Breathless

A runaway criminal fosters an unconventional relationship with a pretty American girl in Jean-Luc Godard's classic New Wave film

Grade: 83 (B-)

Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Year Released: 1960

I have heard this film, many a time, called one of these three adjectives: free-form, jazzy, sexy. Apart from sounding like adjectives that would be used to describe panties, I find truth in these descriptors, especially the free form one, because this movie is basically tied together like a friendship bracelet made out of floss. It is beautiful, and in many ways meaningful and innovative, but it is also clumsy and lacks structure. Now, you may be saying, that is exactly the point of this film, and you're probably right. But the point of a film, whether groundbreaking or not, does not necessarily guarantee a life-changing or riveting viewing experience.  Instead the viewer may be left to understand the supposed magnitude of the idea they watched play out, but not feel its effects in a way that's particularly earth-shattering.

For me, Breathless was aesthetically pleasing and contained several scenes that touched me. Otherwise I spent most of the movie feeling bored, as though it had not particularly grabbed my attention and intrigue enough to keep me hooked, even for the hour and a half I spent watching it. At its most entertainingly awful it inspired me with parodies, explained to me how easy it was to spoof a French New Wave film. Or, possibly, make one...

[SCENE: Man in a car smoking a cigarette]
Man (slowly): I am an idiot. 
[SCENE quickly changes to duck waddling from pond, shaking feathers. Then to old man picking up trash. Then to police officer writing a ticket. Then to group of scantily clad girls giggling in street]
Man (voiceover): Do you remember how we loved? Life is fleeting. Mustard has never suited you.
[SCENE quickly changes again, this time to the man in car with a girl beside him, nipples clearly emphasized through blouse. Man fondles her while smoking, driving, talking, and holding a gun]
Woman: Where are we going?
Man: Will we ever know? [Turns radio up while sound of horns and screeching car tires grows in the foreground]

There you have it. While I could appreciate abrupt cut aways, most of this film seemed either as though it did not spend enough time patching up necessary endings to scenes or as though it lingered far too long on unimportant shots and voiceover passages that make no sense. This is the breeding ground for pretentiousness. It's not all bad- many people really consider it to be art. I found some scenes striking and others lacking that finesse and power. But at its worst, Breathless is sloppy, and that's both a side effect of its "free form" structure and a big distractor.

Breathless does a few things right. Jean-Paul Belmondo plays a man who lacks morals and makes generally bad decisions, and you can tell right off the bat that he's not really acting, and that his embodiment of this character is pretty much an extension of his own self. He is at once infuriating and mercilessly attractive, and we do not wonder as viewers why so many women have taken the plunge for him and how he's managed to escape trouble so many times. We also cannot pin him clearly as either a hero or villain- he simply exists in a realm of forgivably bad decisions. Jean Seberg, an actress whose French is about as good as mine (and by that I mean bad), is obviously darling, needing no acting talent whatsoever for her role of pretty little visual thing. Her outfits are to die for and she flaunts about the screen in a way that is delicious and playful and, at times, genuinely thoughtful. Her character garners sympathy and respect, a secretly pregnant young woman caught up with the wrong guy and unsure of the power of their connection. In her actions the viewer finds the stability that the rest of the film lacks- there is still mystery, but mostly she serves to straighten out the skewed ends that Belmondo's Michel has left in his midst.

The one scene that really moved me was the one in which Michel and Seberg's Patricia lay in her bed, playfully talking and romanticizing each other. Here is where we see the real chemistry between Belmondo and Seberg, where the viewer finds herself delighted in their interactions and moved by their sensuality.

The relieving scene of chemistry

Breathless, I think, is a film about young people who make bad decisions in a nihilistic spirit, unconcerned with consequences and believing only in the existentialist view that everything is meaningless. There are certainly questions to be asked about the film's meaning and what can be derived from it, but I think it's best left as unanalyzed as possible for the sake of the film as an aesthetic work of art. We can play guessing games about character motivation and what the sometimes superfluous dialogue truly means, but I think we need to take Breathless at face value, as a film about nothing, and the side effects of believing that everything is meaningless. 

I borrowed a friend's copy of Breathless, but it can be rented on Amazon for $3.99 or purchased for about $24.99.

Dr. Strangelove (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb)

Kubrick’s classic Cold War satire about an accidental nuclear war caused by the frighteningly realistic incompetence of the American military, government, and basically everyone else

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Year Released: 1964

Grade: B+ (87/100)

So far in this project I have encountered movies that are well-beloved by many, movies that filmmakers and other famous smart people frequently refer to as their inspirations or personal favorites. While I’ve definitely met people who don’t care for movies as famous and influential as, say, Casablanca, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone who didn’t really like Dr. Strangelove. This makes me feel a little bit guilty, because as much as I enjoyed Kubrick’s satirical take on the Cold War, a time so ridiculous that none of the parodies are so removed from reality that they feel over-the-top, I felt like I didn’t really love or get it as much as, say, my father, who forbade me from watching it without him and left the DVD on the counter every evening as a reminder to watch it. Maybe I haven’t seen enough war films to really appreciate seeing someone like George C. Scott get so silly, or to understand the lingo or maybe just the way planes work. Maybe it just wasn’t my style, you know? Either way, I wasn’t necessarily disappointed by Dr. Strangelove, but I was a little underwhelmed compared to what I had expected, considering the degree to which it’s been hyped up.

Obviously its shining light is Peter Sellers who, as always, delivers three fine performances, each so diverse that he's practically unrecognizable in each (some, certainly, more than others). I appreciate the relationship between Sellers and Kubrick, a really trusting connection in which the director truly allows his muse to perform liberally and richly. As someone whose understanding of comedy is to a certain extent rooted in improv, I like Kubrick's idea to let actors improvise dialogue (a comedy technique that I find to produce the most naturally funny results most of the time), as well as his unabashed use of footage he promised would never make it into the final film, such as most of George C. Scott's scenes, which he claimed were only "warm up exercises" in an attempt to loosen up the mood. It is, however, a shame to me that Scott was so unhappy about his scenes in the movie because they're all so good and so funny. I'm not sure if they would have been even funnier if I'd seen Patton beforehand, but no one in 1964 had either, so there you have it.

I have so many feelings about George C. Scott in this movie. He's such a genius. It's almost possible to overlook the work done by Sellers when you become so absorbed in how attractive Scott is as an actor and a character, giving a performance that is at the same time over-the-top melodramatic and brilliantly subtle, combining huge and loud body language with revealing facial expressions that say more than words. Everything he does and says is hilarious in a comedic way and in a dramatic way, which makes him the most important and effective character in this wild film of many faces.

Dr. Strangelove is a lot of things, among those a genuinely funny movie and a freakishly effective political satire that takes black comedy to a heightened level. Each individual character is familiar, whether a direct parody of a real political figure (like Sellers's portrayal of President Merkin Muffley, an obvious play on President Harry Truman), or just evoking the kind of Cold War-era nutcases who convinced themselves of improbable conspiracy theories during a time in which the end of the world felt imminent (best shown in the character of General Ripper, played by Sterling Hayden). The big humor component lies in these characters (or rather caricatures) who do not know that they are being ridiculous. It's funny to contemporary viewers because we marvel at a time in which grown ups could be so crazy, and it's funny to original viewers because of its frightening relevancy. And it treads a very fine line between a subject matter that's funny and one that's scary- perhaps that aids in its effectiveness as a satire.

An exercise in histrionics and subtlety 

Moments that made me laugh out loud in this film include the scene in which Scott falls over and gets right back up as if nothing had happened, the former Nazi Dr. Strangelove's inability to control his mechanical heil-ing hand, pretty much anything Slim Pickins says (especially given the dramatic irony of the actor not knowing his film was a comedy), and, of course, the improvised phone conversation between the American President Muffley and the Russian premiere Dmitri. These moments just begin to scratch the surface of what Dr. Strangelove does right. Though I feel in my gut that I would need to watch it a few more times to truly resonate with those for whom this film is legendary and beloved, I felt as though my first time watching Dr. Strangelove was enough to convince me not only of the immense body of acting talent made up by Peter Sellers and George C. Scott alone, but also to demonstrate, once again, Kubrick's ability to create movies that stand alone as unique masterpieces while still fitting into a quilt of his own brilliant creative narrative. 

I own Dr. Strangelove on DVD, but it can also be rented on Amazon for $3.99 or purchased, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Harold and Maude

A suicidal teenager befriends an optimistic old woman who teaches him about the joys of life

Grade: A+ (97/100)

Director: Hal Ashby
Year Released: 1971

After I watched Harold and Maude, my mother asked me if I "loved it". "Absolutely I loved it," I said. She nodded. "Everybody loves Harold and Maude." I understand why she said this because it seems as though everybody who's ever seen this film (excluding some famous film critics) have really adored it. I think of this film really as the epitome of a cult classic because it's weird enough to have gone unappreciated by most prominent critics at the time of its release, but charming enough to be beloved by generations upon generations of weirdos, loners, and people with very dark senses of humor alike.

One thing I love about movies is that there are some you just know you're going to love from the second they start- sort of the effect of the Star Wars logo and "DA DUMMM", or The Godfather logo and the sad theme-music trumpet. They send shivers down your spine and make you ready and full of anticipation for the film. From the first scene of Harold, played by a dower, subtly moving Bud Cort, moving down the stairs of his mansion and hanging himself, I knew this was going to be a movie that stuck with me for a long time. One time I sat next to a little boy on a plane who was reading a book and he told me "Every time I read a book it stays with me like a memory my entire life". That's how I feel about movies as powerful as Harold and Maude- they stay with you like a memory, thick in your skull and your nerves and they don't go away.

I completely understand why people don't like Harold and Maude- it's weird, dark, constantly overstepping boundaries and taking risky moves that make viewers uncomfortable. But it's also really touching and, in its own ways, beautiful; though the lessons are cliché and the Cat Stevens score seems out of place, it's lovely and dark and sad and moving in the brand of suicidal poets like Dickinson and Plath. I will admit that the sexual relationship between the 20-year-old Harold and the 79-year-old Maude disturbed me, but in many ways it's less freaky than Harold's suicide stunts, or even his negligent mother's attitude towards his well-being. We can't decide the ways that love works, or for that matter the ways we can be inspired to change our perceptions and attitudes; Harold and Maude explores that mystery with powerful results.

There are some people who really walk the line between attractive and weird-looking to me, and I felt as though Bud Cort perfectly sums up that conflict in my eyes. I find him attractive not so much in a beautiful way, but more in the way of a moth being drawn to a light- his portrayal of Harold, a seriously troubled young man who elaborately stages what may or may not be real suicides, is fascinating and nuanced with every facet of his struggling emotional state. It's evident that his suicide attempts begin as a method of attention-seeking but have transgressed merely into banal acts of boredom, done in an effort to irritate his mother and scare people away who had any chance of getting close to him. His fascination with death and the morose is melodramatic in a way appropriate to the film, however the bits of fantasy allowed in his suicide attempts blur the black and white divide of reality and imagination- while the viewer understands that several of his attempts are fake (such as cutting off a fake hand and setting a dummy on fire in front of dates), others we cannot be so sure about, particularly the hanging, drowning, wrist slitting, gunshot wound, and, at the very end, driving the car off a cliff. When seeing these gruesome acts, which would surely end a person's life but never seem to end Harold's, it is at the same time the over-the-top emphasis on how far a child will go to seek attention from his parent, and also part of the fantastical charm that makes Harold and Maude such an absurd (but uniquely excellent) film.

Classic contrast between light and dark as a metaphor 

Obviously the histrionic, melodramatic antics of Harold's depressive acts make a sharp distinction from Ruth Gordon's happy-go-lucky Maude, a free-spirited old woman whose friendship with Harold establishes her as cult film's oldest (literally) Manic Pixie Dream Girl. But unlike those lame male protagonists of other MPDG films, Maude does not exist solely for Harold, but rather herself. Her decisions override his always; she is dominant to him and in being so teaches him about the world he is too afraid to explore. She is not an enigma but rather an open anthology of wisdom. And unlike those movies, Harold does not necessarily go at the world with a bright attitude following her death- instead he is resigned to live with her memory, possibly happier, possibly more fulfilled, but definitely more convinced at the cruelty of nature. He is ashamed at himself at the end because he has allowed his guard against the cruel world to be let down just to be hurt. There is not a happy or sad ending, just an ending, and we must accept it in the way Maude accepts her own fate.

Honestly I don't have a whole lot else to say about Harold and Maude except that it really moved me and that I definitely cried watching it, not just because I'm sensitive but also because it's a powerful movie about opening up to somebody and allowing yourself to be loved. That's not always an easy thing to do, especially for people who feel isolated and misunderstood; sometimes it can feel like there is nobody out there to love and identify with. Life is sticky and complicated and works out in ways people may reject or find unnatural or even revolting, like the concept of a young man and an old woman finding love together. But at the end of the day what we learn from Harold and Maude is not just to allow yourself to have an open mind about life's goodness, but to allow ourselves to love, be loved, and let others love in their own ways during the definite span of our short lives.

I watched Harold and Maude on Amazon Prime Video for free, but it can be rented on Amazon Instant Watch for $3.99, or even purchased for like $5 online or, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Rocky

An uneducated, impoverished boxer with a heart of gold gets a shot at the world heavyweight boxing championship

Grade: A (94/100)

Director: John G. Avildsen
Year Released: 1976

There are many characters who exist in the lovable tough guy mold, but none who embody it quite so perfectly (or so lovably) as Sylvester Stallone does in Rocky. It is a movie that is cliché from top to bottom, telling a Horatio Alger-brand story of rags to riches, but it is a feel-good movie that truly and genuinely feels good to experience. Its protagonist is its greatest asset- looking like a swollen Paul McCartney, Stallone gives a truly admirable performance as an American hero, a thirty-something guy from the wrong side of the tracks who achieves an unbelievable personal victory as a result of hard work, endurance, support, and a dash of luck. While inspirational dramas remain one of my least favorite genres, Rocky is an excellent example of everything those films do right- the ability to emotionally invest viewers in the fable-like lives of its characters while showing us the gains that can be accomplished from hard work and personal growth.

Because Rocky is a familiar story it's easy to conceptualize and become invested in it. Rocky Balboa is a secretly-sensitive boxer who loves animals and has a crush on a timid woman who lives in a pet shop; though he is unhealthy, uneducated, and unsuccessful, the viewer immediately falls in love with this gentle giant. As the submissive and very quiet Adrian, Talia Shire is impressively distinguished from her role as Connie Coreleone in The Godfather trilogies (roles in which her main job was to scream and throw dishes), delivering a subtly powerful performance as Rocky's contemporary, a woman who must learn to fight back to achieve independence from her domineering, abusive brother. It's hard to say that Carl Weathers's parody of Muhammad Ali, the theatrical Apollo Creed, is the true villain in Rocky when compared to Burt Young's Paulie, a man who is both sensitive and cruel, passive and dominating, friendly and unkind. We root for Rocky and Adrian to overcome these opponents in and out of the ring- to step out of their comfort zones and achieve greatness.

Rocky is very much a representation of the American Dream, which is why its anti-consumerism and faux-jingoism is so interesting. Apollo Creed, we are told, is a type of American idealism brought to us by materialism and a society built upon wealth and worth. It's hard nowadays, the film suggests, to find the real America lurking under the surface of the red, white, and blue celebration of greatness. Rocky Balboa is the real America according to the film- the real, fighting, blue-collar America whose heart is in the right place, who never backs down from a challenge, who can better himself, who can "go the distance". The heart of America is not in Apollo Creed, for whom boxing is a "performance"- it's in Rocky, who overcomes all the odds to achieve a shot at greatness. The fact that Creed wins the probably thrown match only emphasizes the film's critique of political and societal corruption, the aspect that turns the film from a heartwarming story into an intelligent commentary.

Opposing representations of America meet head to head

Still, there were parts of the film that made me, to be perfectly honest, uncomfortable. Rocky Balboa's character is not an intellectual, but he's a man of principles, a guy who has a pretty strong moral compass for the most part. Yet his interactions with women in the movie are troubling, from the scene in which he lectures a young girl about swearing, warning her that she'll be thought of as a "whore" by the neighborhood boys, to the scene in which he forces Adrian to stay in his apartment and kisses her despite her pleas to leave. Though his intentions are noble (for the first example anyway), Rocky is a guy who has little respect for consent and female autonomy. Though his relationship with Adrian blossoms following their encounter, the force with which he tries to unravel her from her shell is, in today's society, frankly wrong. "I'm uncomfortable being in a man's apartment alone. I don't know you well enough," she says, clearly upset, as he corners her in his room, putting his arms around her. Though his magic kiss works, allowing her to take control of herself and gain confidence, it depicts the dangerous idea that if you force affections upon a woman she will not only change her mind but change her personality, consenting to date you and to become free and fun. It's just not right and it diminished the film in my eyes.

But even despite the several glaring flaws, Rocky is a sweet movie about a kind man who overcomes all the odds to give his best shot at the world championship. It's a movie about personal growth, achievement, and hard work. It's a loud critique of cruelty, prejudice, and consumerism. It's got a legendary score and a whole bunch of famous scenes that have become commonplace in our society, from "I wanna go the distance" to punching the meat bags to, yes, running up the steps of the Philadelphia library and jumping into the air in triumph. During that scene all the viewer can do is feel her heart pound with him, a goofy grin plastered on her face, as she swells with the pride that has carried her through the film. Because ultimately, as we learn in the film's last lines, Rocky isn't a film about winning or losing- it's a film about love.

I rented Rocky on Amazon Video for something like $3.99, shortly before buying it at my local video store for two bucks.

Taxi Driver

A paranoid insomniac turns from potential assassin to vigilante anti-hero in one of the bleakest films ever made

Grade: A (95/100)

Director: Martin Scorsese
Year Released: 1976

There are some movies wherein there is very little hope, both for the characters, the overall environment, and for how the viewer perceives the tone. I can say with very firm certainty that Taxi Driver was probably the bleakest movie I've ever seen that wasn't about the Holocaust. However, this was not an issue. In fact, Martin Scorsese's modern classic about a deeply troubled Vietnam vet stewing in an unhealthy environment was so ingenious in its darkness, so perfect in its ability to suck any hope or aspiration out of the viewer. In this film Scorsese creates a pseudo-environment of the one its protagonist, Travis Bickle, inhabits every day. Travis's paranoia is so well-depicted through Scorsese's excellent direction that the viewer feels the grit, dirt, disgust, fear, queasiness, and gloom that cloud his mind and impair his proper functioning throughout the film.

Like many who have seen it before me, I cannot fully decide how I feel about Travis's character. On the one hand I find him to be very frightening in a ticking time bomb kind of way, much like I interpreted the character of Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket; he's clearly mentally disturbed and needs some kind of professional help following the failings of the environment around him (including the aftershocks of his time in Vietnam). This side of Travis is always sort of there, from the beginning of the film where he gets his taxi driver's license and declares his record as "clean as [his] conscience"to the last shot of his agitated face in the rearview mirror of his taxicab. But his character is very well-layered, owing to Robert DeNiro's magnificent performance, Martin Scorsese's unparalleled direction, and the creative conceptive work of writer Paul Schrader. I think it's fair in assuming that I am the only 17-year-old who is even mildly delighted at sharing a birthday with Paul Schrader. But that's beside the point.

The other sides of Travis emerge within his relationship with those around him and, most troublingly, himself. Around others, particularly his other taxi-driving friends, he appears to be little more than a quiet loner who has a few low-key emotional problems. Around the woman of his obsession, Betsey (played by a somewhat bad but very pretty Cybil Shepard), he seems to be more reminiscent of a troubled man with very few social skills whose ineptitude to assimilate into proper behavior leaves both Betsey and the viewer very uncomfortable and, indeed, a little worried. While it's not one hundred percent clear that he is not concerned with hurting Betsey, his decision to try to assassinate her hero, presidential candidate Charles Palantine (whom he actually meets by chance in his cab), is both telling of an obsession that leaves him desperate to assert his frustrated power in a violent way and of the enigma of his mental state. It's hard to rationally assess Bickle's motivations as they are all so thoroughly conditioned by his very shaky conscience and mental illness; yet the viewer attempts to make a breakthrough in understanding his character, not only due to the fascination with its many intricacies, but also in an attempt to find the humanity we hope is there. This, surely, is what makes an effective and true anti-hero.

It would be enough to keep the plot centered on Travis's irrational obsessions with the woman who rejected him and the presidential candidate whom she admires, but by adding the plot of Jodie Foster's young runaway-turned-prostitute Travis is forced to go through yet another emotional metamorphosis, from a potentially dangerous attempted assassin to a vigilante hero who sets free a young girl trapped in the sort of filth and scum that disgusts Travis throughout the film. His obsession with a social, environmental, and ethical cleansing is his main motivation and perhaps a side effect of his entrapment in Vietnam, pre-gentrified New York City, poverty, and his own irrational mind. He longs to clean up the brutality and pointless crime around him, but also to cleanse himself of his troubles. This aspect of his personality is both deeply troubling (and creepy) as well as what lends him some sort of credibility as a protagonist- the fact that his violent deeds are motivated by some sort of desire to transform the world into a cleaner place.

You talkin' to him?

An interesting aspect of Taxi Driver was its reminiscence to the works of Dostoevsky, particularly Crime and Punishment. From what I understand Schrader was motivated partially by Notes from the Underground, which just makes a whole lot of sense. In many ways, Taxi Driver can be seen as a modern-day adaption of Crime and Punishment, the story of a paranoid loner who commits a crime to test himself of his own humanity, deeply disgusted and affected by the poverty and filth of his environment. While Travis Bickle can be seen accurately as a vigilante, however, Rodion Raskolnikov's motivations can only be interpreted as that of a vigilante from his own flawed point of view that positions himself as an "extraordinary man"; though to a certain extent quite different, the parallels between these (maybe) villains and their motivations are telling of a great investigation into the human conscience through literature and film.

I really loved Taxi Driver; it disturbed me and thrilled me in equal parts. Unlike other pop culture moments that become iconic to the point of dulling considerably, De Niro's fabulous "you talkin' to me?" scene remained as terrifying and fascinating as I'm sure it was to those seeing it upon its release, if not a little more due to the hype. There is so much brilliance in Taxi Driver, and so much tension, and so much uneasiness. The end of the film presented a conclusion I never would have expected- a potentially pleasant and unrealistic ending to a film you never budgeted a happy ending for. I'm inclined to believe the theory that it's all a near-death fantasy of Travis's after the shootout- the beautiful limbo state in which everything goes right for once and he can be the hero he always wanted to be- but since Schrader has disagreed with this interpretation, I suppose my own viewpoint of the end must be greatly swayed by the final shot of Travis's agitated face in the rearview mirror after smiling. Sure, he has had the rest he needed to recover slightly from the demons that plagued him, but, very much like the end of A Clockwork Orange, he is nowhere near cured.

I rented Taxi Driver for $3.99 on Amazon, but it can also be found, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Raging Bull

The cinematic transformation of a scummy pro-boxer from mildly gross to completely disgusting, told in black and white with an operatic score

Grade: A (94/100)

Director: Martin Scorsese 
Year Released: 1980

Raging Bull is a hard movie to watch, but not for the reasons one might think. While it's certainly not desirable to watch two men get the shit beaten out of them in gory, close-up details (down to the stitches opening up on their faces and blood and pus squirting out like a sprinkler), it's even harder to watch Robert De Niro's character Jake LaMotta abuse his wives, destroy his body, and complete a transformation into the full-potential of scumbag to be possibly achieved by one man. And that's basically the entire movie.

I love Robert De Niro, and as a result I will watch him in any role and appreciate it, from a young, enterprising mafia boss in Little Italy to an ex-CIA agent who shelters his daughter from Ben Stiller's affections. As real-life boxer Jake LaMotta, De Niro is beyond believable and phenomenally disgusting, delivering one of the finest performances I've seen by any actor in the many classic films I've watched for this project. I'm amazed that Jake LaMotta not only allowed this film to be made but also wrote the memoir it was based on; his exploits are so finely displayed in all their awfulness that it's amazing that LaMotta did not just hide himself away from the world forever, much less actually make public what a complete monster he was. De Niro lends humanity to the role of LaMotta, but more than anything he gives a performance that shows the many faceted layers of LaMotta's personality, emphasizing that fighting has had a profound impact on the shaping of his character. He is violent, abusive, impatient, jealous, sensitive, and, overall, deeply unhappy. In Raging Bull, both Scorsese and De Niro have created a portrait of a man who cannot decide what will fulfill him, but continuously fights (both figuratively and literally) to retain some sort of control.

As I've mentioned before, I find the best films to have extras and less-developed characters who are still believably played by great actors. Raging Bull is full of excellent performances, especially from De Niro (obviously- what can he do wrong?) and Joe Pesci, whose turn as LaMotta's brother, a man whose frontal lobe is just developed more than Jake's to be considered the responsible character, is elegantly natural and powerful. To be honest, Cathy Moriarty's performance as Vickie LaMotta is one I can't quite figure out from one viewing. She is clearly no 15-year-old as she is supposed to be, and her age remains somewhat of an enigma throughout the entire film. As De Niro obviously and loudly changes dimensions, she stays more or less the same- quiet, apathetic, absorbing Jake's abuse like he would absorb a punch in the ring, throughout most of the movie. There was no scene in which I thought she really nailed it, which was a slight disappointment to me. However, as an audience member I found 99% of my sympathy going to her, from the moment she accepts a ride from LaMotta in his car while he's still married to his first wife to the scene in which he breaks into her home to steal back his boxing belts.

Raging Bull is a movie about unhealthy relationships, both with others and with oneself. Scorsese has said that the boxing ring is a metaphor for one's life and the struggles that take place within it. For Jake LaMotta, the only way to problem solve is to fight, always physically. A backstory regarding LaMotta's childhood might have been helpful in understanding how he was created- what unhappy occurrences went into shaping his unhealthy behavior- but without one the viewer is given a sort of power to imagine and apply his early struggles to those faced by countless others. We can resonate with Raging Bull because there are so many people around us who are raging bulls- aimless, confused, angry, hurt, and ready to fight, ready to attempt to find control by any means necessary, usually at his or her own expense. Those particularly close to these types of people resonate with the abused- Vickie, Joey LaMotta, the many others who incur Jake's wrath. When their ties to Jake are finally broken the viewer feels relieved and not the least bit sorry for Jake, even when his life really falls down the drain.

The most cringeworthy scene, which is saying something

God, and how Jake LaMotta's life falls down the drain. Once a beautiful specimen, his career failings and the dissolution of his marriage and relationship with his brother, both effects of erroneous jealousy, have punishing effects on his health, and he becomes the kind of obese, cigar-chomping, heavy-drinking washed up celebrity who owns a chain of restaurants in Florida. The worst kind of people- the saddest kind, too. After being arrested for allowing underaged runaways at his club, the viewer watches in disgust as he reaches his lowest point.

Raging Bull is a sad movie in which not a lot of good happens. Purposefully, Scorsese's only color shots in the film are the happy home movies, in which a young Jake and Vickie can be seen splashing around in beautiful 1940s attire with their kids, happily kissing and enjoying some of the only scenes in which they are not actively threatening or hurting each other. Other than this brief detour into happier days, the viewer is left with the black-and-white bleakness, the fighting, the bottled up pain, the injuries, the fall from grace. But though it is a disturbing film, it cannot be appreciated enough for the sheer brilliance of Scorsese's direction, De Niro's dedication to the role, and the harrowing journey into an emotional wasteland that is perfectly chronicled within its 129 minute run-time. If you can take it, I strongly recommend you do. 

I rented Raging Bull on Amazon Prime Video for $3.99. It's also available for purchase, I'm sure, at your local video store. 

Sunset Boulevard

An aging, washed-up starlet of the silent screen takes a young screenwriter hostage in her own delusional world

Grade: A- (93/100)   
                                                        Director: Billy Wilder
                                                        Year Released: 1950

There's self-deprecation, and then there's what Gloria Swanson does to herself in the role of Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. It's no wonder to me that so many other actresses of the silent film age, notably Greta Garbo and Mary Pickford, turned down the role- to say that the character of Norma Desmond is a direct parody of many aged starlets of the silent film era is beyond obvious, as she is most certainly based on actresses such as Garbo, Pickford, Clara Bow, and even Swanson herself. I always love it when people (especially famous people) are able to make fun of themselves in good humor, especially when it means something for others. The parody of Hollywood and its stars encapsulated by Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard is that kind of important self-deprecation.

I think, overall, that Sunset Boulevard is a smart movie. The writing is fantastic and delightfully gossipy, aided greatly by the many celebrity cameos (which can go easily unnoticed by younger viewers- I myself would not have picked out Buster Keaton in Norma's sad group of aging actor friends but luckily noticed his name in the credits and put two and two together). The fact that Sunset Boulevard mingles fantasy with reality is ultimately its most crucial aspect, allowing an effective parody of Hollywood as well as better describing the delusional world of quasi-reality in which Norma lives. At the end of the day, we learn, it does not matter if you are real- it matters if you are relevant. For Norma Desmond, reality is only a roadblock to her dreams of the fountain of youth and success which form the bedrock of her will to live.

William Holden is slightly more than adequate as a struggling screenwriter-turned-boy toy; his performance thrives on his ability to be conflicted as his character so thoroughly demands. He goes through the motions of waving off the expensive gifts and attention that Norma offers him but it's evident- particularly in the scene in which the salesman encourages him to purchase the most expensive coats because he's not paying for them- that he not only enjoys his predicament to a certain extent, but also that he has fallen under Norma's spell.

Gloria Swanson's performance as Norma Desmond is legendary and admired by every dramatic actress and fabulous old woman alive, real or imaginary. Her character clearly lends inspiration to all different types of female stock characters, from the pampered rich girl faced with loss to the bitchy fashion editor à la The Devil Wears Prada to Yzma from The Emperor's New Groove. The role of Norma Desmond is every actress's dream- the ability to play a woman so over the top that she is able to dress glamorously, do ridiculous facial expressions and hand gestures, and speak with a delivery that is both far too much and uncannily appropriate. Swanson revels in Norma's delusions, but also gives humanity to the role, evoking the charm that captured the hearts of her fans, her husbands, and Holden's character, Joe Gillis. It's clear in scenes like the one in which she entertains Joe with a delightful Vaudeville act that she is not only talented but fun, and her charisma eases the melodrama enough for the audience to see her youth glint out like a sequin, just briefly as the sun hits it.

Coincidence? I think not.

Sunset Boulevard really is a movie about many things; aside from its commentary on Hollywood (which is generally, I found, sympathetic in its satire) and the effects of waning fame, so much of the film is a commentary on denial, loneliness, inner demons, and the effects of money and power. Joe Gillis is ever the optimist about the benefits of success, but his encounter with Norma (which, as we know, does not end well for him) leaves him disillusioned with the effects of money and power. The juxtaposition of Joe's relationships with the aging but very well-known Norma and the young and unknown Betty elaborates on the cliché conclusion that fame is not everything.


Norma's fall from grace starts long before she          meets Joe Gillis, but his presence in her life kickstarts a free-fall that results in the complete annihilation of any sort of remaining sanity left. It's tragic but inevitable; the film leads to its climactic conclusion, as melodramatic and tragic as Norma herself, with the viewer reveling in dramatic irony. We know that Joe Gillis will wind up dead in Norma's swimming pool; by the end of the film we know that it was the result of getting in, so to speak, over his head. From beginning to end, Sunset Boulevard retains its strength as a smart, dryly funny and yet tragic film that has irrigated pop cultural references since its release 66 years ago.

I watched Sunset Boulevard on Netflix. It's also available on Amazon Video and, I'm sure, at your local video store. 

Citizen Kane

Often considered the greatest film ever made, the rags-to-riches tale of a wildly famous, controversial newspaper tycoon and the hunt to find his buried sensitivity

Grade: A (95/100)

Director: Orson Welles
Year Released: 1941

I imagine that having seen Citizen Kane for a cinephile is like having had your first period for middle school girls. People say they have- often lying. Only the ones who really have get it. Some people are confused by it- mostly outsiders who wonder how it could possibly be so important and life-changing. I'm proud to announce that, unlike I did in middle school about periods, I am not lying when I say that I have, indeed, seen Citizen Kane and can now hereby attest to its greatness as a film. While I can't really explain why it was so groundbreaking and influential (I say this with the general understanding that its production and filmmaking style transformed the industry), I can say that Citizen Kane has a lot going for it, and remains today, 75 years after its release, as legendary as a first period- not to mention funny, thought-provoking, and generally entertaining.

My first exposure to Citizen Kane was in The Simpsons parody (obviously, as The Simpsons is what taught me about all the cultural landmarks that I am now exploring as a teenager and not just blindly referencing), in which Mr. Burns loses his beloved Bobo, a little stuffed bear. For most of the movie I was, like the investigators, trying to figure out what the hell Rosebud was, erroneously convinced that I'd missed young Charles Foster Kane drop a bear in the snow like Montgomery Burns did. After I finally gave up the stuffed animal idea, I knew it was the sled, and that really bummed me out, not just because a sled is significantly less cool of a toy than a bear, but because I can understand why someone would stay attached to a stuffed animal, whereas a sled is so hard and cold. But isn't that just fitting for a character whose sympathetic impairment fuels most of the film. Orson Welles's spectacular performance as the newspaper mogul, a conceited, haughty man whose general incapacity for sentience juxtaposes beautifully with his obsession with his lost innocence, has clearly inspired generations of actors playing similar roles. Something about his performance inspired me to think of Leonardo DiCaprio's frequent ambitious turns as characters meant to evoke Charles Foster Kane, constipated imitations that seem embarrassing when compared to the real thing. Welles originates the role and owns it to this day.

Mr. Burns and Bobo, a much cooler beloved possession than a sled

I liked so much about Citizen Kane, which greatly relieved me. How stupid would I feel if I didn't wholly enjoy what is undisputedly considered the greatest film ever made? Still, I wonder how people came to recognize its significance at that level. When did Welles's spectacular tale, a spinoff of history and a thoughtful portrait of humanity, gain that impossibly prestigious title? I believe the only justifiable reason for my curiosity in this matter is my personal situation as someone who was born in 1998 which, even to me, seems like not that long ago. People of my generation who find themselves screening Citizen Kane will, no doubt, take much of its brilliance for granted. I'm sure I did, even if I didn't want to. How would I, as a person who sees ceilings in movies and television constantly, understand the significance of Welles's revealing the ceilings in certain shots? How would I pick out the use of deep focus and incredible depth of field as a person who probably sees these techniques imitated constantly but am none the wise about it? In a way I feel cheated out of the amazement of being able to see a film like Citizen Kane at the time of its release, to understand the groundbreaking cinematic techniques that had never been precedented and would forever change the industry. The closest I've ever gotten to that privilege is when Spy Kids 4 was released to theaters in 4D, which I learned too late was just 3D with a scratch-and-sniff paper attached to the glasses. 

Apparently the most famous shot from Citizen Kane

Still, watching Citizen Kane in the year 2016 as a 17-year-old girl was a privilege akin to eating some sort of really good gourmet food that's always been an enigma. It's what I imagine trying something like caviar or quail meat would be like. All the usual suspects are there- it's tasty, you can see why rich and smart people love it, it's a more sophisticated flavor of something cheap stuff tries to imitate, but it's got a unique something-something that is really pleasant. I say this having never tasted caviar or quail meat. I'll cut the analogies now. I really loved Citizen Kane, wincing at the dramatic irony, appreciating the cinematic effects that combined film noir with satire and documentary. In a way, actually, I see Citizen Kane as the original mockumentary, a story within a story within several other stories about a famous man whose one tie to humanity seems severed forever by the very people who desperately searched for it. I marvel at the idea of a group of reporters trying to uncover a newspaper tycoon's deepest secret, using skills he taught them to exploit him after his death while also allowing them to question whether or not he was really human- whether he was Charles Foster Kane, a media mogul and citizen of a society he helped build, or a person who felt and experienced loss and joy. How deliciously ironic that a man whose entire existence was built upon publicity was an enigma with a secret life suspended in time. 

What's more, to me, is how simple and yet complex Citizen Kane is as a film and as an idea. It's taken me several weeks since first seeing it to be able to piece together my interpretation of the film, and I'm sure it will evolve the more I watch it. But I will say now that I understand, in my own little way, its significance to an industry that I'm trying to pick apart, movie by movie, until I find the core of inspiration and the real stories- all to see, not if they're true, but how they've mattered. 

I rented Citizen Kane on Amazon for $3.99, but it's also available for purchase on iTunes and, I'm sure, at your local video store.

The Godfather

Francis Ford Coppola's epic masterpiece about an Italian-American crime family led by an aging patriarch

Grade: A+ (99/100)

Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Year Released: 1972

I don't say this lightly, but The Godfather is probably as damn close to a perfect film as I will ever see. In many of the movies I've watched for the purpose of having seen them I've wondered to myself, why is this movie recognized as one of the greatest of all time? Not so with The Godfather. I didn't have to wonder. It was just magnificent, from the superb cast to the beautiful direction, from the elegant screenplay to the eery score. There were times in this film wherein I had to choose between crying and laughing, between disgust and delight, but through most of it I allowed myself to feel both. After all, the theatrical methods in which Italian crime families such as the Corleones work is both horrifyingly and darkly entertaining. There is real cinematic magic in this film, the kind that makes you want to quit your job and just watch movies all day. It demands to be thought about and considered even days after your first viewing.

The Godfather is a very tricky concept, one that includes the broad themes of loyalty, revenge, anger, family, ethics, human personality, and a patriarchal hierarchy. It's my understanding that Coppola's transformation of the script, from the novel by Mario Puzo to the film, is greatly tilted so that the main focus is on the transformation of Michael Corleone, the youngest of the family who is thoughtfully played by a young, excellent Al Pacino, from a distant and disillusioned son to the ruthless mob boss he never wanted to become. Marlon Brando's work as Michael's father, the Godfather Don Vito Corleone, is cleverly lazy, drawn out and slowed down to evoke the feeling of a once-powerful man whose influence is immense but whose life is ultimately waning. He understands that his powerful grip on political and economic affairs within his family, community, and city must be passed down to the worthy son; it's through a process of elimination that plays off of children's storybooks that leads Michael, the black sheep, to become the heir of his father's throne. Although I understand where critics are coming from when they call Brando's performance overdone, I would disagree. The family dynamics of the Corleone dynasty are flamboyant- the downright theatrics of their crimes, such as the infamous horse head scene, demand an actor who is both melodramatic and quietly powerful. Brando's turn as the tired, all-knowing Vito Corleone, to me, worked in the way that he played up a character whose antics demand a dramatic flair.

I can't stress enough how impressed I was by the work of the collective cast. There are movies, I've noticed, that are easily carried by two or three (or one) really important, talented characters. The background characters work but might not be talented whatsoever, and the absorption into the film's reality breaks with these characters. You are reminded, simply, that what you're watching is a movie. The ensemble of The Godfather is excellent to the point in which every character fits into place like pieces in a giant puzzle. Even if not every character is developed, it doesn't matter. We can never know the intricacy of all of the people we know, but we can recognize that everyone is there for a reason, and speculate about the possibilities of their existences, which is a treat. The characters we do meet are so layered, so perfectly set, that the impeccably natural acting only adds to the effect of reality.

Brando, about to make an offer one "can't refuse"

Only one character really changes, and that's Michael. It's obviously an intentional move dependent on the fact that Michael is the only character, at least the only brother, who does not have a fatal flaw preventing him from surviving and taking the throne. Sonny, played by James Caan, an actor I grew up knowing as Walter Hobbes from Elf, falls victim to his own hotheaded rage. Fredo's nervousness and inability to see reason quickly eliminate him as an option to replace Vito Corleone. It's through the ultimate goal of avenging his father's attack and preserving the pride and honor of his family that Michael undergoes his transformation. Revenge is able to ground him to his true purpose: as the heir he never wanted to be.

Anyway, I'm sure everything I've mentioned has been said before, and so I'd like to just mention a few things about The Godfather that really impressed, delighted, surprised, and moved me as a young budding cinephile. Firstly, I loved the subtle humanity that the actors brought out in their characters. The Corleone family does some pretty sketchy stuff- although its refusal to buy into the narcotics business supported its deeper, more noble values- but never do you feel like you're watching a group of monsters. The gentleness of Vito Corleone in the garden with his grandson picking tomatoes; the sweetness of his refusal to take a family picture without his youngest son; the towering Tessio dancing with a little girl whose shoes are on his feet at the wedding; Sonny yelling at Michael before taking his face tenderly in his hands and kissing his cheeks; there is real humanity in these scenes, and juxtaposed with the horrors of the mafia business itself, the viewer is left with real questions about ethics and human nature.

Aside from that, I just want to make a shoutout to the horse head scene, in which I laughed in horror for probably five solid minutes. "Why are you laughing?" One of my parents asked, worried. I don't know. Just see it for yourself and think about it.

Though the film is three hours long, it never lags, and even during Michael's foray into Sicily there is not a boring moment. Everything Coppola does in The Godfather works- it's a timeless, beautiful film that will surely endure as a great classic for years to come.

I rented The Godfather on Apple TV for $3.99 before purchasing the 3-disc Godfather collection on Amazon for an outrageously inexpensive price of only $12. Seriously!  You can also purchase The Godfather on Amazon and, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Casablanca

An angsty Humphrey Bogart is tasked with helping an ex-lover and her new beau escape the Nazis

Grade: B+ (86/100)

Director: Michael Curtiz
Year Released: 1942

So, this is a movie that nearly everybody has heard of. Along with Citizen Kane it's a movie from Hollywood's Golden Age that apparently transformed cinema and is widely considered one of the greatest films of all time. It's definitely iconic. I found it pretty entertaining that most of the film's famous lines occur one after another after another in the last five minutes of the film; I also appreciated that one minor character's entire role was centered around proclaiming the title over and over again. A character in the restaurant run by Bogey's Rick Blaine will offhandedly mention the weather to the response, "Ahh, it's always hot in- CASABLANCA!" This bit was probably not explicitly humorous but I found it very entertaining.

What I really liked about Casablanca was its dialogue. I thought the script was smart and each line was biting and tough. I appreciated that nobody was a good guy, that everyone had a complicated backstory, that there were no easy distinctions between right and wrong- the gray area that the plot and characters of Casablanca exist in emphasize the confusion I imagine dictated the emotions of so many people during the Nazi regime. While Rick's own personal struggle seems to pale in comparison to the struggles of those around him, including Victor Laszlo, the new husband of Rick's ex-girlfriend, who is fleeing Nazi persecution and has spent time in a concentration camp. Rick's personal dilemma is selfish and insensitive compared to the events surrounding him, but I feel as though that's the point- the fact that even during times in which we know we shouldn't be selfish and recognize the insignificance of our own emotions, it's still possible- nay, unavoidable- to get involved with petty conflicts of love and friendship.

Rick's one weakness

I felt little chemistry between Bogart and Ingrid Bergman; the age difference and paternalistic attitude of Rick to her character of Ilsa did little to suggest a real, powerful romantic connection. I fear that Bogart, while excellent, makes the John Wayne mistake of playing his character too apathetically, not giving enough genuine emotion to the role, even as someone who's supposed to have been hardened by heartbreak. As Ilsa, Bergman is indeed lovely and snarky; I often found myself wondering what her motivation was, if she really loved Rick, if she really loved anyone. Her character is an enigma to me, but that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's her complicated relationship with survival that makes the film so gripping, makes Rick's ethical decision so pressing. It's clear momentarily, in the scene in which Ilsa threatens Rick with a gun, that her primary motivation is to live and to escape, both in the context of the confines of Nazi Europe and in her relationships with older men. She wants desperately to be in charge of her own fate but knows it belongs in the control of a man she let down, and she suffers for it. Rick suffers for it. Laszlo suffers for it.

Of course, Rick is just one of those heroes who can do no wrong. It's clear that he's been significantly damaged by Ilsa's treatment of him- the Paris flashback serves to suggest a time in which he was more carefree, a time in which he believed in good. But he remains true to his values even throughout the heartbreak, doing what is right even when he has the opportunity to be happy with the woman that he loves. Classically altruistic and smart, Casablanca hits the cinematic nail on the head in telling a story about personal sacrifice and the lengths we go for love, about the gray area of good and evil, and about the emotional consequences of the right decision.

I rented Casblanca on Amazon for $3.99. It's also available, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

A handsome pair of famous real-life bandits make crime look fun before fleeing for South America

Grade: B+ (86/100)

Director: George Roy Hill
Year Released: 1969

There are things that Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid does right, and there are things that it does wrong. What I can say with full certainty about the film is that what it does wrong it does blatantly wrong, like someone who has a misspelled tattoo on a visible part of his body for the whole world to gawk at.

With a script by William Goldman there was no possibility of the film lacking charm; indeed Paul Newman is so sweet, charismatic, and heroic as the historical bad guy Butch Cassidy and the dialogue is so campy that the movie immediately loses all credibility as a historically relevant film. But that's not really the point of it, obviously. I felt a little uncomfortable allowing myself to accept these infamous villains as they were portrayed by Newman and a stoic Robert Redford; I tend to not trust movies that glamorize bad people for the sake of the cinema. But I definitely fell under the spell of the film, allowing myself to be immersed in the silly and fun parody of the old American west, in which the good guys are the bad guys, and vise versa. From the perspective of the pair of bandits, crime is a game, but they both know that at their core they have hearts of gold; why else would they still be tagging along with each other after so long? There's a real emotional connection between Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid that is supported by the chemistry between Newman and Redford. What's confusing is Katherine Ross's turn as the submissive and kind accomplice Etta Place, the Sundance Kid's real-life girlfriend. What is her motivation to hang around with the criminals? If she is the stereotype of a good girl attracted to bad men it doesn't play out- she seems to have no emotional problem with robbery and other crime, but yet her character is supposed to be the kind of beautiful, just woman that would never condone such actions. It's not exactly Ross's fault that she's stuck playing a character with no emotional backstory or visible motivation- she does what she can- but it's certainly her misfortune.

The film's misspelled tattoo moment comes in the downright bizarre, out of style, anachronistic bicycle montage to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head", a moment that, while sweet, is unforgivably misplaced. Personally, the montage served as my favorite moment of the film only because of Newman and Ross's sweet chemistry as good friends sharing a tender moment, but the song only serves to make it absurd and diminish its value to the film. It genuinely upsets me. It is enough for the viewer to have to force the barriers of reality to believe in the duo's humanity and comic appeal; the bicycle scene is just ridiculous and did not need to happen.

The film's visibly misspelled tattoo moment

Otherwise I felt the movie went on a little too long, telling a story not really interesting enough. The plot point that Butch and Sundance had never previously killed anyone was just obviously fake and highlighted the film's steep removal from any sort of grounded reality; though sweet, I couldn't shake the feeling that to cast Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid as heroic goofballs isn't outside the realm of casting Abraham Lincoln as a vampire slayer or Romeo and Juliet as two 90s-styled gang teenagers. It might be a fun idea, but it didn't work for me, and I couldn't shake the feeling throughout the moment that it just wasn't appropriate.

However, the film was an overall win, being supported by a script full of charm and wit enough to make anyone smile and admire the work done by Newman and Redford, who just ooze appeal. Because you've heard the true story and seen the warning at the beginning claiming that all the old western bandits are "dead now", you know that something bad is going to happen to these criminals- the shootout at the end is a real bummer after having spent so long cozying up to the two lovable crooks. Goldman really emphasizes the adventurous spirit in Butch Cassidy's character, which paired with the dramatic irony of the end scene, in which only the viewer knows that they are surrounded by the Bolivian army and about to be killed, is genuinely heartbreaking.

I'm not sure if I'd want to watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid again, but if I did it would be to try to cut back on the discomfort I felt with the anachronisms so present throughout the film and really try to appreciate it as what I think it is under my discomfort: A sweet, perhaps cheesy but smart film about two outcasts who are, for the purpose of movies, allowed to be the opposite of what they most likely were.

I saw Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid on Netflix. It is also available on Amazon Prime and, I'm sure, at your local video store.

The Exorcist

A young girl experiences demonic possession as her frantic mother convinces the world's most apathetic priest to perform an exorcism in glamorous Washington, D.C.

Grade: B (85/100)

Director: William Friedkin
Year Released: 1973

I have often wondered to myself, have horror movies ever been good? Actually frightening, I mean. Personally I have seen several films that have scared me, freaked me out, or otherwise made me uncomfortably affected; however, more often the case is that the horror movies I enjoy are either meant to be funny, so bad they are funny, or just an entertaining bloodbath. Keep in mind that I am from the era of generally bad scary movies- the Paranormal Activity-level garbage that typically revolves around some sort of conjuring or ghost. These films, I can tell, were directly influenced by The Exorcist, a movie I watched because I was promised time and time again that it was "the scariest film ever made". While I firmly disagree with that judgment, I will say that The Exorcist is probably one of the best horror movies I've seen just from a production standpoint. The acting was pleasantly pretty good, and the special effects were, even from today's standard, decent. While I was never actually scared during the movie, I was often impressed and moved, and for the purpose of this review, I'll be discussing what I thought the movie did well and did not do so well.

I would like to start with what I found confusing, ineffective, and generally not great about The Exorcist. The backstory of a demon or a spirit needs to be not only interesting (it's half the fun of the plot) but also fairly explicit. Through the opening montage of a confused, possibly sick man on an archaeological dig in Iraq, the viewer is supposed to understand that this man is a veteran Catholic priest who comes across an ancient demon and realizes that it's out to get revenge. What the viewer actually draws from the opening is an old man in the desert staring painfully at statues. I wanted to understand what was happening, and could pick up enough of the idea based on the fact that this was not my first horror movie rodeo, but I was disappointed that the film did not make it clearer what the deal with the demon was. For instance, in my recollection at least, nowhere in the film is the demon's name (Pazuzu) mentioned. Never does the priest, who later aids in the exorcism, explain that the demon is out for revenge, or really show how it is brought to Georgetown and why it chooses to inhabit the daughter of an actress. The backstory is exceptionally weak and uninteresting, and even in the more exciting moments of the film, the viewer is still left with the thought, why is this happening?

Other weak points include the character of the police Lieutenant who insists that there may be something paranormal at stake- not only is it not super evident that he's an investigator at all, but his involvement in the movie is a superfluous addition with a purpose I cannot make out. The descent of the film into a discussion of the paranormal is almost ridiculous, but, I suppose, necessary, due to the fact that the child at the center of the film, Reagan MacNeil, is indeed possessed by the demon Pazuzu (for whatever reason). The best performances in the film come from Linda Blair, the young actress playing Reagan, and from Ellen Burstyn, who plays Reagan's mother Chris. Burstyn is exceptional, though her job isn't necessarily a difficult one to conceive of given the circumstance- the disgust, horror, and terror of her daughter's transformation is displayed well and beautifully countered by her devotion to finding a fix for her daughter's problem, no matter the cost.

My instinct is to interpret The Exorcist as a thinly-veiled metaphor for female puberty. What an oft-repeated tale: a girl on the verge of womanhood encountering personal demons (figuratively or, in this case, literally) to the despair of her worried, protective mother, who enlists the help of patriarchal figures to solicit a resolution to the problem. The demon that possesses Reagan turns her into everything a girl is told she cannot be in our society: grotesque, vulgar, unattractive, sexual, cold, demanding, rude, physically strong, defiant, stubborn. What's scary for Chris and the team of doctors and priests who attempt to cure her, and really what's scary about the movie as a whole, is the idea of a sweet, innocent girl child being corrupted and perverted by an outside force. Is that not a story we are told constantly, the horror story that doesn't need the facade of a ghost to be effective? What's even more interesting is that, by The Exorcist's logic, demonic possession (corruption) is contagious. In fact, to cure Reagan of her possession, Damien Karras willingly sacrifices himself by letting the demon take over his own body shortly before he commits suicide. Karras has been targeted by the demon before- the possessed Reagan often mocks him with depictions of his dead, demented mother in an attempt to break his spirit. This seems to say that the demon Pazuzu is unique in its capabilities to harm people, suggesting the inner, self-conscious demon that lives within every human, controlling him and prying on his insecurities. Pazuzu might as well be the cutesy nickname for a woman's period, the devil on someone's shoulder, the little voice in the back of someone's head that constantly tells him he's not good enough.

The mysteries of a teenage girl examined by frightened old white guys

That is what I found smart about The Exorcist. It is a ghost story reminiscent of the kind of sociological messages told through allegorical sci-fi scenarios on The Twilight Zone. It's a well-written, well-acted attempt to demonstrate the melodramatic scenario of a girl's journey into womanhood through the facade of a horror movie. And I just have to appreciate that- I have to recognize the equally fascinating, humorous, and insulting implications of that idea, even despite the film's sometimes crippling flaws. The Exorcist may not be the most frightening film ever made like I was promised it would be, but it is definitely one of the most interesting horror movies of the modern age, and for that it is worth critically examining.

I saw The Exorcist on Netflix, but it is also available on Amazon Prime and can be purchased, I'm sure, at your local video store.

Full Metal Jacket

A platoon of dehumanized soldiers experiences Vietnam... if they can make it out of boot camp first

Grade: A+ (96/100)

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Year Released: 1987

The only non-documentary film about Vietnam I had seen before watching Full Metal Jacket was John Wayne's infamous 1968 war propaganda film The Green Berets. There have been countless dramas about the Vietnam War in the 41 years since its conclusion, and though I have seen a very small number of these films (including, as I previously mentioned, Wayne's hopelessly long and cringeworthy attempt to justify the racism, paternalism, and devastation of the USA's involvement in the war), I doubt that any of the films made about Vietnam portray the training camp before the war as more frightening and shocking than the actual war than Full Metal Jacket does. 

Most of the reviews I've read of the film partition it into two rather different movies combined into one: the first movie of the boot camp on Parris Island, South Carolina, and the second movie of the actual Vietnam War. I would generally agree with the partition, but unlike critics such as Roger Ebert and Rita Kempley, I didn't find that problematic or necessarily diminishing of the film as a whole. Instead, I thought the juxtaposition between the boot camp story and the Vietnam story emphasized what I found to be the film's major theme: the dehumanization of soldiers. 

Full Metal Jacket is not an easy movie to watch. What's worse, it's harder to stomach the torturous treatment of young Marine Corps recruits than it is to watch the graduated Marines pillage and kill once they've arrived in Vietnam. I think, for me, this sickening distinction was because I had already heard the war stories, both within Vietnam and elsewhere. The discussion of war is a topic that runs rampant through a vast array of media, plenty of which is taught in public schools. I had to read The Things They Carried and A Farewell to Arms and learn about the Revolutionary War every year, as though the school system was worried I'd forget the route to American independence after a summer off. I had to watch many documentaries about war's effects, took several AP history classes, and watched movies and TV shows and read articles for classes about the very subject matter often jam-packed into our culture's obsession with war. And throughout that exposure to the story of war I found myself wondering what countless others wonder about war: how could someone do it? How could regular people bring themselves to kill and destroy, even if told they have to?

It was really only through seeing Full Metal Jacket that I realized the process of making humans capable of the sort of horrific acts that warfare demands. I felt sick watching R. Lee Ermy as Sergeant Hartman destroy all levels of conscious humanity in the recruits, but I understood. I could not decide, perhaps I cannot currently decide, if I think Ermy's character is evil. It's my instinct to say that he is not, but trying to decide certainly evokes a discussion about what evil really is- whether it's something born within you and fostered, or if it's something that needs to be taught. 

Kubrick's message regarding the training and hardening of US soldiers seems to be that to commit horrific acts, they must be stripped of their humanity, trained to be dehumanized in what The Simpsons parodied as "kill bot factories". Kubrick shows us that the psychological torture has varying effects on each soldier, ultimately depending on how intellectually hardy he is. For the ill-fated and genuinely terrifying Private Pyle, the process of dehumanization comes with the onset of a severe mental breakdown. What's truly scary, especially in today's age of "lone wolf terrorism", is how Private Pyle's descent into madness is truly reminiscent of the dark and twisted journeys of men who have committed heinous acts of terror on American soil; the killers whose environments abused them to the point of seeking a general revenge against a life and society that wronged them. What Full Metal Jacket really made me recognize is the failure of so many American institutions to help its citizens, the failure to provide a better life and to foster the humanity of of its people. More gruesomely, I realized during the scene in which Private Joker, Pyle's only ally, turns against him with the entire group of recruits and beats him while he screams helplessly in his own bed, that Kubrick's film is also a narration on the failure of people to help each other. 

Private Joker's character very much intrigued me. I understand him as a character with a very high emotional threshold and capability for a great deal of pressure. He voluntarily joins the Marine Corps to experience war, telling Sergeant Hartman that he "wants to kill". But it's made clear throughout the movie, particularly in his initial gentleness to Private Pyle and his personality in Vietnam, that he is no natural born killer; instead, he's joined the army to test himself, to see if his intellectual stamina could withstand the military, an institution he recognizes as existing for the purpose of dehumanizing young soldiers. In some ways he succeeds: his miraculous preservation of personality shows that he is by and far the most mentally tough Marine, an obvious foil to Private Pyle, who succumbs to the pressure in what is easily one of the greatest and most frightening film scenes I've ever witnessed. In other ways, Private Joker fails. In Vietnam he's quietly confused by the ability of other soldiers to kill without asking questions. Taking a job on the frontline as a war journalist, it's evident that his intellectual pursuit of warfare is more sophisticated, more romantically Ernest Hemingway, than it is simply "to kill". Famously, Private Joker recognizes "the duality of man" by wearing a helmet branded with the words "BORN TO KILL" while also adorning his uniform with a peace symbol. Again, another test. Unsurprisingly, the war takes its toll on Joker, but even through the deaths of some of his closest buddies, he remains critical of war's power to truly transform an individual's personality and perception of the world. It's not until he is faced with killing a young Vietnamese girl, the assassin of several of his closest friends, a mercy killing done to save her the pain of her other injuries, that he truly realizes the psychological consequences of war. By donning the thousand-yard stare, the viewer can see that the effects of his experience have finally seeped under his thick skin. As the film draws to a close, Private Joker tells the audience that he is no longer scared of war, and that is perhaps the most devastating part of the film: the absolute mark of his loss of feeling, the man whose heroic pursuit of emotional stamina was finally crushed by an act he was "born" to do.

I own the DVD of Full Metal Jacket, but it is also currently available for streaming on Netflix and on Amazon Prime. You can also purchase it, I'm sure, at your local video store.