Category Archives: masterpieces

Skip’s Quips: Why the Heck Isn’t ‘Stolen Kisses’ Better Known?

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Blog Sketch 082813There are famous movies, and then there are infamous movies.

There are also movies by famous directors that kind of slip under the radar, like François Truffaut’s terrific 1968 film Stolen Kisses. I’m not sure why this great picture, one of the most romantic I’ve seen, isn’t up there with The 400 Blows and Jules and Jim in the count of the director’s masterpieces. Once upon a time, it got criticized for not being political enough in an era when riots and protests were filling the streets, but I think with Stolen Kisses, that’s beside the point. It’s only political in its accurate, carefree depiction of relationships, which is, in my humble opinion, revolutionary. I’ve never seen anything else like it.

Everything in this glittering piece of celluloid is superb: the cinematography, the editing (catch the quick, multiple cuts in the scene where Antoine Doinel enters someone’s hotel room and discovers adultery in action), the performances, the script. This is a movie where the filmmaker is in complete control. Nothing is wasted.

I wish I could say that for the host of lackluster movies that appeared in 2014.

But I don’t think we’re going to get a flick like Stolen Kisses again. Perhaps that’s for the better; you can’t repeat such unique magnificence. I would, however, like this film to be upon critics’ lips more often. It sure deserves to be, and I’ll continue to talk about it in the hopes that my wish for it will come true. Certainly, it’s an under-seen movie. Ideally, that’ll change.

Skip’s Quips: If It Ain’t in the Book, It Might Work in the Movie

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Blog Sketch 082813I’ve always been a bit bothered by the ending of David Lean’s otherwise masterful film of Great Expectations.

Pip winds up tearing the curtains off the windows to rescue Estella from a Miss Havisham-esque fate, and that just didn’t happen in the Charles Dickens novel.

The question is: Does it work in the context of the film? If so, maybe that’s not such a big problem after all.

I’m an advocate of that idea – that a scene need not be in the original source material to be warranted in a film version. Filmmakers change such content all the time in their adaptations of classic works for all kinds of reasons … sometimes, dare I say it, for the better. So why does it distress me so much in Lean’s version of GE?

It certainly makes a big impact at the end of the movie, and although I do find it somewhat melodramatic, the scene is very powerful. I think it’s also in line with the characters, as Estella was groomed by Miss Havisham to be … well, an awful person. Having her consider becoming her former mentor is an interesting way around the book’s ending, and Pip’s “rescue” ties her back to him in a romantic fashion.

Maybe I should watch this sequence again; sometimes, the more you get used to a film, the better it becomes. And I could definitely stand watching this great picture at least one more time. Especially if I’m looking to understand the ending better.

That just might happen.

Skip’s Quips: And for Dessert, I Get ‘Seven Samurai’

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Blog Sketch 082813This is why it pays to be nice to your spouse.

A few days ago, Trudi got the Kurosawa classic The Seven Samurai on Netflix, and we watched it together … despite the fact that both of us had seen it multiple times (I about 100 or so). Plus, it’s not Trudi’s favorite movie, though she does like it more than other samurai films. So it was something of a treat for me.

God bless you, Trudi. Thank you for being so good to me.

Oh, it was as good as ever, filled with swashbuckling adventure, heroic deeds and complex characters. I love this movie very much, and I’m grateful to my wife for letting me see it. I get Seven Samurai withdrawal symptoms, you see, and after I go, say, about six months without watching it, I get an incredible desire to view it again.

Trudi and I have different tastes when it comes to films. We don’t always agree on what’s good and what isn’t. But sometimes we do things that one half likes more than the other half – without complaint. That’s part of what makes a good marriage, I think. And it’s just one of many reasons to love Trudi.

Now, the question is: When am I going to reciprocate with a rom-com? Hoo, boy.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Thinking About ‘Ugetsu’ and Other Flicks

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I like Kenji Mizoguchi’s films. I think he’s a top-class director.

Is he greater than Akira Kurosawa, though? I’m not sure. I will admit, I’ve been thinking about Ugetsu more than The Seven Samurai recently, and I don’t know why.

There’s a haunting moment in the former flick that has stuck in my mind. After the potter Genjuro escapes from the clutches of the ghost of Lady Wakasa, he finds himself in a field bestrewn with the ruins of her mansion. A song she once sang for him is played as he wanders, stunned, among the skeleton of the house.

What a sad, wonderful, evocative moment. So eerie. It’s part of what makes Ugetsu the best ghost story put on film … next to Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan. But where the latter movie was daring in its use of color and sound, Ugetsu is relatively conservative, using stately, composed shots and wistful music to move the action, as well as provide tangible atmosphere.

I’ll be debating for a long time whether Mizoguchi is better than Kurosawa. With pictures such as Ugetsu, however, I wonder if there really is any debate.

Skip’s Quips: Should Movies Be Free?

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Blog Sketch 082813I think so. Why not? Sure, it would mean the collapse of an entire industry, but it might spawn others. Concession sales would boom. More people would go to the theaters.

If only movies were free.

I’m talking about movies on cable, too. You shouldn’t have to pay for anything – even good movies. Make that especially good movies. Quality should be gratis. No one should have to pay to improve his or her life cinematically.

My feeling is that everyone should have the right to enjoy a good movie … and not be prevented from doing so by cost considerations. Great films are one way we make society better. They should be distributed like medicine is in some countries.

Free.

Now, I’m not saying we should go ahead and download movies illegally. Far from it. We have laws, and we need to abide by them. But ideally, we shouldn’t have to pay for great art. It should be provided to the public, like the Smithsonian museums in Washington, DC, do. Everyone should be able to have access to cinematic masterpieces.

It’s not the case now, and I don’t think it will ever happen. It should, though. It would make the world a better place. It would make everyone a lot happier.

If only movies were free.

Skip’s Quips: Why ’12 Years a Slave’ Should Be Shown in Schools

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Blog Sketch 082813I usually look at period movies from a cinematic perspective — justifying and condemning celluloid decisions more with an eye toward aesthetics than accuracy. So it’s rare for me to recommend a film based on its historical content and the manner in which it’s conveyed.

I’m going to do just that, however, with Steve McQueen’s masterpiece 12 Years a Slave.

This picture — the story of Solomon Northrup, a free black man in 19th-century Saratoga, NY, who is kidnapped and sold into slavery — is up there with Steven Spielberg’s Schindler’s List as one of the great silver screen documents of human villainy … and therefore should be shown alongside the latter film in schools to give students an idea of what the extent of our species’ cruelty to each other was like. These movies would probably be most suitable for high school; I’m speaking from experience here, as I was given but a cursory education in those days regarding the lives of slaves in Northrup’s era, and my understanding wants as a result.

I hope students today will not go through the same experience that I did.

Central to 12 Years a Slave is the performance of the great Chiwetel Ejiofor as Northrup; he is absolutely brilliant and provides some of the most moving moments in the entire film, as does Lupita Nyong’o as the terribly abused slave Patsey, who is treated so horribly by slaveowner Edwin Epps (a superb portrayal by Michael Fassbender) that you’ll want to scream in anger at the screen. Editing and cinematography are expert, and there’s a simple, mournful score by Hans Zimmer that’s very effective. Of course, sharp direction that takes its time but never becomes plodding is crucial, and that’s provided by McQueen. It’s a major film, and there are many things to learn from it.

That’s why I suggest it be shown in schools as part of students’ history curricula. This is part of American history; it shouldn’t be glossed over, and it was in my education. Certainly, only a small part of the slavery experience was documented in the film, but when you see the torture inflicted upon Northrup — a harrowing scene in which he is left to hang from a tree for what seems like an eternity is one example of this — you’ll get an idea of the pain people went through … and why it should never happen again. Adding to the power of the film is the fact that it’s masterfully crafted, so there’s really no reason to avoid it.

We need to treat movies responsibly as parts of our culture. They should share accountability for their effects on viewers. And we should be accountable for not showing what’s necessary to people who need to see it.

12 Years a Slave is necessary.

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.

Skip’s Quips: There’s a Gaffe in My Soup

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Blog Sketch 082813I look back in bemusement whenever I recall the original 1977 Star Wars.

It’s a terrific flick, don’t get me wrong. But each time I start thinking about it, I summon up remembrance of continuity issues past—specifically, that scene where Mark Hamill’s Luke Skywalker, out cold after being beaten up by mean-spirited Sand People, somehow shifts his head’s position on the ground without allowing the audience to witness the change. In the first shot, it’s facing the side. In a later shot, it’s facing up.

The Force is strong with that one, right? He moves so quickly, the camera doesn’t even capture it.

Of course, everyone makes mistakes, and it’s too small an issue to ruin the film. Yet it strikes me as bizarre that in such a slick, polished production, a little continuity error like this could slither past. Wouldn’t someone have caught this before it reached the theaters?

Perhaps director George Lucas was concentrating more on the big picture when reviewing the film. He definitely had a lot to oversee, all things considered. Still, the paradox of great movies featuring tiny gaffes remains a constant. One can turn to Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood, which allegedly saw the director order the set rebuilt after viewing a component that wouldn’t have appeared in the story’s era, yet contains a visible cut jumping from Toshiro Mifune’s still-alive Washizu to one pierced through the neck with an arrow. Or check out Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, in which Kim Novak’s faux Madeleine disappears into a house with no other exit, thereby befuddling both Scottie (Jimmy Stewart), who has followed her, and the audience. Or look into Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, where the army attacking Mordor finds itself mounted on horses in one shot and dismounted, with the steeds nowhere to be seen, in another.

There’s nothing we can so about this but suspend disbelief. These flicks are good enough to wave off continuity quibbles. As an audience, however, do we have a right to perfection for our money? Or just greatness? Am I asking too much that a film be error-free?

Perhaps. I’ll keep enjoying all the movies above, of course—nothing’s different there. I may, though, break a smile each time I watch these continuity-challenged scenes, in recognition of the idea that even masterpieces aren’t infallible.

It’s a good way to feel good about a good movie, isn’t it? I’ve already convinced myself that that’s true.

Skip’s Quips: Bad Lines in Good Movies

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Blog Sketch 082813No film is perfect, and even great movies have scenes or lines that could be better.

I was thinking about this recently while watching Ghostbusters on TV. It’s hardly a masterpiece, yet it remains a terrific comedy and has held up well nearly 30 years after its debut. Still, despite a sharp, hilarious script, it contains a line toward the end that disappoints me to this day: “I love this town,” shouted by Ernie Hudson’s Winston Zeddmore after the ‘busters save New York City from a supernatural catastrophe.

Blah. Surely there was a funnier way to express triumph than a maudlin acknowledgement of Gotham’s greatness.

Of course, it’s not a movie-breaker, but it brings to mind other frustrating lines from the cinema’s greatest flicks. For instance: the immortal “leave me alone” in Lawrence of Arabia, spoken with great self-pity by Peter O’Toole’s T.E. Lawrence in a dialogue with Jack Hawkins’ General Allenby—who, as if in recognition of this pathetic order, notes that it’s a “feeble thing to say.” I guess it’s hard to count this in the annals of bad lines completely, as it’s followed up in an organic way, though it still rings overdone. So does a much-revered scene in the otherwise extraordinary film The Seven Samurai where Toshiro Mifune’s Kikuchiyo, charged by a dying woman with saving her baby, collapses into the stream surrounding the village and cries along with the infant, lamenting how the same thing happened to him. It’s just a bit too much in a movie noted for its tight script, though it does give some insight into the reckless character’s origins.

These are just a few examples. They don’t ruin the films overall. Yet it’s interesting to see how high our estimation is of them … if we can carp about lesser lines within. Further proof of the merits of these justly praised pictures.

Skip’s Quips: Asking Jokes to Take a Holiday

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Blog Sketch 082813Few films escape the pitiless skewer of parody, and The Seventh Seal is no exception. Yet as I was thinking about this black-and-white Ingmar Bergman movie today, I wondered if all the jokes are warranted. The fact is, they diminish public opinion of this great philosophical masterpiece, putting it in the attic of Works of Art That Are Too Frequently Lampooned to Be Taken Seriously Anymore.

That’s a shame, because this flick is as relevant and powerful today as it was 56 years ago.

One of the only films I’ve ever seen that evokes the fear and horror pervading the Middle Ages credibly—and done on a limited budget to boot—TSS features a stupendous central performance by Max von Sydow as an introspective knight who has returned from the Crusades to find his country ravaged by the plague. The surrounding cast, which includes Bibi Andersson and Nils Poppe as traveling actors, is brilliant, too, as is the wonderful, humor-filled (yes, humor!) script, brooding score and iconic cinematography. Of course, the black-clad, bald-headed Death also plays a part, in a memorable turn by Bengt Ekerot.

Is all of this worth making fun of? Perhaps. But I think the silliness has run its course. Now it’s time to revisit this glorious film and absorb its myriad pleasures—a bird hovering with menace in the sky, a squirrel jumping on a tree stump after Death has cut down a man trying to escape him, and the famous final “dance” in silhouette are but some of the movie’s glories. I believe it’s one of those must-watch motion pictures, and although I understand where all the jokes are coming from, I feel they hide its true worth.

So I’m going to open up this Seal again and ignore the parodies made of it. I hope it’s a start—I know it’s worth taking seriously.