#46. A Clockwork Orange (1971)

I like weird things.

I can totally get into Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, I’m really into the music Brian Wilson recorded when he mind was gone, thought “The Silmarillion” was a good book and I can sit and stare at those acid-trippy visualization tools in Windows Media Player all the livelong day. But even “A Clockwork Orange” is too weird for me. That’s not to say I can’t appreciate it because there is some real talent behind this movie, but I don’t know that I will ever watch it again.

It’s not that I don’t have the stomach for it, because I’ve watched “Faces of Death” on a loop several times in my life, though the excessive violence (so much so that it is even referred to in the narration as ‘The Ultra Violence’) is certainly not for the squeamish. But it just doesn’t sit right with me. Strange given that all the things that speak to my social conscience are there like anti-heroes and an Orwellian Big-Brother presence.

A large part of the dialogue comes in the form of narration from the film’s main protagonist (though this movie stretches that definition more liberally than I have ever seen) Alex (Malcolm McDowell). He walks us through a typical night in the lives of him and his teenage friends. The surrealism begins early as we see the gang in some sort of chic lounge/club surrounded by several seemingly elite, almost yuppie-like people. There are ceramic statues that look like they belong in some kind of Mod-Museum that dispense beverages and almost futuristic looking chairs, sofas and barstools.

There are two very different and very important pieces of deception going on in these early shots. First off the décor and the clothing Alex and his friends are in both have a very futuristic look about them and their jumpsuits look almost reminiscent of space-suits. Perhaps this is done to make the movie not appear to be dated but I am sure it is more to imply that the story is set in the future, but conceivably in the viewer’s lifetime; thus making the events that follow seem scarier given that they are not depicted as so far off we shouldn’t worry about them. Secondly, the gang being dressed in all white in a setting where nobody else is, and drinking a beverage that looks misleadingly like milk while everyone else is drinking alcohol makes them look like they might be the good-guys- the representation of purity and wholesomeness. Yeah, not so much…

The action soon takes a shocking and disturbing turn as the gang surrounds a homeless drunk. After a quick back-and-forth of taunting each other, the boys viciously beat him to a state that I was positive was death until the man resurfaces later in the film. The gratuitous violence does not end here. In what is a disgustingly beautiful sequence a different gang is seen tormenting and raping a woman. As she is whipped back and forth to the rhythm of the background music and stripped in perfect time it almost appears to be some sort of hybrid between ballet and modern dance; especially given the fact that the attack is clearly happening on some sort of stage. However, the unsettling truth is revealed as the camera pans back further and shows the theater is noticeably derelict. Alex and his cohorts burst in as if they are heroes, beating the other men into submission.

Their moment of redemption is short-lived however though, as they are shown speeding through the country back-roads and arriving at a remote but urbanized home. Feigning an accident the group convinces the woman who lives there to let them in. Once inside they proceed to beat her elderly husband and force him to watch them rape his wife- all choreographed in perfect time to Alex cheerfully belting out the song “Singin’ in the Rain.” This is another aspect of something unspeakably awful occurring to the strains of music that would normally lighten the mood of a film; however this movie uses music to put an exclamation point on the things that intensify it.

Perhaps the most revealing glimpses of Alex’s character come after he goes home for the night. While it is always assumed that he is younger, it is appalling to learn that he still lives at home and is still in school- more surprising though is how little influence his parents have over him. His room is full of bizarre things like a pet snake in a drawer, a creepy, dancing Jesus statue and a collection of mini Beethoven tapes (Beethoven is later revealed to be his favorite musician). The ambiguity of time is again explored in the house as well, as the architecture is very abstract but his parents are dressed in gaudy, dated late-60’s/early 70’s bright clothes. The contrast between them and Alex seems to illustrate that perhaps they represent a different era than him, or that the addition of color somehow implies more character or personality than Alex, who generally delivers all his lines very emotionless and drably.

While he is supposed to be in school Alex is shown instead hanging around a record store. He picks up a pair of girls, presumably sisters, and takes them back home for a three-way. For the first time in the movie the camera remains relatively still, which is ironic since the scene features non-stop motion. The filming style prior to this scene typically featured a lot of tracking shots and camera movement. The scene is sped up the same way a silent-era comedy film would be- possibly because this is strangely one of the most light-hearted parts of the film. “The William Tell Overture” plays and the scene is treated almost as an interlude. While it may be considered cutting-edge or ironic this scene is ultimately out of place and winds up making little sense. I assume it is meant to illustrate the power Alex has over regular people to help explain why his parents and friends let him abuse them so much, but it just doesn’t seem to fit in.

Despite Alex clearly being identified as the leader of the gang, there are several examples of dissention among the ranks that first surface when Alex bullies his cohorts at the bar, again when he thwarts an attempted uprising and finally when they convince him to attack a woman who lives alone on a health farm. The assault goes horribly awry and Alex winds up murdering the woman with a huge ceramic penis (an action which lends itself to an entirely different level of interpretation; my personal theory is that it represents a culmination of Alex’s crimes all in one). The gang puts the exclamation point on their overthrowing of Alex by smashing him in the face with a bottle and leaving him for the police.

” I hope to God it'll torture you to madness!” (Probation Officer Deltoid, “A Clockwork Orange”)

The extended middle section of the film makes the most bold and ominous statements. Alex is systematically stripped of his identity and dignity, but still shows little remorse for his wrongdoings. It isn’t until he elects to be used as a guinea pig for an experimental Government conceived procedure that involves rehabilitation through visual and auditory association. He is strapped to a chair, has his eyes pried open and is forced to watch footage of several crimes similar to those he has committed as well as even more horrific atrocities including torture and genocide. All the visuals are drowned out by Beethoven’s 9th Symphony to create an aversion with the music and Alex, not unlike a reverse Pavlov’s Dog’s scenario. The therapy sessions are observed by various medical professionals and government employees, illustrating just how condoned this abhorrent form of conditioning is.

Once he is declared “cured” Alex is re-released into society. He is docile, submissive and practically catatonic. It seems as though there is some sort of a “what goes around comes around” theme to the film as we see Alex kicked out by his parents, beaten by a mob of homeless men led by the vagrant he almost killed at the beginning of the movie and even meets up with his old gang members who are now police officers who also beat him senseless. The reintroduction of the gang members/cops seems to comment more on their mental weakness rather than seeing Alex get his comeuppance as they are again shown as identityless drones, only taking orders from someone different, meanwhile we are supposed to feel sorry for Alex.

Alex again crosses paths with someone he has wronged when he stumbles to the home of the man he beat whose wife he raped earlier in the movie. Several revelations about the man are made at once; he has been left paralyzed from his injuries, his wife died a short time after the attack and he is an outspoken liberal activist. The most understated but telling revelation though is the fact that his name is Mr. Alexander. This not only has so many connotations of political activism (King Alexander of Russia) and the ability to be methodically violent (Alexander the Great) but even more to the point it draws a direct parallel between Alex and Mr. Alexander. And as we soon find out, he is capable of the same type of sadism as Alex- in fact he turns out to be quite the hypocrite. Once he discovers that Alex is his old assailant he tortures him with Beethoven’s 9th Symphony because he knows all about the form of rehabilitation he has undergone as he is an outspoken opponent of it, but soon exploits it himself to punish Alex.

After a failed suicide attempt (driven to madness by the punishment by Mr. Alexander) leaves him in a full-body cast, Alex becomes a poster child for the evils of the therapy and the government in general. In an effort to perform some damage control the Minister of the Interior arrives at the hospital to offer Alex a high-paying government job and basically sweet talk him into not suing them for his condition. As the film ends we see that Alex has completely recovered from the aversion therapy as he sadistically smiles at the camera. Not only does this suggest that the effects of such a treatment method carry the threat of negative backlash but also implies that just about anyone no matter how morally corrupt can attain a position of power and influence.

Yes “A Clockwork Orange” is a well made movie; there are numerous examples of symbolism and hidden meaning. It is technically sound with some incredible motion and tracking shots and excellent uses of jump cuts during the aversion therapy sequence. It is evident that a great deal of thought was put into every single aspect of the film and the depth of the satire and commentary would definitely be lost on many casual viewers. However, just because I get it doesn’t mean I enjoy it- though I can appreciate it on artistic merit. In other words, content-wise; wow. Entertainment-wise; meh.

#47. Taxi Driver (1976)

An ongoing debate among movie fans is “what 1976 movie deserved to win the Academy Award for Best Picture?” Of course the winner was “Rocky” (one of my all time favorite films) (http://straightfromthemachart.blogspot.com/2010/08/78-rocky-1976.html) but people have always made the case that it could just as easily have been “Network” (http://straightfromthemachart.blogspot.com/2010/10/66-network-1976.html) or “Taxi Driver.” Now that I have seen all three I finally feel like I get to take a more active role in these debates rather than just speaking as a “Rocky” apologist.

In have always carried around this assumption that Robert DeNiro was a highly overrated actor because I only knew his work that was released in my lifetime (featuring such gems as “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,” a subpar remake of “Night and the City” and those Focker movies) which is a crying shame. In a way, I suppose you could argue that the role he plays in “Taxi Driver” (Travis Bickle, a disturbed, paranoid veteran) is just another DeNiro tough-guy role, but it really isn’t that simple. Bickle is full of complexities and is an interesting and intense character study that handles mental illness with a level of caring but caution.

One thing I really liked right off the bat was the simple implication that Travis was a Vietnam veteran. It is never actually said, but it is implied heavily. In the beginning of the movie he applies to be a cabbie for a typical New York City taxi company. His “interview” consists of the manager asking him a couple of basic questions and essentially asking when he can start (while it may seem simplistic and unrealistic this is actually a good way of illustrating that Travis is likely forced into doing undesirable work simply by showing how easy it was to obtain). During the back and forth Travis simply mentions that he was in the military in the late 60’s and early 70’s. One could say it is undeniable that Travis went to Vietnam given the astronomical likelihood but leaving the question relatively ambiguous is important because it lets the viewer not only decide if he did or not, but if his mental state is a result of that or something the predates it. Essentially, what Scorsese does here is NOT simply use the red herring of blaming the war.

Travis’ mundane lifestyle in a drab and run-down apartment is shown over narration of letters he has written to his parents back home. His parents are never seen and the letters frequently contain lies that make him sound more together and important than he is. These narration scenes add so much to the narrative and viewing experience by again suggesting so much but not telling us anything. For all we know his parents aren’t even alive, are the lies about his life to mask his own disappointment or to meet lofty expectations he can’t attain? Is he so far gone that he believes his fantasy is reality? The questions that arise from this narrative device help keep the viewer as in-the-dark as anyone who may come into Travis’ life and never be let in enough to know him for who he is. For that matter the same could be true of Travis himself never knowing his true identity.

While I am on the subject, this is something that I believe warrants further exploration as it is an understated but recurring theme in this movie; identity. Travis not only has the unspoken identity crisis but also literally creates a false identity during an encounter with the Secret Service, the 12 year old prostitute he meets and eventually tries to rescue (Jody Foster) is simply referred to as “Iris” though we know this is probably a “stage name” and even Travis’ vain struggle to learn the name of the girl who sells concessions at the porno theater he frequents all touch on the concept of identity.

This notion goes one step further after Travis meets, courts and stalks a girl named Betsy (Cybil Shepherd). The two have a series of casual dates which culminate in him taking her to a porn movie thinking it is completely normal and what couples do since the films depict other couples. In several different locations (the campaign office where she volunteers, a diner he takes her to and the outside of the theater) any time we see Travis from Betsy’s perspective, there is always a taxi cab somewhere in the background. This implies that his own profession has become his identity in a way, as if she will always see him as “only” a taxi driver. In fact so much so that the first time she refers to him is when she calls him “that taxi driver” while telling a co-worker that he appears to be stalking her.

Ironically though, what makes Travis so complex is the fact that in many ways he is “better” than his peers and the people who are supposedly his social superiors. When he picks up the Presidential candidate Betsy volunteers for the Senator and one of his aides are clearly having a discussion about some kind of shady dealings. This principle is even explored subtly when veteran cabbies frequently talk nastily about different groups they won’t pick up or hold in contempt but Travis never participates in these discussions. For all of his social faults and diminished economic status, Travis always emerges as a good person.

"I think someone should just take this city and just... just flush it down the fuckin' toilet. ..." (Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver")

Though he rants about the criminals and evil-doers of New York society, Travis’ big crusade is to rescue Iris from her pimp (Harvey Keitel), so much so that it even creates a distraction from his obsession with Betsy. While his apartment had previously been dingy and littered with flowers for Betsy, near the climactic ending when he prepares to take matters into his own hands and clean up the city, the place is clean and organized. Travis is wearing a blindingly white shirt (clearly designed to represent purity) as he arms himself to the teeth, knowing he is going to kill Iris’ pimp. In a final act of being “over” Betsy, he burns the flowers in his sink, closing that chapter in his life.

The ensuing rampage Travis goes on is probably one of the greatest shooting sequences in recent film, however it probably also was the sole reason the movie lost the Oscar that year. Though great pains are taken to make the scene artistic (tinting the blood, incredible back-and-forth cuts and a suspenseful conclusion) it is ultimately way too violent but more to the point way too exaggerated- especially the scene where Travis blows a seedy hotel’s manager’s fingers off. When all is said and done Travis has killed the pimp, the hotel manager and the client Iris is with, all graphically and all right in front of her, which is ironically, possibly every bit as traumatizing as her forced prostitution. We have every reason to believe the police are going to blast Travis to kingdom come through the use of an overhead tracking shot which shows a freeze-frame of the entire trail of chaos he has caused; scattered bodies and bloody walls and all.

However, a strange dreamlike epilogue reveals that Travis is considered a hero for having killed a mafia kingpin and a couple two-bit criminals. Iris is safely back home with her parents and back in school just like Travis told her she should be and he is apparently comatose in the hospital. Though it is entirely possible this is all some sort of fantasy ending the final scenes are too “real” to suggest this in my opinion- especially where Travis appears to pick up Betsy then she seemingly vanishes from the back seat. This ending suggests more to me that Travis is still disturbed and delusional. It is important to point out though that the ending of the film shows Travis driving his cab in much better neighborhoods than before. Not only does this imply redemption but also illustrates how, at least in Travis’ view, the world is a little better after he has done his part.

“Taxi Driver” may not be as well written as “Network” or as inspirational as “Rocky” but in terms of the Big Three movies of 1976 it is easily the best made. I still like “Rocky” better though ;)

#48. Jaws (1975)

In college I took a film study class with a good friend of mine. One of the movies we discussed was the silent French film “A Trip to the Moon.” I had always had a certain passion for this movie because of the iconic imagery that has been duplicated in everything from the opening credits of “The Honeymooners” to the Queen video “Heaven for Everyone.” My friend however was not convinced and was totally mortified by the absurd special effect of the rocket embedding itself in the eye of the Man in the Moon. I had to remind him numerous times that Georges Melies was working within the limitations of a very primitive art from, but he was not convinced. The shoe was on the other foot when I first watched “Jaws” recently and found myself mortified at how bad the shark looked when it popped out of the water. It takes a helluva movie to overcome really bad special effects, but “Jaws” manages to do just that.

Set in the fictional Northeastern town of Amity (a clever tool in and of itself to conjure up the auditory similarity to Amityville and make us associate it with terror and evil) “Jaws” is so much more than the shock-value gore flick that tries to scare you with an unscary monster much the way a movie like “Godzilla” I thought it was going to be. In addition to being a psychological thriller that exploits some of the most primal of human fears, it also flirts with the concept of corruption, politicking and endangering the lives of everyday citizens for economic and Public Relations benefits, kind of like how we killed our own people by blowing up those towers, but that is more of an opinion so I digress.

Due to an irrational fear of water that first began to manifest itself when I was 5 years old and almost drowned in a Jacuzzi at Wild Waters Water Park I didn’t learn to swim until I was 13 years old (true story, make fun all you want, I don’t feel this emotion you call “shame”). In spite of this though, I wasn’t convinced that “Jaws” would be all that scary to me because the movie isn’t about drowning, it is about getting devoured by a shark that would never come that close to shore on a public beach in real life. However the ingenious thing about “Jaws” is that neither one of these devices are used as the basis of the film’s fear element; instead the overall theme seems to be that the scariest things are the ones we can’t see. This idea surfaces numerous times throughout and does so in several different ways; whether it is seeing the damage the shark has done after the fact to show us what it is capable of or the more “unseen” evil of backdoor politicking and shifty goings-on.

The first victim of the shark is a drunken girl who is cavorting on the beach with a guy she just met (presumably since he asks her name). After a few drinks and a little sex the girl decides to go skinny dipping in the ocean. The shark pursues the girl in the water as the ominous, simplistic and now legendary music plays. There is so much about this opening sequence that lends itself to the expressionist horror films of the early part of the 20th century; the clanging of buoy alarms and ship bells in the distance replace the tolling of cathedral bells and scary clocks and the underwater point-of-view shots from the perspective of the shark as he stalks his prey borrow heavily from the marine moviemaking techniques perfected in “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Despite the gruesomeness of her demise there is something about this opening scene that is darkly poetic. And to think, if this movie would have been made ten years later this girl would have known that everyone who drinks underage and has sex in a somewhat public place always gets killed by some kind of monster. I guess Stephen Spielberg created a formula with this opening. Because it is so dark outside she never sees the shark coming, though the fact that it is so deadly quiet makes this scene even more chilling since it establishes the stealthness of the shark.

"Back home we got a taxidermy man. He gonna have a heart attack when he see what I brung him!" (Quint, "Jaws")

Roy Scheider plays Police Chief Brody, a New York cop again, though in a vastly superior and more developed way than in films like “The French Connection” and “The Seven-Ups.” This time he is a transplant who is unfamiliar with the New England surroundings and behaves as such. Also, it is important to note that even though he is Amity’s Chief of Police, he is still relatively naïve, his reaction to the discovery of the first victim as well as his surprise when local elected officials attempt to bury the shark story.

It turns out everyone in the Amity political system minus Brody is hell bent on going through with the cover-up. Economics are as key a factor as public image, as the beach’s bread and butter is the summer tourist season. The Mayor, other deputies, even the medical examiner all downplay the seriousness of the situation and defy Brody’s orders to close the beaches. It isn't until a little boy falls prey to the shark that the citizens express any kind of outrage or trepidation.

Even after the attack though, the bureaucracy still wishes to sweep the incident under the carpet. When a tiger shark is captured off the coast it is proudly put on display and advertised as the shark that has been causing all the terror even though they know this is not the case. Brody finds an unlikely ally in the form of Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfus) a shark expert who instantly calls bullshit on the tiger shark story. The addition of a mercenary fisherman/shark hunter known as Quint (Robert Shaw) creates a protagonist trio that is among the best ever assembled for a film as each man is distinctly different in personality as well as their motivations for wanting to capture the shark.

The movies takes on a sort of “Old Man and the Sea”/”Moby Dick” feel as the three men set out in Quint’s boat to capture the shark. The pursuit of the shark and subsequent underwater encounter scenes completely make up for the couple of silly scenes where the shark emerges from the water looking phony as hell. It is also in the pursuit of the shark that the film becomes eerily psychological, particularly when Hooper goes into the water in a shark cage (which proves to be worthless against the shark itself) to attempt to harpoon the shark with a sort of jerry-rigged poison spear. The outline of the shark swimming below the boat, the ripples in the water as he draws closer and the physical damage to the shark cage does more to paralyze you with fear than any of the more violent and, let’s face it, hokey scenes where the shark mauls people on the beach.

Brody and Hooper survive the assault and manage to blow the shark to bits. What easily could have been an anti-climactic swim back to shore or an overly sappy reunion scene between the two turns into a perfect lighthearted and somewhat silly ending as the two laugh and crack jokes as they float off towards land together. This ending not only rounds out the intensity of the previous several minutes nicely but also homages classic film as the heroes ride off into the proverbial sunset.

Overall the two things that impress me the most about the movie are the limited amount of times we actually see the shark (this causes it to not be redundant and also shows that the script and the atmospheric shooting were good enough to not have to rely on the shark) and the impressive amount of film lore in the film, particularly with the clever references and tips-of-the-cap to other movies that are found throughout.

Though I probably would be wasting my time if I were to explore the sequels…

#49. Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

A European movie from the 70’s referred to as “Animal Farm” is widely regarded as the first bestiality porno flick ever made (you learn strange things when your state makes national news for one of its residents having been screwed to death by a horse). What I am getting at is even though a movie is groundbreaking or innovative, that doesn’t necessarily make it good. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” was the first feature-length animated film and seemingly for that reason alone, it is regarded as a masterpiece of cinema.

Since there is a complete absence of motion picture devices such as character development, significant shots/camera angles and thematic relevance (though in the movie’s defense this is probably due to the fact that it was intended for kids rather than just lack of creativity) I won’t spend a lot of time discussing the context of different scenes in the film like I have for others on this list.

Before I get too far off track here let me just make it abundantly clear that I think the animation in this film is just about the best that has ever existed. There is a fluidity to the movement of the characters that you just don’t see in most cartoons. It’s almost as if the animation is just superimposed over live action, all the way down to the flowing of garments. The colors are also very sharp and vibrant and contrast each other very well, from the forest scenery to the differences in the Dwarfs’ clothing.

Another element of the film that I at least found to be enjoyable was the presentation. To maintain the fairytale vibe it begins in book form, with pages turning to move the narrative along. The introduction of the Wicked Queen is so simplistic but so effective in letting us know who is the villain. Much the way old spaghetti westerns manage to avoid having to put any thought into the depth of personalities by putting the bad guys in black hats and the good guys in white hats, we are just trained in a very primal way that the Queen who is wearing all black is the bad person and that Snow White is the good person… Hell they even bake “white” right into her name. Though I will say this, anyone who puts a hit out on their own step-daughter does qualify as a remarkable villain.

“Next thing you know, she'll be tyin' your beards up in pink ribbons and smellin' ya up with that stuff called, uh... "perfoom.” (Grumpy, “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”)

One scene that seems relatively out of place but still is very visually stimulating involves Snow White finding herself lost in the forest after the hunter who is supposed to kill her turns her loose and persuades her to flee her stepmother. In an effort to convey to the audience how deep her fears are, the sequence is dark and eerily drawn. The scary eyes skulking in the shadows turn out to be the kind and helpful woodland creatures. Night seemingly fades into day as Snow White realizes she is safe and the dark music segues appropriately.

While on the subject of music, this film borders on a musical with the way it relies on song to tell the story and explore the characters. From the recurring refrain of “Someday My Prince Will Come” to the way “Bluddle Uddle Um Dum” introduces us to the individual personalities of the Dwarfs, music serves an almost crutch-like function in this movie. Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem were it paced better. Much like the handicaps “An American in Paris” faces, there are either too many extended musical scenes in too short a time, too long of stretches without one or they simply seem out of place.

I know I’m probably putting too much stock in what is supposed to be a kid’s movie but there were just too many things about “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” that were either oversimplified, glossed over or just plain creepy. Some of my biggest beefs with the picture were the passing mention that Snow White’s father is dead without any reference as to how (especially since there is some implication that the Queen is entirely capable of having killed him for gain) let alone the nature of their relationship and the effect of his death on her. Secondly, I think it’s creepy in any scenario but especially in a cartoon that the Dwarfs wouldn’t bury the presumably dead Snow White after she eats the poisoned apple. Keeping her body in a glass casket seems weird, morbid and as if it encourages inappropriate grieving. Lastly, what the hell is up with the Prince not only falling in love with a girl he had one brief encounter with, but engaging in necrophilia (let’s not church it up, that’s what kissing a dead girl is) with her? Sure I may be overanalyzing it, but if you are going to throw a movie like this on such a prestigious list you have to know there is going to be scrutiny.

Don’t think that the highly publicized speculation that Walt Disney was probably a raging Anti-Semite is impairing my ability to critique Walt Disney’s films fairly or accurately- as I appreciated and rather enjoyed much of what he attempted to do in “Fantasia” (#58 in this blog) I just wasn’t entertained by this particular movie. There was a lot of potential in what was trying to be done, especially in the way the human condition is explored through the various personalities of the Dwarfs (all given a different name that corresponds with an emotion or a state of being), but it just never punches the ball into the end zone.

#50. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; as a general rule I don’t like westerns.

Prior to seeing such masterpieces as “Stagecoach” and “Shane” the only films in this genre I even gave a second look were the “Young Guns” films. Now, I know they are badly acted, poorly directed and generally very corny but the aces up their sleeve I always referenced were the fact that, based on all the Billy the Kid research I have done, these films were far and away more historically accurate than movies like “Chisum” and (ironically) “The True Story of Jesse James.” I also loved what I perceived to be the uniqueness of incorporating modern-day popular music into a genre where we typically only hear banjos and harmonicas in the soundtrack. It appears “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” at least beat them to the punch on the latter.

Other than the setting and time frame there isn’t really much about this movie that would suggest it is a western. It seems to be more of a light-hearted comedy that happens to have some shootouts rather than an intense, gun-blazing action movie. Also, the two main characters are far from the stereotypical one-dimensional badasses we’re used to seeing in these types of films.

I appreciate the honesty of the director (George Roy Hill) by cutting through the crap right away with the on-screen text “Most of what follows is true.” This all but acknowledges how much artistic license is taken in movies that depict real characters. The introduction of the two main characters is rather drawn-out and made me fearful of the rest of the movie. The sepia-saturated picture tinting is a cool effect that projects the feeling of an old-time photograph but continues after an initial poker-hustling sequence. The continuation of the sepia after the logical stopping point makes it seem like the whole movie may be shot this way, which would just be intolerable- thankfully though, the color does eventually begin to fade in, almost like a sunrise as Butch (Paul Newman) and The Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) ride on horseback over a draw, exposing a vast, sun-glazed countryside.

As Butch and Sundance reunite with their famous Hole-in-the-Wall gang, a slight uprising of sorts is taking places as a faction of turncoats. This scene is important for two reasons; first off it establishes Butch Cassidy’s character as a less than honorable but still lovable guy (he quells the rebellion by agreeing to fight for leadership with another member of the gang, then swiftly kicks him in the balls) and secondly sets the stage for many more laughs to come as well as blatantly bucking the trends of other westerns. In this case the Cowboy Code of Honor concept is, well, kicked squarely in the nuts.

As if podiatrically emasculating his fellow gang member isn’t enough, Butch then steals his idea to rob a money train not once but twice (once on its initial drop and once after reloading with cash after the robbery, assuming their burglars will have already fled with the spoils of their first heist). The ensuing action leads to yet another send-off of the western cliché of the train robbery. In this case though, the robbery is not graceful or flawlessly executed; instead it is bungled and sloppy. Instead of being ruthless and coldhearted the pair ends up showing sympathy for the agent tasked with guarding the money whom they have recklessly blown up by throwing dynamite into the car in an attempt to blast the safe. This uncharacteristic display of humanity coupled with the hilarity of the rest of the train’s crew seeming more starstruck over being robbed by Butch Cassidy than fearful of the fact that they are, well, being robbed by Butch Cassidy.

Following the robbery we are introduced to Sundance’s girlfriend Etta. Though she is presented as something of a prude, bookworm type we soon discover that she is anything but. Not only does she appear to be sexually adventurous but there is a more-than-subtle implication that she is either interested in or has been involved with Butch. In a relatively nonsensical scene Butch takes Etta for a ride on a bicycle (a far cry from the stereotypical horse) as B.J. Thomas’ “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” plays over the scenery like a musical montage… a completely inexplicable musical montage. Obviously I understand that this device is used to show an emotional connection between the two but damn it feels weird. I will take “Blaze of Glory” over B.J. Thomas anytime, but to each their own.

After the strange musical interlude/introduction to Etta we see the gang follow through with their plan to rob the train again. The plan fails epically when it turns out that a posse has been assembled to foil the theft. The pursuit culminates in a worst-of-both-worlds choice: face the music or escape the gunfight by jumping off a cliff into a river down below which may or may not be deep enough to sustain life after a huge plunge. The back and forth banter Redford and Newman exchange in this sequence is tear-inducing. The revelation that Sundance can’t swim is the cherry on the top of the gag sundae.

Needless to say, they jump and live. And the wide-angle vertical shot of the two in free-fall while screaming “SHIIIIIIIIT” is a perfect representation of the whole film- lightheartedness even in the face of grim circumstances. Not only is the placement of such a geographic feature again contrary to a western film, but the majority of the outdoor scenery is. Rather than the massive deserts or sprawling prairies this film is lush with forest and greenery. One more thing about this scene in particular that I believe warrants a nod is the fact that it is so unique and refreshing (and unorthodox) to show a protagonist in a western AVOIDING a gunfight.

As Butch, Sundance and Etta make their way to Bolivia in an effort to escape the law another montage of sorts takes shape- this one far more appropriate and fitting. It is set up when Butch discards his bicycle; as the front wheel spins a clicking noise reminiscent of a film-reel is heard. A collection of still photographs is then shown, playing even more off the rudimentary movie feel, which illustrates the gang’s exploits along the road to Bolivia via New York.

“I'll go with you, and I won't whine, and I'll sew your socks, and I'll stitch you when you're wounded, and I'll do anything you ask of me except one thing. I won't watch you die.” (Etta Place, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”)

Once in Bolivia all the previous little bits of dialogue in the movie that seemed either unimportant or secondary begins to manifest itself into heavy-duty foreshadowing; a sheriff warning them that they are going to be gruesomely killed, Butch and Sundance constantly referencing how they want to “go straight,” Etta agreeing that she is going to go back to the U.S. if the situation becomes hopeless and her subsequent announcement that she is doing just that. These are just a few examples of how the film prepares you for the grimmest of endings. And even that winds up being a surprise when the climactic final gunfight isn’t actually shown and the movie ends as the two charge into certain death gloriously and fearlessly. There is no doubt the two are going to be massacred but we aren’t forced to watch it happen, we get to see them go out with dignity, which is a comfort because, for whatever reason, we like these guys when all is said and done.

Overall, I think the feeling I get from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” is a fish-out-of-water theme. This movie is a western that bends over backwards to avoid being a western. The characters don’t match up to the ridiculous machismo of westerns prior, the music and mood aren’t quite in context to the subject matter and as I have mentioned before the scenery and personalities of the main characters are decidedly not western. There are definitely ways to parody something without dumping all over it (ala “Scary Movie” or countless Mel Brooks offerings). This film is very much a respectful jab at the genre and in being so makes it strangely unique.

On a totally minor side-note, Cloris Leachman plays the proprietor of a whorehouse, so suck on that Betty White- she was edgy WAAAAAAAAAY before you were!

#51. The Philadelphia Story (1940)

If I were going to assemble my dream Super Group it would consist of Roger Waters on bass, Brian May on guitar, Eric Carr on drums, Brian Wilson on keyboards and Roy Orbison on lead vocals… and they would be produced by Phil Spector… and instead of a tour bus they would travel around in a spaceship. However if I were going to assemble a dream cast (not to be confused with the terrible late-90’s video game system) George Cuckor would have beaten me to it when he cast “The Philadelphia Story.” Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart are about as good a cast as you could possibly ask for and they bring legitimate belly laughs to a film that could have just been another awful romantic comedy.

The opening scene shows Dexter Haven (Cary Grant) walking out on Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn) and though there is no dialogue the physical acting is more than enough to indicate the two are married but clearly not for long. Based on many examples I’ve seen in older films (and this one is no exception) back in the day, the true way to tell if a man was serious about separating from his wife was to leave with his golf clubs. As they are parting ways Dexter motions as if he is going to hit Tracy but then just lightly nudges her and walks away, though Tracy falls to the ground as though she has just been struck- I’m glad I paid attention to this scene because it shows up later on the quiz.

Once the dialogue kicks in we find out that Tracy is a famous socialite who is planning to marry again, this time it is to a more “working class man” named George. Although George’s introduction includes the revelation that he is not well versed in equestrienne practices and that he used to work a laborious job that involved him getting dirty he is clearly no “man of the people.” He is actually running for elected office and expresses a vocal support of the press’ interest in their engagement as a possible momentum boost for his upcoming campaign.

Though their wedding is supposed to be a private event, every journalist in the northeast is vying for exclusivity rights to covering it. Rather than a respectable news outlet, the nod goes to “Spy” magazine, whose editor has basically blackmailed his way into the wedding. A reporter, Macaulay Connor (Jimmy Stewart) and photographer/platonic friend Elizabeth are assigned to the story and arrive at the Lord House first to pose as family friends, however Katharine calls them out almost immediately and while she is annoyed by their presence she allows them to stay because of the dirt their editor supposedly has on her family.

Soon Dexter is back in the picture (as he is also at the mercy of the “Spy” editor) he elects to stay for the wedding, largely due to the fact that Tracy’s mother and sister Dinah still adore him. Dinah’s attempts to both outshine her older sister as well as be the center of attention for all the new guests in the house makes for some of the funniest moments in the movie. The little girl who plays her (Virginia Weidler) has all of Katharine Hepburn’s mannerisms down cold and passes as a miniature version of Tracy perfectly. Not only is this good acting but it also gives the viewer a glimpse at what Tracy was probably like at that age and presumably always has been like. Though it is revealed that Dexter’s alcoholism was the main detriment to his and Tracy’s marriage, it is obvious that Tracy is not perfect either.

The scenes involving Dexter, Tracy and Macaulay all reinforce the importance of the film’s ensemble casting approach as the three work very well together and these scenes more than any others give us important insight into all the characters in a short amount of time. Dexter and Tracy both paint a generally negative picture of the other to Macaulay and, depending on how one retorts, denies or confirms what the other says, the more we learn what probably is and isn’t true about the characters.

One sequence in the film where this is particularly important centers around Dexter telling Macaulay about how Tracy’s life of privilege has prevented her from having a realistic view of the world or the ability to experience life the way regular people have. He explains that no matter what the circumstance she has always had someone around to “soften the blow” for her and thus shelter her from any kind of negativity or hardship. Despite all the witty repartee the two exchange, these comments in particular seem to genuinely hurt Tracy.

”I thought our marriage was for life, but the nice Judge gave me a full pardon” (Tracy Lord, “The Philadelphia Story”)

Now, here is where we revisit the opening divorce scene: not only does Dexter talk about people in Tracy’s life figuratively softening the blow, but we realize that this expression even applies in the literal sense as Dexter decided against actually striking her in a moment of extreme anger. In a sense he is just as guilty as everyone else of ensuring Tracy’s life is relatively insulated. More to the point though, when Tracy physically reacts the way she does to Dexter’s powder-puff shove, it indicates that she is overly dramatic and does not take even the slightest amount of harshness very well. Dinah also confirms this when she hears that Dexter is coming to the house and asks matter-of-factly if he is going to punch out Tracy again. Obviously she has been embellishing the details of their break-up.

Strangely enough, from all this bitterness a love-triangle sort of story (or whatever a situation involving a woman having feelings for 3 men would be called… love cube?) develops. Tracy finds herself fascinated by Macaulay, rediscovering old feelings for Dexter (which first manifest themselves in a scene where she talks about the boat they spent their honeymoon on-leading to some incredible repressed emotive acting on Katharine Hepburn’s part) and struggling with her feelings about George. To complicate matters even more, it slowly begins to creep out that Macaulay and Elizabeth’s friendship may be more than just that. First when Macaulay dramatically overreacts at learning Elizabeth is divorced and later by Elizabeth’s body language as she silently recognizes the chemistry between Macaulay and Tracy.

The introduction of Tracy’s philandering father cements the level of wackiness and eccentricity that takes place at the Lord house. The openness of how the family discusses his marital indiscretions only fuels the possibility of grade-A tabloid gossip that could be drawn from the lives of the Lord family, however the more layers are peeled back the more human and flawed they clearly are and thus the less predatory Macaulay seems about the assignment and just like that he becomes admirable.

It seems as though Tracy has made her decision as to who she truly loves when she goes swimming with Macaulay after the two have spent a night drinking and he subsequently carries her to her bedroom. However it is revealed in the morning that the events of the evening were actually harmless and brought the two of them together in a more meaningful way than attraction. Despite the benignity of their activities George confronts Tracy moments before the wedding demanding an explanation and an apology. Citing not only their differences as people (which emerge more and more over the course of the movie) but George’s clear lack of trust as well as the overwhelming evidence that George is more concerned with his image than he is their relationship Tracy abruptly ends their engagement.
That’s one suitor down.

Frantic over the sudden change of plans and the realization that there is a virtual mob waiting for her wedding to start Tracy decides she needs to ensure that some kind of wedding takes place. Macaulay offers his hand and hastily proposes to Tracy which she dismisses comedically but still compassionately- much to Elizabeth’s relief and seemingly even Macaulay’s since the two seem to have something of a rediscovery of each other at this point.
That’s two suitors down.

Motivated not only by their reignited feelings for each other but also Dexter’s admission to Tracy that he now sees her as a real person and not an elevated, untouchable deity, the two are able to fall back in love and give their marriage a serious second chance. In a display of true class and non-hostility Macaulay offers to be Dexter’s best man. In the final lines of dialogue it is even suggested that tensions may soothe between Tracy and her estranged father. For lack of a more appropriate cliché, it appears alls-well-that-ends-well.

In a very similar way to “Bringing up Baby,” “The Philadelphia Story” maintains an excellent balance of depth and light-heartedness. It NEVER takes itself very seriously but successfully depicts multiple facets of personalities. I also have to believe this is one of the earliest examples of the eventual decline of journalistic standards in this country; otherwise it is simply eerily prophetic. There is scathing social commentary that runs throughout without ever having to be harsh or damning, particularly towards matters of class and celebrity. The notion of the media building people up only to tear them down is ever-present, as is the blithe unawareness people in the upper-reaches of society have about their public perception. “The Philadelphia Story” never has to be vicious or catty, nor does it have to make the characters who must undergo change in order to become better people look foolish or ridicule them.

Perez Hilton could learn a lot from this film.

#52. From Here to Eternity (1953)

The only thing I knew about “From Here to Eternity” before I watched it was the ridiculously famous beach scene where Burt Lancaster intensely kisses Deborah Kerr as the tide crashes around them. Based on this knowledge I expected this to be a dated and corny love story. The kind of movie where a girl refers to a guy as “dreamy.” Basically I assumed it was going to just be about two in love people frolicking on a beach- sort of like a high-brow version of “The Blue Lagoon.” However as it turns out “From Here to Eternity” is gritty, dark and even a little sleazy. Oh yeah, and Donna Reed plays a whore!

Montgomery Clift, who completely won me over with his acting ability in 1951’s “A Place in the Sun” plays Pvt. Robert E. Lee Prewitt, an Army bugler who is so good he was once asked to play “Taps” at Arlington National Cemetery on Armistice Day. However as he arrives at his new unit, an infantry brigade he asked to be transferred to despite having none of the relevant skills, we discover he once had an even greater talent; boxing. Despite urging from his new chain-of-command he refuses to sign up for the company boxing team. Soon the urging turns to bullying when the Company Commander, Cpt. Homes, persuades his men to torture Prewitt to the point of breaking down and joining the team, as he would surely lead them to victory in an upcoming Army-wide boxing tournament. Throughout the film there are subtle, almost unnoticeable reminders as to the time frame; late 1941… oh yeah, and the base is in Hawaii…

Despite his status as the unit’s black sheep, Prewitt does find an ally in another Private, Maggio (Frank Sinatra, who plays up every Italian stereotype in the book but in a very unexaggerated way) who is also something of an odd-man-out because of his “whatever” attitude towards military life. The two spend whatever free time they can get when they aren’t being punished with shit-jobs at a local nightclub near the base that employs many “hostesses” to keep the men company. It is at this club that Prewitt meets another person he can connect with who is also struggling to find an identity; “Lorene” (played by Donna Reed) is the stage name of one of the prostitutes on the club’s payroll.

In a candid and emotional conversation with Prewitt she reveals that her real name is Alma and that she left a small Orgeonian town (always love a shout-out to the Pac N.W.) to become rich but found that she had to turn to prostitution to make ends meet. I don’t like this “girl-leaves-a-small-town-to-strike-it-rich” plot contrivance and feel like Alma’s character really suffers because of it. This concept had been played out as far back as 1931 with “Waterloo Bridge” so I can’t even really forgive it for being unique and edgy for its time. I also think the concept as a whole is sort of a cop-out in that it explains that a character who might be fringe or outcast didn’t used to be that way- thus not having to actually devote any time to showing a decline or change in character.

Alma learns that the reason Prewitt does not want to be a fighter anymore is because of the heart-wrenching guilt he feels over having accidently blinded an opponent. The revelation that the two were merely sparring serves two very important purposes; first, it shows that Prewitt was never overly hostile but simply didn’t know his own strength, which immediately establishes him as a good person without having to insult the viewer’s intelligence. Secondly it indicates just how powerful he must be and hence why Cpt. Holmes is so aggressive in his attempts to lure Prewitt onto the boxing team.

As strange as it seems, the iconic beach scene and the entire Deborah Kerr/Burt Lancaster storyline is actually merely part of the film’s subplot. Burt Lancaster plays Milton Warden, the Company First Sergeant who resents Cpt. Holmes because of the fact that Holmes not only makes Warden do all his bitch work but also expects him to cover for his superior when his wife Karen comes to the base looking for him. Despite rampant rumors of her promiscuity from other NCO’s as well as first-hand accounts, Warden begins an affair with her. Scenes depicting the home life of Holmes and his wife indicate just how much of a sham their marriage is. They even openly discuss his extramarital affairs as if they are something that is just accepted.

The two subsequently plan for the possibility of a future together that involves (at Karen’s insistence) him getting a commission and becoming an officer. Though she touches on the fact that she can’t divorce her husband and marry him without Warden going to military prison I couldn’t help getting the feeling that Karen’s gold-digging nature was also a motivating factor. Further evidence of this is unconsciously demonstrated by Karen in her constant referral to Warden as “Sergeant” which shows us exactly how she sees him. Despite the fact that Cpt. Holmes is ultimately a douchebag and probably deserves to be cheated on, Karen’s well-documented sluttiness makes the beach scene, which even though adulterous still could have been a thing of artistic beauty and a representation of uninhibited passion, just plain sleazy.

Though the two break up when Warden admits he has no interest in being an officer, there is a subtle brilliance to the scene depicting their parting. The two end their conversation agreeing that they will see each other again someday and, as Karen walks off she makes an abrupt right turn off camera just as a road sign becomes visible above her head indicating that the left road leads to Pearl Harbor; meaning that fate is about to take them down two entirely different paths soon as the attack on the US occurs not long after this scene.

The single best piece of character development we see in this movie comes when Warden finally tires of seeing how harshly abused Prewitt is by order of Cpt. Holmes and sets aside his hostility towards him and even befriends him one night while the two are drinking. He declares his support for Prewitt and even discusses his relationship with Karen. Meanwhile Holmes’ career is destroyed when a military tribunal learns of his orders to dog Prewitt and every NCO involved is busted back down to a Private. To add insult to injury, Holmes’ beloved boxing club is all but shut down.

A third subplot running through “From Here to Eternity” is the conflict between Maggio and the Army, specifically a stockade guard he gets into a fight with at the nightclub. The tension between the two progressively increases every time they cross paths, culminating with a broken-up knife fight. Maggio unfortunately plays right into the guard’s hands when he skips guard duty one night (in a shift he is only given because his superiors don’t like him) and is declared AWOL. Even though he had no intention of fleeing he is given a harsh sentence where the guard is able to beat him to death.

“What do you want to go back to the Army for? What did the Army ever do for you besides treat you like dirt and give you one awful going-over and get your friend killed? What do you want to go back to the Army for?” (Alma Burke, “From Here to Eternity”)

We see a major change in Prewitt from this point on. Rather than being emotionally detached he is quick to display feelings, both of sadness (he openly cries while playing “Taps” in honor of Maggio) as well as rage when he follows the stockade guard into a dark alley and stabs him to death in an obvious back-reference to the knife fight that almost occurred between the guard and Maggio.

The assault on the guard is one of the best and worst aspects of the movie. The struggle between the two looks laughable on film however as they both amble into a blind spot in the dark alley, a well-done feeling of suspense takes place. Prewitt emerges but he has clearly been wounded also. He takes to hiding out with Alma once the investigation into the stabbing begins and seems as though he may finally have enough resentment for the Army to leave it behind once and for all. Given the fact that he has every reason to based on the level of abuse he has taken for his refusal to box, the murder of his only real friend and the disproportionate workload he see the rest of the lower-ranking soldiers are forced to take on , it is shocking that he still maintains a fierce loyalty to the military.

Though he has been AWOL for some time after his injury, Prewitt hears of the attack on Pearl Harbor and immediately decides he is going back to his unit, despite Alma’s pleas for him to stay. His departure from Alma’s life is flawless from a cinematography standpoint. Her apartment is shrouded in darkness because of the post-attack blackouts as Prewitt leaves her sobbing in the blackness. Like in the knife fight with the stockade guard, Prewitt emerges from the shadows after having decided to do what he believes is the right thing and leaving another life in pieces. Then of course there are the artistic implications of tragedy being associated with darkness. Despite his act of selflessness Prewitt is given the final middle-finger from the Army as he is killed by a sentry when attempting to rejoin his unit.

A sort of epilogue occurs on a ship sailing back to the continental US from Hawaii. Karen and Alma cross paths briefly and lament their failed love lives. Though the end result is left very ambiguous it is evident that the women are both going home with their tails between their legs, but are still courageously pushing forward with their lives. The two women epitomize the main character trait running through the film- isolation. They both leave Hawaii alone much the way Maggio, Prewitt and Warden lived their lives day-to-day.

Sadly I think the most important aspect of “From Here to Eternity” is the attention to detail in the dialogue. I say sadly because I think it is something that largely goes unnoticed. The banter between the troops is totally realistic and unique for a military film. I could never relate my own Army experiences to films like “Band of Brothers.” Soldiers talk about the women they’ve banged or are going to bang when they go on leave, the dialogue between the men in this film, especially the enlisted men, is the truest credit to its authenticity.

Though I do love me some anti-war movies, it is refreshing to see a war film that isn't necessarily preachy. It is very down-the-middle in showing the good and bad in relation to the military. Let me say this, if you are going to watch a movie about the attack on Pearl Harbor and your options are "From Here to Eternity" or "Pearl Harbor" and you chose the latter then you deserve everything you get...

#53. Amadeus (1984)

“Amadeus” was the first movie I ever owned. I got it on VHS when I was 7 years old. When I made the transition to DVD it was the first movie I bought. In fact I had been trying to combat the format of DVD but gave up the fight one day when I saw there was a 2-disc Director’s Cut of “Amadeus.” Basically what I’m saying is that if you think you are going to get objective and emotionally-removed insight into this film, then you are the kind of person who would have watched John Madden commentate a Brett Favre game and not expected to hear the word “handsome.”

What is good and right and beautiful about “Amadeus” is the scope of different cinematic staples explored in it. It is an intense character study, it is an amazing example of a protagonist vs. antagonist story and it is packed with symbolism and metaphor. However, it is also a very unconventional film in that the protagonist isn’t necessarily the “good” guy in the conflict, we see the entire film through the perspective of one character and it is one of very few films to actually portray a character actually doing battle with “God.” At least in concept, and yes I mean God the omnipotent being, not fighting with a God like “Clash of the Titans” or some such rubbish.

The chief narrator of the movie, Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) is introduced as a cantankerous old man. His attempted suicide after shouting a very insane-sounding decades-old confession is gruesome and crude (he blades his own throat). Though Salieri does survive, he is admitted into an insane asylum due to his insistence that he murdered famed classical composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Tom Hulce- who makes an incredible leap to serious actor from his previously most well-known role; the immature and dorky Pinto in the equally immature and dorky “Animal House”). When a priest arrives to minister to Salieri he makes the mistake of telling him that all men are equal in God’s eyes. This triggers an almost sadistic reaction from Salieri who begins to narrate the film in flashback mode in hopes of convincing the priest otherwise. Flashback is a very effective way to illustrate character development as we can see the person at several different points in their life and of course we know what the end point is because we see them in their final stages first. However, flashback can also be a major cop-out in that it replaces actual onscreen development; thus making it a fine line to walk.

The young Salieri is only interested in music and dedicates his life to being a composer, which his father will have none of. When he hears the tales of the child prodigy Mozart his desire to play music only intensifies. In a very clever scene contrasting the lives of the two boys we see Salieri having fun and playing games like a normal child and Mozart being treated as a near sideshow attraction. However instead of reveling in the fact that he was not robbed of his childhood by an obsessed stage parent, he laments the fact that he was not. This innovative tool not only draws nonverbal comparisons between the two, but also lets us know that the narration will not be objective or even rational; a unique twist on the concept of one dominant narrator, whom we are usually supposed to simply trust.

A devout Catholic, Salieri’s disturbing doctrine manifests itself further as he is shown praying for the death of his father simply so that he can be allowed to pursue his musical aspirations, both of which occur. The twisted rationale is that God performed this miracle in order to grant Salieri his wish which, though I don’t even pretend to know the first thing about Catholicism, seems to me like it is probably not in line with the teachings of any mainstream church. Nonetheless, Salieri is so grateful to God for smiting his father that he devotes himself to making music for God. However, this selfless act is clearly contradicted by Salieri’s constant references to the general popularity of his music and how many influential people he is able to work for and with.

When Salieri first crosses paths with his idol Mozart, he sees him to be a rude and vulgar man-child. This not only changes Salieri’s impression of Mozart, but also makes him envious of his talents. In addition, he feels slighted by God that he has “chosen” Mozart to be his instrument rather than Salieri- again for no other reason than because Mozart’s music and name are more well-known than his own. A one-sided rivalry between the two begins to develop, as Mozart is not only unaware of Salieri’s feelings towards him but actually appears to like him, save a couple scenes where he gets in some little jabs behind his back.

Mozart however, is not also without fault. He certainly IS rude and vulgar as he is initially depicted, but he is also very egotistical, at one point declaring (while in the presence of another musician) that he while he may not be the only composer in Vienna, he is the best. He even tells Salieri that he composed several variations based on melodies of Salieri’s- however rather than ending the compliment there, goes on to explain that Salieri’s piece at least “yielded some good things.” Mozart does not generally mean to be confrontational or openly malicious, he simply does by being so blithely unaware of his lack of graciousness; which makes his actions both forgivable but frustrating.

One of the centerpieces of the film is Mozart’s obnoxious, high-pitched cackle of a laugh that Salieri insists is God laughing at him every time it is heard. There is a magnificent ambiguity to this laugh that almost suggests it is either not as nerve-wracking as is implied but simply annoys Salieri because he despises Mozart so much or even maybe that Salieri is the only one who hears it that way. Whatever the case, Salieri begins to incredulously refer to Mozart as “the creature” for the remainder of the movie.

“All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing... and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?” (Antonio Salieri, “Amadeus”)

From this point on Salieri, as well as the film as a whole, take a dark, dark turn. Convinced that God has forsaken him for Mozart and is purposely torturing him by flaunting Mozart’s unearthly level of talent, Salieri vows that he will get revenge on God by killing his favorite creation; Mozart. It is in this incredibly filmed sequence that we see the complete disintegration of both the main characters and almost a switching of roles. Salieri takes the crucifix off his wall and throws it on the fire in one of the most intelligently shot scenes in the film. Not only does the use of fire almost always suggest a hellish kind of evil in a character, but when he removes the cross from his wall it is symbolically whiter where it used to hang, an understated but clever way of showing us how long it had been hanging there and, in turn illustrating just how long he had been so devout.

These are not the actions of a man who has lost his faith, but rather a man who has taken to blaming all his own failings and shortcomings on a higher power. Despite the fact that Mozart is on a downward spiral with his father dying, his wife leaving him and his health in decline, it is actually Salieri who’s mind we see crumbling to pieces. Everything that goes wrong for him is simply written off as God being spiteful and in his unbridled resentment of Mozart he devises a plan to destroy his rival. He buys a terrifying costume with a mask that can be reversed so that the front is showing a disapproving scowl and the back shows a laughing face or vice-versa that he had previously seen Mozart’s father Leopold wear to a party back when he was alive. Putting the scowling-face-forward he arrives at Wolfgang’s apartment to commission a “death mass” (what would become Mozart’s legendary “The Requiem”) from him, capitalizing on the torture over Leopold’s death Mozart had conveyed in his opera “Don Giovanni.” The two-faced mask serves as a more-than-intended divulgence into Salieri’s character as well. The use of a mask can imply a level of cowardice and the two faces obviously lend themselves to the notion that Salieri himself is two-faced as he poses as Mozart’s only friend while all-the-while throwing him under the bus at every turn.

I’ve always wondered whether or not he intended for this to “kill” Mozart by driving him to a grief-induced suicide, enhance his already rampant drinking or simply to work him to death knowing that Mozart was knee-deep in work on “The Magic Flute” but I guess room for speculation is what makes a movie great and gives the viewer the chance to decide for themselves without being corrected or contradicted. Also, ambiguity is something of a trademark of director Milos Forman and really finds a niche here.

The culmination of Salieri’s plan takes place at the unveiling of Mozart’s long-delayed “The Magic Flute.” His professional decline is depicted masterfully as his operas “The Marriage of Figaro” and “Don Giovanni” are shown to be flops and each time he is seen conducting the crowd in the opera house becomes progressively more pauperish- so much so that by the time he debuts “The Magic Flute” his audiences can be seen drinking in the theater as he is relegated to working with low-brow vaudevillian performers and not in the Emperor’s Court as before. Mozart collapses during the performance and Salieri, posing as his concerned friend taxis him home. He convinces Mozart that the mysterious benefactor has visited demanding “The Requiem” be completed and offers to help him finish (obviously he wants to accelerate work on the piece he is sure will finish Mozart off).

What follows is a remarkably climactic scene that tells us more about the two characters than the previous 2 and-a-half-hours. Mozart, who already hears the entire piece in his head, is dictating the entire score to Salieri, who is frantically trying to keep up. Mozart is frustrated by Salieri’s inability to understand complex musical arrangements and unheard-of changes in tempo, while Salieri finally sees exactly how inferior he is to Mozart for the same reasons.

The music playing faintly in the background not only accents this scene beautifully but also makes the viewer feel as if they know what he is talking about and can even hear it in their heads as well while Salieri simply looks foolish. With a total lack of any kind of physical confrontation, this is instead how the audience sees the final showdown between the two men. As they work through the night Salieri awakens from a nap to find Mozart has died. Rather than reveling in his success and celebrating the death of his “enemy” Salieri takes this as the final insult from God by concluding that he killed Mozart before Salieri was able to. His hypothesis that God would rather destroy his beloved creation than let Salieri have his moment absolutely destroys any respect the viewer may have for him, as it is not only an absurd suggestion but also petty.

The unfinished “Requiem” plays as Mozart’s funeral is shown. It is pouring rain as all the characters who have played a part in Mozart’s life throughout the film are shown in different locations as the procession makes its way through Vienna until finally his body is dumped from a trap-door into the reusable coffin and thrown into an unmarked pauper’s grave with several other corpses. Though Mozart has died friendless, penniless and buried dignity-less Salieri still stews in what he sees as his ultimate defeat.

As the priest from the beginning is seen still listening to Salieri’s confession, but totally drained and in tears (presumably at the death of Mozart) the motif that runs throughout is finally driven home. Salieri sees himself as a failure throughout the film simply because he is not as good as Mozart and, by letting this notion dog him, he has become a true failure. So much so that he has even failed in committing suicide. As he is wheeled away for breakfast, Salieri seems to be at peace and even pleased with his self-appointed title of “Patron Saint of All Mediocrities.” The last thing we hear though is Mozart’s obnoxious laugh, even years later haunting Salieri and overshadowing his brief moment of happiness.

Everything about “Amadeus” is remarkably unique; the full-scale recreations of Mozart’s operas (despite the knowledge that they would only comprise a few minutes of the finished film) are still given the full Hollywood treatment, costumes and all. The amazing transition between bio-pic and pure fiction, Salieri’s struggle against a non-present enemy, the level of character study both main characters receive through constantly transitioning between the two’s private lives and most significantly the music. Rather than inundating us with overplayed Mozart staples we hear constantly in our day-to-day lives, Milos Forman instead opts to use more obscure music which even makes extended musical scenes seem fresh for people whose attention spans cannot latch on to classical music or people who just find opera abhorrent; I know they’re out there…

#54. All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)

I’ve tried to start most of these blogs with either a funny story that relates to the film I’m discussing or an attempt to give you some sort of feel for how I perceived the movie before having seen it or sometimes just a joke to lighten things up. Sometimes however, there is just not a joke to be found in some subject matter; some things I can’t dismiss with a chuckle or even stretch my mind enough to find humor in. My initial instinct about “All Quiet on the Western Front” was that it would be like other 1930’s war films- with lots of lines like “Let ‘em have it fellas!” or “I’ll show ‘em who they’re messin’ with.” Instead I walked away from this film (figuratively, I didn’t actually get up and move away from the TV) feeling utterly gutted.

Set presumably at or near the onset of World War I in a working class German town the opening scene introduces us to a very happy-go-lucky mailman who announces to the customers on his route that he is being drafted as a Sergeant in the German army. There is a resounding feeling of patriotism and pride both from the postman as well as the approving civilians.

The next scene cleverly contrasts the first, leaving little doubt as to what the film’s agenda will be. A schoolteacher tells his students about the necessity of military service and defense of the fatherland. By preying on the naivety of his students as well as romanticizing the concept of wartime heroism, he brainwashes them one-by-one into enlisting in the Army. This scene is directed brilliantly as several of the students are shown having flash-forward dream sequences, including a hauntingly prophetic look into the future of the main character Paul’s (Lew Ayers) future with his mother seeing him in his infantry uniform and appearing horrified, almost talking himself out of it, until he has another vision of his father beaming with pride over Paul’s decision.

Once the boys arrive for duty they discover the postman who they had all loved so much is their now sadistic platoon sergeant. Perhaps because he was so weak and mousy in his civilian life or because he is releasing long repressed anger or maybe it is simply meant to illustrate that war brings out the worst in people. This theory seems even more likely when the new recruits are mixed in with several longtime veterans who are clearly jaded and less-than enthusiastic about the war. They prey on the boys’ inexperience very similarly to the way their teacher did earlier- only this time by bartering their cache of food for the hungry young soldiers’ luxury items.

After some intense battle scenes, including amazing point-of-view transition shots between charging French troops as they are mowed over and entrenched German soldiers firing from behind a machine gun that realistically simulate both positions, a very morbid motif manifests itself. The battle-weary troops arrive at their company area after half of them have been wiped out. Rather than lamenting the loss of their comrades, they are overjoyed to discover that the cook has prepared meals for the entire company, meaning that they are going to receive double-rations. This horrifying devaluation of life is further expressed when the cook is more distraught that he has been doing far more work than he needs to by cooking for dead soldiers than he is about the actual dead soldiers.

In a post-feast discussion, the soldiers both young and old come to realize they have been conned as they begin to discuss the circumstances surrounding the war. Some blame the French for starting it, others claim that it was their own country; some speculate that the Kaiser is required to start a war as a custom and others still bring the Brits into the discussion. Soon they all understand that, despite their varied economic and educational backgrounds, they are all essentially pawns and that the one conspicuous absence is the Kaiser himself.

The degradation of human life becomes even more prominent in the soldiers’ attitudes in a ghastly montage that revolves around the prized boots one of the young recruits inherited from an uncle who served prior to him. As he lays dying in a field hospital with both legs amputated, one of his platoon-mates asks him for the boots, even coldly stating that they are useless to the legless soldier. As if they are cursed, we see the boots trade hands several times with the same result, the owner is killed. It finally gets to the point that we don’t even see who gets them anymore as getting acquainted with that character is pointless since he is just going to die only to have his boots plundered by another soldier. The montage that illustrates this is a show-stealer.

One incident in particular pushes Paul over the edge in his feelings on the war effort. During an intense firefight he finds himself stranded in a blasted out hole with a French soldier he has wounded but not killed. As he uses the crater for protection from the ongoing onslaught (where we see some fascinating night scenes of tracer-fire and a looking-up view of several soldiers jumping the crater without stopping to notice the two men) the enemy soldier slowly and painfully dies. Paul becomes so guilt-ridden that he promises the dying man that he will contact his family to let him know what happened to him then subsequently falls to pieces when he finds the man’s wallet with pictures of his wife and children.

“You still think it's beautiful to die for your country…. When it comes to dying for country, it's better not to die at all” (Paul Baumer, “All Quiet on the Western Front”)

Paul returns home on leave disgusted and disillusioned. He finds that all the men who have stayed behind are banging the war drum loudly and ironically since they are all safely armchair-quarterbacking the war from home. His vision comes true when his mother is shown to be concerned and frightened, yet his father is one of the ones ranting the most vocally about what strategy the Germans should engage in next. The final straw, however comes when Paul returns to his old school. The same teacher is attempting to indoctrinate a new wave of students into going to war. Paul gives them a heartfelt and honest speech based on his experience from the front lines. However, the current crop of students are more far gone than Paul’s generation was, and they turn on him immediately. The only moment of solace or comfort Paul gets in his entire trip home is talking with his sister and admiring the mounted butterfly collection the two gathered as children. He subsequently ends his leave early and returns to the front.

Defeated by the death that is again surrounding him, but encouraged by the impending “all quiet” signal and unusually sunny day, Paul notices a butterfly just outside his bunker that he hopes to add to his collection with his sister. The final scene plays out heartbreakingly predictably. All that is seen is Paul’s hand reaching for the butterfly when suddenly a sniper’s round goes off and Paul’s hand flops down just short of the butterfly. He dies with the butterfly, just like his hopes of surviving the war, just out of reach.

There are anti-war films and then there is “All Quiet on the Western Front.” Not only does this film put a human face on the carnage of war, but it goes the extra mile beyond what so many other films of this type do. By making the focal point soldiers in a military other than our own, it gives a universal nationality feel to the movie, which effectively shows us that war affects everyone the same, regardless of nationality. By being an indictment of war in general and not just a specific one, “All Quiet on the Western Front” takes a far more extreme stance than the average anti-war film; which definitely won’t be for everyone but it certainly panders to me.

#55. The Sound of Music (1965)

Life is full of pleasant surprises: be it finding money in the pocket of jeans you haven’t worn in months, going past channel 99 and realizing you have the Biography Channel or watching a movie that you think you are absolutely going to hate and loving it.

I don’t like musicals, I sure as hell don’t like nuns and thanks to the Osmonds I was pretty sure I didn’t like singing families either, but “The Sound of Music” is so beautifully filmed and paced so much better than the other musicals on this list that I can’t help but rave about it.

The opening aerial shots of the Austrian Alps set the tone for the entire film; no expense is spared in making sure every single shot is high quality. The scenery levels out on a hilltop and zeroes in on Maria (Julie Andrews) spinning and singing. I know that this scene had to have been done with a helicopter but the precision and tightness they were able to get in this shot is remarkable. The lyrics to “The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Music” talk about not only Maria’s love for music as well as her boredom with life at the nunnery. The feeling is mutual, as the next scene focuses on the older nuns complaining (in song) about how bad of a fit Maria is for the life of a nun (“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”)

The compromise is to send Maria away to be a nanny for Captain Von Trapp (Christopher Plummer) a widowed Naval officer with seven children. When Maria arrives at the Captain’s house it is clear that he takes the military thing way too seriously. He is curt and condescending in his addressing of others and marches the children out in formation. Everything about the children’s existence is regimented and harsh and it is clear that Maria is appalled by this and she clashes with Captain Von Trapp over summoning the children with whistles. Though the children are described as incorrigible and difficult off camera, it’s obvious that they are just normal children who happen to have an asshole for a father. This point is also reinforced by the fact that the Von Trapp’s are the only characters introduced up to that point who don’t burst into song- suggesting an absence of emotional connection in the home.

Two things become evident based on Maria’s interaction with the children; 1) The one they are going to focus the most time on is the oldest, Liesl, and particularly her relationship with a telegram deliver boy Rolfe and 2) Maria is going to be as defiant in raising the Von Trapp children as she was in the nunnery.

The Rolfe/Liesl storyline takes shape largely in the Von Trapp gazebo, as the two have to keep their courtship secret. The scene in this particular setting foreshadows significant events that occur later in the film; specifically the gazebo being a place where people freely express their emotions and Rolfe’s fear of being more direct in his feelings for Liesl indicating a far greater cowardice that will eventually come to light.

As for the children and Maria, she openly defies the Captain’s orders and takes the children out to play, ditches their matching uniforms for bright and colorful outfits, representing Maria reintegrating joy and light into the children’s lives since the passing of their mother. During one of their excursions Maria teaches the kids how to sing, thus bringing music back into their lives, which is the most strictly forbidden of all the Captain’s conditions because it reminds him of his wife. Maria and Captain Von Trapp engage in a volatile argument resulting in him dismissing her. The ridiculously touching scene that ensues is overly corny but also a great testament to Christopher Plummer’s acting ability. He intends to confront the children but, upon hearing them singing finds himself overcome with emotion and leads them in a rendition of the unofficial Austrian National Anthem “Edelwiess.”

A short time later, the Von Trapps host a party for many Austrian dignitaries; the amazing contrast in the children’s lives is demonstrated when they greet the guests in song, a stark difference to their initial regimented and harsh introduction by the Captain earlier in the film. Though there are many small conflicts in the first half of “The Sound of Music” (Maria vs. Captain Von Trapp, the nuns and Maria, Captain Von Trapp’s fiancé Elsa’s jealousy of Maria) the greater brewing conflict reveals itself when one of the partygoers questions Captain Von Trapp’s defiant flying of the Austrian flag in spite of the fact that they have just been annexed by Nazi Germany.

“To refuse them would be fatal for all of us. And joining them would be unthinkable.” (Captain Von Trapp. “The Sound of Music”)

The gazebo is reintroduced in a strikingly gorgeous scene as Maria and Captain Von Trapp confess their love for each other with a sunset in the background. The light is enhanced by the reflection of the stained glass in the gazebo and the duet of “Something Good” between the two is so incredible you almost completely forget that Captain Von Trapp was supposedly engaged shortly before and that Maria is like, the worst nun ever.

Perhaps out of happiness to be rid of her but more likely because they have grown to love her, just know she’s not a good fit for the Abbey, the nuns happily help Maria prepare for her wedding to Captain Von Trapp, finally indicating a mutual appreciation for each other. Upon returning from their honeymoon the Von Trapps learn that the Nazis have ordered the Captain into their Navy. Not only does he defiantly refuse, he removes the Nazi flag that has been hung outside the family home and symbolically destroys it. To add to the growing level of fear the Austrians have of the Nazis, the children have a discussion where one of the children observes that things have been tense ever since the “red flags with the black spiders” started sprouting up.

Knowing they are now essentially fugitives, the family hatches a plan to escape Austria. They participate in a Bavarian festival talent show under the understanding that Captain Von Trapp will report for duty immediately after. As the results of the contest are read the Von Trapps sneak off to the Abbey, where the nuns help them hide from the Nazis. All the previous scenes here show the open, airiness of the structure with light billowing in; now the same exact building resembles a dungeon- illustrating how important lighting and atmosphere are to the audience’s perception of a movie. An eerily effective red searchlight also adds a frightening level of intensity to this segment- as red naturally implies terror and evil.

The climactic evasion ends with the revelation that Rolfe has joined the Nazi party, and thus confirmed his lack of courage as is displayed earlier by his trepidation to openly declare his feeling for Liesl or be open about their secret love. Also, his final betrayal of the Von Trapps indicates how truly unhelpable and spineless he is. Fortunately, with the help of the sisters of the Abbey who have disabled the Nazi vehicles, the family is able to make their escape.

The final shot of the family making their way to freedom via the same sweeping Alps we saw in the beginning of the film implies a wide-openness but still a turbulent journey ahead.

There are two things about this film that resonate with me above all else. The first is the excellent depiction of a strong female lead Julie Andrews provides as Maria. Not just her free-spirited, anti-authoritarian nature, but her bold willingness to butt heads with Captain Von Trapp. Unlike Eliza Doolittle in “My Fair Lady” Maria is not willing to be used, degraded or humiliated, even to the point of refusing to respond to the Captain’s whistle-summoning method.

The second is the frightening depiction of the Nazis without being over the top. What any movie that uses Nazis as antagonists risks is either simply relying on the known evil of Nazism to establish their position as “the bad guys” without exploring the classification any deeper or by downplaying their savagery by not taking their deeds seriously enough. Many examples exist of simply trying to depict Nazis as bumbling oafs and generally inept. While this is very tempting to do it also sort of makes a mockery of the horrific things they were doing. “The Sound of Music” is so great at implying their evil without overly editorializing or making a harmless, corny caricature. This film finds the perfect balance and maintains an excellent “good vs. evil” struggle without having to break it’s naturally excellent flow or insult the viewer’s intelligence.

#56. M*A*S*H* (1970)

Remember that really awful sitcom based on “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” that was on for like half a season back in the day? Or more recently when they attempted to make the “Barbershop” franchise into a TV series? Maybe I was just too harsh of a critic of these shows because I loved the movies so much, but regardless of the reasons, these failed projects made me suspicious that any TV show based on a movie would not only be awful but actually put the film from which it was derived to shame. Little did I know that “M*A*S*H” as a sitcom is far superior to “M*A*S*H” as a film.

And “M*A*S*H” is one of my least favorite sitcoms.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with dark humor, in fact I have a repertoire of Christopher Reeve jokes that would make Seth MacFarlane jealous, but I also respect comedy and am firmly of the belief that there are certain types of humor and they all have to be allowed to stand on their own. Most importantly, they are like foreign cuisine; they are great by themselves but should never be combined. The problem I have with “M*A*S*H” is that there are times It wants to be Billy Wilder-esque gallows comedy, times when it wants to be “Animal House”-like sophomoric humor and others still where it attempts basic old slapstick. Settling on just one of these sub-genres would have really benefitted this movie.

The first major character introduced is Cpt. “Hawkeye” Pierce, a surgeon in the civilian world who has been drafted into the Army, given a commission and a job in the 4077, a field surgery unit. He arrives in the midst of the Korean War along with another presumed draftee Cpt. Forrest (Tom Skerrit). Both are very begrudgingly and contemptuous of the power structure that forced them there. They steal the jeep of a fellow officer (albeit a career military one) and proceed to the officer’s area where they manage to alienate themselves from the majority of the company, most notably their overly religious commander Maj. Burns (Robert Duvall).

The two friends both detest the conditions in which they have to work and the fact that they even have to be there in the first place but still remain focused on their objective, more due to their commitment as surgeons than soldiers. However they soon become disillusioned by the judgment they encounter by their superiors, in particular Maj. Houlihan (Sally Kellerman) who is a sanctimonious military nurse. Her constant berating of Hawkeye and Forrest for their insubordination and lack of respect for the uniform drives them to a state of borderline hatred for her.

Houlihan’s comeuppance takes shape in the form of a very public exposure of her own faults, as the public address system (which also cleverly serves as the narrator in several transitional scenes; probably the most innovative directorial tool implemented in the film) broadcasts her affair with Maj. Burns. Hawkeye and Forrest take great joy in mocking her by repeating her bizarre mid-coital ramblings to her face the next day. This scene is intensely important due to the fact that the “good” people are shown as having even worse faults than the “bad” people. Hawkeye and Forrest simply drink and are promiscuous, whereas Houlihan and Burns are not only adulterers but hypocrites.

Teetering on the brink of a breakdown Houlihan is forced to endure an even greater humiliation when Hawkeye and Forrest engage in a wager as to whether or not she is a natural blonde. In order to settle their bet the two roll up the wall to the women’s shower tent- exposing her to the entire company. While I understand this scene is supposed to be a “stand-up-and-cheer” moment depicting good vanquishing evil, I think it ultimately diminishes Hawkeye and Forrest’s characters. I just can’t force myself to believe that, no matter how embittered the two may be, that they would revert to such a juvenile tactic. I also believe that this scene has the same negative effect on the film itself. This is akin to a “Revenge of the Nerds” panty-raid and has no place in a film that was geared towards educated adults.

”Frank, were you on this religious kick at home or did you crack up over here?” (Hawkeye Pierce, “M*A*S*H")

There is, however some very intelligent humor in the film as well, particularly what is implied more than what is actually said. As is the case with most of the funniest things, you don’t have some big punchline or a visual equivalent to an “Applause” sign telling you “ok, here’s the funny.” For instance, the small talk the surgeons make about what they do in their off-time or their lives back home are only mildly funny; what is hysterical though is the way they are so matter-of-factly talking while performing amputations and dealing with organs. Equally hilarious is one surgery scene where the discussion on how well or sloppily to make the patient’s stitches depends on if they are an officer or an enlisted soldier. This is also effective in reiterating the point of separation of class that exists just as much in the military as in civilian life.

Without a doubt the most hysterical scene in the entire film is the prank assisted suicide of the unit’s distraught dentist who is so upset at the personal fear that he may be gay that he opts to commit suicide, asking for the assistance of the 4077’s surgeons. Hawkeye convinces him that there is an almost immediate suicide pill he can take and die painlessly (what should be a flattering nickname for a dentist “Dr. Painless” now becomes a hilarious mockery). After throwing an elaborate party for Dr. Painless, Hawkeye leads him to a casket with an entourage of medics singing what would become the iconic “M*A*S*H” theme song “Suicide is Painless.” Of course the suicide pill turns out to be nothing more than a sedative, but when Painless wakes up with one of the company nurses he decides he must not be gay so no harm is done and he isn’t afraid of living anymore. I can’t stress the point enough that this scene does not make light of suicide but rather cleverly satirizes the circumstances in combat that can lead to it. In this case a guy with a cushy job, in no real danger and with everything to live for thinks he has it worse than the troops on the front lines who come back to the surgical area to be repaired.

One element of the film that I found confusing was the frequent use of fast, tight zoom shots; either on character’s faces when they are being introduced or on specific items. This particular directorial style can serve two very different aims; to establish intensity or indicate something important happening or to serve as a sort of substitute for the dotted lines that indicate field of vision in a comic book- again an extreme marriage of dead-seriousness and total lightheartedness. I suppose it is also very possible that this is done specifically for this purpose, to indicate finding humor in the most dire of conditions. In a way, time is “M*A*S*H’s” greatest enemy in this case since that particular effect is now mostly associated with ludicrous kung-fu flicks.

Possibly my biggest gripe with this movie is the misuse of great characters, particularly Trapper John MD and Radar. I understand that one of the principle themes is supposed to be the mysterious past of Trapper John, his life prior to the war and his medical credentials, but Elliot Gould is such an incredible character actor and he serves as the perfect complement to Hawkeye in so many ways that an expansion of his character could have made for a much greater dynamic when comparing and contrasting the two. To an even greater extent the quirky, goofy company administrator Radar serves as an example of the most conventionally odd character being the one who has his head on the straightest and his superior level of awareness of the goings-on of the company really reinforce one of the movie’s central themes; the ruling class being generally inept.

I have been giving this movie a hard time over the last several paragraphs but contrary to how it may seem I didn’t dislike it. Instead I just believe it suffers from an identity crisis that makes it hard to fully embrace. All in all what I take away from “M*A*S*H” more than anything else is the perfectly clear implications of the horrors of war, the level of commitment, dedication and morale you are going to get in a military draft situation and the scathing metaphor of hypocrisy in the military representing the greater hypocrisy of war in general. It is no mistake or coincidence that “M*A*S*H” takes place during a controversial Southeast Asian military conflict (The Korean War) and was released in the midst of a different controversial Southeast Asian military conflict (Vietnam). The examples of despair, senseless gore to the point of absurdity and a resounding contempt for the mission are very blunt and courageous for the time.

By commenting on a divisive issue so on the forefront of the American conscience at the time the best comparison to anything like “M*A*S*H” I can make is to “South Park.” You know, back when it was still relevant and funny…