#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…

#57. The Third Man (1949)

It’s funny to me that I loved “The Third Man” so much. Several blogs ago I bashed the supposed 70th Greatest American movie “The French Connection,” nitpicking it for being everything from too slow to too quiet. When I really sat down to think about the concept, the premise and even the shooting style of “The Third Man” I realized how basically similar these two films really are but I responded to them in completely opposite ways. I suppose it is the same way Lawrence Olivier can play Romeo and make the hairs on your arm stand up and Leonardo DiCaprio can play Romeo and make the lids on your eyes fall down.

From the opening lines of the narrated introduction it is evident that this film is going to be a classic piece of noir. The title character Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) describes post World War II Vienna as a country in disarray. As he details the shady world of organized crime, police corruption and black market drugs we are shown images of a ravaged city, half completed rebuilding efforts and finally the grisly but artistic image of a murdered bootlegger floating in a septic lagoon as disturbing Hungarian folk music plays in the background. This music will be heard during every major segue for the remainder of the film.

Holly explains that he is in Vienna on a whim after being offered a job by his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Wells). Since Holly is a somewhat successful author, he writes trashy western and detective novels and hopes his new opportunity writing for Harry’s medical newsletters will help him establish more credibility. When he arrives at Harry’s apartment the landlord explains that Harry has recently died after being hit by a truck and that the funeral is happening at that very moment. The whole time the landlord explains the circumstances he is trying to change a burnt-out light in the hallway- brilliantly associating everything that has to do with the world of Harry Lime with darkness.

A cavalcade of shady characters is introduced at the funeral, which Holly barely makes it to. Most notably is the local constable Major Calloway who seems a little too glad that Lime is dead and a little too suspicious of Holly to be on the up-and-up and a mysterious woman named Anna who has all the appearances of a grieving widow, though she is lurking in the shadows of the cemetery. In a series of conversations with her that will unfold over the course of the film we find out that Anna was Harry’s lover and Holly finds himself falling in love with her.

Completely disillusioned, Holly starts talking to several locals attempting to make sense of everything. As stories fail to add up he begins to suspect a bigger cover-up; an assumption that is only encouraged by Calloway’s persistent urge to force Holly out of Vienna. Soon his life is transformed into one of his own bad novels as he tries to find the mysterious “third man” who helped carry Harry’s body out of the street after his death since Holly believes that person might be the key to the mystery.

Reluctantly Calloway informs Holly that Lime was murdered for his involvement in the black market pharmaceutical trade. Holly is outraged to learn that Harry was killed over something so seemingly frivolous. Calloway explains that Harry had been watering down supplies of penicillin; doubling the amount he can sell but all but killing the potency. Not fully understanding the need for and lack of penicillin in a war-ravaged country Holly still feels like Harry’s murder was unjust and condemns Calloway for being so blasé about it.

In an effort to finally make Holly understand the gravity of Harry’s crimes Calloway takes him to a hospital in what turns out to be hauntingly beautiful. The nurses are all standing over the bed of a young child- though they never show the inside of the crib, the looks on the nursing staff’s faces paint a grim picture. The scene ends with one of the nurses pulling a teddy bear out of the crib and throwing it into a refuse pile in a dark corner of the room. This one shot says so much; a careless discarding of youth and innocence as well as the obvious indication that the child has died as if the teddy bear represented his will to live.

After realizing that Harry was not the man Holly thought he was he visits Anna again and the two begin talking about the Harry that they remembered. As this conversation takes place there are several jump cuts showing a man lurking in the shadows of the street. As Holly leaves having confessed his feelings for Anna and being subsequently rejected, he senses the man’s presence in a dark vestibule. A tenant in one of the upstairs apartments turns her lights on to reveal Harry Lime. Angered not only by Harry’s dealings in the drugs but also now his apparently faked death, Holly agrees to help Calloway take Lime down.

“In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed - but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.” (Harry Lime, “The Third Man”)

Harry and Holly finally meet face-to-face at a deserted carnival; serving as an informant to get information but also hoping to find some shred of his old friend Holly is horrified at the conversation the two have. Harry talks carelessly about the insignificance of life, using the analogy how small people appear to be from atop the rickety old Ferris Wheel and even tells Holly how easily he could get away with murdering him by shooting him and throwing him off the top of the wheel, as nobody would investigate such an apparent accidental death as a homicide. This scene more than any other in the film cements one of the main themes; that nobody is who we think they are. Not just Harry, but Holly isn’t the co-conspirator or sleaze Calloway thinks he is, Calloway isn’t the crooked cop Holly thinks he is and so on.

Holly and Calloway’s officers drive Harry into the sewers, leading to an amazing foot-chase sequence that really defines the entire film. The dark silhouettes in the sewers cast confusing shadows with the addition of the police lights, making for an exciting and suspenseful pursuit. In this scene it is also evident how much the movie benefits from being filmed in black and white as the implications of light and dark are a central theme and this is the first time the two are so starkly contrasted together. Lime nearly escapes his pursuers in an eerily filmed camera angle showing a shot of the streets above with his fingers suddenly probing out from under a street-grate before he realizes it won’t open. By only showing his hands protruding from below his prospects of escaping are illustrated simply by showing the ground surface as being out of reach.

The film ends almost as it began; at Harry Lime’s funeral- for real this time. What makes this ending so powerful is that even though the “bad guy” is caught and killed, there is just no way to have a happy ending at a funeral.

As much as I enjoyed “The Third Man” it doesn’t belong on this list, period. Not because it isn’t an amazing film, but because it is simply a hypocritical entry. The AFI is very clear that this list is comprised of the 100 Greatest American Films, and even states in their criteria that the films must be “an American Film… with significant creative/financial production elements from the United States” yet “The Third Man” is an English film, directed by an English director, based on a novel written by Graham Greene, an English author, released by an English production company and filmed in English studios. Don’t get me wrong, this movie is EASILY one of the best I’ve ever seen, but I just want a little consistency. If cinematic masterpieces like Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” or F.W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” were excluded on the basis of being foreign then for all intents and purposes this one should have been too.

#58. Fantasia (1940)

Whenever I see those commercials for re-released Disney movies and they try to hook you with that “Hurry before it goes back into the vault forever” spiel I always assumed it was just some kind of gimmick to boost sales. I still don’t know if “The Vault” exists or if it is more of a figurative concept, but given the difficulty I even had FINDING this movie so that I could watch it, I have to believe there is a guarded iron bunker in Anaheim with uniformed S.S. Officers guarding every copy of “Fantasia” known to man.

Anyhow, the show must go on, so thanks to eBay and too much free time I am able to bring you a thorough analysis of the 1940 children’s opera known as “Fantasia.”

What makes this movie so unique isn’t just the fact that Disney attempted to merge classical music with contemporary animation but that it hasn’t really been done again in the 70 years since. I have a rudimentary knowledge of how cinematic animation worked in the pre-computer age and I can’t even get my head around how difficult it had to have been to sync the visual up to the soundtrack but that feat in and of itself is commendable and probably helps to explain why this process was seldom done.

In recreating the effect of a symphony or an opera the film begins with no fanfare or credits but abruptly with the conductor and musicians taking their places. Rather than just making us watch a bunch of musicians playing instruments with no visual accompaniment all the players are shown in silhouette form during the entire opening Bach piece. The effect looks marvelous on screen but also kind of blows its whole wad in the first couple minutes. With no additions to the scenery the piece sort of drags on and repeats itself. Perhaps (benefit of the doubt here) this is done somewhat intentionally to create a much more dramatic effect when the animation sequences begin and grab your attention back.

Trying to create a movie geared towards children that uses classical music in the place of dialogue is a daunting task, therefore the decision to use a piece as famous as “The Nutcracker Suite” as the first of the animated sequences was a safe but smart move. The visuals are amazing at first sight and the incorporation of cute little fish and fairies is clever since there is just enough diversity between the two walks of life that there doesn’t have to be too much time focused on either one and the target audience can be entertained simply by the onscreen bells and whistles.

”It’s funny how wrong an artist can be about his own work. The one composition of Tchaikovsky’s that he really detested was his “Nutcracker Suite” which is probably the most popular thing he ever wrote” (Narrator, “Fantasia”)

Maybe it was done for pacing reasons or maybe it was done simply because there was some kind of determination on the part of Walt Disney to sneak in a recognizable character within a short time of opening the film, but for whatever reason the film jumps right into the now iconic Mickey Mouse themed-take on “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” This is one of the most well-animated scenes in the film but ironically enough also one of the most simplistic. The concept revolves around Mickey Mouse being a very novice magician and attempting to use his powers to make his chores easier. Mops begin to creepily sprout arms and march dazzlingly up and down stairs with pails of water- eventually causing a flood. I’ve never watched a Disney movie prior to this and even I am familiar with this sequence. Even though it represents the tiniest chunk of the film as a whole, the fact that “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” has gone on to be the universally recognized symbol of “Fantasia” speaks volumes about the scene’s impact and artistry.

The piece immediately following “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” was easily the most shocking thing I’ve seen in any animated film, if not any film in general, simply based on content and context. “The Rite of Spring” is introduced matter-of-factly by the conductor as a retelling of the history of the world. The narration then goes on to explain Darwinian Theory in great detail. This is generally inoffensive to me as it falls right in line with my personal belief system, - however judging by the look on my wife’s face during this segment I remembered that this is still a very hot issue and that in many places it is still being contested in court. The Theory of Evolution is a controversial topic in 2010- I can’t even imagine how jaw-dropping this part of the film must have been to 1940 audiences.

If there was any doubt left in the viewer’s mind as to whether or not the introduction was misunderstood, the ensuing Tour de Force of action confirms that there is in fact no other way to construe the subject matter. There is a big bang, and dinosaurs and even fish sprouting legs and walking onto the land. I’ve heard people get up in arms over subliminal messages that may or may not be hidden in Disney films that I will not investigate for myself but the fact of the matter is that there is no subliminal message in “Fantasia.” It spells out its agenda, at least on this subject, as plain as day. It is widely recognized that this movie was generally considered a flop upon its initial release and given the way people take personal offense to what is conveyed in art I have no trouble believing that. Hell it took the Dixie Chicks years to bounce back from an off-the-cuff comment about a moron so I can’t imagine a film that essentially dismisses the basis of some people’s entire belief system would be well received.

The placement of the intermission immediately after “The Rite of Spring” may have contributed to the failure of “Fantasia” more than anything else since I wouldn’t be surprised if many families walked out of the movie at that point. However, the ones who stayed were treated to probably two of the most innovative and groundbreaking visual elements of the film. The introduction of the “sound-track” uses the relatively simple concept that we all see now on our Windows Media Player when we stare at the trippy visualization effects. A simple vertical line appears in the middle of the screen and responds to the notes played by pulsating, trembling and vibrating along with the sound, in other words, it’s just an animated sound-wave, yet something inherently new at the time, at least visually.

The second is a marriage of animation and live-action that would set the stage for everything from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” to the Ralph Bakshi version of “The Lord of the Rings.” Mickey Mouse runs up the steps to the conductor’s podium, the two converse and even make physical contact. Even though this is a crude outline of what would eventually be plausible with filmmaking, the illusion that a cartoon mouse is talking to a live man (in silhouette form again, harkening back to the introduction) still looks pretty seamless now and without a doubt broke new ground 70 years ago.

Greek mythology is also introduced in the “Pastoral Symphony” part of the film, as Bacchus, the God of Wine is depicted and to a certain extent, lampooned. Though simply depicting in animation what is written in ancient mythology, the film takes on even more controversial subject matter when showing a Greek Bathhouse Gathering (orgy) and even flirts with the notion of drunken bestiality. Overall, despite the possible outrage of this scene, the message that shines through is more a warning against indulgence and decadence and is laced with Three-Stooges-esque slapstick to make it seem relatively harmless to young audiences.

“Night on Bald Mountain,” the big finale, serves two purposes. First off it seeks to win back the audience members it alienated in the first half by telling a very Biblical tale, but also it introduces a conflict; clear cut “good guys” and “bad guys” are introduced really for the first time in the movie- perhaps because they realized that movies, theater and even opera still present some sort of pro/antagonistic clash. In this case it is the fallen angel Lucifer having his scary minions defeated by glorious angels and huge beams of light clearly meant to represent what I like to call “Theatrical God.” To the strains of “Ave Maria” the scary devil-like characters are purged from our sight and the film ends on a very positive, inspirational and generally non-threatening note- a good thing considering the rest of the film contained a lot of scary imagery.

On the whole, I know (think) I understand what Walt Disney was attempting to do with this film. Introduce culture to a young audience in the form of classical music and also break new technological ground. The fragments of music and animation are diverse enough to keep pulling you back in, but unfortunately many of the pieces go on for so long that it is evident the attempt to create a “Short Attention Span Opera” has turned into self-indulgence. I am not letting my negative impression of Walt Disney taint my opinion of this film (especially since I believe that the concept and achievements are nothing short of genius) I’m just calling it like I see it.

At the end of the day “Fantasia” is a fireworks show that goes on for too long; sure it looks tremendous, but you reach a point where you are thinking to yourself “okay, we get the point.” Still, I applaud Walt Disney for what he was able to pull off with this film, for his efforts to bring a degree of sophistication to an otherwise mind-numbing form of media and for making bold statements about nature and religion. Also, I am incredibly proud of myself for having discussed “Fantasia” at this length and not once having referenced how awesome it must be on LSD… awww shit I just did.