#10. Rear Window (1954, Hitchcock)
First Seen in: pre-2005
I realize I’m jotting down thoughts about films that have been written about to death. But that’s what a lot of these rewatches are; classics in the canon. What to say about Rear Window? It’s the film above all other films I’d say that should and is taught in an Intro to Film course. It has all of the basics of filmmaking presented in such a boiled down masterful way that I’d be hardpressed to find a better example of the visual storytelling capable within cinema. It’s a two-hour master class.
Hitchcock always tells his stories through visuals, film being a visual medium. Dialogue for him was just another aspect of the sound. Nowhere is this more evident than here. He links the audience to the protagonist whose personal dilemmas are linked through the mini-stories being told outside his window. And it’s all about that favorite theme of voyeurism, something inherent in the act of watching films. We watch the movie, peeping in on Jeffries—>Jeffries watches his neighbors peeping in on them—>we watch the neighbors along with Jeffries linking us back to him. There’s so much of this going on in such intricate ways.
Miss Torso, Miss Lonelyheart, the composer, the murderer and his wife, the newlyweds. All of these neighbors, and when and how Hitchcock shows them, gives us internal information about Jeffries all through coupling what he sees/his reaction shots. The construction of this film is insane. Characters are linked such as Lisa/Miss Lonelyheart) through wardrobe, jewelry, reaction shots, dialogue, blocking, etc. Everything has double meaning. The neighborhood is a microcosm of the world according to Hitchcock. All of this is just the tip of the iceberg.
Special shout-outs to:
– Thelma Ritter; nobody tells it to you straight like her.
– Grace Kelly’s introductory shot (it’s downright startling in its beauty) and her self-parade of “Reading from top to bottom. Lisa. Carol. Fremont.”
– Lisa’s sea-green suit with the white halter top. Tippi Hedren would also wear a suit of that color in The Birds.
#11. Manhattan (1979, Allen)
First Seen in: 2003 or 2004
This was a film that I merely liked when I first saw it as a teenager despite its reputation as a masterpiece. I liked it more this time around but I still don’t consider it in my top Woody Allen films. Its highlights are Gordon Willis’ iconic black and white photography which took my breath away every few minutes with alarming regularity. And the George Gershwin soundtrack is Allen’s best.
By mythologizing Manhattan, Allen makes the relationships going on within the city feel even more futile. He uses a cyclical pattern in dialogue and camera movement so there is a repetition of conversations that either leave the characters in the same place or with even less than they started with. Scenes like the fight between Issac and Yale are stationary because it’s a break from the sameness. Another example is that the camera settles down when Isaac is with Tracy, often allowing for a calm and comfortable stationary shot with both in the frame together. Most of the time, Allen engagingly tracks his camera around the room in one take, repeating character movement as well as who is in the frame at different intervals.
This repetition is impressive and says a lot about relationships but it never quite invests me. I cared about Isaac because I have a soft spot for the director’s self-protagonists. And I cared about Tracy a lot, who just wants to be taken seriously. She is wise beyond her years, possessing a delicate maturity.
As for Diane Keaton, well…I couldn’t stand her in this. Her indecision, insecurities and pseudo-intellect were all grating and I just found her insufferable. But the scene when Allen meets her and is similarly put off (she dismisses Bergman for God’s sake!) is the funniest in the film.
#12. The Apartment (1960, Wilder)
First Seen in: 2005
What impresses me most about The Apartment is how much it does at once. It starts under the guise of a surprisingly frank satirical look at sexual mores of the time, but it effortlessly shifts in and out of romance, comedy and drama throughout. Without it ever taking over the picture, there is a very bleak undercurrent about where men and women stand in the facelessness of corporatism and sexual politics. The men rise through a brotherhood camaraderie that has nothing to do with actual work. That camaraderie leaves women used and left at the bottom of the picking order with unfulfilled empty promises, either unemployed or suicidal. Thank goodness Billy Wilder has made a film light enough to save its leading lady from where a different film might have left her.
If I have drawbacks from this undisputed classic, it’s that the first act drags a little for me. I start to love this film once we get past that first half hour. Jack Lemmon is wonderful in this and another casting choice would have made his situation unsympathetic. But I do admit that I have to be in a certain mood for Lemmon’s ceaseless enthusiasm. Shirley Maclaine is majestic and heartbreaking here. She knows what’s right for her but she has such a hard time breaking free. I have a significant crush on young Shirley Maclaine. The Trouble with Harry and The Apartment have reminded me of this fact.
#13. Quartet (1948, various)First Seen in: 2009
Reintroduction Post: https://cinenthusiast.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/reintroduction-3-quartet-1948-various/
#14. Trois Couleurs: Bleu (1993, Kieślowski)
First Seen in: 2003
When I saw this at 14, over ten years ago, I just saw it in the most basic manner. Sure, I liked it but it didn’t truly connect with me and I didn’t connect with it. My experience this time around classifies as a momentous occasion. Kieslowski juxtaposes Julie’s coldness and self-isolation with the warmth and lushness of its sensory images. It expresses the inexplicable and the forms grief takes. Scenes like the one where she ferociously eats the candy she finds in her purse or when she drags her knuckles painfully across the stone wall stand out as smaller but all-important examples of this. Can we cut ourselves off completely and what does this entail? Julie systematically purges herself of both her old life and her identity.
Juliette Binoche could have played Julie like a zombie, all but dead to the world. But she doesn’t; she instead plays it with a riveting and understated cold determination. She is shedding herself, trying to fit into an ordinary and hollow existence. The color blue absolutely represents the past, the inescapable link; that much is clear. But this film is so much more than that; the combination of the layered abstracted imagery, the symbols and framing, the use of filters and lenses, the linking of images and sound, the integral music by Zbigniew Prisener and that astounding lead performance. So much of the sensory experience that Blue offers is its ambiguous depiction of the internal; its oblique instinctual pull links us with Julie as well as the camera’s insistence on staying close to her. The first act is Julie’s purging. The second is her new empty existence. Her third is her reemergence. This is a revelatory sensory experience that impacts with its calm unflinching honesty and its lyrical precision.
It’s going to be hard not to talk about Alien in my write-up to Aliens but I’ll try and keep it to a minimum. Suffice it to say that I much prefer Ridley Scott’s film and its sterile maze of psychological claustrophobia using negative space. But I digress.
Aliens has injected a lot into the fabric of action/sci-fi/thriller films of its kind moving forward. I love the transformation of Ripley as action hero and her amount of constant agency is impressive. It works as a big loud and expertly mounted roller-coaster. Cameron is really into the design elements here, crowding his frames with machinery and the nuts and bolts of the future. Ripley stumbling upon the Queen Bee’s hub stands out as a highlight. There are a lot of little effects that I like, such as the use of strobe lights (and flashing lights in general) to represent the gunfire, adding to the visual dynamic of action scenes. Hmmm. What else do I like? Bishop, though Lance Henrickson is criminally underused. Ripley’s trauma from the events of Alien is well established. OH! And of course the sound design and effects work, especially the much-improved mobility of the alien(s) and the power loader. That Queen Bee marionette design is just….wow.
Everything involving Newt is painful and it isn’t helped with the young girl’s performance. The characters in Alien were largely undeveloped archetypes, but at least there was a variety. Here we get a bunch of jacked-up Marines, part of Cameron’s grand Vietnam metaphor, who are a largely uninteresting bunch. We are on the outskirts of their camaraderie as is Ripley and it keeps us from ever feeling one with them. The Paul Reiser character never represents the corporate threat he should have. It’s not his fault; it just feels like the script drops him before actually doing anything of note with him.
Listening to the commentary track was a real treat. Cameron covers so much ground and he’s got such a practical problem-solving head on his shoulders; it’s an educational listen.
#22. The Trouble with Harry (1955, Hitchcock): B-
Gets a lot of mileage out of the rural cast of memorable characters, especially the lead foursome who bands together. Same goes for the New England setting; the Blu-Ray transfer is indescribably gorgeous; the daytime autumnal season pops as if it were just shot this past November. The setting, Bernard Herrmann’s skip-in-its-step score (his first for Hitchcock), and the nonchalant shrug-filled manner in which the characters work through their predicament make up the way this comedy finds humor in contrasting the situation with its presentation. My issue is that there isn’t much variety in the humor; its a sustained understated tone mirroring Hitchcock’s British sensibility that at times feels minor, forgettable and samey. I can see why he was so fond of this one though, it’s very unlike anything else in his filmography. Arnie the kid was quite obnoxious. I love the scene where Sam asks everyone what they want when he sells the paintings; it was then that I realized I had grown quite fond of this group. And Sam’s “beat it creep!” to Arnie in the last scene had me cracking up.
23. Sunday Bloody Sunday (1970, Schlesinger) : C
This is a somber look at two individuals involved in a tricky entanglement in which they share the same man. This man (Murray Head), comes and goes when he pleases with a half-involvement that always leaves the two (Peter Finch and Glenda Jackson who share one scene together) wanting. The point is for them to have their freedom, but Bob is the only one who really has it.
All of this sounds interesting but Sunday Bloody Sunday never takes off for me. A lot of it has to do with not being able to appreciate its cultural context as a story immediately after the Swinging 60’s, depicting the atmosphere of the troubled aftermath. But its examination felt distant and dry, so low-key as to not register at all. The dialogue never intrigued either. The only thing that held me was Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch, both very good.
There is a shot I love towards the end. Jackson sits in the bottom of the frame in a chair that swivels and Murray Head is hanging a clock at the top of some stairs. She swivels back and forth, alternating between the chair taking up most of the frame and her appearing in it.
#24. The Painting (TBA, Laguionie): B-/C+
25. The Kennel Murder Case (1933, Curtiz): B/B-
Reprising his role for the last time as Philo Vance, William Powell completes his warm-up round for his forthcoming Nick Charles in this short, snappy and ferociously paced whodunit. This is 100% about the central mystery with no irrelevant fat to be found. It is in this way that it stands out. It moves along in such a clip that you are thankfully left with no time to work through the questionable logic of said mystery.
#26. The Window (1949, Woolrich): B/B-
A unique film noir that places a child in the leading role in a take on the boy who cried wolf fable. Suspenseful with a palpable sense of increasing desperation. Bobby Driscoll sells his predicament so well and Ted Tetzlaff photographs him in prison-like shadows where stripes and cage-like shapes shroud him as he has nowhere to turn. The unglamorized setting of a lower-class New York City tenement also stands out. This is a Ralph Kramden-level run-down living space. It makes everything feel more foreboding with its narrow staircases, bare blotchy walls and leaky roofs. Would make a good double feature with The Fallen Idol; similarities in decade and child perspective but the wholly different purposes and stories would keep it from being redundant.
#27. When Ladies Meet (1933, Beaumont) : B+Full Review: https://cinenthusiast.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/review-when-ladies-meet-1933-beaumont/
#28. Tremors (1990, Underwood): BA really fun monster movie comedy that earns its cult status. These characters have lived in Perfection Valley forever, so the long-established love/hate relationship between everyone is well felt. You care because these are simple but likable characters with a sense of humor who work hard to earn their lives with everything the writer throws at them. The question of how-will-they-get-out-of-this is answered in some exciting ways and it switches up where the characters are throughout, constantly forcing them to come up with new plans. And the creature effects are fun to watch as well.