#59. Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

I must have gotten my pop culture wires crossed somewhere along the line. I had always been under the impression that “Rebel Without a Cause” featured James Dean in a leather jacket riding a motorcycle around raising all sorts of hell. I thought the classic “What are you rebelling against?” “Whaddya got?” dialogue came from his movie (rather it was Marlon Brando in “The Wild One”) and I always thought the famous James-Dean-as-a-badass image was lifted directly from this film. Maybe I thought all these things because the guy only lived to be in like three movies and through process of elimination this one must be the one where all the iconic imagery came from. Turns out there was no motorcycle, no leather jacket and to be honest he’s actually kind of a wuss in this movie; which actually benefits it because I hate bikers and greasers.

Instead, “Rebel Without a Cause” is an angsty, brooding and insightful piece of work that actually deals with some delicate subject matter. There have been far too many movies that focus on high-school aged kids and the struggles they face fitting in or the home lives they try desperately to conceal; but they either wind up being too syrupy (see the John Hughes filmography)or too sophomoric (see “American Pie”). “Rebel Without a Cause” on the other hand does something that Hollywood previously had failed to do and continues to rarely do now. It listened to the youth, got its information right and never lost sight of the main premise: being a teenager sucks.

Three separate vignettes but all in the same location (a police station) introduce three of the primary characters; Jim Stark (James Dean) is hauled in for drunken disorderly and is running the gamut of typical hammered emotions (laughing, crying, yelling etc). His father (Jim Backus- or Mr. Howell from “Gilligan’s Island”) arrives with an extremely blasé attitude, indifferent to his son’s criminal behavior it is clear that Mr. Stark is one of those parents who throws money at problems to make them go away.

The next character is Judy (Natalie Wood, who is the punchline of the greatest dead celebrity joke of all time) who has just had some kind of rout with her father. Through sobs she explains to an officer that her father unleashed a verbal tirade on her, culminating with him questioning her womanly virtue. Judy seems to be in the least amount of trouble of the kids shown in the introduction but the lack of further details about her situation implies an absence of key information and probably a deeper secret.

Finally, there is a young Hispanic boy referred to simply as Plato, who is being interrogated as to why he was arrested for shooting puppies (classic sociopathic/misfit behavior which will rear its head again later) Unlike the other two kids though, there appears to be a complete lack of a parental figure, instead his nanny is speaking on his behalf, describing to the officers that Plato pretty much raises himself since his mother is always recreationally traveling. Near the end of Plato’s introduction we see the principle character’s lives intertwine for the first time; Jim offers his jacket to Plato who is clearly freezing. This is the first of many times happenstance will bring characters together in this film.

The next morning we find out that Jim is the new kid in town and is warily preparing for his first day in his new school. Along the way he recognizes Judy from the police station the night before and attempts to talk to her. Partly simply based on social hierarchy but certainly also based on embarrassment from her predicament the night before Judy rudely snubs Jim, instead getting into a car full of typical 1950’s hoodlums driven by her boyfriend Buzz. Jim doesn’t seem to have a lot of trouble transitioning at his new school, though there is clearly a conflict between him and Judy’s group of friends. The stage is also set for the unorthodox relationship Jim and Plato will have as Plato recognizes Jim from the police station encounter and proceeds to stalk him through the halls of the school.

A field trip to a planetarium turns violent as the “bad kids” slash Jim’s tires and attempt to provoke him into a knife fight with Buzz, which Jim emphatically attempts to avoid. Pushed to his limit he finally takes up a switchblade and works Buzz into a life-or-death scenario; once he has made his point that he could have killed Buzz had he wanted to Jim walks away from the fight. Knowing he is outmatched in a physical confrontation with Jim, Buzz pushes him into agreeing to a “chickie run,” where they both race towards the edge of a cliff in stolen cars- the first one who jumps out of his car is the “chicken” and thus the loser. Seemingly out of options, since he knows the harassment will only get worse, Jim accepts.

This entire sequence at the planetarium is loaded with some of the most obvious but still imaginative and haunting foreshadowing I’ve ever seen. The lecturer bases his presentation on the inevitable end of the cosmos. Planets colliding, young stars burning out and dying and cataclysmic explosions act as metaphors for human life. Whereas most explanations of astronomy focus on the beginning of life in the solar system and the various ways nature and the environment sustain existence, this segment takes on a very “doom and gloom” sort of attitude. As the lecture concludes, Jim nudges Plato awake and informs him facetiously that they have reached the end of the world. The planetarium segment alone is worth the price of the movie- especially if you pick it up on Amazon Marketplace for like eight bucks.

”I don’t know what to do anymore. Except maybe die.” (Jim Stark, “Rebel Without a Cause”)

The buildup to the “chickie run” gives us an intimate look at the real lives of Jim, Judy and Plato. Jim’s father continues to turn a blind eye to what is going on with his son, even when Jim attempts to reach out to him. The disconnect between Mr. Stark and Jim has less to do with neglect or bad parenting than it does Mr. Stark’s pushover nature and desire to be friends with his son rather than be an authority figure. In a word, the man is too spineless to be a parent.

The situation over at Judy’s house teeters on the creepy side when she innocently kisses her father. His reaction is so bizarre that it begs the question as to the possibility of what kind of physical boundaries exist in their household. His reaction seems to intensify due to the fact that Judy’s mother is within earshot. He insists that her affection for him is abnormal at her age and has to stop. Her surprise and obvious confusion with his sudden outburst ever so quietly implies some disturbing possibilities, such as possible incest that he is so paranoid of being exposed that he reverts to extreme measures as it relates to displays of affection or even a cold emotional detachment from his daughter. When paired with the opening scenes of Judy in the police station relaying the story of her dad berating her for alleged promiscuity, all the signs are evident of a classic abuser. This grim possibility only becomes more frightening when you realize that there were very little specifics given as to why Judy had to go to the police. Immediately after chastising and striking Judy, her father displays a disgusting change of personality by lovingly embracing and playing with his young son. This additional insight piles on the possibility of more speculation; perhaps he is a woman hater or prefers younger children.

The “chickie run” ends the only way it can- with Buzz dying in a fiery crash. The absence of a leader causes his gang to fracture off and drift about aimlessly- identityless without Buzz. Judy decides she is now in love with Jim and begins to press Plato for information about him. Despite barely knowing him, Plato describes Jim as his best friend, which further confirms his social ineptitude. The three hole up in the planetarium overnight; seemingly knowing they are making some sort of “last stand.” As Buzz’s closest loyalists and the police close in on them Jim, Judy and Plato cathartically fantasize about a life free of all the restrictions that bind them, age, family and authority. Their dreams are short lived when Plato is shot and killed by the police when he is spotted brandishing a gun he has brought along for protection. Jim’s earlier prophesy comes true- for Plato, the world really did end, and in the planetarium where Jim inadvertently forecasted it.

While I believe that the most symbolic aspects of this film were “dumbed down” a little I think they are still impactful and relevant. All the main characters, especially Plato capture the awkwardness and agony of high school, particularly in a scene were Plato asks Jim to spend the night with him and mentions that they can have breakfast together like a real family, which implies his desperation for a normal family life as well as a delicately implied homoeroticism which could possibly contribute further to Plato’s discomfort in his own skin. And of course the name Plato alone warns us very early on that there is some element of Greek-like tragedy that will be associated with him.

Overall my biggest complaint about the other James Dean film on the list, “Giant” is my biggest point of praise for this film; James Dean’s mumbly and self conscious acting style. The broodiness and under-enunciating actually make this picture work as opposed to bringing the film down, as he did when held up next to the far superior performances in “Giant.” The other thing that sticks out with me with “Rebel Without a Cause” is the fact that the dysfunctional families are shown to be well off and “upper-class.” It is important to show that the idealized concept of suburbia and achievement of the American Dream do not necessarily equate to happiness.

#60. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Sometimes for a movie to be considered “great” it doesn’t have to have a lot of depth, character development or even originality. In many cases, a movie’s worth is determined almost solely by how much it has become a part of culture.

Though I had never seen “Raiders of the Lost Ark” at the start of this project, I knew plenty of things about Indiana Jones simply due to the fact that I have a pulse and live in America. I knew that whenever someone puts on a goofy hat you are supposed to call them Indy, I knew that if you scream like a bitch when someone waves a snake in your direction chances are they will laugh cynically and refer to you as Dr. Jones and I knew that if a very, very rotund person chases you that you are supposed to hum “Du du dunt du, dunt dun du.” What I didn’t know though was that the character of Indiana Jones is nothing like the stereotypical action hero (an assumption that prevented me from ever wanting to watch these films before).

I think in many ways “Raiders of the Lost Ark” was attempting to do the same thing that Dan Brown did with “The DaVinci Code” but to a much more parent-friendly extent. The use of religious iconography in a more modern scholastic/archeological context lends itself to a scenario that is easy to create well-defined “good guys” and “bad guys” with little-to-no depth to the characters. Make the ones who have bad intentions with said religious artifacts Nazis and you don’t even have to try!

Of course one conflict that arises from using a tool like this is the fact that you have to either believe the stories that come along with these holy relics or you have to be able to suspend disbelief long enough to buy into the significance. Fortunately this film is able to do so without forcing faith down the viewer’s throat. They even acknowledge (albeit safely and non-offensively)the possibility that these religious relics may not be all they are cracked up to be when Indiana Jones describes the Ark of the Covenant by saying “if you believe in that sort of thing” which clearly he does otherwise he wouldn’t spend the duration of the film looking for it.

In many cases when blogging about these films I have had to devote equal time to just describing the plot as I have to analysis of the movie itself. In the case of “Raiders of the Lost Ark” I can do so in just one paragraph. And I mean I can do it fairly, not just bashing or over-simplifying it. Watch:

Harrison Ford plays Indiana Jones, an archeologist/college professor who specializes in ancient artifacts. He travels the world looking for rare and often mythological trinkets and fights off bad people along the way. When he is presented with a chance to locate the Ark of the Covenant, described in the Bible, he leaps at the opportunity. However, the Nazis want it too and have the same leads as him so it becomes a race against time and superiority in numbers. All the while he rekindles a relationship with an ex-flame, Marion Ravenwood (played by Karen Allen) and all kinds of awkwardness and hilarity ensues. That pretty much covers it, right?

As I was saying before, one of the most endearing things about the Indiana Jones character is that, despite all his adventures and daring escapes, he is very much the antithesis of a traditional “hero.” He is kind of a wimp, resorts to dirty fighting up to and including the nastiest trick in the book, throwing dirt in his opponent’s eyes and usually falls ass-backwards into his solutions rather than creating them. The unlikely, scholarly hero paradigm not only makes Jones a more “everyman” kind of character but also makes for more exciting action sequences as he is usually less imposing than the people he is matched up against.

This type of character also lends itself even further to my earlier Dan Brown comparison. Robert Langdon is very much a more refined version of Indiana Jones. Be honest, if I were to give a synopsis of this film without you already knowing what it was, and I simply said:

“A college professor uses brains over brawn in his mission to find a long-lost holy icon. Despite his skepticism he embarks on his quest aided by an older and wiser mentor and a strong, independent career woman trying to outrun her past. He finds himself on a continent far from home desperate to locate his prize before the evil cult disguised as a righteous band of religious fundamentalists does.”

would you not think I was talking about “The DaVinci Code?” Not that I am saying if there had been no “Raiders of the Lost Ark” then there would be no “DaVinci Code” because that would be more absurd than Karen Allen’s acting, but I am saying that this film was definitely one of the first to tread such unorthodox waters.

"Take this... wave it at anything that slithers" (Indiana Jones, "Raiders of the Lost Ark")

I also have to believe the special effects in “Raiders of the Lost Ark” played a large part in the acclaim this film received. There is a scene where the Ark is being dug up that begins with a breathtaking desert sunset, (an anomaly by itself simply because desert-like settings are typically associated with searing and suffering) and as the excavation crew gets closer the weather turns harsh and frightening. The storm used to depict this eerie foreshadowing of divine vengeance looks better onscreen than many of the weather phenomena shown in movies from the Post-CGI age, namely “The Day After Tomorrow” and “2012.” When the box containing the Ark is opened the specters that fly out to unleash the Wrath of God on the evildoers are reminiscent of The Dead Army in “The Return of the King,” again a movie that benefitted from enhanced technology but still falls back on principles used in “Raiders” years before.

Other than the almost total lack of snooty things I was trained to look for in movies in all the Film Study classes I have taken (unique camera angles, creative placement of light and dark, plot devices or props being used as a metaphor for greater purpose etc) I can find no real flaws with “Raiders of the Lost Ark” other than the Marion Ravenwood character. For a woman whose first screen time in the movie shows her handily out-drinking a burly man and then almost kicking Harrison Ford’s ass a few minutes later, she becomes relegated to the Damsel in Distress role. It would have been nice if at least ONE of her and Indy’s escapes were managed by her. I know this may have lent itself to a certain degree of unbelievability given the fact that Karen Allen is 100 pounds soaking wet and not very intimidating, but come on, we are talking about a movie where a middle-aged schoolteacher fights off the entire Third Reich with a bullwhip!

A few blogs back (“Tootsie”) I mentioned the subtle impotence of simple enjoyment being a factor in a movie’s overall greatness and “Raiders of the Lost Ark” certainly falls into that category. I don’t have to use my brain too much to enjoy this film but it is still a little too lofty and convoluted for the type of person who would enjoy a film like “Delta Farce” or pretty much any movie based on an SNL skit.

#61. "Vertigo" (1958)

I have rappelled down the side of a tower and a rock-face, I have climbed a 75 foot rope ladder and I have gone 9 stories up the side of a building in a rickety manlift. Even though I know Alfred Hitchock is known as The Master of Suspense I didn’t think “Vertigo” would be able to creep me out very much because I’m not afraid of heights and I’ve always heard this movie plays off that fear. As it turns out, heights are about the LEAST creepy thing about this film.

The movie begins with a flashback of two police officers chasing a perp on foot, jumping from rooftop to rooftop until things go frighteningly wrong. The lead character, Scottie, played by Jimmy Stewart, finds himself hanging on for dear life as he clutches a rain gutter after having slipped on one of his leaps. His partner loses the suspect when he attempts to rescue Scottie and ultimately pays for it with his life when he slips and falls several stories to his death- leaving Scottie hanging (no pun intended).

This opening scene is masterful when it comes to setting the tone for the rest of the movie. It also packs in a lot of obvious foreshadowing and introduces themes that will resurface numerous times. To more dramatic effect though, it uses eerie string music and rapid zooming in/out camera tricks to give the viewer a sort of sickness effect. The last part of the flashback shows Scottie’s perspective of the dead officer, sprawled out and contorted.

The movie then jumps to “present” day-we see that Scottie has somehow survived his incident as he is sitting on the couch of a female friend talking about his retirement plans from police work due to the traumatic experience. At first sight it may seem like he is talking to a psychiatrist as he is symbolically sitting on the couch, but since the woman is sitting at an easel, seemingly preoccupied with what she is painting it is clear that this is a more personal relationship. However, the nature of said relationship is still ambiguous when the woman, Midge, expresses concern for his well being. As the two exchange some borderline flirtatious banter it is revealed that the two were once in a relationship and have remained friends. It is easy to see from her concern for him though that she is likely still carrying a torch for Scottie.

Though he is trying to get out of police work (so as to avoid any other work that may trigger his acrophobia) an old friend of Scottie’s, Gavin Elster, begs him to be a P.I. for him. The assignment would require Scottie to tail Gavin’s wife Madeline (Kim Novak) whom he fears is suicidal and spends all day wandering around San Francisco in a sort of catatonic state, possibly due to depression as she is repeatedly visiting a grave at the cemetery or even possession by a ghost. When Scottie recommends psychiatric help for Madeline, Gavin scoffs and indicates that he would only resort to “that kind of care” as a last resort. This scene is not only a foreshadowing of what turns out to be Gavin’s cold nature but also speaks to the recurring theme of mental illness that reveals itself several times in the film. Mental illness is likened to weakness and inadequacy in such an implied way that it almost explains why Scottie’s fear of heights and post-traumatic stress disorder go untreated and thus become so horribly debilitating.

Scottie declines the assignment but curiosity gets the better of him so he begins to follow her anyway and a beautifully suggested “love at first sight” scene ensues. As his tailing leads to stalking the directorial style becomes both more ominous and ingenious. Split screens show what both characters are doing simultaneously, dramatic music similar to the music in the opening scene plays in between destinations- not only does this hearken back to Scottie’s fearful experience, but it also suggests that something else creepy is happening too. The extensive pursuit scenes are also filmed with no dialogue, leaving the only sound to be the background music or at some points none at all, effectively recreating a mundane stakeout sort of feeling. While there is definitely an artistic value to these various montages, they do tend to run a little long at some points and slow the pace of the film down a little bit.

Based on his observations, Scottie has deduced that Madeline is possessed by the ghost of a deceased socialite and finally confronts her (actually he rescues her from what appears to be a suicide attempt but was actually her baiting him all along) and a secret and shady relationship takes shape.

This is the point where “Vertigo” starts to get REALLY weird. Madeline describes frequent visions of a Spanish church outside San Francisco. Scottie takes her there to face her fear; which illustrates both irony and hypocrisy since he will not do the same in relation to his own fear. What is also fascinating about the setting of a Spanish church is the fact that the rooftop where Scottie had his terrifying incident was also non-coincidentally done in Spanish architecture; a foreshadowing of awful things to come.

A seemingly possessed Madeline races up the stairs to the church bell-tower, Scottie tries to go after her but the vertigo from his acrophobia kicks in, preventing him from going up any more than a few steps. Eventually he sees her body fall to the ground, landing in the same position as the cop who lost his life trying to save him in the opening scene- which of course means the creepy music into play again, as does a the zooming in-and-out effect we saw earlier. A post-mortem trial concludes that Madeline’s death was clearly a suicide and Scottie is cleared of any wrongdoing. Ok, I know I mentioned the last part was when things get REALLY weird, what happens after is when they get downright creepy. I was under the impression that Hitchcock was going to exploit the fear of heights and attack the senses in a carnal way with this movie- instead it is much more psychological and thus much more effective.

”We stood there and I kissed her for the last time, and she said, 'If you lose me you'll know that I loved you and wanted to keep on loving you.' And I said, 'I won't lose you.' But I did!” (Scottie Ferguson, “Vertigo”)

Scottie sinks into a deep depression after Madeline’s death. He breaks all ties with his only real tether to reality, Midge, and begins obsessively stalking Madeline’s old haunts as well as another woman, Judy, who he swears reminds him of Madeline. Amid a whirlwind courtship Scottie slowly begins to transform her into Madeline; first in her clothes, then her hair and even her eating habits. As the disturbing transformation unfolds it becomes clear that a fear of heights is the least of Scottie’s mental issues.

Judy is torn between her lovesickness for Scottie and her own dignity- compounded especially by the fact that she (SPOLIER ALERT) IS Madeline… well at least who Scottie thought was Madeline. Using his astute police work, Scottie determines that Judy was playing the part of Madeline all along so that Gavin could kill the “real” Madeline, who we never actually have seen, by throwing her off the church bell tower, knowing full well Scottie would never actually see this as his acrophobia would prevent him from going to the top. Judy could pull of the switcharoo with Madeline and stand in the shadows while Madeline Version 1.0 is thrown to her death. Scottie would be able to testify that nobody else was there besides them and her recent “attempted suicide” would give credence to the theory that she was depressed and wanting to die anyway, thus making it an open-and-shut case. I half expected either Judy or Gavin to exclaim that they “would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those pesky kids and their dog” but it was not to be.

Instead Scottie takes Judy back to the scene of the crime with dark intentions-so much so that he is able to conquer his fear of heights, which is depicted brilliantly by Scottie ascending the steps to the bell tower with Judy and finally not having that creepy music/zoom effect thing happen to him again when he looks down the stairwell and sees how high up he is. However he has a change of heart when he realizes that Judy has legitimately fallen in love with him, and since he never loved the real Madeline anyway, it’s a no-harm-no-foul type scenario. Unfortunately for the happy, twisted couple, Judy ends up stumbling from the top of the bell tower to her death, and you guessed it, the last image Scottie sees of her is the dead cop/Madeline spread.

Ultimately, the main theme that runs through “Vertigo” is the profound conclusion that nobody is who they seem to be. Obviously Madeline/Judy isn’t, but also Gavin is actually the exact opposite of a concerned husband and even Scottie is far from being any kind of hero or even a real serviceable protagonist thanks in large part to his methodical torture of Judy through his ongoing attempts to bend her into what he wants her to be. In addition it is clear that Scottie is not the kind of friend anyone would want to have as he actively pursues a woman is, to the best of his knowledge, his friend’s psychologically vulnerable wife. However the creepiest element of Scottie’s nature is the one thing that Hitchcock devotes the most time to so that there is no doubt we will catch it; his repeated stalker-like tendencies. Here we have a character who, for all intents and purposes is supposed to represent a victim, though he is depicted through the whole movie as a man who is prone to one of the sickest and most evil forms of mental cruelty imaginable.

The notion that anyone from a cop to a well-off businessman to a woman who is just doing as she is told are capable of the kind of deception that all these main characters practice is spine-chilling when you put it into the context of real life.

Like I mentioned earlier, attacking a person’s basest fears is completely secondary to the unsettling level of psychiatric manipulation that Hitchcock achieves in this picture. This is very fortunate for the narrative since the extremely dated and almost corny “moments of vertigo” scenes are relatively harmless in the big picture. Had these scenes been the basis of the suspense of “Vertigo” then the whole movie would have become obsolete within a decade or so; in other words “Vertigo” sidesteps the danger of being a “Child’s Play” kind of horror movie and instead succeeds in being a far superior “Nosferatu” kind of suspense movie.

Sure this film, like practically any other movie, has its shortcomings; why lift a principle character like Midge, who also represents an edgy, independent career woman out of the picture entirely? How did Gavin know for sure Scottie would take Judy to the bell-tower on cue? How does a police officer have a career as long as Scottie has without having to encounter heights before the traumatizing incident? But even with all these flaws “Vertigo” still manages to accomplish an aim that VERY few movies, especially the ones that are “meant” to, is able to do; LEGITIMATELY creep the viewer out!

#62. Tootsie (1982)

Not knowing anything else about “Tootsie” other than the fact that it features Dustin Hoffman in drag I was very leery about watching it. Not because transgender people make me uncomfortable, but because drag humor isn’t funny. Little did I know that the comedic elements of this film are built around the reasons he is in drag and the consequences of it, rather than just the novelty of a man dressed up like a woman, which is what movies like “White Chicks” and “Mrs. Doubtfire” rely on to carry the picture.

Dustin Hoffman plays Michael Dorsey, a method actor who has pissed off every theater director in New York, finding himself blacklisted despite his talent. Out of work and options Michael hatches a plan that will hopefully land him a steady job as well as push his acting abilities to the limit. Calling on his ability to immerse himself into a character, Michael transforms himself into a woman, Dorothy Michaels (an obvious reversal of his given name) and successfully auditions for the role as a homely hospital administrator on a trashy soap opera.

Before long “Dorothy” becomes the breakout star of the show which turns Michael’s life “upside-down-face” (as Brian Griffin would say). His basket case best friend Sandy (Teri Garr) falls in love with him to the point of stalkerdom due to a misunderstanding when Michael is forced to either pretend he is seducing her or reveal the truth about his double-life and unwisely chooses the former. His roommate Jeff (played by Bill Murray, who doesn’t really flex his acting muscles here, playing virtually the same character he always played up until “Rushmore”) rags on Michael every chance he gets, providing some of the funniest lines in the movie along the way. Most complicated though is the relationship “Dorothy” establishes with her co-star Julie (Jessica Lange). Julie sees Dorothy as a fellow woman/confidant and gushes the details of her emotionless relationship with the show’s director (Dabney Coleman- the 1980’s go-to-guy for skeevy, misogynistic roles) which makes Michael fall in love with her.

Without being too preachy or polarizing “Tootsie” manages to provide unique commentary on issues like gender roles, financial desperation and male/female relationships. Michael finds himself in a position where he notices for the first time the way women are treated in his industry and even sees how he has inadvertently subjected women to this mistreatment by mentoring several aspiring female actresses and encouraging them to go after parts, seemingly unaware of how different the audition process is for them.

“Listen, you take your hands off me or I’ll knee your balls right through the roof of your mouth!” (Dorothy Michaels, “Tootsie”)

He is also forced to evaluate his relationships with women. Though his best friend is a woman, he not only discovers how easily a platonic friendship can become something else, but also how impossible it is to “go back” after having crossed the line. Similarly, he learns how difficult it is to be in the position Sandy is in where he is the one who is carrying the torch for someone who doesn’t see you in the same light- though in Julie’s case it is because she believes Michael is a woman. At one point Michael (as Dorothy of course) makes a move on Julie and sexual orientation is also forced to become part of the dialogue of the film as well; granted it is sidestepped for the most part, but even that it was addressed in the early 80’s in film was very commendable. More commendable still though is the fact that this film is directed in such a way that Michael’s sexual orientation is never called into question while maintaining that he really sees no shame in his predicament, thus making the film very non-offensive to any viewer, regardless of their comfort level with sexual identity.

Perhaps the most admirable thing about “Tootsie” however is the way it addresses society’s perception of physical attractiveness and the pressures that go along with it; whether it is Julie mentioning ways to look younger to Dorothy or Michael’s frantic attempts to impress Julie in their first outside-of-work encounter. Since he has to do this as Dorothy the focus has to be on what makes him look less “hippy” or makes his butt sag the least.

This comedic sensitivity towards appearance is especially important in addressing the transformation from Michael to Dorothy. While convinced that Dorothy is a natural woman, people still believe she is a fairly homely one- this is important in making the plot believable. By adopting a Peggy Hill-like appearance it is not totally unconvincing that Michael could pass as a female, especially considering the obvious temptation the director would feel to make him a super-hot woman with all the extra plot devices and gags this concept could lend itself to.

“Tootsie” is a charming movie if for no other reason than it touches on several serious issues without actually diving into any of them. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which keeps the film simply a comedy, rather than a dramedy. Sometimes when a film starts off light-hearted and winds up trying to make too serious of a point it cuts the guts out of the film, or even worse comes across as pretentious and condescending.

On the flip side though, the film satirizes so many social injustices while never making light of them and without ridiculing. None of the jokes are made at the expense of any of the “good” people and nothing overly sadistic happens to any of the “bad” people. Also, this film benefits from the realism of not showing any unrealistic, overly dramatic changes to any of the characters.

Lastly, I can't talk about this film without mentioning how incredible an acting job Dustin Hoffman pulls off. Not only does he manage to nail both his male and female parts, but his transitional scenes are true genius. Going from being a man to a woman is not a seamless process and Hoffman portrays the challenge excellently without belaboring the point or overdoing it. It's one thing to pretend to be an actor, but to pretend to be an actor acting badly is a new level of talent.

While I admire the artistry, depth, symbolism, plot devices and character development featured in many of the films on this Top 100 list, it is refreshing to get a movie like “Tootsie” where the primary function is still entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less.

#63. Stagecoach (1939)

Bruce Springsteen has a song called “Land of Hope and Dreams” that talks about a glory-bound train that carries “Saints and Sinners… losers and winners… whores and gamblers” and “lost souls.” Now that I have seen John Ford’s “Stagecoach” I’m reasonably convinced that he had this film in mind when he wrote it.

Of all the genres of movie I have encountered, westerns have been the ones that have agreed with me the least- “Stagecoach” has softened my hostility considerably.

“Stagecoach” begins by introducing us to a group of very different people in a random Southwestern US town who all wind up on a stagecoach together for various reasons. The coach driver Buck is the typical chubby, cowardly bumbler. He whines about his life to anyone who will listen and is likely a drunkard. Representing the law is Curley, a marshal who is defending the coach against possible attacks from the feared Apache warrior Geronimo as well the infamous Ringo Kid who has recently escaped from prison. The other “respectables” are Mrs. Mallory, a pregnant military wife who is on her way to see her husband at his isolated duty station and a mysterious but gentlemanly Southern gambler/former Confederate soldier Mr. Hatfield, who is an old acquaintance of Mrs. Mallory and vows to defend her in her travels.

The rest of the passengers on the outbound coach represent various societal dregs. A harmless, meek whiskey salesman Mr. Peacock, who everyone respects initially when they think he is a priest but look down on when they discover his true profession. Mr. Gatewood is the town banker who embezzles $50,000 in miner’s wages and flees town. Dr. Boone is the town doctor and town drunk who has been forced out of practice by the sanctimonious citizens of the small town. A young blonde woman named Dallas, who on the surface appears to be very normal, is very tastefully and subtlely revealed to be a prostitute. She has fallen victim to a vigilante group of bored religious old maids and is proverbially run out of town on a rail.

The last passenger picked up along the way is the Ringo Kid (John Wayne) himself, giving credence to Curley’s suspicion that they would encounter him in their travels. Initially thought to be a threat Curley realizes that Ringo might be a valuable ally in case of an attack by Geronimo’s gang and exercises leniency. The passengers are all forced to reevaluate their own prejudices and preconceived notions as they learn more about each other, which of course conveniently allows for seamless character development but also gives us the opportunity to see the various sides of many characters at once based simply on their reactions to each other and their actions, both silent as well as defined.

One of the greatest examples of this occurs in a scene where the group stops for dinner at a small restaurant along the way. Dallas seats herself across from Mrs. Mallory and everyone awkwardly looks around the room and shifts their gazes from Dallas to Mrs. Mallory, who does not make any effort to hide her disgust and relocates herself to the other side of the table. Mr. Hatfield, who is also very judgmental but also ever gentlemanly at least attempts to come up with a half-assed excuse for moving, claiming that Mallory should be sitting closer to a window in the hot building. Ringo, who is sitting directly next to Dallas shows both chivalry and sensitivity by first trying to shoulder the blame himself and, even after Dallas acknowledges that it’s because of her instead of him, still comments that he is the one who technically does not belong in society due to his status as a fugitive.

“I guess you can't break out of prison and into society in the same week.” (The Ringo Kid, “Stagecoach”)

This dinner scene is also relevant because it is the first period of extended dialogue from both Dallas and the Ringo Kid who speak at length on their side of the table while the rest of the party has its own conversation going- though they are shunning Dallas and Ringo, the two don’t seem to notice because they are seemingly engrossed in each other’s company; the two biggest outsiders finally find mutual counterparts.

As the trip proceeds the insight into the characters deepens even more. The “evil” whiskey salesman is a very devoted family man who has fallen upon hard times and simply mules booze as a way of making a living- and NEVER partakes himself. Conversely, Dr. Boone is revealed to be a very competent and caring physician, even recognizing Ringo as the brother of a boy he had treated for a broken arm many years earlier. His drinking problem is relatively incidental, as it has seemingly never affected his ability to practice medicine or function in society- he is simply a victim of the attitudes of the times.

Even the hard criminal Ringo turns out to have a good excuse for his circumstances. He was jailed after defending his brother and father against an attack a notorious gang known as The Plummer Boys. His bloodthirsty pursuit for revenge suddenly makes much more sense and from a certain point of view can be justified.

Another crucial stop along the way yields two of the best and most important scenes in the film. Mrs. Mallory’s baby unexpectedly arrives early, with the rest of the passengers up in arms Dallas takes control of the situation and, with the help of Dr. Boone, successfully delivers the baby and treats Mallory afterward.

Not only is this scene important because of how far it goes in illustrating how competent (and modest) Dr. Boone is, but it represents a major change of heart, be it forced or not, for Mallory to not only just tolerate Dallas’ presence, but far more significantly, for her to acknowledge a need for Dallas. Also, there is a significant amount of unspoken genius in the implication that Dallas knows how to deliver a baby- suggesting that she has either had to do so on her own or for a colleague from her prostituting days.

The night after Dallas delivers the baby her and Ringo walk through the town where they are laid-over. The two begin to express their feelings for each other in what builds up to the single most powerful and perfectly executed scene in the film. As the two discuss the possibility of a life together and lament their circumstances we see the lights from various saloons and shops illuminate their faces on the dark streets, clearly suggesting the presence of light even in complete darkness. The level of intensity crescendos as the two quietly and awkwardly walk by a whorehouse; Ringo silently tries to ignore the landmark while Dallas suddenly becomes overwhelmed by the reminder of her old life. The scene is shot from the waist up and even though there are no close-ups or zooms you can visibly see tears form in her eyes from out of nowhere. While this part of the film showcases Claire Trevor’s amazing acting ability you also can’t ignore John Wayne’s surprisingly poignant pantomime.

Of course like every great (or bad) western, there is of course the obligatory gunfight- though “Stagecoach” provides two- the first is much more climactic- an encounter with Apache warriors who ambush the coach, the first casualty being the most harmless man in the group, Mr. Peacock. Yet another example of saying so much without saying anything at all occurs when Mr. Hatfield cocks his gun and puts it to Mrs. Mallory’s head as she looks out the stagecoach window, his plan being one last gentlemanly act of killing her rather than subjecting her to the unspeakable implied horrors of what Indian warrior supposedly did to white women at the time is foiled when he is killed before he can pull the trigger. Notwithstanding the racist overtones in the depiction of the Native Americans, the ensuing fight and subsequent rescue courtesy of the Cavalry Unit led by Mrs. Mallory’s husband makes for a thrilling and surprisingly advanced scene for its time with lots of tracking shots of the Apache on horses and the moving coach.

The second, less dramatic and significantly shorter conflict erupts when Ringo finally confronts the Plummer gang. He makes short work of them by flinging himself to the ground and firing at them on the way down. However the way this scene is filmed we are led to believe Ringo has been carved up, as so much emphasis is given to Ringo’s dramatic fall and one of the Plummer boys takes several steps after the shots ring out. It isn’t until he collapses dead that we realize the good guy has won.

Cue the happy ending for Ringo and Dallas when the law decides to look the other way and allow him to “escape” and you have a very textbook but somehow still very unique western. Rather than the corny old spaghetti western we get a full-on drama film, with character development (with everyone except the crooked banker who really could have been explored in more depth), flawed protagonists, unorthodox depictions of class and status and ultimately beautiful cinematography.

The other films directed by John Ford I am familiar with feature huge, sprawling outdoor shots, but somehow he manages to make tiny, confining shots work to this movie’s advantage. In fact the cramped stagecoach as well as the tiny huts the characters find themselves in help to illustrate the incredibly close quarters the group of misfits is contained in. The closed-quarters also are ideal for maximizing the amount of onscreen time all the characters get so that we are equally acquainted with everyone.

In my previous review of “The Searchers” I commented on John Wayne’s sucky acting- the performance he turns out in “Stagecoach” makes me see him in a completely different light now. The biggest testament to this film’s credibility is the fact that it was nominated for Best Picture at the 1939 Academy Awards- which means it held its own against films like “Gunga Din,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” “The Wizard of Oz” and a movie called “Gone With the Wind…” Maybe you’ve heard of it…

#64. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

“Close Encounters of the Third Kind” would have been a subpar movie no matter what year it was released. The fact that it had to come out the same year as a little indie flick called “Star Wars” just makes it that much more awful by comparison (as long as you don’t factor in what the “Star Wars” franchise would eventually become).

In order for me to be able to take any movie about alien abduction seriously there has to be a shred of me that is willing to believe there are such things as aliens, and I’m sorry, that just isn’t happening. Maybe I’m a cynic, maybe I’m in denial or maybe it’s because I wasted my formative years with girls instead of dreaming about what it may be like to be probed on a mothership. However, I promise not to let my somewhat jaded views on extra terrestrials effect my ability to objectively appraise “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”

A lengthy prologue illustrates a series of bizarre events which set the tone for the rest of the film. Intentionally leaving all sorts of questions that will invariably be answered over the course of the next couple hours. Several old-style bombers are discovered by an excavation crew in the middle of the desert, some mysterious blips pop up on an Air Traffic Control screen somewhere clearly in a different part of the world but likely at the same time and somewhere in the Midwest, a little boy seems hypnotized by the glow of some objects in the night sky- almost to the point of obsession.

A lot of eerie darkness and silence creates an ambiance during these vignettes to suggest the presence of something ominous. The mood lightens as the body of the story begins at what appears to be a typical suburban home. The patriarch, Roy (Richard Dreyfuss) is shown to be easily distracted and scatterbrained. While he doesn’t necessarily come across as cold to his family he is clearly detached to some degree. His wife Ronnie (Teri Garr) attends to his somewhat out of control children while he participates in various activities that command his attention (movies, toy trains etc).

What should be a routine service call for Roy (a power company employee) leads to another unexplained event when his truck stops on a set of railroad tracks, is engulfed in industrial quantities of light, shakes, rumbles and finally returns to normal as the bright light flies off into the twilight. From this point on Roy’s level of indifference to reality deteriorates even further. He shows no concern when he loses his job or when Ronnie threatens to leave him. Rather, he becomes obsessed with recreating a chimney-rock shaped structure, first with mashed potatoes and eventually at more drastic extremes by transporting dirt into his living room.

Roy soon realizes that he is not alone and that other people who have had similar “encounters” are converging on a landmark in Wyoming, Devil’s Tower which bears a striking resemblance to Roy’s spud sculpture. Among those making the pilgrimage is Jillian, the mother of Barry, the little boy we saw earlier.

In one of the most intense scenes in the film it is revealed that Barry has been abducted by the strange ships. Jillian makes every effort to keep him safely inside via bolted doors and boarded windows. However the visitors are so intent on leaving with Barry that a grate on the floor is violently broken away and he is carried off. This scene really plays off the concept that more is less, as even during an invasive kidnapping, we see nothing more than heavy lighting and shaking walls.

Roy and Jillian discover a sort of Area 51 vibe at Devil’s Tower- complete with armed military guards, restricted access and lots of government secrets. After sneaking through the obviously tightened security they discover a sort of staging area behind the rock structure. It is in this climactic sequence that Steven Spielberg clearly put all his proverbial eggs in one basket, condensing all of the interesting parts of the film into this section.

“Americans shot more than seven billion photographs at a record of 6.6 billion dollars for film, equipment and processing. Now with all those shutters clicking, where is the indisputable, photographic evidence?” (Maj. Benchley, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”)

Using sophisticated light and sound equipment that makes the command center look like a state-of-the-art stadium it is implied that the government has mastered the art of manipulating natural phenomena such as weather and sunset through sound. The musical commands however take the experimentation one step further when what appears to be a quintessential “mothership” arrives, leading a large fleet of the same ships we have seen for the whole movie. People begin departing the ships in droves, each one announced as a missing person who has been returned home. Giving credence to the claims that time moves slower in space, none of the passengers appear to have aged since their initial abductions, some dating back to World War II. And of course, little Barry is reunited with Jillian.

For the first time in the film Roy finally seems comfortable in his own skin. So much so that he enthusiastically agrees to depart with the alien ships. The big climax comes when the ramp of the mothership lowers and, amidst the blinding light of the landing gears and runway lights, ethereally glowing little people start walking towards Roy and lead him by the hand aboard the ship, welcoming him to their world as the film ends to the melody of “When You Wish Upon A Star.” This ending, while very “happy” is also very innovative and surprising. Thanks in part to the abduction of Barry but also just because of the history of sci-fi films, encounters with aliens are always expected to be hostile, like “War of the Worlds” hostile. To see the visitors depicted as harmless and peaceful is very refreshing.

For all the bad things I can (and will) say about this film, I can’t even begin to deny the technical achievements it attained. The ships are shown in incredibly detailed close-ups; the camera stays still while the ships sweep over, almost creating a frozen still effect for the viewer. Even more amazing though are the effects during the weather manipulation scenes which really go the extra mile in a genre where you can just as easily get away with basic black and white sky and star scenery. Also, the lighting in the staging scenes when synced up with the music looks like an enormous live-action Lite-Brite.

Now, if Steven Spielberg’s goal with this film was to make people walk away feeling as though THEY had been abducted by an alien and thinking “What the fuck just happened?” then mission accomplished. The sequences depicting the strange happenings jump around too much. Despite knowing that it will all be tied together eventually it feels disjointed and sloppy. This happens again with the scenes where the government is experimenting with music/sound frequencies; the payoff of being able to say “Oh that explains it!” at the end of the movie is simply not worth two hours of asking “what going on now?”

The most clear-cut evidence that this movie sacrificed overall quality in exchange for some dazzling special effects lies in the characters themselves. Not just the poorly written dialogue, but their actions in general. Ronnie leaves Roy and is never seen again and only referenced in an implied phone call with Roy, thus lifting her and the children out of the film entirely- which could work if it was ever pointed out that Roy has no reason to stay on Earth at the end of the film, but this does not happen. Instead they inexplicably turn Jillian into a love interest when the two non-platonically kiss at the staging area right before splitting them up completely. Not only is this pointless but it is unrealistic given the seemingly limited amount of time they have spent together and the even more limited dialogue the two exchange.

The problem that this movie faces when being held up to other classics as one of the all time greatest is that when it is scrutinized its’ flaws become more glaring. What becomes of the returning World War II vets whose loved ones are likely dead? What is Jillian going to do with the numerous photographs she takes of the ships landing and aliens de-boarding? When does the cover-up begin the full level of understanding of the
strange happenings end? Since the abductees don’t age, exactly how long was Barry up there? Exactly how long did it take to set up this elaborate staging area and why is it so poorly guarded?

I know that these are nitpicky things and that sometimes you can’t overanalyze a movie because what you see is what you get, but I just don’t think having simple questions answered about unexplained plot elements is too much to ask from a film that is regarded as one of the 100 Greatest.

#65. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

I’ve always been a firm believer that horror movies in the old days were much scarier than the ones they come up with now. Not only is subtlety more intense than gratuitous violence, but I think the things you’re capable of imagining are far more frightening than anything that can be shown to you. Especially if you have a dark soul and twisted mind like me ;) A lot of movies these days claim to be psychological thrillers, but very few live up to the hype the way “The Silence of the Lambs” does. All you need to be called a psychological thriller now are some loud noises during quiet and an ending where someone ends up being dead or dreaming all along. Cannibalism, gender-bending and suits made of other people’s skin are just some of the treats that await you in the movie that really turned Jonathan Demme’s career around and made him a credible and serious director.

FBI Academy Student Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) who is on the verge of graduating receives an assignment from her mentor Agent Crawford to interview incarcerated serial killer/people-eater Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Unfortunately for the FBI Lecter is the best kind of profiler given his own inside knowledge of criminal behavior. Previous attempts to pick his brain regarding an at-large serial killer Buffalo Bill have been unsuccessful and Crawford works under the assumption that sending Clarice to interview him might yield better results.

The sense of urgency to capture Buffalo Bill accelerates when his next victim is the daughter of longtime U.S. Senator Ruth Martin. The ensuing subplot shows her daughter Catherine being imprisoned and tortured by Buffalo Bill. She fits the profile of all his previous victims, who he has been skinning in order to make suits from their flesh as an unsophisticated form of gender reassignment.

From the moment Hannibal and Clarice meet it is obvious that Lecter is not going to be the monster he is built up to be offscreen. He is well-versed and even stands when he greets her. Despite some initial conflict between the two a strange bond beings to form between Clarice and Hannibal. It is up in the air as to what the nature of it could be but as the film progresses it becomes evident that their connection is almost paternal, a conclusion that is only reinforced by the revelation that Clarice has had trouble bonding with men since the death of her beloved father.

Despite the fact that she is very competent, none of the men who come into contact with Clarice seem to respect her. Lecter’s attending doctor shamelessly hits on her, the small town police who find a corpse she has to analyze don’t take her seriously and even the other inmates at Lecter’s facility openly mock her. Hannibal on the other hand respects her, never talks down to her despite his intellectual superiority to everyone he comes into contact with and even develops an enhanced hatred of his caseworker once he sees him criticizing Clarice. The most revealing aspect of their relationship comes in a moment of no dialogue- Clarice is passing some paperwork to Hannibal through his sliding food drawer when he caresses her hand in an entirely asexual way.

When Hannibal agrees to help Clarice in exchange for relocation for the duration of his incarceration the contrast between Lecter and Buffalo Bill begins to take shape as we see the dramatic differences between the two serial killers. Buffalo Bill is a backwoods hillbilly with crude methods while Lecter is an educated and refined doctor. By making the differences between the two horrific criminals so clear the film humanizes people generally depicted in very broad strokes but doesn’t attempt to make us feel sympathy for them, as doing so would lessen the psychological control they have over the audience.

“I've no plans to call on you, Clarice. The world is more interesting with you in it.” (Hannibal Lecter, “The Silence of the Lambs”)

During one particularly disturbing exchange between Clarice and Lecter, she is speaking to him from the outside of his plexi-glass cell. The camera is focused on her, but as the two converse you can see Hannibal’s reflection the entire time. Shooting the scene in such an innovative way shows a two-way conversation where we can see both participants head-on. This allows the viewer to see each character reacting to the other as well as gives equal time to both parties, thus neither is the dominant one, which is especially important in establishing Clarice’s character as an equal to Lecter.

The last part of the film lags slightly as Lecter escapes incarceration and Clarice inadvertently falls right into the hands of Buffalo Bill, though there is a very intense showdown in his house that features an amazing night-vision stalking of Clarice as the subdued screams of Catherine Martin can be heard in the background.

99% of what makes this movie work is the casting. Anthony Hopkins’ portrayal of Hannibal Lecter revolutionizes the movie villain. Even after seeing what the man is capable of, there is a part of you that is always pulling for him. He escapes incarceration, kills his guards and reenters society and all the while you are almost happy for him. However at the same time you never trust him, you always question his motives and you always wait for him to do something deceptive. He gives you every reason to like him but in the back of your mind you always know you can’t.

The casting of Clarice is equally brilliant. An overly glamorous actress would have made this character hard to believe and almost insulting, whereas a more “butch” actress would have done nothing to establish Clarice as any kind of anomaly in terms of a woman trying to break into a male-dominated career field. She is not physically imposing but she is also not dainty or harmless.

What makes “The Silence of the Lambs” so frighteningly ingenious is the fact that you hear so little specifically about the things that Hannibal has done, but they are constantly referenced as being horrific to the point of unimaginable. As a result of this, the film gets into your head like nothing I’ve ever seen before, particularly in terms of being constantly on edge during any scene with Lecter in it. The air of caution and paranoia is always there to such an extent that it creates a strong “point of view” feeling; you can share any character’s apprehension about just being near the man, making you aware all along that you are being led into a false sense of security.

#66. Network (1976)

One of the biggest reasons my wife and I embarked on this movie-watching quest was because we wanted to be able to understand all the references made to classic films in various other forms of media. Thanks to “Network” and its iconic “I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” speech I now understand those J.G. Wentworth commercials where the people are yelling out their windows “It’s my money and I need it now!” Hey, I didn’t say it made those commercials any less annoying, I just get the reference now.

Since I wasn’t alive when “Network” came out, I have to come to my own conclusion as to whether or not it was eerily prophetic in depicting how sensationalized media would become or if the writing was already on the wall. What is the most shocking is to see how in 1976 this film showed extreme examples of how trashy TV could theoretically get and how close to the mark they actually came in their forecasting. Watching this film today one can easily identify elements of “The Jerry Springer Show,” “World’s Wildest Police Videos” and The Bible Network as complete hypotheticals that wound up being so.

A well-respected evening news reporter, Howard Beale (played by Peter Finch) finds out quite coldly that he is being let go due to poor ratings. After a night of drinking and reminiscing with his producer/best friend Max (played by William Holden, one of my favorite actors of all time) he facetiously comments about how he should commit suicide the day of his last broadcast for the sake of ratings. Quite unintentionally, Max muses along with him, commenting on how big the boost would be.

“I love it! Suicides, assassinations, mad bombers, Mafia hitmen, automobile smash-ups. The Death Hour! A great Sunday night show for the whole family. We'll wipe fucking Disney right off the air!” (Max Schumacher, “Network”)

The next night, Howard decides to announce to the world that he is going to do just that- blow his brains out on live TV. Of course there is the initial outrage and backlash, but the more the talking-heads, particularly Diana Christiansen (a morally loose programming director played by Faye Dunaway) start thinking about it, the more they decide that, while letting him kill himself off on the air might not be so good in the long term, letting him continue to rant without any kind of filter might be a ratings windfall.

Not only does this sensationalism lead to resurgence in Howard’s career, but also a complete retooling of the struggling network’s programming lineup. Soon sitcoms are replaced by shows that depict real footage of crimes being committed (the precursor to the “reality show” as well as any number of cop-chase, shootout programs narrated by John Bunnell). Prime-Time dramas are jettisoned in favor of real-life drama. The nightly news becomes a mockery complete with “psychics,” celebrity gossip-mongers and Howard Beale himself espousing opinions, some well researched and some not with all the overdramatic shouting of “The O’Reilly Factor.” Beale is shown to be more than just frustrated, but clearly unhinged, however, the network continues to exploit him even in spite of the very serious possibility that he is suffering from some sort of dementia or mental condition.

As morality goes even further to the wayside, the lines between real-life and fiction become blurred. Soon the characters’ lives begin to resemble TV shows, thus is where the true genius of “Network” begins to reveal itself. Beale enjoys a second lease on life by becoming a sort of demagogue to his loyal viewers; the irony of course being that his initial plans to end his life result in the rebirth of his career. Meanwhile, Diana and Max engage in a long-term mutually self-serving affair. Diana’s intention is to take over the network and not only would Max be a powerful ally, but he also likely wouldn’t resist her plans to sensationalize the news programming even further once she has him under her thumb. Max however feels the pressure of time and, in classic midlife-crisis form, leaves his wife for the much younger Diana, seemingly knowing all along that things will not end well.

The affair between Max and Diana represents a paradox of the entire point of the film. Not only just the absence of morality but also the negative long-term effects of immediate gratification, be it in bad programming or illicit sex. There are several instances where their relationships is referred to in the context of a fictional storyline which at times belabors the point but also effectively drives it home- you can’t manipulate real life the way you can manipulate a script.

Lo and behold, the house of cards begins to fall apart for everyone. Max realizes he misses his wife and that Diana is too obsessed with her career to ever be a viable partner. The radical Islamic leftist organization that is given their own program becomes consumed with greed, thus causing infighting that destroys their show. Howard Beale himself soon learns that people tend to be fickle in their viewing habits and is struggling to keep people interested in him.

On top of that, he begins to experience the downside of his influence when he motivates viewers to kill a deal that would give the Saudis overwhelming control in several American interests. As it turns out one of the biggest financial beneficiaries of this deal would have been the network that airs his show. Locked into a contract with Beale, who is now a liability for the network, the brass organizes a plan where Beale is assassinated on the air. Not only does this illustrate an obscene lack of humanity, but also shows us just how much the entertainment industry views people as commodities.

I loved this film, and I think anyone who would question its genius and its boldness would have to be an idiot. However, I have also heard the Great Debate about how this film should have beaten “Rocky” for the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1976. Having now seen both films now I can honestly say that an equally strong case can be made for both. However, it is simply common sense that this film would not have won under any scenario for one simple reason; politics. Any kind of film that shows us the behind the scene goings-on of the entertainment industry has already shot itself in the foot to some extent. It happened with “LA Confidential” it happened with “Sunset Boulevard” and it clearly also happened with “Network.”