#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.

#46. A Clockwork Orange (1971)

I like weird things.

I can totally get into Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, I’m really into the music Brian Wilson recorded when he mind was gone, thought “The Silmarillion” was a good book and I can sit and stare at those acid-trippy visualization tools in Windows Media Player all the livelong day. But even “A Clockwork Orange” is too weird for me. That’s not to say I can’t appreciate it because there is some real talent behind this movie, but I don’t know that I will ever watch it again.

It’s not that I don’t have the stomach for it, because I’ve watched “Faces of Death” on a loop several times in my life, though the excessive violence (so much so that it is even referred to in the narration as ‘The Ultra Violence’) is certainly not for the squeamish. But it just doesn’t sit right with me. Strange given that all the things that speak to my social conscience are there like anti-heroes and an Orwellian Big-Brother presence.

A large part of the dialogue comes in the form of narration from the film’s main protagonist (though this movie stretches that definition more liberally than I have ever seen) Alex (Malcolm McDowell). He walks us through a typical night in the lives of him and his teenage friends. The surrealism begins early as we see the gang in some sort of chic lounge/club surrounded by several seemingly elite, almost yuppie-like people. There are ceramic statues that look like they belong in some kind of Mod-Museum that dispense beverages and almost futuristic looking chairs, sofas and barstools.

There are two very different and very important pieces of deception going on in these early shots. First off the décor and the clothing Alex and his friends are in both have a very futuristic look about them and their jumpsuits look almost reminiscent of space-suits. Perhaps this is done to make the movie not appear to be dated but I am sure it is more to imply that the story is set in the future, but conceivably in the viewer’s lifetime; thus making the events that follow seem scarier given that they are not depicted as so far off we shouldn’t worry about them. Secondly, the gang being dressed in all white in a setting where nobody else is, and drinking a beverage that looks misleadingly like milk while everyone else is drinking alcohol makes them look like they might be the good-guys- the representation of purity and wholesomeness. Yeah, not so much…

The action soon takes a shocking and disturbing turn as the gang surrounds a homeless drunk. After a quick back-and-forth of taunting each other, the boys viciously beat him to a state that I was positive was death until the man resurfaces later in the film. The gratuitous violence does not end here. In what is a disgustingly beautiful sequence a different gang is seen tormenting and raping a woman. As she is whipped back and forth to the rhythm of the background music and stripped in perfect time it almost appears to be some sort of hybrid between ballet and modern dance; especially given the fact that the attack is clearly happening on some sort of stage. However, the unsettling truth is revealed as the camera pans back further and shows the theater is noticeably derelict. Alex and his cohorts burst in as if they are heroes, beating the other men into submission.

Their moment of redemption is short-lived however though, as they are shown speeding through the country back-roads and arriving at a remote but urbanized home. Feigning an accident the group convinces the woman who lives there to let them in. Once inside they proceed to beat her elderly husband and force him to watch them rape his wife- all choreographed in perfect time to Alex cheerfully belting out the song “Singin’ in the Rain.” This is another aspect of something unspeakably awful occurring to the strains of music that would normally lighten the mood of a film; however this movie uses music to put an exclamation point on the things that intensify it.

Perhaps the most revealing glimpses of Alex’s character come after he goes home for the night. While it is always assumed that he is younger, it is appalling to learn that he still lives at home and is still in school- more surprising though is how little influence his parents have over him. His room is full of bizarre things like a pet snake in a drawer, a creepy, dancing Jesus statue and a collection of mini Beethoven tapes (Beethoven is later revealed to be his favorite musician). The ambiguity of time is again explored in the house as well, as the architecture is very abstract but his parents are dressed in gaudy, dated late-60’s/early 70’s bright clothes. The contrast between them and Alex seems to illustrate that perhaps they represent a different era than him, or that the addition of color somehow implies more character or personality than Alex, who generally delivers all his lines very emotionless and drably.

While he is supposed to be in school Alex is shown instead hanging around a record store. He picks up a pair of girls, presumably sisters, and takes them back home for a three-way. For the first time in the movie the camera remains relatively still, which is ironic since the scene features non-stop motion. The filming style prior to this scene typically featured a lot of tracking shots and camera movement. The scene is sped up the same way a silent-era comedy film would be- possibly because this is strangely one of the most light-hearted parts of the film. “The William Tell Overture” plays and the scene is treated almost as an interlude. While it may be considered cutting-edge or ironic this scene is ultimately out of place and winds up making little sense. I assume it is meant to illustrate the power Alex has over regular people to help explain why his parents and friends let him abuse them so much, but it just doesn’t seem to fit in.

Despite Alex clearly being identified as the leader of the gang, there are several examples of dissention among the ranks that first surface when Alex bullies his cohorts at the bar, again when he thwarts an attempted uprising and finally when they convince him to attack a woman who lives alone on a health farm. The assault goes horribly awry and Alex winds up murdering the woman with a huge ceramic penis (an action which lends itself to an entirely different level of interpretation; my personal theory is that it represents a culmination of Alex’s crimes all in one). The gang puts the exclamation point on their overthrowing of Alex by smashing him in the face with a bottle and leaving him for the police.

” I hope to God it'll torture you to madness!” (Probation Officer Deltoid, “A Clockwork Orange”)

The extended middle section of the film makes the most bold and ominous statements. Alex is systematically stripped of his identity and dignity, but still shows little remorse for his wrongdoings. It isn’t until he elects to be used as a guinea pig for an experimental Government conceived procedure that involves rehabilitation through visual and auditory association. He is strapped to a chair, has his eyes pried open and is forced to watch footage of several crimes similar to those he has committed as well as even more horrific atrocities including torture and genocide. All the visuals are drowned out by Beethoven’s 9th Symphony to create an aversion with the music and Alex, not unlike a reverse Pavlov’s Dog’s scenario. The therapy sessions are observed by various medical professionals and government employees, illustrating just how condoned this abhorrent form of conditioning is.

Once he is declared “cured” Alex is re-released into society. He is docile, submissive and practically catatonic. It seems as though there is some sort of a “what goes around comes around” theme to the film as we see Alex kicked out by his parents, beaten by a mob of homeless men led by the vagrant he almost killed at the beginning of the movie and even meets up with his old gang members who are now police officers who also beat him senseless. The reintroduction of the gang members/cops seems to comment more on their mental weakness rather than seeing Alex get his comeuppance as they are again shown as identityless drones, only taking orders from someone different, meanwhile we are supposed to feel sorry for Alex.

Alex again crosses paths with someone he has wronged when he stumbles to the home of the man he beat whose wife he raped earlier in the movie. Several revelations about the man are made at once; he has been left paralyzed from his injuries, his wife died a short time after the attack and he is an outspoken liberal activist. The most understated but telling revelation though is the fact that his name is Mr. Alexander. This not only has so many connotations of political activism (King Alexander of Russia) and the ability to be methodically violent (Alexander the Great) but even more to the point it draws a direct parallel between Alex and Mr. Alexander. And as we soon find out, he is capable of the same type of sadism as Alex- in fact he turns out to be quite the hypocrite. Once he discovers that Alex is his old assailant he tortures him with Beethoven’s 9th Symphony because he knows all about the form of rehabilitation he has undergone as he is an outspoken opponent of it, but soon exploits it himself to punish Alex.

After a failed suicide attempt (driven to madness by the punishment by Mr. Alexander) leaves him in a full-body cast, Alex becomes a poster child for the evils of the therapy and the government in general. In an effort to perform some damage control the Minister of the Interior arrives at the hospital to offer Alex a high-paying government job and basically sweet talk him into not suing them for his condition. As the film ends we see that Alex has completely recovered from the aversion therapy as he sadistically smiles at the camera. Not only does this suggest that the effects of such a treatment method carry the threat of negative backlash but also implies that just about anyone no matter how morally corrupt can attain a position of power and influence.

Yes “A Clockwork Orange” is a well made movie; there are numerous examples of symbolism and hidden meaning. It is technically sound with some incredible motion and tracking shots and excellent uses of jump cuts during the aversion therapy sequence. It is evident that a great deal of thought was put into every single aspect of the film and the depth of the satire and commentary would definitely be lost on many casual viewers. However, just because I get it doesn’t mean I enjoy it- though I can appreciate it on artistic merit. In other words, content-wise; wow. Entertainment-wise; meh.

#47. Taxi Driver (1976)

An ongoing debate among movie fans is “what 1976 movie deserved to win the Academy Award for Best Picture?” Of course the winner was “Rocky” (one of my all time favorite films) (http://straightfromthemachart.blogspot.com/2010/08/78-rocky-1976.html) but people have always made the case that it could just as easily have been “Network” (http://straightfromthemachart.blogspot.com/2010/10/66-network-1976.html) or “Taxi Driver.” Now that I have seen all three I finally feel like I get to take a more active role in these debates rather than just speaking as a “Rocky” apologist.

In have always carried around this assumption that Robert DeNiro was a highly overrated actor because I only knew his work that was released in my lifetime (featuring such gems as “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,” a subpar remake of “Night and the City” and those Focker movies) which is a crying shame. In a way, I suppose you could argue that the role he plays in “Taxi Driver” (Travis Bickle, a disturbed, paranoid veteran) is just another DeNiro tough-guy role, but it really isn’t that simple. Bickle is full of complexities and is an interesting and intense character study that handles mental illness with a level of caring but caution.

One thing I really liked right off the bat was the simple implication that Travis was a Vietnam veteran. It is never actually said, but it is implied heavily. In the beginning of the movie he applies to be a cabbie for a typical New York City taxi company. His “interview” consists of the manager asking him a couple of basic questions and essentially asking when he can start (while it may seem simplistic and unrealistic this is actually a good way of illustrating that Travis is likely forced into doing undesirable work simply by showing how easy it was to obtain). During the back and forth Travis simply mentions that he was in the military in the late 60’s and early 70’s. One could say it is undeniable that Travis went to Vietnam given the astronomical likelihood but leaving the question relatively ambiguous is important because it lets the viewer not only decide if he did or not, but if his mental state is a result of that or something the predates it. Essentially, what Scorsese does here is NOT simply use the red herring of blaming the war.

Travis’ mundane lifestyle in a drab and run-down apartment is shown over narration of letters he has written to his parents back home. His parents are never seen and the letters frequently contain lies that make him sound more together and important than he is. These narration scenes add so much to the narrative and viewing experience by again suggesting so much but not telling us anything. For all we know his parents aren’t even alive, are the lies about his life to mask his own disappointment or to meet lofty expectations he can’t attain? Is he so far gone that he believes his fantasy is reality? The questions that arise from this narrative device help keep the viewer as in-the-dark as anyone who may come into Travis’ life and never be let in enough to know him for who he is. For that matter the same could be true of Travis himself never knowing his true identity.

While I am on the subject, this is something that I believe warrants further exploration as it is an understated but recurring theme in this movie; identity. Travis not only has the unspoken identity crisis but also literally creates a false identity during an encounter with the Secret Service, the 12 year old prostitute he meets and eventually tries to rescue (Jody Foster) is simply referred to as “Iris” though we know this is probably a “stage name” and even Travis’ vain struggle to learn the name of the girl who sells concessions at the porno theater he frequents all touch on the concept of identity.

This notion goes one step further after Travis meets, courts and stalks a girl named Betsy (Cybil Shepherd). The two have a series of casual dates which culminate in him taking her to a porn movie thinking it is completely normal and what couples do since the films depict other couples. In several different locations (the campaign office where she volunteers, a diner he takes her to and the outside of the theater) any time we see Travis from Betsy’s perspective, there is always a taxi cab somewhere in the background. This implies that his own profession has become his identity in a way, as if she will always see him as “only” a taxi driver. In fact so much so that the first time she refers to him is when she calls him “that taxi driver” while telling a co-worker that he appears to be stalking her.

Ironically though, what makes Travis so complex is the fact that in many ways he is “better” than his peers and the people who are supposedly his social superiors. When he picks up the Presidential candidate Betsy volunteers for the Senator and one of his aides are clearly having a discussion about some kind of shady dealings. This principle is even explored subtly when veteran cabbies frequently talk nastily about different groups they won’t pick up or hold in contempt but Travis never participates in these discussions. For all of his social faults and diminished economic status, Travis always emerges as a good person.

"I think someone should just take this city and just... just flush it down the fuckin' toilet. ..." (Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver")

Though he rants about the criminals and evil-doers of New York society, Travis’ big crusade is to rescue Iris from her pimp (Harvey Keitel), so much so that it even creates a distraction from his obsession with Betsy. While his apartment had previously been dingy and littered with flowers for Betsy, near the climactic ending when he prepares to take matters into his own hands and clean up the city, the place is clean and organized. Travis is wearing a blindingly white shirt (clearly designed to represent purity) as he arms himself to the teeth, knowing he is going to kill Iris’ pimp. In a final act of being “over” Betsy, he burns the flowers in his sink, closing that chapter in his life.

The ensuing rampage Travis goes on is probably one of the greatest shooting sequences in recent film, however it probably also was the sole reason the movie lost the Oscar that year. Though great pains are taken to make the scene artistic (tinting the blood, incredible back-and-forth cuts and a suspenseful conclusion) it is ultimately way too violent but more to the point way too exaggerated- especially the scene where Travis blows a seedy hotel’s manager’s fingers off. When all is said and done Travis has killed the pimp, the hotel manager and the client Iris is with, all graphically and all right in front of her, which is ironically, possibly every bit as traumatizing as her forced prostitution. We have every reason to believe the police are going to blast Travis to kingdom come through the use of an overhead tracking shot which shows a freeze-frame of the entire trail of chaos he has caused; scattered bodies and bloody walls and all.

However, a strange dreamlike epilogue reveals that Travis is considered a hero for having killed a mafia kingpin and a couple two-bit criminals. Iris is safely back home with her parents and back in school just like Travis told her she should be and he is apparently comatose in the hospital. Though it is entirely possible this is all some sort of fantasy ending the final scenes are too “real” to suggest this in my opinion- especially where Travis appears to pick up Betsy then she seemingly vanishes from the back seat. This ending suggests more to me that Travis is still disturbed and delusional. It is important to point out though that the ending of the film shows Travis driving his cab in much better neighborhoods than before. Not only does this imply redemption but also illustrates how, at least in Travis’ view, the world is a little better after he has done his part.

“Taxi Driver” may not be as well written as “Network” or as inspirational as “Rocky” but in terms of the Big Three movies of 1976 it is easily the best made. I still like “Rocky” better though ;)

#48. Jaws (1975)

In college I took a film study class with a good friend of mine. One of the movies we discussed was the silent French film “A Trip to the Moon.” I had always had a certain passion for this movie because of the iconic imagery that has been duplicated in everything from the opening credits of “The Honeymooners” to the Queen video “Heaven for Everyone.” My friend however was not convinced and was totally mortified by the absurd special effect of the rocket embedding itself in the eye of the Man in the Moon. I had to remind him numerous times that Georges Melies was working within the limitations of a very primitive art from, but he was not convinced. The shoe was on the other foot when I first watched “Jaws” recently and found myself mortified at how bad the shark looked when it popped out of the water. It takes a helluva movie to overcome really bad special effects, but “Jaws” manages to do just that.

Set in the fictional Northeastern town of Amity (a clever tool in and of itself to conjure up the auditory similarity to Amityville and make us associate it with terror and evil) “Jaws” is so much more than the shock-value gore flick that tries to scare you with an unscary monster much the way a movie like “Godzilla” I thought it was going to be. In addition to being a psychological thriller that exploits some of the most primal of human fears, it also flirts with the concept of corruption, politicking and endangering the lives of everyday citizens for economic and Public Relations benefits, kind of like how we killed our own people by blowing up those towers, but that is more of an opinion so I digress.

Due to an irrational fear of water that first began to manifest itself when I was 5 years old and almost drowned in a Jacuzzi at Wild Waters Water Park I didn’t learn to swim until I was 13 years old (true story, make fun all you want, I don’t feel this emotion you call “shame”). In spite of this though, I wasn’t convinced that “Jaws” would be all that scary to me because the movie isn’t about drowning, it is about getting devoured by a shark that would never come that close to shore on a public beach in real life. However the ingenious thing about “Jaws” is that neither one of these devices are used as the basis of the film’s fear element; instead the overall theme seems to be that the scariest things are the ones we can’t see. This idea surfaces numerous times throughout and does so in several different ways; whether it is seeing the damage the shark has done after the fact to show us what it is capable of or the more “unseen” evil of backdoor politicking and shifty goings-on.

The first victim of the shark is a drunken girl who is cavorting on the beach with a guy she just met (presumably since he asks her name). After a few drinks and a little sex the girl decides to go skinny dipping in the ocean. The shark pursues the girl in the water as the ominous, simplistic and now legendary music plays. There is so much about this opening sequence that lends itself to the expressionist horror films of the early part of the 20th century; the clanging of buoy alarms and ship bells in the distance replace the tolling of cathedral bells and scary clocks and the underwater point-of-view shots from the perspective of the shark as he stalks his prey borrow heavily from the marine moviemaking techniques perfected in “The Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Despite the gruesomeness of her demise there is something about this opening scene that is darkly poetic. And to think, if this movie would have been made ten years later this girl would have known that everyone who drinks underage and has sex in a somewhat public place always gets killed by some kind of monster. I guess Stephen Spielberg created a formula with this opening. Because it is so dark outside she never sees the shark coming, though the fact that it is so deadly quiet makes this scene even more chilling since it establishes the stealthness of the shark.

"Back home we got a taxidermy man. He gonna have a heart attack when he see what I brung him!" (Quint, "Jaws")

Roy Scheider plays Police Chief Brody, a New York cop again, though in a vastly superior and more developed way than in films like “The French Connection” and “The Seven-Ups.” This time he is a transplant who is unfamiliar with the New England surroundings and behaves as such. Also, it is important to note that even though he is Amity’s Chief of Police, he is still relatively naïve, his reaction to the discovery of the first victim as well as his surprise when local elected officials attempt to bury the shark story.

It turns out everyone in the Amity political system minus Brody is hell bent on going through with the cover-up. Economics are as key a factor as public image, as the beach’s bread and butter is the summer tourist season. The Mayor, other deputies, even the medical examiner all downplay the seriousness of the situation and defy Brody’s orders to close the beaches. It isn't until a little boy falls prey to the shark that the citizens express any kind of outrage or trepidation.

Even after the attack though, the bureaucracy still wishes to sweep the incident under the carpet. When a tiger shark is captured off the coast it is proudly put on display and advertised as the shark that has been causing all the terror even though they know this is not the case. Brody finds an unlikely ally in the form of Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfus) a shark expert who instantly calls bullshit on the tiger shark story. The addition of a mercenary fisherman/shark hunter known as Quint (Robert Shaw) creates a protagonist trio that is among the best ever assembled for a film as each man is distinctly different in personality as well as their motivations for wanting to capture the shark.

The movies takes on a sort of “Old Man and the Sea”/”Moby Dick” feel as the three men set out in Quint’s boat to capture the shark. The pursuit of the shark and subsequent underwater encounter scenes completely make up for the couple of silly scenes where the shark emerges from the water looking phony as hell. It is also in the pursuit of the shark that the film becomes eerily psychological, particularly when Hooper goes into the water in a shark cage (which proves to be worthless against the shark itself) to attempt to harpoon the shark with a sort of jerry-rigged poison spear. The outline of the shark swimming below the boat, the ripples in the water as he draws closer and the physical damage to the shark cage does more to paralyze you with fear than any of the more violent and, let’s face it, hokey scenes where the shark mauls people on the beach.

Brody and Hooper survive the assault and manage to blow the shark to bits. What easily could have been an anti-climactic swim back to shore or an overly sappy reunion scene between the two turns into a perfect lighthearted and somewhat silly ending as the two laugh and crack jokes as they float off towards land together. This ending not only rounds out the intensity of the previous several minutes nicely but also homages classic film as the heroes ride off into the proverbial sunset.

Overall the two things that impress me the most about the movie are the limited amount of times we actually see the shark (this causes it to not be redundant and also shows that the script and the atmospheric shooting were good enough to not have to rely on the shark) and the impressive amount of film lore in the film, particularly with the clever references and tips-of-the-cap to other movies that are found throughout.

Though I probably would be wasting my time if I were to explore the sequels…

#49. Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

A European movie from the 70’s referred to as “Animal Farm” is widely regarded as the first bestiality porno flick ever made (you learn strange things when your state makes national news for one of its residents having been screwed to death by a horse). What I am getting at is even though a movie is groundbreaking or innovative, that doesn’t necessarily make it good. “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” was the first feature-length animated film and seemingly for that reason alone, it is regarded as a masterpiece of cinema.

Since there is a complete absence of motion picture devices such as character development, significant shots/camera angles and thematic relevance (though in the movie’s defense this is probably due to the fact that it was intended for kids rather than just lack of creativity) I won’t spend a lot of time discussing the context of different scenes in the film like I have for others on this list.

Before I get too far off track here let me just make it abundantly clear that I think the animation in this film is just about the best that has ever existed. There is a fluidity to the movement of the characters that you just don’t see in most cartoons. It’s almost as if the animation is just superimposed over live action, all the way down to the flowing of garments. The colors are also very sharp and vibrant and contrast each other very well, from the forest scenery to the differences in the Dwarfs’ clothing.

Another element of the film that I at least found to be enjoyable was the presentation. To maintain the fairytale vibe it begins in book form, with pages turning to move the narrative along. The introduction of the Wicked Queen is so simplistic but so effective in letting us know who is the villain. Much the way old spaghetti westerns manage to avoid having to put any thought into the depth of personalities by putting the bad guys in black hats and the good guys in white hats, we are just trained in a very primal way that the Queen who is wearing all black is the bad person and that Snow White is the good person… Hell they even bake “white” right into her name. Though I will say this, anyone who puts a hit out on their own step-daughter does qualify as a remarkable villain.

“Next thing you know, she'll be tyin' your beards up in pink ribbons and smellin' ya up with that stuff called, uh... "perfoom.” (Grumpy, “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”)

One scene that seems relatively out of place but still is very visually stimulating involves Snow White finding herself lost in the forest after the hunter who is supposed to kill her turns her loose and persuades her to flee her stepmother. In an effort to convey to the audience how deep her fears are, the sequence is dark and eerily drawn. The scary eyes skulking in the shadows turn out to be the kind and helpful woodland creatures. Night seemingly fades into day as Snow White realizes she is safe and the dark music segues appropriately.

While on the subject of music, this film borders on a musical with the way it relies on song to tell the story and explore the characters. From the recurring refrain of “Someday My Prince Will Come” to the way “Bluddle Uddle Um Dum” introduces us to the individual personalities of the Dwarfs, music serves an almost crutch-like function in this movie. Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem were it paced better. Much like the handicaps “An American in Paris” faces, there are either too many extended musical scenes in too short a time, too long of stretches without one or they simply seem out of place.

I know I’m probably putting too much stock in what is supposed to be a kid’s movie but there were just too many things about “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” that were either oversimplified, glossed over or just plain creepy. Some of my biggest beefs with the picture were the passing mention that Snow White’s father is dead without any reference as to how (especially since there is some implication that the Queen is entirely capable of having killed him for gain) let alone the nature of their relationship and the effect of his death on her. Secondly, I think it’s creepy in any scenario but especially in a cartoon that the Dwarfs wouldn’t bury the presumably dead Snow White after she eats the poisoned apple. Keeping her body in a glass casket seems weird, morbid and as if it encourages inappropriate grieving. Lastly, what the hell is up with the Prince not only falling in love with a girl he had one brief encounter with, but engaging in necrophilia (let’s not church it up, that’s what kissing a dead girl is) with her? Sure I may be overanalyzing it, but if you are going to throw a movie like this on such a prestigious list you have to know there is going to be scrutiny.

Don’t think that the highly publicized speculation that Walt Disney was probably a raging Anti-Semite is impairing my ability to critique Walt Disney’s films fairly or accurately- as I appreciated and rather enjoyed much of what he attempted to do in “Fantasia” (#58 in this blog) I just wasn’t entertained by this particular movie. There was a lot of potential in what was trying to be done, especially in the way the human condition is explored through the various personalities of the Dwarfs (all given a different name that corresponds with an emotion or a state of being), but it just never punches the ball into the end zone.

#50. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; as a general rule I don’t like westerns.

Prior to seeing such masterpieces as “Stagecoach” and “Shane” the only films in this genre I even gave a second look were the “Young Guns” films. Now, I know they are badly acted, poorly directed and generally very corny but the aces up their sleeve I always referenced were the fact that, based on all the Billy the Kid research I have done, these films were far and away more historically accurate than movies like “Chisum” and (ironically) “The True Story of Jesse James.” I also loved what I perceived to be the uniqueness of incorporating modern-day popular music into a genre where we typically only hear banjos and harmonicas in the soundtrack. It appears “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” at least beat them to the punch on the latter.

Other than the setting and time frame there isn’t really much about this movie that would suggest it is a western. It seems to be more of a light-hearted comedy that happens to have some shootouts rather than an intense, gun-blazing action movie. Also, the two main characters are far from the stereotypical one-dimensional badasses we’re used to seeing in these types of films.

I appreciate the honesty of the director (George Roy Hill) by cutting through the crap right away with the on-screen text “Most of what follows is true.” This all but acknowledges how much artistic license is taken in movies that depict real characters. The introduction of the two main characters is rather drawn-out and made me fearful of the rest of the movie. The sepia-saturated picture tinting is a cool effect that projects the feeling of an old-time photograph but continues after an initial poker-hustling sequence. The continuation of the sepia after the logical stopping point makes it seem like the whole movie may be shot this way, which would just be intolerable- thankfully though, the color does eventually begin to fade in, almost like a sunrise as Butch (Paul Newman) and The Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) ride on horseback over a draw, exposing a vast, sun-glazed countryside.

As Butch and Sundance reunite with their famous Hole-in-the-Wall gang, a slight uprising of sorts is taking places as a faction of turncoats. This scene is important for two reasons; first off it establishes Butch Cassidy’s character as a less than honorable but still lovable guy (he quells the rebellion by agreeing to fight for leadership with another member of the gang, then swiftly kicks him in the balls) and secondly sets the stage for many more laughs to come as well as blatantly bucking the trends of other westerns. In this case the Cowboy Code of Honor concept is, well, kicked squarely in the nuts.

As if podiatrically emasculating his fellow gang member isn’t enough, Butch then steals his idea to rob a money train not once but twice (once on its initial drop and once after reloading with cash after the robbery, assuming their burglars will have already fled with the spoils of their first heist). The ensuing action leads to yet another send-off of the western cliché of the train robbery. In this case though, the robbery is not graceful or flawlessly executed; instead it is bungled and sloppy. Instead of being ruthless and coldhearted the pair ends up showing sympathy for the agent tasked with guarding the money whom they have recklessly blown up by throwing dynamite into the car in an attempt to blast the safe. This uncharacteristic display of humanity coupled with the hilarity of the rest of the train’s crew seeming more starstruck over being robbed by Butch Cassidy than fearful of the fact that they are, well, being robbed by Butch Cassidy.

Following the robbery we are introduced to Sundance’s girlfriend Etta. Though she is presented as something of a prude, bookworm type we soon discover that she is anything but. Not only does she appear to be sexually adventurous but there is a more-than-subtle implication that she is either interested in or has been involved with Butch. In a relatively nonsensical scene Butch takes Etta for a ride on a bicycle (a far cry from the stereotypical horse) as B.J. Thomas’ “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” plays over the scenery like a musical montage… a completely inexplicable musical montage. Obviously I understand that this device is used to show an emotional connection between the two but damn it feels weird. I will take “Blaze of Glory” over B.J. Thomas anytime, but to each their own.

After the strange musical interlude/introduction to Etta we see the gang follow through with their plan to rob the train again. The plan fails epically when it turns out that a posse has been assembled to foil the theft. The pursuit culminates in a worst-of-both-worlds choice: face the music or escape the gunfight by jumping off a cliff into a river down below which may or may not be deep enough to sustain life after a huge plunge. The back and forth banter Redford and Newman exchange in this sequence is tear-inducing. The revelation that Sundance can’t swim is the cherry on the top of the gag sundae.

Needless to say, they jump and live. And the wide-angle vertical shot of the two in free-fall while screaming “SHIIIIIIIIT” is a perfect representation of the whole film- lightheartedness even in the face of grim circumstances. Not only is the placement of such a geographic feature again contrary to a western film, but the majority of the outdoor scenery is. Rather than the massive deserts or sprawling prairies this film is lush with forest and greenery. One more thing about this scene in particular that I believe warrants a nod is the fact that it is so unique and refreshing (and unorthodox) to show a protagonist in a western AVOIDING a gunfight.

As Butch, Sundance and Etta make their way to Bolivia in an effort to escape the law another montage of sorts takes shape- this one far more appropriate and fitting. It is set up when Butch discards his bicycle; as the front wheel spins a clicking noise reminiscent of a film-reel is heard. A collection of still photographs is then shown, playing even more off the rudimentary movie feel, which illustrates the gang’s exploits along the road to Bolivia via New York.

“I'll go with you, and I won't whine, and I'll sew your socks, and I'll stitch you when you're wounded, and I'll do anything you ask of me except one thing. I won't watch you die.” (Etta Place, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”)

Once in Bolivia all the previous little bits of dialogue in the movie that seemed either unimportant or secondary begins to manifest itself into heavy-duty foreshadowing; a sheriff warning them that they are going to be gruesomely killed, Butch and Sundance constantly referencing how they want to “go straight,” Etta agreeing that she is going to go back to the U.S. if the situation becomes hopeless and her subsequent announcement that she is doing just that. These are just a few examples of how the film prepares you for the grimmest of endings. And even that winds up being a surprise when the climactic final gunfight isn’t actually shown and the movie ends as the two charge into certain death gloriously and fearlessly. There is no doubt the two are going to be massacred but we aren’t forced to watch it happen, we get to see them go out with dignity, which is a comfort because, for whatever reason, we like these guys when all is said and done.

Overall, I think the feeling I get from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” is a fish-out-of-water theme. This movie is a western that bends over backwards to avoid being a western. The characters don’t match up to the ridiculous machismo of westerns prior, the music and mood aren’t quite in context to the subject matter and as I have mentioned before the scenery and personalities of the main characters are decidedly not western. There are definitely ways to parody something without dumping all over it (ala “Scary Movie” or countless Mel Brooks offerings). This film is very much a respectful jab at the genre and in being so makes it strangely unique.

On a totally minor side-note, Cloris Leachman plays the proprietor of a whorehouse, so suck on that Betty White- she was edgy WAAAAAAAAAY before you were!