The last casualty of the Civil War

Good writing makes for good film.  "The Twilight Zone" from the 60's still holds up, in all its black-and-white glory, as one of the best in small screen history.  My favorite episode, "The Passersby," aired in 1961.  In it, a confederate belle (Joanne Linville) sits on the front porch of her once-proud home bearing witness to an endless stream of wounded soldiers, north and south alike, beating a war-weary path down the road.  Linville reminds me of Olivia de Havilland in "Gone With The Wind,"  but only as to her facial features, expressions and speech patterns. Unlike de Havilland's "Melanie," Linvilles' belle hates every damn Yankee for bringing the war to her doorstep.  If only it were that simple.  Blame abounds, and all have reason enough to hate, but at what cost?  The Yankee lieutenant who pauses for a drink of water says as much when he asks her if shooting him would make her feel better.  Too late for that, as proven by the unavoidable march down the road.  But to where?  The tall, sad, lonely figure making his way down the road at the end of the procession will tell her, quoting Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" to boot.  Look for this episode on Sy-Fy, or go out of your way to see it.

Daring birds of prey go there

Not only is it one of the best World War II films, but "Where Eagles Dare" (1968) is a great title.  Starring the classy Richard Burton enunciating every line in that clipped staccato that only he could deliver, and Clint Eastwood as an icily efficient, cold-blooded American Army Ranger, this was one of my Saturday afternoon favorites.  It takes place high in a mountain castle serving as a Nazi command center.  Burton and Eastwood are part of an allied rescue mission to fee a captive American General possessing intelligence on the soon to be unleashed D-Day invasion.  From the parachute drop above a tree line overlooking the castle to the final reveal and resolution, this film is action-packed.  My favorite scene is the fight to the death on top of a cable car descending from the castle between Burton and two members of his strike force who turn out to be double-agents.  Burton kicks one off the car and leaves his wounded co-conspirator in the car as he perfectly times his leap onto an ascending cable car, but not before he leaves a time bomb aboard.  The explosion of the descending car seen from Burton's perspective is spectacular.  A great movie with two great actors.  Burton is Burton and Clint is at his silent, cool, underplayed best. 

And the winner is....

..."How Green Was My Valley", which won the Oscar for Best Picture at the 1942 Academy Awards ceremony.  Directed by the legendary John Ford, it was my father's favorite, and it is a fine film.  More interesting to me, however, is the fact that it beat "Citizen Kane," which was also nominated that year, winning 4 Oscars, including Best Actor for Orson Welles, and a screenplay award shared by Welles and Herman J. Mankiewicz.

"Citizen Kane" has aged very, very well.  It is widely regarded as the finest film ever made.  In the 2007 American Film Institute poll, it ranked first, with "The Godfather" and "Casablanca" among the short list of great films in consideration for the top spot.  Some speculate that the power of William Randolph Hearst, his friends in Hollywood, and those who wanted to be his friend or feared his enmity, account for the failure of the motion picture industry to award the film that year.  However, that theory is not easily reconcilable with the multiple nominations and the 4 Oscars awarded.  It seems that such power would be more sweeping.

Perhaps the newsreel footage and sensationalism of the film hit too close to home.  Europe and the Pacific were engulfed in World War II, Pearl Harbor had been attacked, and the worst fears of a nation were being realized.  December 7, 1941, a date on which the lives of all Americans changed forever, was at the forefront that Oscar season.  My father said that he and all the other draftees in my hometown of Gillespie, Illinois, got "their letter from Mr. Roosevelt" on Christmas Eve, 1941.  I think the timing was not right that year  The simple virtues of home and family, though timeless in their appeal, prevailed at a time when everything was falling apart.  "How Green Was My Valley" exemplified them, while "Citizen Kane" depicted
their loss and the destructive forces of compensation.

Att-i-cus! Att-i-cus! Att-i-cus!

The dog in this film has a bad afternoon, but "To Kill a Mockingbird" (1962) celebrates 50 years as a significant event in cinema history this year.  Based on the novel of the same name written by Harper Lee (please see my earlier post "Philip Got it Down Cold" for some information on her good friend Truman Capote), which won a Pulitzer Prize, the film earned three Academy Awards, including Gregory Peck in the leading role and for the screenplay written by Horton Foote.  Set in depression-era Alabama, Atticus Finch, a small town lawyer, is court-appointed to defend a black man falsely accused of rape.  However, the story is largely told through the eyes of the Finch children, 9-year old Jem, and, in particular, 6-year old Jean Louise, better known as Scout.

Gone, but hopefully not forgotten, are the family gatherings at the dinner table for the evening meal and a discussion of the day's events, the visits from neighbors and guests on the front porch, and the unstructured, unscheduled, free time for children in the magical period we once knew as summer.  The pacing of this film is also rarely seen these days, as it takes some time getting to the point.  However, the early moments remind me of "The Sandlot" (1993), especially the tree house, the fence, and the new kid on the block, Dill.  Additionally, there are mythical monsters next door represented by a mean woman in a rocking chair said to keep a loaded confederate pistol on her lap, and Boo Radley, once said to be locked in the basement of the courthouse for unspeakable crimes.  Neither tale is true, and we can forgive young children for their imaginary fears.

Harder to forgive is Dill's aunt, an adult who feeds the children's fears by contributing her gossip concerning the dreaded Boo.  Yet there are worse fears afoot, and Atticus cannot protect his children from the ugliness, racism, and violence his defense of Tom Robinson generates, particularly from the miserable, drunken wretch of a father of the alleged victim.  A more poignant contrast in fatherhood cannot be found in film history, as far as I am concerned.  Tom Robinson is right when he has the guts to say he felt sorry for his young accuser.  Atticus patiently implores his children to understand but not accept the way of the racist misanthrope.  As it turns out, there is nothing to fear from Boo.  Perhaps FDR got it right about fear itself.

Cranberries

I watch all things Scorsese.  I think he is the greatest filmmaker of his generation.  "The Departed" (2006) earned him an Oscar for directing and best picture.  Set in South Boston, it tells a tale of Irish-American organized crime, the undercover cop assigned to infiltrate it, and the investigator who works for the mob from the inside of the police investigative unit. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," as the Godfather said.  The starpower in this movie is impressive, with Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon and Jack Nicholson as a leading triumvirate.  Strongly supporting are Mark Wahlberg and Martin Sheen.  However, Alec Baldwin gives an outstanding, overlooked turn. The only disappointment for me in this movie is the screen time given to Nicholson's crew, particularly Ray Winstone ("Beowulf") and David O'Hara ("Braveheart").  We all know what Scorsese can do with a crew.  ("Goodfellas" and "Casino" memorably come to mind).   Lastly, I wonder if the cranberry reference has any connection to the Irish rock band of the same name who put out a great album in the 1990's entitled "To the Faithful Departed?"

Ironic Juxtaposition

One of my all-time favorites, "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", was on AMC recently and I watched the Bolivian scene in which the Bandidos Yanquees, with Etta Place in tow, are being chased through the countryside by mounted police.  One of the few things I dislike about this film is the vocalizing that accompanies this scene.  Entitled "South American Getaway" and written by Burt Bacharach, it is too
light-hearted for the fate that awaits.  It is also annoying.  Truly disturbing, however, is the scene in "Face/Off" (1997), in which the drug lord's home is being shot to pieces.  A toddler is present (presumably the bad guy's nephew) and the best his mother can do is to give him his portable headphones and let him listen to music.  Eerily, we see the wide-eyed child witnessing death amid the shooting rampage while we hear "Over the Rainbow," which is what he is hearing from the headphones.  If ever, oh ever, he was, the toddler is not in Kansas anymore. 

Immobilized by fear

It does not seem that nearly 14 years have gone by since Saving Private Ryan (1998) established itself as one of the greatest films of all time, but do the math.  Ten years prior, Young Guns (1988) popularized wild west outlaw "Billy the Kid's" life and myth for a new audience.  There is a scene in each film that memorably depicts individuals who, experiencing fear, initially neither fight nor flee.  In Saving Private Ryan, Private Upham remains frozen in a stairwell, backed against the wall, not by a foe but by his own fear, while his fellow soldier is engaged in a life or death, hand to hand, combat with a German soldier.  Upham could come to his aid, and he knows he should, but he is too terrified to move.  Curiously, the German soldier, after killing Upham's friend, meets Upham on the stairs while exiting the bombed out building, but he does nothing.  During the shootout at the McSween House in Young Guns, Billy Bonney berates fellow gang member Charley Bowdre for cowardice.  The bullets, glass, plaster, and wood splinters flying from the outer barrage have frozen Charley with fear.  At the instigation of Billy, and pushed to the limits of his fear, Charley channels it into the will to fight, earning Billy's praise.  In both instances, different results arise from a shared inability to function upon confronting fear.  How would Charley act if Billy was not watching and goading?  Would he remain with his back to the wall like Upham?

The Chumlee of Animal Planet

Why, I don't know, but we were watching an episode of "Finding Bigfoot" on Animal Planet when one of the gung-ho seekers reminded me of Chumlee from "Pawn Stars" on The History Channel.  My poor, unsuspecting wife tried not to choke after that quip.  Yet, the Bigfoot quest took me back to my childhood, at the Canna Theater, in Gillespie, Illinois, where my love of movies originated.  Sometimes the movie was merely the vehicle for the real entertainment off-screen.  Thankfully, the statute of limitations on Lemonhead throwing has passed.  One of those movies that I remember was "The Legend of Boggy Creek," a low-budget, reality-type film about reported sightings of a Bigfoot-esque beast in the Arkansas wilderness.  I don't remember my impressions of the film, but I probably thought it was cool.  The biggest scare I ever had in a movie was also in that theater during the scene in "Jaws" when the severed head pops out of the hole in the boat.  Try not to flinch at first pass on that one.  Another scary moment at the Canna Theater was in Burnt Offerings (1976), when Oliver Reed goes to the attic to say farewell to Mrs. Allardyce.  When the old woman in the black dress seated in front of the attic window turned out to be his wife, well, that got me.  Still does, though it is hard to find.  Burnt Offerings was directed by Dan Curtis of "Dark Shadows" fame.  I hear Johnny Depp is cast as Barnabas Collins in a Dark Shadows movie that should be good.  If they ever find Bigfoot, some royalties are due.

A Rivalry for the Ages

Not only did Doris Kearns Goodwin earn the Pulitzer Prize for "Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln" (2005), she secured the interest of Steven Spielberg to make a movie based on her work years before it was finished.  Due later this year, Daniel Day-Lewis is cast as the prairie lawyer.  The book is a fascinating multiple biography not only of Lincoln during his presidency, but of his Secretary of State, William Seward, his Treasury Secretary, Salmon Chase, and his Attorney General, Edwin Bates, all of whom actively sought the Republican Party nomination for President against Lincoln in 1860.  Additionally, considerable treatment is given to Lincoln's Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, who, at the outset, was condescendingly dismissive of Lincoln as utterly unfit for the office.  Lincoln emerges supremely confident in his judgment and ability, so much so that partisan fears weighed little in his appointments. He will risk the rivalries for a higher purpose, ultimately succeeding with the same.  Perhaps my favorite parts of the book are quotations from Tolstoy.  In 1908, the novelist was a guest of a tribal chief in the wilds of Russia.  The chief asked Tolstoy to recount the deeds of the great figures of history.  Tolstoy obliged, describing feats of Alexander, Caesar, Frederick the Great and Napoleon.  At the close, the chief stated that Tolstoy had not told of the greatest leader of them all, Lincoln.  Fitting tribute indeed, having been enhanced by Goodwin's scholarship 100 years later.

The Horse Went to War

There are very few movies that depict the events of World War I.  World War II came about when the film industries in Hollywood and abroad were big business.  Fresh in the minds of ticket buyers, World War II was inevitably destined to command both big and little screens.  In War Horse (2011), Steven Spielberg has provided us with a glimpse into the horrors of war unique to World War I.  The cast does a terrific job in this film, but big name stars are not needed to carry this film.  As in all great movies, the story is the star.  War Horse is no exception, unless the source is the horse, of course.

The casualties of World War I are staggering, including the million or more horses that died resulting from battle or military service.  War Horse is a tale about one of the lucky ones.  The battle scenes are few, but memorable, and there is no more violence than necessary to depict events.  The look of the film is stunning, with the scenic English and French countryside filling the big screen from end to end.  No less stunning, but haunting, is Spielberg's depiction of 'no man's land' between the Allied and German trenches on the Western front of World War I.  It is grim, grey, dark, wet, barbed, and doomed to all but a few of the fortunate.  There is a nice scene in 'no man's land' between an English and a German soldier who meet under a flag of truce.  Perhaps motivated by the events of the Christmas Truce of 1914 that played out along the trenches early in the war (For a fine film depicting this story, see the French film Joyeaux Noel (2005)), this scene portrays a frequent irony of war: the enemy is not so bad when you get to know him.

As in all of Spielberg's films, the attention to detail is enormous.  For example, there is a scene outside an Allied hospital during a snowy evening.  High above the street, windows are lit from the light of the room inside.  They are somewhat frosted, but passing through the light, people are seen moving past the window frame, shadows approaching and retreating.  These types of details fill every frame of the film.

The film is fantastic and very well-paced.  Spielberg knows how to tell a story.  The final scene reminds me of the look of the final scene in Gone With the Wind.  I wonder if this is a coincidence, or is there something more to this?   See War Horse for yourself and let me know what you think.

A sad voice of clear reason

"You best keep running, Clyde Barrow."  From Bonnie and Clyde (1967), these words, spoken by Bonnie Parker's mother, cut to the heart of the matter.  Bonnie and Clyde have arranged a family picnic with Bonnie's family somewhere off the beaten path along a country road.  Bonnie feigns happiness, but her mother knows the truth.  Clyde talks grandly of settling down, marrying Bonnie, and buying a house near Ma Parker, but she will have none of it.  No, they have forfeited their right to live a normal life, and it will end badly for them, and all they can do is keep running.  It does not get much more glamorous than Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, but the miserably short lives of the real Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker left nothing to be desired.  In his book "Go Down Together: The True, Untold Story of Bonnie and Clyde" (2010), author Jeff Guinn provides the details of the impoverished drudgery that was the existence from which the Barrow Gang and Bonnie Parker emerged.  Yet, the worst of that was far better than their endless road trip on the run from law enforcement at every turn.  And yes, it did end very badly.  Although Guinn's book debunks much of the movie as fiction, the hail of bullets in which Bonnie and Clyde perished was all too real.  They ran as far and as fast as they could. Ma.

A bad year to be a great movie

The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, swept all Academy Awards in all categories in which it was nominated in 2004.  In the history of the award, this has only happened a few times.  Truly a stunning feat.
My favorite movie that year was Seabiscuit, the story of the depression-era race horse, its hard-luck jockey, Red Pollard, and the trainer and owner, all of whom formed a winning team, rising above individual tragedies and setbacks to do so.  Capturing live racing realistically is a challenge to which this movie rises as well.  The racing scenes are spectacular, with the audience placed, at times, in the pack at the turn.  But, as in all great movies, the story is the star.  The movie is based on Seabiscuit: An American Legend (2002), written by Laura Hillenbrand.  If art imitates life, both book and movie exemplify the payoff in perseverance.