Category Archives: seminal films

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Revisiting ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ Is Still a Pleasure

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Some things stay fresh centuries after they’ve been created. I have a feeling Richard Lester’s A Hard Day’s Night will be one of them.

I caught it on TCM yesterday, and it was as good as it ever was – and possibly better. I marveled at the quick editing and snappy cinematography. I chuckled at the charming script and deadpan performances. And I tapped my feet to the sounds of The Beatles’ John, Paul, George and Ringo.

This never gets old, in my opinion. It’s a seminal rock film constructed like a music video with virtually no plot and one-liners zinging around. Everything has a “you are there” feel, which adds to the intimacy of the picture. And it retains an off-the-cuff feel, though it was scripted (well) by Alun Owen.

This is really the benchmark for all such rock ‘n’ roll pictures. In its genre, it bests Elvis and everything that came after it. It’s so good that it transcends its category, becoming a comedy to be placed with the likes of The Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy and other comedy teams.

It’s true: Some things always stay fresh. Fifty years after it debuted, A Hard Day’s Night still rings true.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Is ‘The 39 Steps’ Hitchcock’s Best Movie?

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613I don’t know, but I sure like it a heckuva lot.

What I wanna know is: Why doesn’t The 39 Steps get old or creaky? It’s just as fast-paced and fun as ever, with crackling dialogue, amusing performances (especially from Robert Donat … what a talent) and brilliant cinematography, which provides a wonderful snapshot of the old British music-hall entertainments.

Frankly, I can’t get enough of this flick.

I realized Hitch honed his craft greatly following Steps, providing much slicker pictures, but there’s something about this 1935 charmer that keeps me watching the screen when it’s on. There was a time when I preferred The Lady Vanishes to it, but now I’m not so sure. And there’s a seminal quality to Steps as well … it’s one of the films that introduced Hitchcock’s whole “wrong man” oeuvre to audiences, and there’s something to be said for that.

I’ll tell you something: I’m walkin’ these steps for as long as they’re around.

Skip’s Quips: Cameras, Trains and Automobiles

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IBlog Sketch 082813s there a better car chase in the movies than the one in The French Connection?

The subway-centric scene even beats the famous San Francisco-set sequence in Bullitt, in my opinion, and though the riveting desert ride in Raiders of the Lost Ark comes close, the originality of the shots in Connection makes it tops. A camera mounted on the hood so you can see where the car is speeding—superb, risky work.

And to think it was all done without CGI, huh? How did we live?

Well, I think, is the answer, with scenes such as these.

Skip’s Quips: Reflections on ‘The Terminator’

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Blog Sketch 082813I wish The Terminator were an enjoyable film.

Sure, it’s kinetic. Action-packed. Exciting. But enjoyable?

Frankly, I find flat, warm cream soda more appealing.

These ruminations popped up while I was watching the film recently on TV. And yes, I sat through the entire flick … which I hadn’t done in ages. I admired the snappy editing, the fierce car chases. Even the crisp dialogue seems tailored to speed things along. It’s a fast-moving, zippy movie.

But again: not enjoyable. Downbeat. Unpleasant. I guess that’s the point—it does, after all, concern the possibility of a post-apocalyptic future where unstoppable machines roam the earth killing humans. Yet there’s something dreary about the whole thing, even when you factor in the idea that it’s not completely hopeless … that those terminators can be beat. I don’t get that feeling while watching another seminal, dark sci-fi picture, Blade Runner, which has a more positive outlook. In that film, machines have a human side. They seek life, while the construct in The Terminator wants death.

That, in my opinion, is a big reason why I enjoy watching Blade Runner. The characters are more complex, and the antagonist isn’t evil. He, like Pinocchio, has humanity. The terminator doesn’t.

It’s easier, I think, to create film villains without nuance. You can drop sneering, classical music and other standard ingredients into the blender and mix. A three-dimensional villain, however, is a lot more difficult … but can add more flavor. Yes, that’s beside the point in The Terminator, but this missing ingredient makes it less entertaining.

And I just think of replicant Roy Batty’s final speech in Blade Runner to prove it.

Setter’s ‘Spectives: Ah, Yes, I Remember It Poorly

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Why is it that some not-so-great movies stay in the memory and other, much better ones often don’t?

For example: The Omega Man. Sloppy, mediocre science fiction. Yet I recall the images from this Charlton Heston zombies-on-the-loose gloomfest more than anything from a seminal sci-fier I enjoyed more, The Day the Earth Stood Still.

It ain’t easy to forget a giant robot named Gort. Or the famous mantra “Klaatu barada nikto.” And I certainly haven’t forgotten them. But for some reason, they’re not as defined as all of the unpleasantness pervading TOM.

That includes the script, by the way … which could’ve been a lot better, given the source material (Richard Matheson’s book I Am Legend).

Perhaps that’s the root of the issue—that memory often focuses on “what ifs” over “done right,” deserting the positives for second guesses. At least, in my case. The idea of something close to quality may trump actual quality in the mind, presenting a puzzle that continues to disturb at the cost of remembering more important works.

TOM isn’t the only flick that does this. Nixon, Turnabout, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane—all of these horrid films I remember all too well, though I don’t want to do so. And they all could’ve been watchable, though each would’ve needed something more than a touch-up. (In Fairlane‘s case, a full cinematic makeover would’ve sufficed.)

So how do I clear my mind of these film fiascos and replace them with memories of David Lean, Satyajit Ray, François Truffaut and the like? I know of only one way.

Watch more of their movies. Put Gort in the DVD player. And maybe repeat the words “Klaatu barada nikto” in my brain until I get it.

A mind’s a terrible thing to waste … on bad movies. No reason, then, to keep them stored with all of those good memories.

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.

Skip’s Quips: The ‘Dog’ Fan Cometh

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Blog Sketch 082813Guess what Turner Classic Movies was showing on the tube late last night.

If you said Un Chien Andalou, you win an ant-covered hand.

That’s right. Luis Buñuel’s bizarre, seminal 1929 short was appearing on the cable channel that’s also featured flicks starring Joan Crawford, Robert Wagner and the like.

Variety’s the spice of life, it seems. Or in Chien‘s case, maybe the razor.

I’ve got to admit, though–TCM definitely doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to the cinema. Its eclectic selection’s one of its hallmarks, and you’d be hard-pressed to find anything more eclectic than Buñuel’s Andalusian Dog.

I still remember hearing gasps during showings of this film at, I believe, New York’s Museum of Modern Art. The notorious scene where a man appears to slice a woman’s eyeball (it was actually a cow’s) still elicited a reaction after all these years.

I think the great Buñuel would’ve been tickled at that. He might even be amused that his Andalou was being showcased on a major cable channel.

And I can’t help but be pleased, too. This is a movie that everyone should see–a picture about nothing, filled with wild, nonsensical yet somehow connective images. It’s about filmmaking and the ability to tell a story without having one. It’s about art.

And art starred on TCM last night. Turner Classic Movies, I salute you.

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.