#25. E.T. The Extra Terrestrial (1982)

It must be awesome to be Steven Spielberg.

Not because of the fact that he has more money than God, or the fact that he is Hollywood royalty, or even the fact that he is an incredible philanthropist. It must be awesome to be Steven Spielberg because you can make the same movie twice and have both versions make it on the list of the 100 Greatest Films, seemingly because of the clout you have in Hollywood. “E.T. the Extraterrestrial” is essentially an extended version of the final 33% of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” The over-the-top special effects, the alien-related government cover-up, the loner finding acceptance with non-humans, the discovery that the aliens are much more docile and caring than we nasty humans… should I go on?

Unlike most movies involving a bizarre oddity (“The Elephant Man,” “The Creature From the Black Lagoon”) there is no real dramatic buildup to the revelation of the strange being; rather “E.T.” cuts right to the chase and shows us a whole colony of funny little brown aliens rummaging through a wooded area overlooking an ordinary looking suburb. When truckloads of non-descript “bad men” who could be government workers, hunters or park rangers come barging into the scene the contrast between not just man and alien but big person and little person becomes very evident. While the aliens are shown collecting plant life, which seems to represent some sort of life support system for them, given the strong physical glow they emit while gathering them, the humans are a complete contrast. Their presence indicates destruction; smoky exhaust pipes, boots trampling the plant life and generally disruptive noise that breaks up the ethereal silence enjoyed by the aliens. The point of view shots from the perspective of the visitors are shown at about knee-level, looking up at the looming human figures. This all but cements the anti-adult agenda of “E.T.”

“Maybe it’s a pervert. Or a deformed kid or something” (Mike, “E.T. The Extra Terrestrial”)

The little title-character is abandoned by his companions as they escape into the night sky- the visuals, while incredible, essentially look like the arrival of the mothership arrival scene in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” in rewind with the detail-heavy, well lit spacecraft (last "Close Encounters" comparison, I promise). A parallel story begins to take shape as another sort of “abandoned” character is introduced. Elliot (Henry Thomas) is the embodiment of the “middle kid,” complete with the abusive other brother, Mike and the adorable little sister Gertie (Drew Barrymore, long before her days of coke binging and flashing Letterman in front of the world). His mother Mary seems more interested in being her kids’ friend than an authority figure, as she lets Mike and his friends abuse Elliot and cuss in front of her. To put the cherry on the top of Elliot’s Fuck-My-Life sundae, his father has apparently deserted the family and remarried.

Needless to say, when Elliot discovers the wayward alien in the family toolshed he immediately finds a companion he can relate to. The sweet innocence of Elliot’s attempts to communicate with the little brown being is completely befouled by the whorish amount of conspicuous product placement (a trail of Reese’s Pieces, Elliot displaying his ‘Star Wars’ toys while clearly saying each character’s name so that the kids watching know exactly which ones to ask for). The amount of shilling that is done in such a short period of time during this sequence, while only a short segment of the film, was literally so unnecessary and blatant that it really turned me off of the entire movie.

More is done to advance the “adults are stupid” message as Elliot successfully hides his new friend who he now refers to as “E.T” short for extra-terrestrial, from his oblivious mother for several days. At one point, Elliot is in school and reacting to what E.T. does back home due to some sort of telekinetic/Vulcan mind-meld connection the two characters now share. During these situations the baffled teachers are essentially modern-day Keystone Cops. Meanwhile, left to his own devices E.T. begins to grasp the English language as well as learn how to build convoluted communication devices out of crude parts, all done in a heinously simplified fashion.

Eventually, the storyline becomes too absurd even for a movie about kids finding an alien being. Elliot takes E.T. out on Halloween night in what ends up being one of the film’s most memorable moments when E.T. makes Elliot’s bike fly through some unexplained mystical power that we are just supposed to assume he has because he is from another planet. From this point on, far too much of the plot becomes reliant on the unexplainable, a very convenient but lazy approach to filmmaking which eliminates any sort of depth or need to explain whatever is happening with E.T. at any given moment. E.T. becomes sick, probably due to his change in environment but they don’t say, Elliot gets sick too, probably because of the other-worldly connection the two share, but this is never really explored much further and E.T. is able to “phone home” by using his homemade device to apparently give his home-race coordinates where to pick him up, but again, nothing is really clear, because it doesn’t have to be simply because you have had to suspend disbelief so much anyway that Spielberg basically stops caring to elaborate on any concepts at all.

If the point had been missed before, the “evil adults” motif is cemented once and for all when Government agents and police quarantine Elliot’s family’s home, show no regard for the dying E.T. and poke and prod him and Elliot for seemingly no other reason than sadism and an anti-alien agenda. At one point E.T. even does “die” though he is resurrected, seemingly through Elliot’s love, but as we have established, there are no explanations needed in “E.T.” Elliot and Mike then steal a government van and initiate a high-speed pursuit in order to get E.T. to his pick-up point where, after an intentionally sappy goodbye finale, E.T. is finally reunited with his own kind and is able to go home. Elliot is still the product of a broken home, still faces the prospect of being a social outcast and has his only friend taken away from him on top of that, but there film attempts to put such a positive spin on everything we are expected to believe that Elliot will now have a normal life just in the knowledge that he is not alone in a figurative sense.

Since this is a Spielberg film, there are certain artistic pluses demonstrated, primarily the cross-cutting between simultaneous events and the tendency to shoot most of the action from lower points of view to give us both E.T.’s perspective as well as allowing us to see the world through a child’s eyes. Unfortunately though, this is just far too commercialized, generalized and fictionalized to be taken seriously for anything other than its visual effects (the lifelikeness of E.T. himself is hit-and-miss depending on the scene) and the always top-notch John Williams score. If there were any such thing as truth in advertising this film wouldn’t be called “E.T.” it would be called “Pure. Bullshit.”

#26. Dr. Strangelove (1964)

The further into this list I get, the more I am starting to pick up on certain motifs and themes certain directors stick to.

John Ford liked to shoot outdoors, David Lean must have been one of those people who liked to hear himself talk because his movies never end and Alfred Hitchcock was all about voyeurism and blondes in tight clothes. In the case of Stanley Kubrick it appears that guy was as all over the map as my mp3 player on shuffle. There is no genre specification, in fact I don’t even know if you could assign genres to his pictures. “A Clockwork Orange” is very serious and intense while “Dr. Strangelove” is purely comedic and satirical. In fact the only connection I can make between the few Kubrick films I have seen is a sort of anti-authoritarian message.

“Dr. Strangelove” is as outlandishly absurd as it is eerily prophetic. It manages to accurately predict events that would later transpire though it appears it was simply trying to depict a society that was beyond anything we could ever experience in real life. Most importantly though, it speaks to me on a very personal level- by finding humor in very grim subject matter.

A narration that implies a documentary tone opens the film over images of a snow-covered continent (possibly implying some kind of geological disaster). The monotone voice summarizes all the fears instilled into people during the Cold War; Russian doomsday devices, nuclear holocausts and secret weapons experiments. The first of many subtle and intelligent jokes manifests itself as handwritten, almost childlike opening credits superimpose themselves over the gloomy imagery. This tool seems to suggest that the people tasked with an important responsibility, like making a film still resort to childish tactics and lazy shortcuts, likely an analogy to world leaders and military officials- particularly the ones featured in this film.

The first, General Jack D. Ripper (ha ha) is initially shown as a super-patriotic, very well decorated soldier. However, as the film progresses it becomes evident that he is completely insane. Ripper initiates a special emergency command to launch an air raid on Russia, which is only supposed to exist as a contingency plan in the event that the Commander-in-Chief and his immediate subordinates have been killed and a lower officer has to order the nuke strike. Ripper is frequently depicted as sexually inadequate, which explains his obsessive need for military dominance (a constantly upward pointing cigar, a machine gun he holds at waist level and his constant reference to the Soviets threatening their “precious bodily fluids.”) Even his name alone implies sexual shortcomings, as it harkens back to a serial killer who preyed on prostitutes. Though Ripper simply suspects the Russians are planning to fluoridate America’s drinking water, it turns out they are actually building a nuclear device of their own, meaning the attack on their country would set off a nuclear disaster.

Another element of comedic irony in this film is the depiction of the lower-ranking troops. An English officer, Captain Mandrake (Peter Sellers, in one of his 3 roles in the movie), takes the initial order from Ripper and executes all his commands from a military installation which has a hilarious billboard looming over it bearing the reminder that “Peace is our Profession.” Also, the supposedly “elite” squad of bomber pilots who lead the attack without question are a bunch of seemingly juvenile simpletons, none more so than the pilot “King” Kong (Slim Pickens). The last in the slew of incompetent military officials introduced is General Buck Turgidson (George C. Scott) who is basically an unflattering caricature of the role he would later become famous for, General George Patton. He is not only easily manipulated by his “secretary” (think Bill/Monica here) but is generally oafish and the most immature of all the characters.

In a futuristic looking bunker known as The War Room, which seems to clearly be the influence for the Command Center on the Death Star, President Merkin Muffley (Sellers again) and all his top-ranking advisors discuss their limited possibilities. Muffley acts annoyed and even reprimands Turgidson for letting something so catastrophic happen on his watch, but still comes across as a spineless pushover who does not have the respect of his own staff. Almost every piece of dialogue that occurs in The War Room is riddled with irony, sarcasm and hilarity.

“I'm not saying we wouldn't get our hair mussed. But I do say no more than ten to twenty million killed, tops, depending on the breaks.” (Gen. Buck Turgidson “Dr. Strangelove”)

The primary irony of the film, as well as one of the most clairvoyant, is the fact that all the “safeguards” meant to prevent a nuclear disaster in fact do fail. Nobody can figure out the mysterious three-digit “Go-Code” to abort the strike, the people tasked with being able to prevent such a calamity are basically clueless, and of course technological glitches come into play as well. The revelations made by the characters in The War Room speak volumes about their personal character; Turgidson’s cold estimates of number of Soviet deaths in question and President Muffley’s tail-between-the-legs phone call to the Russian President are among the highlights of the film.

Muffley’s weakness is driven home when it is revealed that he consults with (almost to the point of taking orders from) a wheelchair-bound, Nazi-inspired scientist/weapons expert Dr. Strangelove (Sellers to the third power). The Strangelove character is obviously central to the storyline and also puts an exclamation point on the satirical elements of the film, going so far as to imply that U.S. weapons of mass destruction are essentially born of Nazism, however, I feel like his “haunted hand” shtick and other physical comedy bits really cheapen the intellect of the film, as they play far too much into the low-brow slapstick genre.

In the waning moments of the film, Kong’s plane drops a bomb (which he gleefully rides like a mechanical bull) on a Russian nuclear reactor, triggering explosions all over the world. The implication that all the other countries were secretly working on nuclear doomsday devices, in this day and age of Iran and North Korea, is one of those things you can’t help but laugh at because if you actually thought about the ramifications, you would probably want to kill yourself. The film ends with the destruction of the world, which is really the be-all-end-all of film endings because, really, what else can happen after that storyline wise?

“Dr. Strangelove” has been a pure joy to watch and reflect on, if nothing else for the sheer comedic value of George C. Scott’s exaggerated physical and facial mannerisms. I had originally thought of him as a very limited, typecast actor, and though the character himself is not much different than some of his other depictions, I have to commend Scott’s gift of comedy which I was previously ignorant of. The rest of the film just makes me think Kubrick was some kind of genius given the frightening coincidences of human life being treated like commodities, the hypocrisy of the keeping of nuclear arms and of course the brutally hilarious lack of trust and respect that is bestowed upon our political leaders in the narrative.

#27. Bonnie & Clyde (1967)

I know it’s boring and square, but I adore Bruce Springsteen’s “Nebraska” album more than most, particularly the title track. I love the way a lowly serial killer like Charles Starkweather is humanized in the narrative of the song. I admire the gutsiness it takes to make a fundamentally flawed person a protagonist; from pro wrestling to celebrity court cases I have always cheered for the bad guy. I was SO excited at the notion of a film where the two main characters are notorious and real-life criminals. Unfortunately, due to the complete lack of character depth or development this movie ends up being little more than the precursor to the After-School Special warning young girls everywhere not to fall in love with “bad boys” and showing the dangers of a life of crime.

One of the more admirable qualities of “Bonnie and Clyde” is the fact that it finds its own unique way to convey the fact that we are dealing with real people. In the case of this film it is through the use of old-timey photos, not unlike the montage in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” The photos appear over the opening credits as a way to sort of visually acquaint us with the main characters, because there will not be much delving done into their lives pre-each other. After our little virtual photo album we are introduced to Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway). Sulkily hanging out in her bedroom, she seems to be the embodiment of teenage angst, including gripping her iron bedrails like prison bars.

Given her implied “trapping” in her home life, it is no surprise (but still cheesily absurd) when she strikes up a flirtatious conversation with Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty) a shady criminal she sees trying to steal her mom’s car. Within a matter of minutes (not just cinematic minutes but seemingly real-time ones) Clyde robs a shop and steals a car with Bonnie and, just like that, with no explanation, no thought process and motivation other than boredom and the fact that it is the Great Depression, Bonnie decides to get in the car with Clyde and set off on a life on the wrong side of the law.

A relatively groundbreaking concept explored in this movie is the very ahead-of-its-time notion of the woman being the sexual aggressor. Buzzing off the high of their first crime together, Bonnie forces herself on Clyde who essentially shoots her down. There is much ambiguity as to the reasons for his apprehension, impotence is implied several times as well as the distinct possibility that Clyde may be gay, especially given his all-too-desperate-sounding need to point out that he isn’t.

Despite Clyde’s promises of fortune and prestige, they find themselves squatting in a bank-foreclosed house. In an effort to make the horrendously immature main characters appear sympathetic and likeable, Clyde allows the former owner of the house to symbolically shoot the (remaining) windows out of the house in hopes that it will somehow ease the pain of the foreclosure. This scene isn’t particularly well done, and harkens back far too much to every other Great Depression film (the displaced farm family, the old jalopy, the urchin-like children etc)but it is important in establishing the film’s Robin Hood-esque modus operandi.

Along the way, Bonnie and Clyde pick up a dim-witted mechanic C.W. Moss who becomes their getaway driver and friend. Their lives soon revolve around small-time robberies, motels and fleeing the law. The gang continues to expand with the addition of Clyde’s brother Buck (Gene Hackman) and his wife Blanche, who is the classic “stick in the mud” character. The necessity for their inclusion in the group seems out of place and is never really explored beyond the fact that Buck is a convict too, which of course instantly translates into a brash willingness to kill for money, particularly considering the relatively small potatoes their heists have been pulling in, splitting the money 5 ways seems nearly pointless. There are some artistic devices employed as they hole up in a second-story motel and Bonnie stares out the window in the same brooding manner she does in the film’s opening- implying that she still hasn’t found the satisfaction she thought she would from her exciting life of crime, and that she is still the same trapped girl she was back home.

The addition of Buck and Blanche also causes Bonnie and Clyde to be more reckless and brazen in their endeavors. They begin circulating pictures of themselves and sending poems detailing (and exaggerating) their exploits to the media. This cocky exhibitionist behavior sets the stage for what will eventually be a fatal flaw when they are captured by a Texas Ranger. At mostly Bonnie’s urging, they photograph themselves with the Ranger in several degrading poses before cuffing him, putting him in a canoe and allow him to float away alive.

“If a policeman is killed in Dallas and they have no clue to guide/ If they can't find a fiend they just wipe their slate clean/And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde” (Bonnie Parker, “Bonnie and Clyde”)

Bonnie soon begins to develop a premonition about her own death (in a rare example of a film actually pointing out its foreshadowing) after a near-death shootout with the police and a chance carjacking of an undertaker. She goes back home to see her mother for what is very clearly the last time. Her elderly mother (though Bonnie is supposed to be young?) discourages the couple from settling down and living normal lives and basically tells them to keep running because death and the law are on their tails. Though Clyde expresses an ambition to make an honest living, his lack of a work ethic is evident given his career choice and earlier confession that he mangled his foot with an axe to get out of work detail when he was imprisoned. Because of the relative hopelessness of their situation, they almost begrudgingly resume their way of life.

In a very artistic manner, death as well as the law, begins to close in on Bonnie and Clyde. One particularly gory shootout leads to Blanche having an eye shot out and Buck being killed after taking a bullet directly in the face. Everyone in the gang except for C.W. winds up with some kind of injury and, in a scene that again exploits the clichés of the Depression-era films, they are welcomed as heroes when they stop at a Hooverville on their way to C.W.’s father’s house. Presumably this is because they are seen as the ally given their propensity to rob banks, there is also an unsatisfyingly corny feeling that it may be because word of their kindness has spread to the rest of the squatters from the man whose home they were squatting in earlier.

A not-so-elaborate plan involving the Texas Ranger they previously humiliated and a pre-arranged ambush with the help of C.W.’s father ultimately leads to their undoing. Seconds before the law opens fire on an (of course) unarmed Bonnie and Clyde, a flock of birds ominously flies from a row of bushes (birds appear as a recurring theme in the film; first with Bonnie’s “caged bird” depiction in the first scene, later with her canary yellow outfit and finally this scene with the implied “flying away” of the birds possibly being used to symbolize an ascent to Heaven or just that Bonnie’s desire for freedom ends up being her demise). As they both realize what is about to happen, jump-cut close ups of Bonnie and Clyde trade off back and forth in split-second shots clearly meant to be reminiscent of rapid-fire and then they are savagely machine-gunned down. Bonnie’s death (in keeping with the earlier foreshadowing) is particularly grisly as she is literally covered from head-to-toe in bullet wounds.

There are some well-intended directorial techniques in “Bonnie and Clyde” as well as some risqué (even by today’s standards) double-entendres likening penises to pistols, but at the end of the day there are just too many 60’s elements that make this movie feel very dated- the bright colors, the James Bond-like dialogue, the mod-style hipster clothes etc. I also take a lot of issue with the shallowness of the characters. It seems like content was substituted for shock value- no doubt that progressive filmmaking attitude is ironically the reason it is on this list in the first place.

Some movies age gracefully. This one, on the other hand, has aged like Faye Dunaway herself…