Category Archives: epic movies

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Whatever Happened to Sword and Sorcery?

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Not too long ago (only about 30-odd years), it looked like the epic would be replaced in Hollywood by fantasy pictures. It wasn’t just Conan the Barbarian that we were seeing, but also stuff like The Beastmaster, Krull and The Sword and the Sorceror. The genre was going to conquer the world.

OK, what happened?

I guess a good fantasy film is really, REALLY hard to find. Especially nowadays … as the generally awful 2011 remake of Conan suggests. Have we grown up and/or out of this genre? Are we gravitating toward sci-fi more than fantasy?

Or are we putting them together, with hybrid works such as Avatar?

I’d like to think the standard sword-and-sorcery flick isn’t dead. It’s kind of a fun breed, despite a portfolio lacking in, well, high quality … something we can’t say about science fiction. To tell you the truth, I miss those silly old ’80s adventures. We don’t get so many of them today.

And it’s not as if there isn’t enough literature to support them.

I’m not saying we need something scriptless, with just a muscle-bound hero slicing his way through the reels. But I do think we could use something that brings back that 30-year-old spirit, the energetic aura that infused so many of those violent, magic-filled pictures. We could still use a dose of that, no? Or are we too old and wise to enjoy it?

Speaking for myself, old I may be. But too wise? Nah.

Skip’s Quips: Not Quite Lost on Cinema’s Battlefield

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Blog Sketch 082813While watching Lewis Milestone’s 1930 World War I epic All Quiet on the Western Front last night on TCM, I had a revelation.

It went like this: “Wow, this movie’s pretty good.”

In particular, those brutal battle scenes. Great, great cinematography, especially those tracking shots showing the hordes of soldiers rushing to their death across enemy lines. They really captured the idiocy of this conflict, where men would kill to obtain just a few feet of barren real estate. And there was terrific editing, too, with quick cuts between shots of machine gunners cutting down waves of doomed soldiers.

This was startling, not stirring. It wasn’t supposed to be rah-rah-rah. This was as anti-war as you can get, with a focus on the impersonal modernity of conflict and its unsympathetic mechanization. These images will be hard to forget for me.

But there were other wonders, too. A scene where the infantrymen try to console a dying man whose legs have been amputated. Sequences with men shrieking madly within their bunkers. And a part where some of the soldiers ply three French women with food, suggesting the desperation felt at this time … not only for sustenance, but also for love.

A fine film. Some of the acting was a bit stilted, yet it was beautifully done overall. Not easy to get through, though. But like any great anti-war movie, it shouldn’t be.

Skip’s Quips: Top (or Perhaps Bottom) 10 Worst Miscastings in Cinema

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Blog Sketch 082813Yes, I’ve been thinking of this. There certainly has been a host of miscasting throughout the years in the movies. Yet none so much, to my mind, as the ones that follow. Here they are in descending order of badness; take a look and see if you agree.

10) Robin Williams as Peter Pan in Hook: A dreadful performance by the usually hilarious Williams as the now-grown-up Pan in a horrid reimagining of the classic tale. This is one that belongs in Neverland.

9) Anthony Hopkins as Richard Nixon in Nixon: Mr. Hopkins can do almost anything, but Tricky Dick was beyond his ken. Then again, it wasn’t completely his fault; a more tiresome, overblown film you’ll hardly find.

8) Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie & Julia: Just put on a bizarre accent and roll, right? Isn’t that the way to portray the seminal TV chef? Nope. It sure seemed like that was the plan in this awful film, which plodded its way to the ending like one staggers through an Escoffier-planned meal. Let the diner beware.

7) Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments: I never bought this one, despite its relegation to “classic” status. Not in my tablets. One has to wonder if Moses’ jaw was really that square. Surely his acting wasn’t.

6) Mel Gibson as Hamlet in Hamlet: At one time, I tried to convince myself that Gibson’s performance as the titular Shakespearean hero was interesting. Ah, those were the (naive) days. Really, it was a mannered, tedious portrayal in an otherwise decent film. Why, Franco Zeffirelli, why?

5) Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland: Stop the insanity! I’m not sure if this backstory-driven reimagining of the Lewis Carroll book was director Tim Burton’s idea or not, but it didn’t work. Especially dreary was Depp’s misguided portrayal of said Hatter as a tragic figure. Repeat after me: Aargh! This was not frabjous casting.

4) Tony Curtis as the Viking Eric in The Vikings: A Viking by way of the Bronx. Can you say: “Riiiiiggghht.” Sorry, Tony, we love you, but not in this.

3) Nicol Williamson as Merlin in Excalibur: What a wrong, strange performance this is. Excalibur‘s an otherwise intriguing film, but I’ve always been puzzled by Williamson’s peculiar, sometimes–quiet-sometimes-loud-and-always-bizarre acting decisions as the legendary wizard. Odd and unconvincing portrayal.

2) Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra in, what else, Cleopatra: Do you have a hard time getting through this picture? Don’t worry; everyone does. Central to this issue is Taylor’s performance. Ah, the grandeur that was Hollywood.

1) John Wayne as Genghis Khan in The Conqueror: Need I say more?

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Coming to Bury Rather Than Praise

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Are we allowed nowadays to express how little we’ve learned from Pauline Kael’s film reviews?

Or is that speaking ill of the dead? Because the last thing I’d want to do is speak ill of the dead … though, as I recall, Kael often spoke ill of the living, so that’s fine, right?

For instance: There was that completely non-judgmental review of Dances with Wolves, remember, where she suggests that director Kevin Costner has “feathers in his head”? That’s OK to say, isn’t it? I mean, levying personal insults at the filmmaker rather than criticizing the film is copacetic, no?

No. It sure ain’t. And I don’t think it makes sense to do that—no matter how bad the director’s films are.

Saying a flick’s poor in some way is, to my mind, much more fair. One of the reasons I never found Kael’s reviews enlightening is that they tended to include content, like the feather-festooned phrase cited above, that directly attacked those involved in the movies’ creation, for some reason, and that’s not valid criticism. Blast the film, not the maker. If the director’s a bad person, that’s one thing, but it also may be irrelevant. The picture is the thing when composing a movie review, and it should focus on that while describing what isn’t to like about the director’s techniques rather than the individual as a person. Keep the nastiness to the work.

I’ve never subscribed to the Cult of Kael, and although this is a big reason why, it isn’t the only one. I disagreed with her many a time on her perspectives, though once in a while I concurred. Yet her insistence on personal insults kept me from admiring her work overall. There are plenty of good critics in this world who maintain honesty without succumbing to such practices. Too bad Kael couldn’t do the latter. Frankly, I couldn’t praise that if I tried.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: The Shot Not Seen ‘Round the World

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613The best shot in all of cinema may be one that’s hardly remembered.

It’s one that I think about periodically when I ponder great filmmaking. Of course, it’s from The Seven Samurai, one of my favorite movies. But it’s not from a famous scene.

Instead, it’s an image from a sequence toward the beginning where a number of farmers are in town to recruit samurai. They’re staying at an inn and discover that most of the rice that they’re subsisting on has been stolen. If I remember correctly, one of the farmers–Rikichi (played magnificently by Yoshio Tsuchiya)–gets angry at his comrade, Yohei (Bokuzen Hidari), who was supposed to watch over it, and throws the last handful at him.

Then comes this great shot, where we see Yohei start to pick up the grains, one by one, from the floor.

Why is this so brilliant? It’s one small, short shot, but the impact is monumental. It tells you everything you need to know about the farmers–that they’re so desperate, poor and hungry that they’ll even try to save a few grains of rice to eat them … the last they have left. They can’t afford to waste any. And director Akira Kurosawa shows this horror by focusing his camera on the floor, as Yohei tries to retrieve the rice.

Absolutely compelling.

There may be more famous shots in the movies, but this is one of the few complete ones, an image that gives us all the information we need, plus a haunting picture, without telling us straight out why. No surprise, then, that I think about it often when I muse on all things cinema.

If only more directors would learn from shots such as this, the movies would be a better place.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: A Modest Small-Screen Proposal

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Any reason why we can’t have the all-Kurosawa channel?

We have action on demand. Drama on call.

Well, I want to snap my fingers and have The Seven Samurai appear on my TV instantly.

I get hankerings all the time for this glorious, seminal movie. And it seems to be rarely on. When it is, it’s often at a time when I’m not available–like at three in the morning or 18 billion, trillion o’clock in the afternoon.

Why don’t I just get the DVD and stop complaining? OK, I’ll tell you. There’s something really organic about turning on the telly and finding a movie you like. It’s satisfying.

Satisfying in the way that getting up to put a DVD in the player isn’t.

Fine, I’m lazy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I adore this Kurosawa classic. Which means I also scoff at the 1960 American remake, a poor imitation that removes the vital class distinctions pervading the original (samurai versus farmers) while adding more guns–weapons that make such a difference in its Japanese progenitor–and subtracting most of the character development.

If I could have The Seven Samurai broadcast to my brain personally on a 24-hour basis, I’d do it.

An all-Kurosawa channel, admittedly, might not make financial sense. But maybe … an all-jidai geki station? Bring me the popcorn.

I know I wouldn’t be the only audience member.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: The ‘Wind’ Beneath My Consideration

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I’m a Gone with the Wind denier.

I deny that it’s a great film. I deny that it’s even enjoyable. And I deny that it should be shown on TV as much as it has been … or, for that matter, at all.

Saturated with racism, it’s a relic that defies viewing. Someone should lock it up and store it away, à la Raiders of the Lost Ark. Yet every so often, it appears on the small screen, as if it’s a tradition akin to watching March of the Wooden Soldiers on Christmas.

Whose tradition are we following here? The tradition of offending people?

I believe in dissociating the creator from his or her art. But GwtW‘s so infused with cordial hate that it infects the film as a whole. You can’t separate the parts.

And I’m still wondering why it gets the green light on the tube.

Many people like it. Some feel it’s a masterpiece. I don’t. From a cinematic perspective, it smacks of tripe. Soapy, tiresome tripe. Oh, yeah: It’s long, too, and not long in a good, Lawrence of Arabia way. You feel every minute of it.

I’m in the minority on this, and normally I accept that. In this case, however, I don’t. GwtW shouldn’t be shown on TV, and its racism alone should be reason enough. The fact that it’s plain tedious offers further proof that we should blow it off.

Setter’s ‘Spective: The Slo-Mo and the Furious

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I blame you, Akira Kurosawa.

Remember: You started it. Or rather, you helped popularize the use of slow-motion photography in fight scenes–specifically via two different shots of villains dying in The Seven Samurai.

I adore your films, Akira. But I’m not happy with the seeds you’ve sown.

Ok, so you’re not responsible for all that ludicrous pseudo-Spartan posturing in 300. Or the (prolific) guts and glory in The Wild Bunch. But without those scenes in Samurai, we wouldn’t be so deluged with half-speed onscreen violence.

Granted, you used slow motion judiciously–and I think that’s what separates you from the rest. Peckinpah’s technique can hardly be called subtle, but his Bunch certainly packs a punch. Not so much all that silliness in 300, where the idea seemed to be showing how cool it is to kill ancient Persians with as much CGI blood as possible.

And I think that’s where all this slo-mo falls rather quickly on its face.

We’ve diluted its purpose, the whole point of its effectiveness. See it once in a while, and it’s as startling as a flower in snow. Yet watch it over and over again, and it loses its potential impact. Today, it seems to be de rigueur in “action” scenes, as if directors have forgotten how to film normally. So it has become showy instead of telling, obvious instead of shocking.

Frankly, I’d rather see My Dinner with Andre. That’s got more action than any Matrix pose-a-rama.

So Kurosawa, I’m going to take time out from praising you to gripe a bit, though with a heavy heart. Because I know as much as I loathe what slo-mo has become, without it we wouldn’t be what we are today.

Old man Sykes says in Peckinpah’s Bunch: “It ain’t like it used to be, but it’ll do.”

I don’t think it should.