#41. West Side Story (1961)

Someone put a lot of thought into “West Side Story.”

Every image, every movement, every shot is methodically filmed. There are numerous examples of visual metaphors, auditory symbolism, cultural/economic/gender commentary and even bold statements concerning police corruption. There is a very timeless feel to the conflict that makes it relevant in any time frame when applied to the right group of persecuted people. However, in spite of all this artistry “West Side Story” suffers from one fatal and insurmountable flaw; it is a musical and thus cannot be taken seriously.

Yeah, yeah, yeah I know it takes a much different level of creativity to tell a story in a non-traditional fashion and to incorporate interpretive dance and song into a narrative and successfully make it translate. The point is that the subject matter in “West Side Story” is too serious and too important to basically be downplayed by the silliness of showtunes. “The Sound of Music” pulls it off ONLY because World War II is more of an afterthought in that film- the primary conflict is still between Maria, Captain Von Trapp and the church; it doesn’t push Nazism to the forefront the way “West Side Story” emphasizes racial divide.

A well crafted but entirely too long opening sequence begins by showing an aerial view of the Easternmost section of New York City before “flying” left to the upper west-side of Manhattan. Along the way, as the scenery moves closer into the urbanized areas, the word “Jets” is written on the street corners- indicating that this is “gang turf.” On a cement playground, significantly surrounded by chain link (an obvious allusion to the concept of the concrete jungle and economic imprisonment) a group of stereotypical Brando-esque thugs surrounds a Puerto Rican peer. A ballet-routine depicting a fight ensues, complete with acrobatic flips where violent tossing would happen in a real fight. The Puerto Rican boy is a member of a rival gang, the Sharks, the rest of whom come to his aide, resulting in a full-scale, dancing brawl.

Before any real damage can be done (someone gets their toes stepped on, a wrist flails too wildly and snaps out of place) the cops arrive to break things up. They are the stereotypical kind of cops who tend to generalize young people and minorities, particularly giving the Sharks a hard time while going relatively easy on the Jets by comparison. Not only is this an example of seemingly prevalent racism but it also serves as an ironic tool when the Jets lament amongst themselves how badly THEY have it.

Ignoring the police’s almost meaningless request to stop making trouble, the leader Riff (Russ Tamblyn, the “Joan of Arcadia” chick’s dad) proposes to his subordinates that they attempt to re-recruit their old leader Tony (Richard Beymer) who has grown out of the gang lifestyle. The varying schools of thought are brilliantly contrasted in this sequence as Tony simply wants to be responsible and independent and is working at a drug store; however the same actions are seen as deplorable and traitorous by his old gangmates. The other remarkable thing I observed in this scene is the weak-mindedness of the other Jets, not just in their blind following of Riff but also their apparent inability to carry on without a strong leader like Tony. They scoff at the notion of him being mature and working but they rely on the same qualities for guidance.

Of course Tony dismisses the idea of coming back to the Jets for one last deathmatch with the Sharks, and he doesn’t even seem to be fazed by the fact that they are Puerto Rican, which is exactly what the rest of the Jets have against them. As the narrative fades away from Tony the focus becomes a group of Puerto Rican girls getting ready for a dance. The youngest girl, Maria (Natalie Wood) is said to have only been in the country for a little while and this dance will be her big “coming out” celebration as a young girl and an American.

The community dance at a local gymnasium sets the rest of the events of the film in motion. The scene is shot so artistically (not necessarily creatively but definitely artistically) that you almost ignore the fact that the story is about to become a “Romeo and Juliet” knock-off. All the clichés of a love at first sight are included- everything in the background fades into a blur, everyone else stops moving and a circle of color forms around Tony and Maria. A multitude of red, white and blue lights appear overhead giving the impression of both stars and a harmony of varying colors, in this case particularly, it signifies the flags of the US and Puerto Rico. The motif of colored lights representing a cultural melting pot will resurface numerous times throughout the film (most notably in the stained glass on Maria’s bedroom doors). Of course the happiness is short lived when it turns out that Maria is the younger sister of Bernardo, the leader of the Sharks, thus the central conflict arises.

“Life is alright in America/If you’re all white in America/Here you are free and you have pride/As long as you stay on your own side/Free to be anything you choose/Free to wait tables and shine shoes” (The Sharks, “West Side Story”)

The tension between the Jets and the Sharks only increases after the newfound love between Tony and Maria develops. Bernardo and a group of Sharks berate Maria for consorting with their enemies. What develops is the most entertaining routine in the film and also some of the most clever and convoluted commentary on immigration in cinema; past or present. The song “America” shows conflicting viewpoints of what it means to be American from the points of view of the male and female Puerto Ricans. I appreciate the fact that the immigrants are not shown as having a blanket opinion of America. The “America” interlude provides some nice comic relief from the impending darkness of the latter half of the film.

The “Romeo and Juliet” balcony scene is recreated and modernized to take place on a fire escape outside of Maria’s family’s apartment. The two declare their eternal love for each other in song in a very contrived and cheesy fashion. I know that there is supposed to be a romanticism to this age-old tale but I still cannot get onboard with the concept of two people falling in love in one night. Perhaps if it were simply from the perspective of young people who BELIEVE they are in love, but both “West Side Story” and “Romeo and Juliet” depend on their love and devotion being a truism, and I can only suspend disbelief for so long.

If human emotion is not logically applied in Tony and Maria’s instantaneous love, it is certainly abandoned altogether after the inevitable rumble scene. Tony, meaning to intervene ends up stabbing Bernardo to death (Riff is also killed in this confrontation but the real focus of the story is Bernardo). When he relays this news to her, she is not the least bit upset with him or angered; only saddened by her brother’s death that, inadvertent or not, was on Tony’s hands. The two know they will both be targets of both justice and vengeance so they make the decision to flee together.

A series of misunderstandings leads to the tragic full-circle ending on the playground where the film began. Tony, believing Maria has been killed by Bernardo’s best friend for her traitorous love for him, begs to be shot too. Instead Maria runs to him and he is overjoyed to learn that she is alive- for about three seconds before he is shot dead in her arms. A nearby church bell as well as the whine of the police sirens toll in the background like a death gong, underscoring all the violence that has occurred that night. Also, there is a very subdued level of artistry in having the most disturbing violence occur on a playground; it suggests a transition from childhood to maturity, a loss of innocence and a discarding of the youth by the system.

There are excellent technical elements at play in this film as I have pointed out, and the commentary is extremely relevant. It is well made in some aspects but in other ways the adaptation is lazy. It never comes across as a modernization or homage to “Romeo and Juliet” so much as just a repackaging. The loud lighting and very hokey shots like one that is supposed to appear to be a first-person perspective of a view through a fence which is really a very badly conceived lens filter simply look terrible- maybe on purpose to show simplistic props to make the transition from Broadway show to film more tangible, but it just looks bad in the final product. It’s not that I can’t appreciate the integration of drama, music and interpretive dance; it is just that it lightens the subject matter too much- and I can’t watch the fight scenes with a straight face. Also, a small part of me takes offense to the fact that they had to find the most American actress they could to play Maria- Natalie Wood had a great deal of talent but her accent in this film is Costner-esque.

For a better example of dance being used to simulate violent action you’d be just as well to watch Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” video.

#42. Rear Window (1954)

No matter how self-righteous we all pretend to be in front of our co-workers or shrouded in the anonymity of the internet, the fact of the matter is, at least to some extent, we are all gossips. We are all nosey and judgmental (some more than others) of what seems unfamiliar and weird to us. More to the point we are all interested in what other people are doing (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing unless you’re a writer for Us Weekly or Perez Hilton). Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rear Window” masterfully plays off this basic human trait.

The opening sequence says so much while saying nothing at all. The camera pans around the windows of a typical looking urban New York apartment complex. Various people are shown going about their daily routines and living fairly normal lives. There is a presumably married couple though the wife is bedridden, another married couple who are obviously newlyweds as the man is shown carrying the woman through the entryway, a ballerina, a conspicuously alone (divorced/widowed?) woman, a young man who is always seated at a piano (a stereotypical starving artist) and another married couple who are sleeping on the fire escape and will be seen several times lowering their small dog into the courtyard in a sort of crude basket and rope elevator.

The shot then pans across the courtyard to an apartment directly across from the first one and zeroes in on a leg in a cast propped up in a wheelchair. The cast contains a sarcastically written eulogy to L.B. “Jeff” Jefferies, the man wearing the cast played by Jimmy Stewart. Since it is not signed it is a good assumption that Jeff himself wrote it, indicating both traces of a dark sense of humor as well as some degree of self-pity. A little bit of backstory informs us that Jeff is an award-winning photojournalist who was injured on an assignment. Hitchcock does an ingenious job of showing that Jeff is well traveled by having his apartment adorned with various pieces of décor that appear to be from several different continents.

Banter between Jeff and his home-health care nurse Thelma (Thelma Ritter) makes for some of the best dialogue in the picture. The two have funny back-and-forth with Thelma serving as both a support system and a snarky voice of reason. She is always quick with a comeback to take Jeff down a peg but never maliciously. More important to their chemistry though is the fact that they clearly have a platonic relationship- something that is rarely seen in films even today, especially one as mutually understood as theirs. So many times in movies a person who opens up to someone either does so out of admiration for them or the person who is the sounding board puts up with their drama because they are in love with them; a perfect example being the Midge character in Hitchcock’s “Vertigo.”

Maybe to reinforce the harmlessness of Jeff and Thelma’s friendship or maybe just because the film needed another principal character, Jeff’s gorgeous and seemingly much younger socialite girlfriend Lisa (Grace Kelly) enters the picture. Her initial dialogue immediately distinguishes her as a deep and caring person rather than the typical detached and flighty heiress sort of character, as she reminds Jeff that he is closing in on his final days in his dreaded cast. She also expresses an interest in seeing Jeff give up his dangerous job that keeps him away from home; hoping for a less hectic life in the city. Jeff loathes this idea as he feels his identity is entirely in his work. In most other films a wealthy blonde love interest would be more obsessed with the prestige and traveling that accompany Jeff’s lifestyle but Lisa is exactly the opposite. In fact her desire to see Jeff settle down is one of the major conflicts in the film; so much so that Jeff intends to break up with her because of their difference in character.

Conversations Jeff has with both the women in his life always seem to focus on the relatively dull events of the people across the courtyard Jeff observes from his window. The people in the apartment across the street are combating a summer heatwave and all have their windows open for Jeff to peer in from a distance. They are all blithely unaware of his voyeurism, giving Jeff a pretty unfiltered glimpse at their lives. I love, love LOVE the fact that the various vignettes occurring in the opposing apartments give the feel of a TV show- and Jeff treats his view as such. He gets bored with what is going on in one apartment and “switches” to the next. Despite having many other options for entertainment (books, magazines and television) he elects to devote his interest to the primitive reality show going on across the courtyard.

In very Seinfeldian terms he explains what he thinks the other people are doing and even assigns them nicknames based on his own shallow observations. The ballerina is “The Torso,” the single woman on the lower level is “Ms. Lonelyhearts” and the young man at the piano is “The Songwriter.” Ms. Lonelyhearts in particular has some of the most interesting activity in the film, once shown bringing a younger man home in total desperation before kicking him out for aggressively forcing himself on her and later she attempts suicide, which Jeff callously ignores.

”Jeff, you know if someone came in here they wouldn't believe what they'd see. You and me with long faces plunged into despair because we find out a man didn't kill his wife. We're two of the most frightening ghouls I've ever known!” (Lisa Freemont, “Rear Window”)

Perhaps because he sees too much or perhaps because he needs some excitement and drama in his routine, Jeff believes he sees the man in the apartment most directly across from his (Raymond Burr) kill his bedridden wife. Numerous pieces of circumstantial evidence start piling up; the man leaves with heavy boxes at odd hours, the sudden absence of his wife and liquidation of her belongings and Jeff seeing him carrying around a butcher knife and a hacksaw. The sudden fear that the man has done the unthinkable appeals to two very primal human fears: the feeling of powerlessness as he is unable to intervene and the ability to relate to a victim. A convincing case can be made that Jeff sees the woman as an extension of himself as he is also an invalid and very much relies on the care of others.

The subsequent involving of Thelma and Lisa in Jeff’s armchair investigation not only enhances the TV show concept, particularly when they ask him for updates on what they missed, but also provides the true suspense of the movie. The two women are generally dismissive of Jeff’s obsession with his neighbors’ activities, yet once the murder mystery aspect comes into play the two go from skeptics to willing participants- implying there just may be enough compelling evidence to give credence to Jeff’s fears. After lots of deduction and snooping the mystery is solved and in an almost comedic twist, Jeff ends up breaking BOTH his legs, rendering himself helpless all over again. Despite the dark and intense subject matter, the conclusion is actually quite amusing and lighthearted. There is also some excellent reversal of gender-roles in the relationship between Jeff and Lisa in his reliance on her, physical almost working as a metaphor for emotional and economic.

Harkening back to the beginning of the film, the epilogue scrolls through the activity of the various occupants of the apartments again, this time showing us their “real” lives. The idealized newlywed couple has what seems like the first of many fights, the ballerina he assumes is promiscuous greets her husband who has just come home from the military and Ms. Lonelyhearts appears to be with The Songwriter, thus providing a happy ending for seemingly the two most tragic of the sub-characters.

“Rear Window” is one of those films that somehow manages to perfectly balance content and presentation. So many films have excellent cinematography but either abstract or plots devoid of depth or a fantastic, well written story that doesn’t translate effectively to the screen when set to action. In just about every great movie there is one cinematic aspect that stands out above the others, however I feel in the case of “Rear Window” the visuals and set design, the filming style, the dialogue, the balance of humor and psychology and the performances are all evenly matched. But I still can’t stand Jimmy Stewart’s voice!

#43. King Kong (1933)

“King Kong” is one of my all time favorite movies. I have fond memories of reading an old hardback book about it over and over again in my grade-school library. The first time I saw it I was about 9 or 10 and I’ve probably seen it a couple dozen times since. I expect to watch it another dozen times between now and when I die. There are very few things I can say with all certainty I am as interested in now as I was 20 years ago- the New York Yankees, “The Lord of the Rings” and “King Kong.” The fact that the American Film Institute would rank it #43 in the list of the 100 greatest movies is an insult. To be totally truthful it doesn’t even belong on the list at all.

I love “King Kong” the way I love Bon Jovi or the way I love my buddy who told me he killed 21 people execution style. I love them but I don’t take them seriously. The plot is absurd, the depictions of other cultures are offensive, the acting is reminiscent of something you would see on youtube or anything Kate Winslet did pre-2003, you have to suspend disbelief way more than you would for most other movies, fictional or not and the story has more holes than a truck stop bathroom stall wall.

Robert Armstrong plays Carl Denham, a director who makes B-horror movies and Steve Irwin-esque animal documentaries. Carl is putting together a crew for a mysterious trip he is planning for what he promises will be the greatest movie ever made. In desperate need of a leading lady he is scouring the streets of New York where he meets a presumably homeless girl named Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) attempting to steal from a fruit stand. After some minor arm-twisting and ensuring her that he is “on the level” he convinces her to take up with him and an all male crew of shipmen, actors, cameramen and a horribly offensive depiction of a Chinese chef.

One of the men on the ship, Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot) scoffs at the idea of having a woman go on the trip with them. However after only about 3 minutes of onscreen interaction (I’m not even exaggerating) with Ann he declares his love for her and the two become engaged. Seriously, even Drew Barrymore movies drag a courtship out a little longer than that.

“We came here to make a picture. And what we found is something worth more than all the pictures in the world!”(Carl Denham, “King Kong”)

When the ship arrives at the mysterious location, Skull Island, Carl explains to the team that they are there to film some kind of giant gorilla that the indigenous people worship as a god. Despite the fact that Skull Island is supposedly a lost world that turns out to be filled with prehistoric creatures and the natives are some sort of pre-evolutionary Aboriginal race, somehow the ship captain speaks their language. The tribe is shown as every bad voodoo stereotype; they sacrifice virgins, have a Chief and a Witch Doctor, dance around with spears and drums and of course show an unhealthy level of interest in Ann. After attempts to trade several of their women for Ann are unsuccessful the tribe kidnaps her with the intent of offering her up to the deity they refer to as Kong.

The climactic buildup to the first time we see Kong onscreen is paced perfectly with just the right amount of mystery and Fay Wray actually does an incredible job of acting so frightened that we should legitimately be nervous about what we are going to see. About 40 minutes into the picture Kong lumbers into the shot and, even compared to today’s far superior special effects, the closeup of his face when he sees Ann for the first time and transforms from murderous animal to lovestruck puppy dog is visually impressive. Excessive stop motion animation is employed as Kong stalks through the jungle carrying Ann to his secluded lair and as corny as it looks now the effects still manage to hold up relatively well.

One aspect that does not hold up so well though is the attempted artistry of the interaction between Ann and Kong. The wonderstruck curiosity Kong has for Ann just comes off now as creepy and with overtones of bestiality- particularly when he peels away layers of her clothing like a banana. I understand the heavy conveyance of the “Beauty and the Beast” theme but the implications of a gorilla/woman relationship of any kind are simply staggering. Of course it is understood that the greatest message in these scenes is the humanization of Kong so that he can serve as a viable protagonist later in the film; this message is not buried under the jadedness of modern times.

The island scenes of Kong doing battle with various creatures are still among the best fight scenes ever committed to film, particularly a wrestling match with a Tyrannosaurus Rex that ends with Kong separating the creature’s bottom jaw from the rest of its’ face. The detail in these scenes is remarkable; Kong’s fur blowing in the wind, the dinosaur’s claws curling in pain when it draws blood and Kong playing with his lifeless body all go above and beyond 1933 standards for attention to detail and making the monsters realistic.

Once Jack swoops in and rescues his only-known-for-a-few-days-soulmate (and Kong kills most of the crew) Carl has the brilliant idea to gas Kong into unconsciousness and bring him back to New York so that people can see him in person and know the stories of his might are not exaggerated. Despite the fact that Kong is the size of a several-story building Denham and company are able to fashion a crude raft to transport him back to America on- and conveniently he stays unconscious for several days.

The “King Kong Live” show is a huge hit and sells out a very posh theater in Manhattan. Then tragedy strikes: a 50-foot tall gorilla with the strength of 10,000 men somehow manages to free himself from a couple shackles and terrorizes New York. The final 20 minutes of the film are among the most iconic in cinematic history. Kong’s descent up the Empire State Building and tragic demise have become as much a part of New York lore as the picture of the men working on Rockefeller Center eating lunch on a girder. The scale models used to recreate Depression-era New York leave no stone unturned when it comes to detail. Eaves, antennas and sporadically lit windows show just how much attention was given to making the cityscape feel real- and it enhances the picture’s visual credibility so much.

Last year when there was talk “Avatar” might actually win the Academy Award for Best Picture I lamented the possibility of a film’s (lack of) substance taking a backseat to innovative visuals. There is a similar pattern occurring in the AFI’s recognition of “King Kong” as one of the greatest films ever made but it also blazed a lot more trails than “Avatar.” Stop motion animation and scale-model landscaping was used heavily in movies after “King Kong” and I just don’t see every movie that comes out in the future seeing the need to have a lot of CGI blue people, no matter how realistic.

#44. The Birth of a Nation (1915)

I’m one of those people who thinks everything is racist.

I think “Passion of the Christ” is racist, I think “Dances with Wolves” is racist, I even think “The Blind Side” is racist. However while a case could be made for both sides as it relates to those films, when I say “The Birth of a Nation” is racist I mean it is racist… like that’s the point. The film’s plot is how the Ku Klux Klan heroically rose from the corrupt post Civil War reconstruction period solely to protect the virtue of the white race and particularly its’ women. I wish the content of the movie were enough to be able to dismiss it, but unfortunately it’s not that easy.

While the message of this movie is complete trash and the overall narrative itself is fundamentally and factually flawed, the presentation is not. To the contrary, the presentation is pretty close to being without flaw. There is a wide open feel to the outdoor cinematography that I haven’t seen in any other silent film with the possible exception of Buster Keaton’s “The General.” D.W. Griffith employs clever directorial tools like changing the tinting based on what characters are being shown, using a circular scope effect to illustrate point of view and fast jump cuts depicting action occurring in two different places at the same time. In other words, the film lacks all credibility narrative-wise, but establishes artistic credibility based on the way it is directed.

If there is any doubt “The Birth of a Nation” is propaganda film the opening title cards leave no doubt. One card (ornately decked out with D.W. Griffith’s monogram) quotes Woodrow Wilson in insisting that the events depicted in the film are entirely true. The second promotes its agenda even further by outlandishly claiming “The bringing of the first African to America planted the first seed of disunion.” As if to say that it is somehow the slaves’ faults for being brought to the US and eventually causing the Civil War.

These title cards serve as a sort of prologue as the actual events and characters are introduced after they appear. One family, the Stonemans, is a politically involved Pennsylvania family whose patriarch Austin is a prominent abolitionist Senator. He is shown to be very businesslike and emotionally distant. There is little expression shown when he speaks with his family, even about tragic or thrilling situations. His children are very affectionate towards him but it does not appear to be reciprocated.

His sons have a longtime friendship with a Southern plantation-owning family the Camerons. The Stoneman sons consider the Cameron boys to be like brothers and one of the Stoneman brothers and one of the Cameron sisters become romantically involved. Conversely one of the Cameron brothers, Ben, obsesses over one of the Stoneman daughters, Elsie (silent film darling Lillian Gish), despite never even having met her. He creepily carries a picture of her around, frequently fawning over it- and because the Camerons are the protagonists of the film this twisted action is actually highly romanticized- complete with the lovey-dovey string music accompaniment.

The Stoneman brothers’ visit to the Cameron plantation features one of the most deplorable depictions of slave-life I have ever seen. The intercut explains that the slaves work a 12 hour day with a two-hour dinner break where they all happily congregate outside the slave quarters and perform a minstrel-show-like dance for the amusement of the white people. Not only does this play off an awful stereotype but also implies that conditions were far more agreeable for slaves than we know they were.

Soon after the visit to the plantation the Civil War breaks out. In order to continue emphasizing the differences between the Stoneman and Cameron families several montages of the Cameron brothers writing home to and receiving letters from their sisters are shown. Meanwhile transitions that go back to Austin Stoneman show him apparently very pleased with the progress of the war, seemingly detached from the havoc as well as the fact that his sons are on the front lines.

One scene that is relatively inoffensive and remarkably filmed revolves around the tragic reunion of the Stoneman and Cameron families; on opposite sides of the battlefield. Yes, it is a contrivance and plays off the age-old cliché about how the Civil War turned families against each other, but the image of a Union soldier and a Confederate dying in each other’s arms is powerful and, purposely or not, makes an incredible statement about war. The extensive battle scenes leading up to this climactic segment are also a credit to Griffith’s ingenuity in the direction of this movie. The majority of war films before and even since tended to focus on small groups of people in concentrated areas with shells flying overhead or rockets detonating in the distance of a shot. In the case of “The Birth of a Nation” though many scenes are filmed from a bird’s eye view perspective that show dozens if not hundreds of soldiers at a time covering significant acreage.

"I shall deal with them as though they had never been away." (Abraham Lincoln, “The Birth of a Nation”)

However, from a strictly cinematic standpoint the most superior scene in the film is the recreation of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, which is surprisingly depicted as a tragedy given Lincoln’s proclamation that he will treat the Southern states as if they never left. John Wilkes Booth is shrouded in darkness as he sneaks into the private box- almost as if to indicate how unobtrusive he was. The camera zooms in on his gun which he holds waist high, creating a suspenseful air to an event of which we already know the end result. The act of the shooting and the subsequent leap to the stage are recreated so accurately (at least according to every account I’ve read) it could pass for documentary footage.

Following Lincoln’s assassination though, the film ceases to continue with the almost syrupy social conscience the first half is laden with. The depiction of the Reconstruction period is horrifyingly one-sided and misleading. The Union Army is shown turning away white voters and allowing blacks to stuff ballot boxes, carpetbaggers leading militias of newly enlisted black soldiers into southern homes to rape and pillage freely. The rigged elections lead to the installation of black legislators in the respective state’s senates who outnumber the whites and disrespect their posts by smoking, drinking and sleeping during sessions.

The rise of the KKK is justified as a retaliatory action to hostile black takeover of the South with the catalyst being a slave-turned-Union-Captain Gus pursuing Flora, one of the Cameron daughters, presumably with the intention of raping her. Again, as is the case with the entire film, the delivery almost belies the disgusting message in this scene- there are incredible jump cuts between Flora, Gus and the wide-open country in front of her as she flees, leading to a rocky cliff where Flora must make the “courageous” decision to jump to her death rather than allow her to be defiled by a “savage” (also an analogy for the South’s rebellion against Northern imperialism). Ben Cameron rallies the KKK to avenge her death and all the suggested misdeeds the South has been dealt. From then on every time a perceived injustice is committed against a Southerner, the Klan shows up like the proverbial cavalry- including amazing overhead tracking shots of the horses in synchronized gallop.

Austin Stoneman has a change of heart when he is victimized by the black militia while visiting the Cameron family and finally “sees the light” when he realizes his own daughter is at risk of being violated by them. The Klan rescues the Cameron and Stoneman families and Ben’s sick and weird fantasy about Elsie comes true and the Northern and Southern families are very cornily “united” symbolically to represent the, wait for it, Birth of a Nation. Armed Southern militants guard the ballot boxes and pass Jim Crow laws, not to oppress blacks, but to preserve their way of life… Wow.

Just when you think the forced propaganda motif has been exhausted to death, one final and even more blatant agenda is introduced.. Amidst the revelry of the Stoneman/Cameron wedding a superimposed Jesus fades onto the screen. A pile of dead blacks litters the ground outside the Cameron house as Jesus blesses the surviving whites then fades out of the shot as the film concludes.

Watching and owning this movie does not make me feel like a racist. But enjoying it as a well put together piece of FICTION kinda does. I am completely familiar with the concept of separating the art from the artist; I have no problem with that. It is another thing entirely though when the artist is a straight up liar and it is incredibly difficult to accept when the artist is as obscenely talented as D.W. Griffith. I have no problem with Mel Gibson pushing propaganda because he is talentless both as an actor and a director and easy to write off. The cinematic achievements of “The Birth of a Nation” though are woefully remarkable and it is a crying shame that Griffith couldn’t better use his talents- however I also know that all art is based on the knowledge that we are turning to that person for their unique perception of the world.

Though one thing I CAN confidently say is unforgivable about D.W. Griffith and his masterpiece is the fact that his film was the precursor of those ridiculous Civil War re-enactments. Thanks a lot dick…

#45. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

In my senior year of high school I dated a girl who was batshit crazy. I know, everyone refers to their ex as batshit crazy but this girl really WAS batshit crazy (ask anyone who knows her). Anyway, despite the fact that she was guano loco, made up stories about her family history and prone to ridiculous mood swings, I stayed with her for like two years on and off. When people asked why, I never had a really good answer. I assume this is the same dilemma Stella Kowalski (Kim Hunter) faced with her abusive husband Stanley (Marlon Brando) in “A Streetcar Named Desire.” She stays in a relationship that is not beneficial and one that she probably knows deep down will end anyway but for whatever reason prolongs the inevitable.

Of course this film is based on a play by Tennessee Williams so it is in no way it’s own unique story, however, cinema’s greatest coward Elia Kazan directs the film in such a fashion that it is nearly 100% character driven, which allows for incredible personality exploration. This device is really what makes the film work as well as it does considering the plot, when taken at face value, is pretty minimal. A southern debutante Blanche DuBois (Vivian Leigh) falls from grace and moves to New Orleans to live in a cramped apartment with her sister Stella and the contemptible Stanley, with whom she soon learns she does not get along… and that’s pretty much it really. But the incredible performances and the gutsy subject matter turn a pretty ho-hum plot into an impressive masterpiece and a psychiatric quality study in personalities.

The opening scene of Blanche’s arrival in the French Quarter is one of many to come depicting confinement both literally and metaphorically. Before we even see the inside of the apartment building it is already evident how cramped and confined the main characters’ lives are going to turn out. The fenced-in courtyard where other residents of the complex congregate is unbelievably small, definitely too small for all the people there, which is an underlying theme of the entire picture.

Blanche and Stella have their first on-screen conversation at a nearby bowling alley where it is revealed that Blanche used to be a schoolteacher but is on some sort of sabbatical which she claims is to recover from stress, though her unwillingness to look directly at Stella throughout the conversation as well as her symbolically being shrouded in shadows indicates there is more to the story; this lighting technique will also be recurring FYI.

Later in the evening Blanche explains to Stella the circumstances surrounding the loss of the family estate Belle Reve but the real focus of these scenes are the understated shots of the almost comically tiny apartment. As the camera tries to follow them around the space we see curtains in the place of doors, pieces of furniture littered with clothing and a general state of disrepair. All the while it is painfully obvious that this arrangement is not going to work out.

The first encounter between Stanley and Blanche is built up wonderfully with Stella making several implications as to his brutish nature and Blanche repeatedly expressing concern over Stanley’s comfort level with her staying with the Kowalskis. He is shown as an almost stereotypically blue-collar male; drinking beer, wearing a wife beater and generally speaking with no tact. He is suspicious of Blanche from the outset and likes to constantly make references to people he knows in various walks of life like law and real estate. He also misogynistically refers to Napoleonic Law (a man’s right to pry into his wife’s affairs) and is often seen carnivorously eating meat, frequently off the bone. All of these aspects of his character make it totally obvious as to what kind of person he is going to be. Despite a classic scene where Stanley and Stella fight and he cries out to her from the building’s courtyard he never comes across as romantic or passionate, instead he just seems like a Neanderthal.

”I never met a dame yet that didn't know if she was good-looking or not without being told, and there's some of them that give themselves credit for more than they've got” (Stanley Kowalski, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’)

Blanche desperately tries to keep the illusion going that she is a proper Southern woman but the details of her checkered past that emerge along the way reveal that she is nothing like she perceives herself or assumes people do her. In fact the only one who really sees her in any way that resembles the sophisticated lady she believes she is is Mitch (Karl Malden), a friend of Stanley’s from work. He pursues her endlessly despite her hot and cold attention to his affections, exploiting him solely to inflate her self-worth. A memorable scene where the two go on a date and take a walk along the pier still maintains the feel of entrapment as they are still confined to the railing along the dock. Blanche opens up to Mitch about her previous husband’s suicide- yet another piece to the disturbing puzzle that comprises Blanche’s personality. The conversation on the dock also illustrates another example of Blanche always insisting on being in poorly lit settings in an effort to hide her fading looks.

Meanwhile a vengeful Stanley, angry at Blanche for her attempts to convince Stella to leave the abusive relationship, airs all her dirty laundry at once: she lost the family home to foreclosure, she spent some time as a prostitute and worst of all she lost her job as a teacher after having slept with one of her students in a disturbing Mary Kay Letourneau scenario. Blanche finally has a complete nervous breakdown and retreats into a world that is buoyed by her lies- delusions of Belle Reve, millionaire suitors and the glamorous lifestyle she alleges to have led back home.

With Stella in the hospital delivering her and Stanley’s baby, the hostility between the two boils over and a shouting match devolves into physical conflict ending with Stanley seemingly raping Stella- broken glass in a vanity mirror reflects a distorted image of what is occurring in the scene. The broken mirror also represents Blanche’s state of mind- it is finally irreparably destroyed.

The film ends with a very rare combination of dark and inspiring. Blanche is taken to an insane asylum, all the while saying (and possibly believing in her mind) that she is taking a trip with a Texas millionaire. She delivers the character encompassing line “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers” which not only finally serves as an admission of her own helplessness and mooching nature but sums up her personality perfectly. We are left with no real feelings of sympathy or love for Stanley or Blanche, but Stella has remained the true “protagonist” in that we are always pulling for her and she has the worst set of circumstances to overcome- which she defiantly does by walking out on Stanley in the final scene. He yells after her like he has done in the past but this time it is to no avail as Stella clearly leaves him for good as the credits roll.

It is hard to pull off any kind of transition from play-to-movie without the risk of corny overacting, and yes, Brando and Leigh particularly DO overact in this film, but it is not too over the top. Somehow it ends up working and luckily taking some of the edge off the uncomfortable subject matter. Less theatrical acting would have just made the film a little too real, gritty and disturbing.

And I would have ended up hating it because it would have reminded me too much of that batshit crazy bitch I used to date.