From the Archives of B.T. Esquire
I thought it was time we heard Ben's voice again. So, I recently put out a request on Facebook to find some of Ben's old Film Club movie reviews. Luckily, some were located, thanks to some former students! He really wanted the one he did for Miller's Crossing, so if any of you super-students find it, you get extra credit!Hopefully these reviews will inspire you to watch some of the classics. We're thinking of having an old-movie marathon day this summer, so let us know if you want to join in the fun! I've added some visuals to really reel you in. Enjoy. I did.
-Sarah
Fahrenheit 451
Francois Truffuat definitely put his own spin on this story originally conceived and written by Ray Bradbury. The opening credits are a perfect example: each person’s name was recited but it was not printed on the screen. Instead, each time a person’s name was announced, he showed us a different television (or “family”) antennae. This, of course, goes to show the extent to which the people of this future dystopia are dependent on their televisions.
The dystopian vision of the future is nothing new (1984, 2001: A Space Odyssey, ABrave New World), but I always find a good one intriguing. My theory on science fiction is this: that science fiction writers are working out with their imaginations what society is going to be like, could be like, should be like, or will be like if we’re not careful. It is essentially the collective consciousness of the human race imagining what the future may hold, much as we ourselves try to imagine what our own individual lives may turn out to be. Much new technology was first conceived years ago by people such as Robert Henlein, Isaac Asimov, Aldous Huxley, Frank Herbert…I think that we as a culture use science fiction almost as a map to follow. We imagine what is possible and then we try to achieve it, or else we dread what is possible and try to avoid it.
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
I think it’s about time we had a Paul Newman flick because, even if you don’t profess a personal love for Newman, you can’t deny his importance in the history of American film. So much of modern American cinema relies on the stars themselves that people will watch terrible movies solely because an actor that they like is in the starring role (i.e. Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts in The Mexican). However, I think this is a terrific movie, and one that had a great deal of influence on future prison movies. Newman’s star status in important here because the entire movie centers around his character. It is not so much a script that relies on events, but one that relies on a captivating character to capture the interest of the audience. That is not to say that the events that are chronicled in the movie are unimportant, but they serve to characterize Luke and make us like him as a person. He is unassuming, friendly, and above all, cool.
Aside from the magnetism of Lucas Jackson, I found many other aspects of this movie compelling. I think George Kennedy was terrific as Dragline, and the character of the prison warden is a memorable one, with his peculiar voice spouting the famous lines, “What we’ve got here is….failure to communicate” (which has been a common reference in popular culture, including the song “Civil War” by Guns and Roses). What really makes this movie work is that we find ourselves identifying with and being won over by Luke much as the other prisoners do. Maybe we’ll take a look at some other Newman movies before the years is out, and, if not, I urge you to check some of them out- particularly The Hustler or Hombre (if you like westerns).
The Graduate
The Graduate is a movie
that I learned to appreciate much more once I myself graduated from
college. Not only do I share the same first name with the
protagonist, but I shared many of the same feelings of angst and concern
regarding my undetermined future. And, although I did not have an
affair with an older woman, Dustin Hoffman’s brilliant performance as well as
the expressive camera work made his plight into the world of adultery believable
yet horrid, and I even found myself feeling sorry for Ben.
Much of the camera work was very suggestive: the different angles
and unorthodox shots were not merely a transparent medium through
which to see the action, but the camera work itself comments on the action. For
example , in one of the opening scenes, Ben is at his graduation party where he
does not particularly relish talking to his parents’ friends who spark
undesirable conversation (one word-plastics!), and barrage him with questions
about his future. As he makes his way through the crowd, the shot is a close-up
of his nervous face, and thus we see the haphazard tour of the party from his
perspective; we see blurs of faces and hear a cacophony of ecstatic
greetings. The commotion is further expressed by the shaking of
the camera itself. The camera is hand held, not on a tripod or a
dolly, which prevents it from keeping still, much as Ben is unable to still his
agitation at being the center of unwanted attention. Another bit
of camera work that has become a permanent part of pop culture occurs when the
camera focuses on Ben in the background, with the slightly out of focus leg of
Mrs. Robinson in the foreground. I love this movie.
The Night of the Iguana
(1964)
What
happens when you combine Ava Gardener, Richard Burton, John Huston and a
Tennesse Williams play? A heck of a movie, that’s what. I am a big
John Huston fan (The Big Sleep, The
Treasure of Sierra Madre, The Asphalt Jungle, Prizzi’s Honor); I think he
really knows how to make a movie. He does not let anything slide,
be it the visual, dramatic, or audio aspect of a movie; he pays careful
attention to all. I cite as examples first the terrific camera work in the bus
as we see and hear the first rendition of “Happy Days are Here Again,” in which
he pans slowly up the bus, showing us one by one each and every face until the
camera finally alights on Shannon, who is rolling his eyes.
Second, the dramatic interplay among Maxine, Shannon, and Hannah, and
third the lilting, scurrying, even ominous music as Shannon insanely careens
around Puerto Vallarta in the tour bus. This careful attention results in a
seamless, interesting, and provocative movie.
Granted, however, Huston is much
indebted to Tennesse Williams’s terrific dialogue, which is snappy, intelligent,
and at times hilarious. Whether it is the drunken Shannon ranting to his boss
over the phone, Hank “dancing” with Pepe and Pedro , or Shannon peeing on Miss
Fellows’s suitcase, one must admit it is pretty darn funny.
But the comedy in the movie is offset
(and brilliantly, I think) by a certain jaggedness and by a definite depth of
theme. By jaggedness I mean a brutal honesty about the more
disturbing aspects of life: insanity and suicide for instance. The appearance of
the old poet, Jonathan Coppin, adds still more depth and leads us to ponder much
deeper questions of mortality and humanity, which make the movie more than just
an absurd comedy. (I really liked his poem, by the way- “How calmly does an olive branch /
Observe the sky begin to blanch…”)
Oh yeah, I don’t think
this movie would have been nearly as good if it weren’t for the dancing,
gliding, chore-doing, maraca shaking Pepe and Pedro.
