Monday, November 28, 2011

9. Schindler's List (1993)

One thing I’ve always respected about Don Henley is the fact that he is known to tell the audience at his concerts “I’m not going to play the songs you want to hear, I’m going to play the songs you need to hear.” People tend to lose sight of the fact that art is every bit as much about presenting one’s world view as it is simply a form of entertainment. “Schindler’s List” is a brutal reminder that not all movies are meant to be “enjoyed” in the conventional sense.

There are some movies that are peppered with symbolism; this one is saturated in it. The opening scene depicts a Jewish family celebrating a traditional Shabbat. The lighting of the candles is the primary focus, as is their eventual burning down and extinguishment- similarly the members of the family dissolve on the screen and fade from view. The obvious metaphor being the fading away of a way of life and attempted extinguishing of an entire people. This introduction does everything it can to prepare the viewer for the fact that this is going to be a very somber viewing experience.

The film-proper begins rather abruptly and harshly with a steam whistle being blown on a transport train. The color disappears and the film suddenly jumps to black and white. There are several artistic justifications for this, to give the film a documentary type feeling, to take the edge off some of the gorier scenes, the visual benefits of the stark contrast that only black and white can provide, what have you. I will always believe the biggest function the black and white serves is to create as ominous an ambiance as possible.

The initial scenes depict the German occupation of Poland in the fall of 1939. When the Polish Jews are rounded up and forced into the major cities for consolidation and documentation purposes, there are slight yet clever visual subtleties that illustrate the low regard the conquerors have for the natives. Crude folding tables are used to set up makeshift clerk’s offices, the captured are shuttled in on run-down cattle cars and the cold, impersonal interaction the soldiers exchange with the Jews furthers the dehumanization process as they are treated more like surplus than people. Several quick cuts of Germans logging names and ever-growing lists are used to depict the staggering number of people being inventoried.

Very deliberately, the narrative jumps to a decadent, opulent party for the Nazi glitterati. Among them is the film’s chief character, Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson) whose prominence is never really discussed, but rather implied, as he is shown hobnobbing with well-dressed businessmen, mobbed by attractive women and even being asked to pose for pictures with decorated military officials. This introduction of Schindler is ingenious for two reasons: it demonstrates his charisma in a practical, believable setting rather than an overblown unrealistic dialogue-driven scenario- thus preserving the flow of the movie’s fly-on-the-wall narrative type. Also, it establishes credibility by not leading the viewer to believe that the man who will become the obvious protagonist is by no means a goody-two-shoes or a “man of the people.”

Inevitably, the two worlds collide as Schindler visits one of the occupied cities. Though he is there to recruit the services of a Jewish accountant, Itzhak Stern (Ben Kingsley) there is still a well-defined line of morality that Schindler is clearly on the wrong side of. He details his plan to use the all-but-incarcerated Jews as cheap labor in a war-profiteering pots and pans company and explains how he needs Stern’s connections in the Jewish community to provide his startup funds, which he is of course reluctant to do but also realizes that his hands are essentially tied. If done the wrong way, the initiation of Schindler and Stern’s relationship could come across as a hokey “even though my people say I’m supposed to hate you, I respect you and think we could be friends” foreshadowing. However, the only thing that is obvious is Schindler’s self-serving personality and his “reaching out” to Stern and the Jews is entirely mercenary.

Once he is in charge of Schindler’s employee recruitment, Stern, unbeknownst to Schindler, methodically begins to hire employees who are deemed to have otherwise “non-essential” skills. Though it is again only implied, the urgency with which Stern does this (going so far as to forge documents for Jews who held prominent positions before the occupation that proclaim them as grunt-workers) makes it more than evident that the concentration camp system is in full effect. At this point in the film, there is also an essential marriage of music and editing that makes for one of the most intense scenes. Jump cuts go from Stern artificially aging a schoolteacher’s paperwork by folding and pouring tea on it, to the teacher himself being shuffled to a train assumed to be headed to a death camp. The two scenes merge when Stern arrives just in time to rescue the man from the train and present his false documents to the German clerk. The string arrangement goes from understated to dark, to a pulsing repeated note that creates an almost “Jaws” effect in its resemblance to a heightened pulse as the papers are inspected, finally ending with a sweet understated flourish as the man’s job at Schindler’s factory is approved. At no point in this scene are we told that the teacher’s life is in jeopardy, but the total presentation of imagery and music make it obvious.

There is never a missed opportunity to cast a negative reflection of Oskar Schindler in the first half of the film. He is shown to be a womanizer, a slave-wage driver, a borderline alcoholic and completely unrepentant of his corruption. In fact, the introduction of the primary antagonist, Nazi Commandant Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) goes to great lengths to demonstrate the similarities between Schindler and Goeth, a man who would go on to become one of the most heinous war criminals of all time. While a speech given by Goeth ordering the liquidation of the Jewish ghettos and the construction of concentration camps plays in the background, the onscreen focus is on Schindler and Goeth individually performing the same day-to-day tasks and living very similar lifestyles.

The first indication that Schindler is undergoing any kind of character change comes during the actually carrying out of Goeth’s orders. He looks down on the carnage from atop a hill and sees S.S. officers indiscriminately brutalizing everyone from women and children to hospital patients. Amidst a sea of on-the-spot executions the camera pans around in a point-of-view shot from Schindler’s perspective- indicating that the shocking images all sort of blend together for him. The one thing that stands out though is a little girl in a red coat. The artistic importance of only coloring one image in an otherwise entirely black and white scene is to acknowledge recognition. For this one girl to stand out to Schindler, for whatever reason, finally humanizes the people he has been exploiting in his factory. If you need any more evidence that this is clearly the intention, the girl is shown inside a building after she has left Schindler’s field of vision and her coat goes back to black and white- meaning the “color” was only seen by Schindler. There is also some very unsettling foreshadowing as the girl hides under a bed while the sound of approaching Nazi footsteps gets louder.

Though an underlying sense of self-service still exists, Schindler now makes a concerted effort to keep his workforce intact and to be more hands-on in its operations. He bribes Goeth heavily in order to ensure that his workers are kept under his employment and away from Nazi harassment. The bribery becomes elaborate as many of Schindler’s material belongings are shown transferring hands several times eventually leading to workers being released back into Schindler’s custody. The character development taking place during this middle section is among the most compelling and organic you’ll ever see. On one hand, he tells Goeth that the employees are essentially his property- yet he begins learning their names. He unsympathetically tells Stern that he refuses to let his factory be considered a front or a safe-haven, yet he encourages his workers to celebrate the Sabbath. There is much more “grey area” in Schindler as the film progresses- doubtless another justification for the black and white motif.

The figurative noose begins to tighten around Schindler’s enterprise and soon his workers are all on the verge of being transferred to Auschwitz. While meeting with Goeth to discuss the impending end of their arrangement Schindler notices the little girl in the red coat again, this time in a wheelbarrow full of Jewish corpses being incinerated in an effort to conceal the full-blown genocide Goeth has largely initiated. Unable to hide his emotion, he nearly vomits in front of all the Nazi soldiers at the sight of the girl and the realization of what is in store for his own employees.

“Stern, if this factory ever produces a shell that can actually be fired, I will be VERY unhappy.” (Oskar Schindler, “Schindler’s List”)


Finally, nearly 75% of the way through the film, the big character transition in Oskar Schindler occurs. As he says his goodbyes to Stern before running away with his fortune that was made largely on the backs of his Jewish employees, Schindler devises a way he can save a small but significant number of lives. Under the guise of establishing a munitions plant in Czechoslovakia and wanting workers he is familiar with and who have done similar labor for him, Schindler persuades Goeth to sell him back his employees at a rate so inflated it practically costs Schindler his entire fortune.

The climactic scene depicting the compiling of “The List” consists of several time-lapse edits and quick cuts between Schindler and Stern and the paper in Stern’s typewriter. The music swells as the list grows longer and the two men work more frantically. Before long it is very evident that Schindler has extended the list and thus gone deeper into his own pockets than was ever intended.

Schindler is reunited with many of his former male employees but, due to a “clerical error” the Schindler women are all shipped to Auschwitz. Despite the fact that it is nowhere near as gory as some of the earlier scenes where Goeth and his men exterminate people in the streets or in the snow, this particular sequence may be the most disturbing in the film; in part simply because of the stigma attached to the name “Auschwitz” but also because of the sickening dehumanization. A dense, dark rain that can only be the cremated remains of Holocaust victims falls around the women as they are stripped and shaved bald before being marched into a gas chamber. The collective screams from the women as the lights abruptly snap off is absolutely cringe-inducing. In what should be a happy turn of events, the gas chamber turns out to be a community shower and the women are cleansed rather than gassed; however the development only serves as a tame indicator as to the torment that was really suffered.

Once the entire roster is rounded up and sent to Schindler’s “factory,” his self-fulfilling prophecy is realized- his earlier complaints that he does not want his factory to become nothing more than a safe-house come to fruition, as is explained by onscreen text declaring the Schindler munitions factor as “a model of non-production.” Fortuitously, the war ends just as Stern delivers the news that Schindler is completely penniless. At a somber parting ceremony Schindler, for the first time in the movie, breaks from his cool demeanor and hysterically laments at what he perceives to be his failure to save more lives. Stern comforts the sobbing Schindler, reassuring him that he had gone above and beyond. The bittersweet reality of life after the events of the film is shown in epilogue form as text on the screen informs us that Schindler died in poverty and obscurity and that Goeth was tried and hung for his crimes.

More onscreen text informs us that Oskar Schindler was deemed a Righteous Person by the people of Jerusalem and accorded the special honor of burial in the Holy Land. The film jumps both to modern times and full color as the real life Schindler Jews pay tribute to Oskar at his grave. While the 1,100 lives Schindler saved may seem like a drop in the bucket compared to the 6 million who were killed, the final words on the screen remind us that there are now over 6,000 descendants of the Schindler Jews.

Other than the significance of the film itself, there is a lot of artistry in “Schindler’s List” that set it apart from other films that came before. The handheld camera technique that gives certain frames a very dramatic shake effect was used to perfection in this film- Steven Spielberg would revisit this directorial tool again ad-nauseum in “Saving Private Ryan” a few years later. I have also talked about the importance of music to the narrative which is appropriately sad basically throughout the movie. Also, for many of the same reasons I think excessive gore in horror movies actually makes them corny, I have to agree with the decision to keep the body of the film in black and white, given the doubtless accusations of gratuitous violence that would have been leveled against it had many of the more grizzly scenes been filmed in color.

The downsides of this film are few, but they are there. There are several periods of extended dialogue that is done in hushed voices that not only slow the pacing a little bit but also can be hard to understand. Also, the constant need to show Goeth either beating or killing people goes far beyond what is necessary to establish him as a completely abhorrent individual, though from what I understand it is an accurate portrayal of his bloodlust. However, so much evil without any exploration into any other possible facets of his character runs the risk of making him an almost cartoonish villain. Lastly of course it has to be said that, even though they are still VERY disturbing, the scenes depicting the sheer disgustingness of the Holocaust are sanitized and don’t even begin to accurately depict the reality of the situation.

Then again, if you WANT to see any more detail of the Holocaust beyond what is shown, you probably should seek help.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

#10. Singin' in the Rain (1952)

“The Jazz Singer” was a pretty good movie. It was kinda racist and it wasn’t very deep in plot. The pacing wasn’t great and the drama is pretty syrupy but it wasn’t bad. Of course the fact that it was the first “talkie” will always define its worth and legacy and that is more than fair. However, I don’t think it is fair that a movie like “Singin’ in the Rain” depends entirely on the existence of “The Jazz Singer” for its plot to work, yet it is ranked 80 spots higher on the AFI 100 List.

Now, to be clear, “Singin’ in the Rain” isn’t a bad movie either. It’s just a musical so I don’t really think of it as a movie. Not because I want to viciously devalue an entire genre, but just because it seems there are certain cinematic elements that are missing in the typical musical, like substantial dialogue, character development and plain believability. Also, it seems the timeline tends to be different, taking place over a short time rather than covering a significant amount of time. Though, to “Singin’ in the Rain”’s credit, it does employ some relatively creative flashback sequences that manage to streamline much of the backstory, particularly during the opening segment.

At an old-time Hollywood premier at Mann’s Chinese Theater, the principal characters are paraded along the red carpet while an emcee tells us everything we need to know about them in their introductions. One of the studio’s contract musicians, Cosmo (Donald O’Connor) gets a very tepid response from the audience which is the first of many indicators that the film will be largely satirical of Hollywood culture. The ones people really want to see are Cosmo’s best friend Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen), who he works with so often and so believably that people are sure they are banging in real life (ala Garth & Trisha). There is a cleverly presented “autobiographical” speech Don gives the press about his rise to stardom. As he describes his early life with Cosmo as being that of a child star, the truth of them dancing for nickels in seedy bars is shown in flashback as his narration turns out to be a lie, though the viewer is the only one who sees this. The lies pile up as he exaggerates their saloon musical acts and corny slapstick shows as “fine symphonic halls” and prestigious artistic training: all of this an obvious reference to the façade that the film industry puts on everything.

More significant to the plot (as well as providing an interesting perspective as to exactly how long this type of thing has been happening) is the revelation through further flashbacks that Don and Lina’s relationship has been manufactured by the studio and fed to the media for publicity. Every effort is made to indicate to us exactly why Lina is nothing short of completely unlovable as she throws a backstage diva-esque tantrum, talks herself up to megalomaniacal proportions and has a squeaky, crude voice on top of it all. Also, one of the most telling aspects of her character comes when we see her utter disinterest in Don years earlier until she overhears him being offered a well-paying movie contract.

While on their way to a post-party Don and Cosmo’s car breaks down and Don is mobbed by fans. In his effort to escape a rather absurd scene unfolds which not only serves the purpose of storyline convenience but also rubs our noses in the fact that we are watching Gene Kelly. Much the same way as the dance around his tiny apartment in “An American in Paris” is shown, a totally unrealistic sequence where Don dances atop a cable car and jumps into a convertible occurs seemingly for no other reason than to remind us how great a dancer Gene Kelly was. The car he lands in is driven by a wannabe theater actress named Kathy (Debbie Reynolds) who immediately begins shrieking and accusing him of being a criminal. After the confusion is cleared up the two bicker about the legitimacy of their respective artistic endeavors; which of course in old timey movie clichés means they are already in love with each other.

At the post party, another unorthodox but at least unique tactic is used. The antagonist is finally introduced but it is not a character, but a technological advancement. The host of the party shows a demonstration of a “talkie” which everyone immediately dismisses. The attendees discuss the inevitable failure of Al Jolson’s “The Jazz Singer” which of course foreshadows the grim future of their industry. In the very next scene we learn that “The Jazz Singer” is the biggest thing to hit the cinematic world and all of Hollywood is scrambling to make the transition to sound. Despite the fact that the truth was much more complicated and there was much more resistance to the sound transition, I admire the attempt to tell the story using true events.

“Lina. She can’t act, she can’t sing, she can’t dance. A triple-threat!” (Cosmo Brown, “Singin’ in the Rain”)


Since Hollywood is apparently a small town, Don and Kathy wind up working together at Monument Studios, which allows their inevitable relationship to blossom. Though it is contrived and predictable, their courtship yields two of the most memorable scenes in the movie. The famous and oft-referenced scene of Gene Kelly dancing down a rainy street singing the title track while splashing around and swinging on a lamppost is the most obvious but for artistic purposes I actually prefer an earlier number that takes place on a soundstage between them. In another jab at the artificialness of the movies, Don is able to “create” the perfect scenario for them to fall in love- a spotlight moon, a summer breeze courtesy of an industrial fan and a gorgeous view that is just a painted backdrop. This scene’s excessive cheese is outshined by its sheer creativity.

The studio’s first attempt to make a talkie with the pairing of Don and Lina is a joke largely because of her penile-shriveling voice. Test audiences laugh at all the wrong things and it becomes clear that Lina is a liability to the movie. However, they are too close to the end of production to pull the plug. Cosmo, Kathy and Don conspire to try and salvage what they can of the project when they decide to turn the movie into a musical, that way Cosmo’s composing and Don’s singing and dancing can carry it and Kathy’s voice can be dubbed in over Lina’s after filming.

Their deception works all the way up to and after the film’s premier, which is received warmly. Unfortunately for Lina, the crowd is so impressed with “her” singing that they demand she perform an impromptu encore. Kathy is forced to sing for Lina again, this time from backstage. Driven by hatred for Lina and love for Kathy, Don raises the curtain and exposes Lina for the fraud she is and everyone who deserves to lives happily ever after.

This film does still suffer from many of the same setbacks I mentioned earlier that most musicals suffer from- the lack of seriousness and depth, the minimal timeline and the confined sets. However it does still have many things going for it; the unconventional conflict of films vs films, the vastly underrated talents of Donald O’Connor, the clever satire and the well thought out costume designs which reflect the characters they belong to (Lina’s are loud and obnoxious, Don’s are refined and classy, Cosmo’s often have silly patterns etc). However, for me personally, the one thing I appreciate above all is the fact that “Singin’ in the Rain” does not have to be jaded or mean-spirited in its assault on Hollywood. It is good natured and kind of light-punch-on-the-knee in its criticism of L.A.

And nobody fucks with L.A. on my watch…