SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE (1978)

This film was something of a white whale for me as a kid. I was always a fan of the Superman cartoons of the 90's, and knew that there was a live-action film made some twenty/thirty years prior, but I was never able to find it, strangely enough. I remember renting it from two separate video stores and both copies being worn down from excessive viewing. It wasn't until years later that I caught it on TV and fell in love with Richard Donner's take on one of the greatest characters to come out of the 20th century. 

It's still something of an anomaly among the superhero film genre in that it isn't a typical superhero film. It doesn't have much action or any fight scenes, per se. It's very romantic and very mythological. In fact, I would argue that the strongest moments of the film don't involve Superman at all and, instead, take place early on during the Krypton sequence and the erecting of the Fortress of Solitude.

The Krypton prologue wherein Jor-El (Marlon Brando) and Lara Lor-Van (Susannah York) is a wonderful, dreamlike sequence. Krypton's crystaline design feels overwhelmingly alien, yet warm and inviting. The decision to have Superman's trademark 'S' crest be something like a family sigil is a stroke of brilliance on the part of co-writer Mario Puzo (The Godfather). Despite his clear ambivalence towards the film, Brando performs as only Brando could, with a verbose tongue and regality.

This has always remained my favorite version of Krypton because it undoubtedly the most cinematic and truly alien. I love that it doens't resemble our world in any way, shape or form. I love the idea of crystal computers and crystal architecture. It's an inspired design.

While I love the film as a whole to this day, my favorite moments, for some reason, don't involve Reeve at all. The Fortress of Solitude, like Krypton, is an inspired design that both recalls Kal-El's enigmatic alien homeworld and the tipi-style tent of the Native Americans. The Fortress represents Clark's last link to his heritage, it's apparent the moment we see it signifies to him.

When Clark throws his glowing green crystal (the only remnant from his crashed ship), it's a wonderfully primal moment with amazing payoff. Up until this point, he's known nothing of his homeworld or his parents and the unanswered questions are beginning to get to him; Why did my parents send me away? Where am I from? What makes me different? Clark's journey from Smallville to solitude is an important, yet rarely explored aspect of the Superman mythos. It's a perfect metaphor for the transition from adolescence to adulthood. If only we could all step into our Fortresses of Soltiude and emerge as Christopher Reeve in-costume. Alas.

I love this film. I love for it its weirdness and sapiness and romanticism. You will never see another superhero film like this one, with more focus on character than plot, and not a single punch in sight. Don't get me wrong, it's a bizarre movie with more than a couple of cringe-worthy moments, but they all serve reinforce the fantasy element of Superman. Where, most of the time, Superman is used to tell science fiction and action/adventure stories, Donner takes a much more ethereal approach to the Man of Steel and, in my opinion, it works well.

Also, Superman says "excuse me" to a pimp.

SIX SHOOTER (2004)

With Martin Mcdonagh's new film, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri already getting awards buzz and lots of critical acclaim, I thought I'd revisit his first foray into cinema, the short film, Six Shooter.

Brendan Gleeson plays a grieving widower who meets an extremely disturbed, strange young man on a train ride. 

Though I would go on to read Mcdonagh's The Pillowman and watch In Bruges, I went into this fresh, just looking for new interesting short films online. Immediately, I was struck by Mcdonagh's deft balancing of tonal shifts throughout his short piece. Where most directors falter when weaving between various tonalities, Mcdonagh had a clear understanding right off of the bat of how to keep his characters and narrative balanced, yet unpredictable. Six Shooter is as darkly funny as any of his other works, and just as macabre, dealing with grief, guilt and violence. 

Six Shooter is an excercise in momentum. Starting out with Brendon Gleeson visiting his dead wife, it moves steadily, building tension and suspense until it reaches an explosive climax with an ironic tag.

At the time I saw it, this felt like a breath of fresh air, filmic-wise. Something smart and thoughtful with beautiful contrasting depictions of violence. A scene involving a cow with trapped win exploding into a bloody mess, is nicely juxtaposed with the gorey shootout involving the disturbed young man on the train. Mcdonagh is brilliant about laying bare his themes, while keeping them layered and subtly executed. And all the while peppering in hilarious dialogue ironic payoff.

Six Shooter was important, too, in learning to distinguish between a film that is directed and one that is written. By this, I mean, a film that owes the majority of its quality to the direction and dialogue on the page. Whereas, a film that is directed, owes most of its quality to the decisions of the director. David Fincher, for example, does not write his own films and most certainly raises the quality of the screenplays he's given to new heights when he directs them. His films, while finely written, are mostly known for their distinct visual style, rather than the dialogue or characters. All of Mcdonagh's films are written, first and foremost. For me, the distinction is a fascinating one and Mcdonagh's debut short helped to clarify it.

Six Shooter is a wonderful short piece with a fantastic performance by Gleeson and certainly worth a watch before heading into Three Billboards.

THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN (1984)

My first introduction to The Muppets was watching reruns of Muppet Babies at a very, very young age which, although I enjoyed well enough for a toddler, wasn't a revelatory discovery in the same way that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was, for example. 

It wasn't until seeing a television broadcast of The Muppets Take Manhattan that I developed an affinity for Jim Henson's gang of tongue-in-cheek, absurdist puppets. What I found so captivating about the Muppets, first and foremost, is how distinct and human each and every one of them is. They all display ego and pretension and selfishness at times, all the while remaining laughably self-aware of who they are. In a time where animators spend millions of dollars making CGI characters look and feel human, Henson was able to accomplish the same thing with just his voice and some felt. 

The third entry into the Muppets' feature film series, Muppets Take Manhattan finds the Muppets fresh out of college (which could have been a film unto itself), migrating to New York City to get a musical made on Broadway. The film has all the staples of a Muppet movie; guest stars, songs and lots of meta humor. 

Even as a kid seeing this for the first time, what felt so refrsehing about Muppets Take Manhattan is how flawed and, ultimately, human the Muppets feel. Though certainly protective of his creations, it never felt like Henson was so precious as to avoid making the Muppets relatable. Miss Piggy's abrasive, angry and, often greedy, demeanor has always made her a standout female character that breaks the dainty, nice-girl mold. And her relationship with the more subdued, yet still quick to anger in his own way, Kermit is a fascinating one. They argue and misunderstand each other, but it never goes too far and you never doubt that there's a genuine, mutual love between them. 

In watching the film again in 2017, there were a few things which stuck out that were ever-so-slightly uncomfortable: The song "You Can't Take No For An Answer", though in the context that film uses it is mostly fine, obviously has some different connotations today. Bizarre, too, is the extended sequence where we see live-action Muppet Babies. Their designs are... not as cute as they were surely intended. 

Though perhaps not as beloved as The Muppet Movie (1979), or as laugh-out-loud funny as The Muppets (2011), The Muppests Take Manhattan nonetheless a timeless feature and one of the stronger feature films by the Henson Company. 

DAY OF THE DEAD (1985)

Like most kids, zombie films were a staple of my adolescence; RE-ANIMATOR, RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD and, of course, George A. Romero's NIGHT, DAWN and my personal favorite, DAY OF THE DEAD.

Where the previous films took place during the early days of the zombie apocalypse, DAY OF THE DEAD is at an indeterminate point in the future, long enough that most of humanity has either died outright or returned from death, zombified. 

More so than NIGHT or DAWN OF THE DEAD, DAY is less about fear and more about survival and carving out a place for one's self in such a hostile world. It's Romero's most inwardly focused film, having moved on from the consumerism commentary of DAWN, he positions his characters as isolated, from their past and fututre, stuck in a world that belongs entirely to the dead.

Lead Lori Cardille's opening scene, alone in a white room staring at a calendar, sets the tone for the rest of the film, with most of it taking place underground, away from the zombie-infested city above.

Isolation is key to DAY, from star Lori Cardille's opening scene alone in a white room staring at a calendar, to the many scenes set underground in an abandoned military compound. DAY OF THE DEAD presents a world moved on from humanity, alone with its walking dead. Isolated, too, is a zombie nicknamed "Butch" being experimented on by military scientists. Butch's arc was an especially captivating one for me, as seeing a zombie evolve, in any way, was a unique experience. I interpreted this as being Romero's way of giving his trilogy an apothesis and a semblance of closure (though he would eventually follow it up with more sequels years later). In this way, DAY actually ends on a relateively upbeat note. Our three human protagonists escape to an island where they can, presumably, live out the rest of their days peacefully, and the zombies are going to evolve in their time and possibly cultivate a new society of their own. 

I've always loved this film for more than its gore and over-the-top performances. It really felt like the culmination of something for Romero, both narratively and as a filmmaker himself. Starting out with a micro budget for NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Romero built his career on the walking, stalking dead and continued to escalate spectacle and production value with each installment, DAY being the most ambitious and fun (in my opinion).

JACKIE BROWN (1997)

While getting to know my first girlfriend in high school, the subject of Quentin Tarantino came up. She was a big fan, and asked if I had seen PULP FICTION or RESERVOIR DOGS. Wanting to seem cool, I told her yes (I hadn't, but I should have). She then asked if I had seen JACKIE BROWN and I had told her no, having never even heard of it. She showed it to me, and it kickstarted my love of all things Tarantino.

While not as acclaimed as PULP FICTION or RESERVOIR DOGS, nor as succesful as Tarantino's latter day outings, JACKIE BROWN remains divisve among Tarantino fans, with some seeing as not quite Tarantino enough (it's based on an Elmore Leonard novel, Rum Punch) for their tastes.

Again, having never seen a Tarantino film when I first saw JACKIE BROWN, it felt fresh and hilarious and different. I noticed that where other directors cut to the chase, Tarantino took his time. Again, this being my introduction to Tarantino, I wasn't so used to extended dialogue sequences that don't serve to push the plot forward. Watching Sam Jackson's Ordell Robbie convince his friend (played by Chris Tucker) to get into the trunk of his car only to kill him after driving around the block was a pivotal scene for me. It exemplified Tarantino's ability to make you care about someone right before killing them off. 

Frankly, seeing Pam Grier and Robert Forster have a budding romance felt different from any other on-screen couple I had seen before. The film felt entirely fresh from top to bottom for my money.

Again coming at the film from a place of initial ignorance, I was unaware of Tarantino's affinity for blaxspolitation films of the 70's, as well as Elmore Leonard's stripped-down crime novels. This was different from anything I had seen before. It had charisma (as all of Tarantino's films do) and characters that you didn't have to necessary like in order to identify with them.

While not as ambitious as PULP FICTION or gloriously action-packed as DJANGO UNCHAINED, Tarantino's 3rd feature is, for my money, his most measured film. It feels like a challenge he gave to himself. Gone are the extended monologues and excessive blood. After so much success with his first two original feature films, it was wise of Tarantino to challenge himself with trying to step into someone else's world and make it his own. This is a greart crime film that still has most of the hallmarks of a Tarantino story, just slightly more subdued. I loved it when I was an impressionable youth and I love it now. 

BRICK (2005)

When I first saw Rian Johnson's neo noir debut, BRICK, I was at an extremely impressionable age, craving new and challenging forms of entertainment. As time has gone on, I've found myself more and more engrossed by its offbeat aesthetic and deceiptely simple technique, increasingly appreciative of such a brilliant and strange film.

Upon my first viewing, I was not a dyed-in-the-wool fan of the hardboiled detective genre by any stretch of the imagination. But BRICK had an atmosphere and energy that demanded to be seen and understood, so much so that I immediately needed to research its roots and influences to better understand the context of what I had just seen; its thick, pulpy language; its winding, yet engrossing plot; its flares of physical comedy. This was a movie that felt entirely post-modern in the absolute best sense of the term.

Borrowing heavily from the novels of Dashiell Hammett, BRICK's marrying of the author's hardboiled style with modern high school tropes and archetypes seems, on paper at least, like a recipe for disaster. The concept brings to mind images of sixteen-year-olds in trenchcoats involved in low-stakes contrivances about betting on a football game or ditching class. The world of BRICK harbors none of these self-parodying visuals, opting for a much harsher depiction of modern teenage hijinks that happens to be accompanied by a hardboiled tongue. 

My first time watching it, I remember having a tough time following the plot after about the half way point, but neither my interest nor my attention waivered. The aesthetic of the film, its archetypal, yet human, characters and its visual momentum are what kept me interested throughout.

Cinematographer Steve Yedlin defies as many assumptions about what the film SHOULD be as writer/director Rian Johnson does. Yedlin doesn't bathe the film in a washed out color palette, or reinforce the noir aesthetic with unnecessary venetian blinds or overbearing shadows. The film is quite colorful and the action often has a stylized, larger-than-life quality. The camera is always moving with its characters in dynamic (often comedic) paths, knowing exactly when to go and when to stop, allowing characters to step out of frame when a joke calls for it. 

Joseph Gordon Levitt is fantastic as the lead, Brendan Frye, never leaning too hard into his obvious influences of similar characters like Sam Spade and Jake Gittes, while still invoking their hard edges and charming wit. Also in the film, just before their careers truly took off, are Emilie De Ravin as Levitt's troubled ex and Nora Zehetner as the femme fatale, with a minor appearance by Richard Roundtree as the vice principal. 

In my opinion, BRICK is the gold standard of what a (relatively speaking) low budget film should be. Made for a hair under $500,000, BRICK's (again, relatively speaking) low budget is never a draw back and, in fact, a bit of strength. Though a tad unpolished at points, the film never feels or looks cheap. We aren't just in one or two or even three locations, making the world these characters inhabit feel expansive. The sparing use of blood and violence simultaneously hides the film's narrow budget for action scenes and makes the fights that we do see feel that much more important and dangerous.

This film had an impact on me when I was teenager that I carry with me today. It's sharp, it's funny and it could only be made for a post-modern audience. Johnson uses the audience's assumptions of what a neo noir should look and feel like and turns it on its head. It's subversive and self-aware in all the right ways. If you haven't seen it (or if it's been awhile), track it down and enjoy one of the strongest feature debuts of a young director this century. 

My Defining Films Introduction

Hi, I'm a film fan and this my blog. There are many others like it, but this one is mine.

What will follow is a series of reflections on movies that have affected me in a personal way over the years. These are not necessarily the best films I've ever seen, or even my favorite, but ones that have had an important impact on me. Whether it's a single character, a visual aesthetic, or a particular memory attached to watching them, these are the films that shaped me into the young-ish adult I am today.

I'm not an expert or a professional, just a fan.

And this is Audrey Hepburn cutting a lock of her own hair.