneering lenses were developed to shoot interiors and exteriors in natural light. The result? ‘Barry Lyndon’ endures as a cutting-edge movie that brings a historical period to vivid screen life like no other film before or since.

Critique: Barry Lyndon is a masterpiece of a director whose films are all extraordinary; it marks a new conception of the art of film. Although based on a novel, it is entirely cinematic, offering an endlessly suggestive vision of reality which is irreducible to verbal formulations. Each shot and cut tells us more than any verbal formulations (including this one) can convey. Like its hero, it seems at first uncomplicated; but it maintains a dream-like coherence and ambiguity throughout, succeeding as a story, spectacle, historical reconstruction, psychological allegory and vision of Western man. And it is about the act of viewing. It betters our ability to watch, and betters us. In an age less interested in ugliness, seen by the viewers Kubrick has helped to create, its greatness will be recognized and its reputation righted.

-Excerpt from Barry Lyndon Reconsidered by Mark Crispin Miller
© 1976 The Georgia Review Volume XXX, Number 4. All Rights Reserved

My thoughts: Barry Lyndon is the most beautiful film I’ve ever seen. It’s as if each frame of film can serve as the composition for an impressionist’s oil painting. But this is art come to life! The costumes, lighting and cinematography are so exquisite, it’s like peering through a window directly into the mid 1700’s.