The Crackpot Aesthetic
I'm trying avoid the stifling "greatest movies" lists that are standard for real critics, so instead I've come up with a random list of my favorites; a smattering of my video library, which I think makes-up my own wacky theory of cinema. In keeping with my plan to have every thought that enters my head up on the web, this is all pretty stream-o-consciousness, so BEWARE.
Lawrence of Arabia: Crackpot, Arab wannabe, T. E. Lawrence is the subject of this film, which I've seen so many times I can just about recite it. Apart from the great battle and landscape scenes that have captivated nearly every critic who's ever picked up a pen or a keyboard since 1963, Lawrence has some wonderful quirks in it. First of all its a love story, with no women. The relationship between Lawrence and his close friend Sherif Ali (Omar Sherif) is just too repressed to be passed off as friendship. Then there's Auda Abu Dai (Anthony Quinn), a mercenary who joins the fight against the Turks for money and glory. He tosses around his brigand wisdom with the sort of bravado that made Anthony Quinn famous. Also Lawrence has loads of spectacle, which is the reason motion pictures were invented, IMHO. The costumes, the desert, the flamboyant acting, the panoramic shots add so much to the movie which is set against the broad back-drop of history. Without these details, it might become too stiff for words. Favorite scene: Quinn's "river to my people" monologue which ends with him calling Feisel's men tulips.
North By Northwest: The first Cary Grant movie I ever saw. Sigh. And what a swell flick it is, too. Hitchcock's greatest, I think, anyway, for its taught action, suspense without gimmicks and double-edged love story. Then there's that plane scene. One of the scariest sequences in Hitchcock's oevre, more so because it happens in broad daylight in a wide-open space.
Moonstruck: What if the Godfather were a romantic comedy? Well, then it might look a lot like Moonstruck. Like the aforementioned "Great Film," Moonstruck also takes us behind cloesd doors of a tight-knit Italian-American family, but with hilarious, rather than murderous results. Moonstruck might be the first movie about Italian Americans in which no one gets killed, threatened or even extorted. It is the story of a widow (Cher) who becomes engaged to a mama's boy (Danny Aiello) but falls in love with his quirky, volatile brother (Nicholas Cage). The biggest joy, is Cher's extended family, dominated by matriarch, Rose, (Olympia Dukakis) and her childish hubby, Cosmo (Vincent Gardenia). Moonstruck is a subtle comedy that doesn't hit you over the head with big, wacky gags, but rather makes you chuckle almost constantly at its endearing characters. Favorite scene: Cher's first visit to the Camarari Bakery where Cage delivers his "Freakin monument to justice" tirade after Cher invites him to the wedding.
Sid and Nancy/Wuthering Heights (1939/1985): Why put these two seemingly disparate movies together? Cause I'm the Crackpot, that's why. Also I have held a deep-seeded belief that these two favorites are cut from the same Goth cloth. (Hey that rhymes!) Here goes: they both end with the main characters as ghosts fading into the distance. In WH Heathcliff's romantic idealism is corrupted by Kathy's worldliness just as Sid's is corrupted by Nancy's heroin in SAN. Wuthering Heights the film, bears little resemblance to the book of the same name and should be regarded as a separate entity--in the same way that Sid and Nancy has little to do with the actual guy named Sid Vicious and his girlfriend Nancy. Sid sings "I Wanna be Your Dog," while Heathcliff declares that "I've stayed here and been beaten like a dog, abused and cursed and driven mad, but I stayed just to be near you, even as a dog." A song on the Sid and Nancy sountrack begs "I wanna be haunted by your ghost," while Heathcliff prays that Kathy will "haunt me--drive me mad." Gary Oldman vs. Lawrence Olivier: Oldman's Sid is wild, romantic, stupid, sloppy and on occasion actually vicious. Olivier's Heathcliff is also wild, romantic, stupid, sloppy and occasionally vicious. They are both doggedly loyal to their last breath to their Nancy and Kathy. Both Nancy and Kathy kill themselves, leaving Heathcliff and Sid to take the blame. Merle Oberon vs. Cloe Web: Oberon's Kathy is greedy, playful, worldly and irritatingly breathy. Web's Nancy is greedy, playful, worldly and irritatingly whiny. You say tomato... Favorite scene (Wuthering Heights) Kathy's tantrum as she tears off a borrowed frock and cries to David Niven, "I hate the look of your milk white face, I hate the touch of your soft foolish hands." (Sid and Nancy) Nancy's tantrum in the street where she tears off a borrowed frock, screaming "I look like f**king Stevie Nicks."
High Noon: High Noon is the movie that single-handedly changed my mind about the value of Westerns as a genre. As a kid there was always a Western on the television, and I just couldn't see what it was about them that so facinated my father. Sure there were a few moments that stuck out in my mind as being favorable in the genre, the haunting grace with which Henry Fonda Waltzes in "My Darlin' Clementine," and Charles Bronsan's poignant spaghetti western showdown (again with Fonda, this time as the villian) in "Once Upon a Time in the West." A film teacher once pointed out that the scene in which Luke realizes his Aunt and Uncle have been murdered by the Empire, was stolen shot by shot from "The Searchers." "Star Wars" source material aside, I remained unimpressed by the multitude of ridiculous, mind-numbingly repetitive westerns that were trotted out night after night on cable TV.
But High Noon, as I've said, changed all that, by rising above the genre, to include elements of the suspense film, realism and film noir. Gary Cooper, despite the fact that he was wrinkled, tired and crochety, never looked more appealing to me than in High Noon. And Grace Kelly gets her first real opportunity to exhibit that radiant purity which became her meal ticket in Hollywood. (That is until Prince Rainier came along and made meal tickets wholly unneccessary). The only possible criticism I have of this movie is that I had the "Ballad of High Noon" sung by Tex Ritter, in my head for days after watching it. Favorite scene: when Grace hears gun shots and runs toward them, stopping in horror at a body lying in the dirt. We don't know until the camera pulls back, that it isn't Cooper dead, but one of the bad guys. Hitchcock himself couldn't have made that scene more suspenseful or powerful.
It Happened One Night: This movie has restored my Crackpot powers on more than one occasion. It can take me from my lowest, brooding depths of self-pity, to my giddiest, giggling, happy fantastic heights in just an hour and half. Not bad for a little romantic comedy, someone dubbed "screwball" about a madcap heiress on the run with a hard-boiled reporter. It has witty, sparkling dialogue, absurd situations and the quirky habit of relaying all the plot points by spinning newspaper headlines. The night in question heats up when Clark takes off his shirt and Claudette puts on his jammies. What could be sexier than that? Nothing in 1937, thanks to the Hayes Code, which governed the content and spirit of the movies at the time. Much has been made of the Great Depression as the impetus for the Screwball genre, but it was the restictive Hayes Code which made it necessary for writers to think up all those complicated sleeping arrangements, i.e. the Walls of Jericho. Colbert and Gable generate plenty of steam, which all gets blown-off by screwball hijinx instead of sex (as it might have been either before or after the Code). Frank Capra, for all his faults, certainly proved in this movie that he knew a thing or too about sexual tension, and he wisely kept whily Gable and wide-eyed Colbert from tangling until the last frame of the film. Favorite Scene: Gable's unbelievably crochety telegram to his boss. "Am I laughing? The biggest scoop of the year just dropped in my lap. I know where Ellen Andrews is...How would you like to have the story, you big tub of mush...Well try and get it. What I said about never writing another line for you still goes. Are you burning?"
Annie Hall: Not only did this movie make me love Woody Allen, it also changed my wardrobe. Nevermind that I didn't discover the Annie Hall look till ten years after it was high-fashion, I stubbornly latched on to it and all the rejects from grandfather's wardrobe became mine whether they were cool or not. Diane Keaton is the neurotic Manhattanite, Annie Hall, who wears men's clothes and dates Woody Allen. Woody is woody. The one-liners fly, the big band jazz roars and all is right with the universe known as New York. That is until Annie up and leaves for the contact-lense wearing, tofu-eating, Perrier-swilling town known as L.A. Favorite scene: Woody in California, "I refuse to live in a state whose only cultural advantage is a right-turn on a red light."
The Star Wars Trilogy: Over-blown plots, hoakey dialogue and uneven acting can never spoil my unashamed love for these movies. I can't look at them with a shred of objectivity. Instead, like the Trilogy's Greek Chorus, Chewbacca, I prefer to throw my head back with a mighty roar and blast all who would pretend to impose the rules of movie criticism on a cultural phenomenon like Star Wars. Favorite scene, (Star Wars) When the Falcon blasts its way out of Mos Eisley ("Chewie get us outta here!") and makes that first improbable leap into hyperspace. Pure joy. (Empire Strikes Back) Heroic, yet glib, Han Solo gets frozen in Carbonite and forces Leia's love confession. "I love you," she cries. He replies, "I know." (Return of the Jedi) Han and Chewie's reunion in Jabba's Jail. ("Luke a Jedi Knight? I'm out of it for a little while and everyone gets delusions of grandeur").
Bringing Up Baby: The noisy, dizzying pace of this movie gives some people a head-ache, but it acts like a tonic on me. What is it that pulls together Baby's mixed bag of overly-familiar cultural symbols: the heiress, the leopard, the man in a negligee, the dog, the bone, the absent-minded scientist? Well, fans of the auteur theory would say it was director Howard Hawks. But it's clear that scenes like the beautifully choreographed torn coat/torn dress schtick owe a lot to the enormous talents of the leads, Cary Grant and Kate Hepburn. Hawks' best bet was often to simply let the camera roll and try not to get in the way. He encouraged ad-libbing and sponanaiety, which yielded the perfect blend of overt physical humor with subtler verbal barbs. For example, take the scene where Kate and Cary are dressed in silly costumes, following George the dog around while he digs up shoes. There's the obvious visual joke, but there's also wonderfully snappy patter as Cary raises a boot in frustration at Hepburn, "David, Don't hit George," she scolds. "I wasn't going to hit George!" he says with a menacing look. Favorite scene: Negligee-clad Cary leaps into the air, shouting "I just went gay all of a sudden!"
The Bicycle Thief: One of the movies they made me watch in film class, that I actually liked. The Bicycle Theif is about common, ordinary folks struggling against one of life's many everyday injustices, namely, a stolen bicycle. But this is no ordinary bicycle, it is vidal to the livelihood of an entire family, as well as symbolic of the main character's manhood and independence. The painful, heart-wrenching search for Antonio's (Lamberto Maggioroni) bike becomes an epic battle as he and his son, Bruno (Anzo Staiola), comb the city, moving from one mini-adventure to another. Filmed on location in post-war Italy using many non-actors, director, Vittorio DeSica, achieved an unprecedented level of realism that drags the audience into the action and leaves them heart-broken by it. Favorite scene: Antonio spends a day at a flea market searching for his bicycle and becomes so over-wrought that he sees bicycles everywhere, mocking him. This scene was duplicated nearly shot by shot, with jokes added, for Pee Wee's Big Adventure. (see below)
Pee-Wee's Big Adventure: A high-concept parody of The Bicycle Thief that references DeSica's masterpiece subtly yet remains funny in its own right. Good heavens, I AM starting to sound like a critic. OK, let me start over. This movie makes me laugh till I ache. Pee Wee's dorkiness and endless bag of gags are so hilarious that I can watch the Big Adventure over and over, never tiring of it's broad jokes and kitsch props. Tim Burton unleashed his comic book gothic mishchief here for his first big-budget hit with help from Danny Elfman's manic, playful score. The sound, the look, the feel, the texture, the smell is all PeeWeerific. Favorite scene: After his epic journey to Texas, Pee Wee arrives at the Alamo (a psychic told him his bike was in the basement there), only to be met with a pathalogically dull tour guide, Jan Hooks, who is determined to tell him all about the 2,000 ways to prepare corn. Pee Wee's bored facial reactions steal the scene.
Zorba the Greek: Not so much a movie but a way of life. The story of Basil (Alan Bates), a young Englishman of Greek dissent who comes to Crete for his inheritence: a defunct coal mine and a small, patch of beach; and Zorba (Anthony Quinn), the elder, robust, wisened man of the world who changes his life. Everything about the set-up of this movie should have yielded a heart-warming, Hollywood picture with a pat happy ending. But director, Cacoyannis, stuck to Kazantkakis' bleak novel which was pretty darn depressing. Zorba's philosophy takes Greek fatalism and combines it with individualism and an uncompromising love of life. Apart from a bit of Odd Couple-style humor for comic relief this movie is one viscous, meaningless act of violence and treachery after another. The result is that Basil, who's sufficating in a state of protracted intellectual apathy, experiences love and loss for the first time. And he learns to dance. I must add that this movie would be nowhere without Quinn who IS Zorba. Quinn's vague ethnicity allowed him to convincingly play an Arab (Lawrence of Arabia), an Italian (countless times, but most-notably in La Strada) and to literally become Greek. The two female leads are also outstanding. Irene Papas is the much sought-after Widow and Lila Kedrova is unforgettable as Madame Hortense, Zorba's little "boubalina." Favorite scene: "Zorba, teach me to dance." And Zorba's quirky, tortured dance says it all.
Broadcast News: A love-triangle between a brilliant young producer (Holly Hunter) a cranky, but talented reporter (Albert Brooks) and a pretty boy anchor man (William Hurt) is the driving force behind this serio-comic look at TV news. Starting where "His Girl Friday" left-off, James L. Brooks' Broadcast News looks at the fine line between acting and reporting in a world of newsroom layoffs, ratings battles and office romance. Albert Brooks plays his usual snippy, peevish character to the hilt and his ill-fated attempts to woo Hunter are painfully funny. "What a different world it would be if lonliness and desperation made one more atractive. If needy were a turn-on," he laments to her after botching a stolen kiss. Favorite scene: Albert's historic case of the flop sweats, while anchoring the week-end news. "They actually called to complain? Hunter asks in disbelief. "No, they were nice calls. People were concerned that I was having a heart attack on the air."
The Awful Truth: The making of this movie would have made an intriguing screwball comedy. Director, Leo McCarey used to show-up on the set with day's lines scribbled on brown paper, get drunk and lay beneath the camera laughing. Meanwhile Cary Grant was trying to buy his way out of the film, Irene Dunne was forced to sight-read piano music, which nearly made her cry (her pain was captured on film) and Ralph Bellamy was just plain confused. But the results were worth all the mayhem. The dialogue, soundtrack, art deco sets and clothes are all to die for too. Cary also does some of his most inspired physical comedy, which builds to the infamous "Jerry the Nipper" scene in which his subtle, scene-stealing reactions were first put on film. The Awful Truth is awfully good. Favorite Scene: Skippy the Dog (Asta of the Thin Man Series) does a barking duet with Cary Grant on piano.
The Big Chill: This is just a really well-made film. As a 20-Something Crackpot, I weary of having Baby Boom culture shoved down my throat, but the Big Chill is a big exception. It's the story of a group of 60s college friends who reunite at a funeral in the 80s. From the opening shot of a woman dressing a man, who is then revealed to be a corpse, to the documentary films within the film, The Big Chill is technically neat. The life-like dialogue and comraderie between the players, make it the quintessential ensemble movie. And every other movie about the 60s thereafter, like it or not, has used music in the same way. Although, to my mind, never quite as effectively as the funeral in which Karen (Mary Beth Hurt) plays "You Can't Always Get What You Want," on the organ and the soundtrack beautifully blends it into the Rolling Stones version of said song. Favorite scene: The montage of the various characters unpacking their bags. Jeff Goldblum's character is revealed to be the kind of guy who brings seven condoms to a funeral.
Young Bess: I like to watch this well-dressed soap opera when I'm sick, laying on the sofa with a big glass of elixor in my hands. (Three parts Seven-up mixed with one-part fruit juice). And in a way Young Bess is kind of an elixor. The cheesy, cloying love scenes between Stewart Granger and Jean Simmons are the Seven-up and Charles Laughton's reprisal of his role as Henry the VIII is the juice. I'm thoroughly convinced that Granger was picked for his part because of his ability to look good in those thigh-high riding boots. I'm a sucker for a good costume drama and this one is loaded with camp with the occasional great scene as a bonus.
Sunset Boulevard: This movie has worked it's way into my pysche on many levels. For example, it inspired the term "monkey funeral" to describe any ominous, foreboding event that should warn a person away from a situation, but which is so morbidly fascinating that one cannot bear to to tear themselves away. This of course comes from the scene early on in Sunset Boulevard in which Joe Gillis (William Holden) arrives at Norma Desmond's (Gloria Swanson) mansion and witnesses a funeral for her pet monkey. Does he run screaming from the house, like a sensible person should? No, he stays partly, because he is mesmerized by the sheer oddity of the experience.
The audience, too, is fascinated by this eerie, delusional world that Gillis has discovered and we become instantly absorbed in the the Turn of the Screw type mystery. Gillis moves into the room above Norma's garage, ostensibly to fix her screenplay for Salome, a task as futile as weaving and unweaving a shroud. He soon becomes a kept man, moving into the main house, taking clothes and gifts from Norma and playing the role of her babysitter/lover, which used to be filled by her mysterious butler, Max (Eric Von Stroheim). Tensions arise when he begins moonlighting with another writer named Betty, (Nancy Olson) on a real screenplay and the pair accidently fall in love. Sunset Boulevard is marvelously acted by people from the great Silent Era, such as Von Stroheim and Swanson, and includes tons of cameos by retired Hollywood giants like Buster Keaton and Cecil B. Demille. It is also a pointed attack on Hollywood and the Hollywood lifestyle. The film was made in 1950, at the end of the era of studio domination, when movies were beginning to be made by independent forces, and it does a brilliant job of both lamenting and celebrating the passing of that era. Favorite scene: "When Holden confronts Norma, "You used to be big, didn't you?" and she retorts, "I AM big. It was the pitchas that got small."
Dune: Call this movie my secret shame. My love for Dune is just one of many reasons that I could never be a legitimate critic. Critics around the globe uniformly loathed this movie when it came out, but I loved it. I admit, I was fifteen and I went to see it three times to see Sting in his little black batman bikini. It's a good thing I went three times, because it took me at least that many viewings to really figure out what was going on. Nowadays I tune in to catch a glimpse of Patrick Stewart in a still-suit. Stewart's character, Guerney Haleck, by the way, was sort of a pre-Next Generation Worf, who's function in the film is to try and toughen-up doe-eyed Paul Atriedes (Kyle MacGlaughlin) for his upcoming job as Messiah. "Moods are a thing for cattle and lovemaking, not for fighting," he scolds Paul.
Critics claimed it was long and difficult to follow (couldn't the same be said for many great movies like the Godfather?) but the real reasons it was panned were 1) it attempted to cram a long and intricate, not to mention well-loved novel, into a mere two and a half hours 2) It went way, way over budget 3) it was the first main-stream big budget film by arty director, David Lynch (you could almost hear them sobbing in their cappucino at Cannes.) To be fair to critics, Dune is so serious-minded that it easily lapses into camp, especially where the ubiquitous voice-over narration is concerned. On the plus side, the cast is loaded with famous people, Jose Ferrar, Max Von Sydow, Linda uint, Sean Young and Dean Stockwell, to name a few. The whole look and feel of Dune is very unique, and has been sereptitiously borrowed by many Sci-fi movies since. And you gotta love a movie where people will occasionally yell out, "Long live the fighters!" for no apparent reason. I'm not even gonna try and summarize. The plot is way too complicated. But if you've read the book, or seen it three or four times, it will all make sense, I promise. Just remember "He who controls the Spice, controls the universe." The worms are the Spice, the Spice is necessary for folding space, i.e. finding wormholes, (Get it, worms;wormholes in space) and the Spice is only found on...you guessed it, DUNE.
Don't Look Back: This brilliant black and white rocumentary by D. A Pennebaker, follows Bob Dylan on his 1965 tour of England. The movie was made shortly after "Bringin' It All Back home" was released and the controversey over Bob's electrification was still thick in the air. Further tension is provided by his relationship with Joan Baez, which by 1965, was on the downward slope and by his cantakerous entourage who throw glasses out of hotel windows and paste Donovan pictures on everything. Pennebaker's shaky, hand-held style helps give it a surreal slice-of-life feeling and also gives motion to a movie that might otherwise be too static. Don't look Back also features some of the best concert footage of Dylan at a key moment of his development and in his performing prime. Watch the way he lightens the serious mood at the Royal Albert Hall concert by joking, "This song is called It's Alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding, Ho, ho.ho." Favorite scene: Bob meets with some screaming teenage British fans and is shy and polite. He instantly disarms their anger over his abandonment of pure folk with a wry smile and folksy, midwestern charm. The ego trips, the Rock God pretensions and all of the other BS melt away, momentarily as Bob simply enjoys his fame.
Harold and Maude: A black comedy with a suprisingly life-affirming worldview, Harold and Maude sports a wonderful soundtrack by Cat Stevens and two once-in-a-lifetime performances from its leads. Harold (Bud Cort) is young man obsessed with death and his own teen angst until he meets and falls in love with Octaganarian, Maude (Ruth Gordon), who teaches him to love life. The merciless assault of morbid humor helps balance out the soft and fuzzy moments in the film. The minor characters, or should I say, characatures in this movie serve to heighten audience empathy with this strange couple as we follow them through their hilarious love affair. Favorite scene: When Harold and Maude cook-up a scheme to keep Harold out of the army, they trick Harold's G. I. Uncle into thinking that he is simply too bloodthirsty and crazed for Vietnam. Harold attacks Maude who is disguised as a peacenik, pretending to bludgen her with her own protest sign, until his uncle thinks she's dead. (Trust me, it's funnier in the movie than in the summary.)