My Top Ten Classic Movies of Childhood

My Top Ten Classic Movies of Childhood

In the spirit of Danny Peary’s recent appearance with Dan Fisher on the podcast “Let’s Talk Ten,” I’ll share my own “top ten” childhood favorite movies, and then a list of runners-up.

First I’ll note — my age will show here! I was born in 1974, and all of the titles I list below were watched before I turned 12. As I was crafting this post, I was reflecting on how much movie watching has changed over the decades since Peary was born in 1949. Differences are evident even in his conversation with Fisher, which led me to think about how tastes will continue to evolve as we head into the future.

The movies I list below as childhood favorites were viewed in a combination of: a) going out to see them in the theater, either in original release or revival (back when this was much more common); or b) watching them on T.V. during special annual airings. Video tapes and cable TV (i.e., TBS, TNT, and the AMC channel) weren’t part of my earliest childhood, though as soon as those became commonplace, my viewing habits changed dramatically. (These changes in the 1980s also directly spurred Peary’s interest in writing GFTFF.)

Thankfully, we’re now in yet another new and exciting era for classic film, with many titles available as beautifully remastered Blu-Rays (often with interesting commentary tracks), and/or streaming through various online sources. I’ve noted numerous times on my blog over the past few years that this is actually a golden age for film fanatics, given that it’s easier than ever to find nearly every title you may want to watch, all from the practical comfort of your home.

But with even more overall viewing content available than ever, will people choose classic movies? If so, why — and what can we (classic movie lovers) do to help encourage this?

All of these thoughts were in my mind as I prepared my notes for the following list. Here, in chronological order, here are my “top ten childhood classic movies” — that is, movies which were formative to me as a kid as I was just beginning to discover my love of film.

[Note: I’m trying to trouble-shoot a bug within WordPress which is turning most images into Large, regardless of whether I’m inserting them as Thumbnails or Medium-sized images. Sorry about this. It will take a while to figure out how to fix this, so I decided just to publish my post anyway. You will be faced with LARGE versions of most of the posters below!]

The Wizard of Oz (1939)
The OG childhood classic! Yes, the flying monkeys were scary — and Margaret Hamilton will never not be evil personified in my eyes. This fantasy epic led to my lifelong love of Judy Garland, who was my “gateway actress” into the classics — I watched any and all of her other movies whenever they would show up on television, with the top two I remember being Easter Parade (1948) (naturally, it would air on or near Easter) and The Harvey Girls (1946). I kept a scrapbook of Judy Garland photos, movie stills, and articles, and had posters up in my bedroom. I played Dorothy in my Girl Scout troop’s staged rendition of the play, and dressed as Hollywood’s version of her for Halloween. Thankfully, this film retains its status as one of the most beloved cinema classics — a rare gem which remains enjoyable for children and adults equally.

Pinocchio (1940)
Pinocchio is the first movie I remember going out to see in the theater (with my Mom), which makes sense since it was theatrically re-released in 1978 when I was four. Everything about the experience felt — appropriately — big! I was terrified seeing Pinocchio so easily led astray, boys being turned into donkeys on Pleasure Island, and Geppetto swallowed up by Monstro the whale. [As a side note, I could easily include many other classic Disney animated features on this list, since I’m pretty sure I went to see each of them as they were re-released in theaters: One Hundred and One Dalmations (1961) and Sleeping Beauty (1959) were both re-screened in 1979, Lady and the Tramp (1955) in 1980, Cinderella (1950) in 1981, Bambi (1942) and Peter Pan (1953) in 1982, and Snow White (1937) in 1983.]

The Parent Trap (1961)
Like so many others my age, I was obsessed with this film (and story) as a child! I’ve shared my thoughts on its charm in my review, where I noted that it portrays “the universally appealing notion that we may have an identical doppelganger out in the world, someone we know nothing about, but who we may run into by chance, and who will quickly become our closest confidante and companion.” As a child, I watched The Parent Trap every time it came on television, and thanks to “fantastic double-exposure special effects,” I distinctly remember not knowing Mills didn’t have an identical twin for quite a while.

The Sound of Music (1965)
Like The Wizard of Oz (1939), this musical classic was a must-see annual favorite in our household on television — though for many years I couldn’t stay up long enough to watch the second lengthy half. The songs, sets, costumes, and storyline all still hold tremendous nostalgia — and I’m not alone in this sentiment; the FB fan group has 2.4 million followers. Julie Andrews herself remains a beloved icon; as with Judy Garland, I tried watching as many of her other films as I could. Recently, I enjoyed listening to her narrating both her memoirs: Home: A Memoir of My Early Years (2008) and Home Work: A Memoir of My Hollywood Years (2019).

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
This Oscar-winning musical was another annual TV-viewing tradition. The songs were infectious, and the storyline universal: all children can relate to worries associated with launching from their homes, and potentially bucking parental (and societal) traditions. As I wrote in my review, I happen to have a personal history with this musical extending beyond its initial childhood stamp: back in 1999 “I was the pianist for a local community theater kids’ production of [this play]… and thus got to know each and every one of the songs (and most of the dialogue) quite intimately.” I’m not surprised a remake is in the works.

Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)
Pah to the remake with Johnny Depp! This OG adaptation of Roald Dahl’s children’s classic is the one to watch. The songs, sets, and storyline are all oh-so-memorable — though, as I wrote in my review, “I remember finding the film rather nightmarish as a child, given the frightening fates met by the naughty children.” It took me many years to accept Gene Wilder as anyone other than a creepy, wide-eyed, unpredictable, colorfully-dressed candy-man and miracle-maker ready to dispense hideous punishment to misbehaving children with a sweet tooth (meaning — all of us).

Murder by Death (1976)
One day I’ll have to ask Peary why he didn’t include this cult classic in his book, given how many people (including me) watched it again and again on endless TV re-airings (and it was a big hit upon its theatrical release). Most importantly, it introduced me to cinematic greats like Alec Guinness, Peter Falk, Maggie Smith, David Niven, Elsa Lanchester, and Peter Sellers, and piqued my interest in “old dark house” murder mysteries. Plus, it’s a complete hoot: this paeon to cinematic classics is anything but stodgy and dry!

Annie (1982)
This is one of the first movies I remember being excited to go see in the theater, and can actually remember the full experience of (rather than just the film itself and my impressions). Something about rags-to-riches stories hold eternal appeal, and Annie is no exception. Carol Burnett’s performance as the creepily boozy Ms. Hannigan seared my brain: as the person meant to care for Annie (yet who oh-so-clearly didn’t), she represented a child’s worst nightmares of deceptive maternal abandonment. A bit of trivia: I obsessively learned to play several of the key songs on the piano, and was later hired as the pianist for the (spectacularly unmemorable) sequel “Annie Warbucks” when it was staged by the San Diego Junior Theatre in 2000.

Back to the Future (1985)
I was 11 years old when this sci-fi/fantasy classic was released, and thus was squarely in its target demographic. Michael J. Fox was already a childhood icon from his role as Alex P. Keaton in “Family Ties” (1982-1989), adding to his overall appeal. Peary’s review of this film in GFTFF shows clear generational gaps: he wished the film’s storyline had stayed back in the 1950s to watch the evolution of rock ‘n roll, while I was relieved to see Marty McFly return to my familiar home turf of the 1980s (at least for a while).

The Breakfast Club (1985)
Molly Ringwald was another icon of the 1980s; all her films with director John Hughes likely hold a special spot in the memories of my generation. This particular movie — thanks in part to its unforgettable theme song, Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)”, and in part to featuring The Brat Pack — has only grown in popularity since its release, and maintains a solid cult fan base. What’s not to love about a ragtag group of misfits coming together and bonding unexpectedly? I’ve seen it countless times.

The Goonies (1985)
This action-adventure film hasn’t held up particularly well, but was indisputably a favorite for many kids my age (again: what’s not to love about a ragtag group of misfits coming together and bonding unexpectedly?). As I wrote in my review, “What kid among us wouldn’t wish to make new friends and go searching for buried treasure behind their house? How could creepy villains, booby-trapped caves, and the possibility of endless gold coins fail to excite?” I distinctly remember going to see this on the weekend with my fifth grade teacher and a few schoolmates as a prize for good behavior, thus adding to its special spot in my memory. I also remember getting meta in my reflection on the original movie poster, which showed a “scene” NOT directly from the movie itself; my 11-year-old self wondered why this choice had been made.

So, those are my top ten choices for childhood classics! But, here are some more runners-up:

  • Mary Poppins (1964)
  • – This enduring Julie Andrews favorite — though not held nearly as high in estimation as The Sound of Music — was magical simply by dint of bringing a classic children’s novel to light, turning its stern and often cross protagonist into a no-nonsense force of light and beauty. I wanted a nanny like Julie Andrews, and I loved the song “Chim Chim Cher-ee.”

  • Carrie (1976)
  • – I debated whether to include this title or not, given that I never actually watched it as a child — but accidentally catching a glimpse of it on television one night (as Carrie’s mother stands in the hallway waiting for her) led to a years-long fear of closets and abhorrence of all things horror-movie-related. I eventually got over this (thanks in large part to GFTFF) and can now see Carrie for the classic it is — but it played an outsized role in my cinematic childhood as a negative case example of what I DIDN’T want to be watching.

  • Freaky Friday (1976)
  • – Like The Parent Trap, this similarly mind-bending scenario — of a mother and teenage daughter swapping bodies for a day — was utterly appealing and intriguing to young me. Jodie Foster and Barbara Harris brought the original novel’s protagonists to vivid and unforgettable life, and I remember being eager to see both these actresses in other films later — hence fueling my film fanaticism through another easy “gateway” movie.

  • The Black Stallion (1979)
  • – As I watched this beautiful boy-and-his-animal film in the theater, everything about it felt larger-than-life — starting with the rollicking storms on the ship, and leading to gorgeous scenes of wild equine beauty on beaches. It, too, was an adaptation of a novel, which was always a hook for me; I read approximately a book a day as a kid, and seeing the film versions was an added bonus.

  • The Muppet Movie (1979)
  • – What’s not to love about the Muppets? I remember it being authentically exciting to see these TV-sized characters on the big screen: I feared for Kermit’s life as his legs were being contemplated for dinner (beloved Kermie!), and adored seeing him bicycling around, unconstrained by the strictures of a television set.

  • E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
  • – While I’m no longer a fan of this Spielberg classic, it sure was impactful as a kid; I was clearly a target demographic. I remember heading to Universal Studios later that year and being incredibly excited to purchase Reese’s Pieces.

  • A Christmas Story (1983)
  • – I went with my friend and her family to see this now-cult-favorite when it was first released, and I was instantly enamored; I related to the flashback nature of the tale given that I was nostalgic about holidays even as a kid (which perhaps plays a part in my love for classic movies, come to think of it — I’m an old soul and always have been).

  • Testament (1983)
  • – This apocalyptic movie was originally produced for the PBS series American Playhouse before securing a theatrical release, but did later air on television, which is how I saw it — and boy, did it have an impact. It was deadly serious, and all of us were (appropriately) freaked out.

  • Zelig (1983)
  • – This Woody Allen film was one of the first movies we rented once we had a VCR (we watched it several times – what a novelty!), and it holds special memory as my gateway into Allen’s oeuvre. It’s particularly relevant as a meta-film-fanatic movie given its seamless weaving of cinematic “reality” throughout Zelig’s travails.

  • Amadeus (1984)
  • – I loved classical music as a child (I was a pianist), and remember being super excited that a film was coming out about Mozart. While I was annoyed by his childishness as portrayed by Tom Hulce (stupid boys with their poop and fart jokes!), I got caught up in the tense drama of his rivalry with Salieri, and his premature death.

  • The Karate Kid (1984)
  • – This cult classic has endured for many more viewers than just me — as evidenced by recent iterations and spin-offs continuing to crop up. “Wax on, wax off” seemed like such simple advice. We all wanted sweet, handsome young Maccio to succeed against his bully, and we wondered how Mr. Miyagi could work his magic capturing a fly with chopsticks.

  • Superman (1984)
  • – I was literally swept away by this superhero flick, which prompted a lifelong crush on Christopher Reeve (and devastation when his accident and subsequent death occurred). I didn’t think of myself at the time as someone who liked action-adventure flicks, so I was pleasantly surprised to get so caught up in it. The sequel — opening with the return of three baddies — had me seriously spooked.

  • Desperately Seeking Susan (1985)
  • – Madonna was all the craze when I was a child, so seeing her in a movie was formative – plus, Rosanna Arquette grew up in the same spiritual group as me, so she felt like extended family. Everything about this film made 11-year-old-me reflect on the “coolness” (yeah, right) to come in adolescence.

  • Pee Wee’s Big Adventure (1985)
  • – Ah, Pee Wee. We watched this in my 6th grade classroom and I remember being blown away by his larger than life adventures being allowed in our stuffy class. A rewatch years later showed me the enduring brilliance of Paul Reubens’ vision.

So… Those are just a few additional childhood-era movies which stand out as formative and/or especially memorable.

I actually had a mixed relationship with movies as a child, given that I was taken by a neighbor to an extreme Baptist church each Sunday which forbade movie-going (in theaters) as sinful — this would represent giving money to Satan himself; however, my mom didn’t care, so I was continously negotiating with myself about what was appropriate (or not) to engage with. Once I let go of this particular facet of my religious upbringing, I was finally liberated to indulge in the art form I’d been enjoying more hesitantly until then. Pretty quickly, I became a full-blown film fanatic.

To that end, another entire list could be made of formative films during my earliest years as a teenage film fanatic — some of which I still appreciate, and others of which no longer resonate; however, I’ll save that for another post. I’ll also share in a different post about the variety of classic television shows I watched regularly as a child, which I’m sure had a deep impact on my love for classic films.

Until then — happy nostalgic vibes as you reflect on your own personal childhood movie favorites! How did they impact you? Do you still enjoy them now?

Danny Peary on Podcasts

Danny Peary on Podcasts

I wanted to mix things up a bit by letting you know that Danny Peary has been interviewed on a couple of podcasts recently — check them out if you’re interested in hearing him discuss films live!

In Part 1 of his talk with Dan Fisher from “Let’s Talk Ten,” Peary and Fisher discuss the first half of each of their top ten childhood favorites, listed here in chronological order; sound bites from the films themselves are liberally smattered throughout, which is fun.

And here are their selections from Part 2, once again in chronological order:

Finally, here is Danny being interviewed on the TV Guidance Counselor podcast very recently, in March 2025. A random cult film he recommends near the end is Deep End (1970). Enjoy!

Red Tent, The (1969)

Red Tent, The (1969)

“When we take up leadership, we forfeit the right to be human — and nobody who’s fit to lead can do that.”

Synopsis:
The guilt-ridden surviving general (Peter Finch) of a dirigible crash near the Arctic in 1928 is visited by ghosts of various people involved in the event — including his pilot (Nikita Mikhalkov), Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen (Sean Connery), the girlfriend (Claudia Cardinale) of a Swedish meteorologist (Eduard Martsevich), rescue aviator Einar Lundborg (Hardy Kruger), and the chief of the Soviet rescue crew (Grigoriy Gay).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Claudia Cardinale Films
  • Explorers
  • Flashback Films
  • Ghosts
  • Guilt
  • Peter Finch Films
  • Sean Connery Films
  • Search
  • Survival

Review:
This joint Soviet/Italian film was directed by Mikhail Kalatozov and based on a novel crafted from the real-life outcome of the airship Italia (which I hadn’t heard of prior to watching this movie). It’s framed as a flashback tale of survivor’s guilt (17 men died), with Finch (General Nobile) literally haunted by the choices he made each step of the way.

However, the bulk of the movie takes place in exciting location-based action. I’ll cite from Wikipedia’s entry on the film, since it nicely provides an overview of what happens:

The expedition is successful at first, but ends in disaster. The Italia is weighed down when ice forms on it. Colliding with the ground, the airship’s gondola is torn away from its keel and the envelope containing the airship’s hydrogen cells; freed of the weight of the gondola, the rest of the ship floats away and out of control, taking some of Nobile’s crew with it. Nobile maintains control of the surviving crew who are now marooned on arctic pack ice with salvaged supplies. They shelter in a tent that they dye red for visibility. They manage to repair the radio, but after receiving no response to their distress calls, three survivors (Zappi, Mariano, and Malmgren) decide to set off across the ice to seek help.

Much more drama ensues from there — and you’re guaranteed to be kept on the seat of your pants despite knowing the ultimate outcome.

As one can imagine, the shooting schedule for this visually impressive film was truly extensive; according to IMDb’s trivia, “Filming went for 62 weeks” and “included location work in Estonia, the Baltic Sea and the Spitzbergen Archipelago in the Arctic Ocean, and [included] studio work in Moscow and Rome.” While not all of the story is equally compelling (i.e., Cardinale is clearly there simply to provide a female touch):

… it’s worth a look for the footage alone.

Note: It was interesting to learn that “the film was shown in the West and in the USSR in different editing versions and with different soundtracks: in the Soviet version, sounds the music of Aleksandr Zatsepin, in the Italian version [which I watched]: Ennio Morricone’s.”

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • A haunting look at death and survival in the harshest conditions
  • Truly impressive cinematography and location shooting

  • Ennio Morricone’s score

Must See?
Yes, as a fine and ambitious internationally-produced adventure film.

Categories

  • Good Show

Links:

Greetings. I’m Back.

Greetings. I’m Back.

It’s been a rough half a year in my country – Peary’s country. I didn’t intend to drop off the face of the classic film blogging universe for so many months, but other issues and considerations have risen to the forefront.

With that said, I’ll never quit classic movies — and I remain grateful for the many ways in which cinema illuminates and explains our world. So many of the films Peary recommends and discusses in Guide for the Film Fanatic — from the origins of cinema through 1987 — have helped me, as a viewer, to experience multiple eras of history through full immersion. Specifically, I’ve been reflecting on the many classic movies I’ve watched over the decades showing political movements, corruption, cynicism, group-think, and outright evil, alongside resistance, criticality, and joy. This current moment, too, will continue to be explored through film — and as dreadful as it is to live through, I know that cinema will help us capture some of the trends and insights we’re just starting to grasp.

I love the steady trend towards democraticization of movies; I always have. Throughout my lengthy exploration of Peary’s book (back when I was 16 and found a copy in the library I worked at), it’s been fascinating learning how more and more directors over the years (no longer all or mostly White men anymore!) were able to get a camera in hand and tell interesting stories. I anticipate that will continue.

Back to this site, I had to rev myself up to post again today — to get back on the horse with my reviews. Really, there are only 563 titles left to review (out of a grand total of 4300) — so, why stop now? I can do it! While it’s not a personal favorite, I’ll imagine Chariots of Fire (1981) as I’m working my way there.

As I’ve said many times before, once this particular project is done I’ll finally be moving on to writing about more recent films, which I anticipate will be its own unique joy. Among the many changes in recent years has been the shift towards long-form series debuting on streaming platforms, which has opened up renewed discussions around the “television or film?” binary (which is nowhere close to simple). Off the top of my head, I can imagine reviewing Adolescence (2025) as a must-see series (film?) from this past year, alongside Mike White’s deliciously perverse The White Lotus Seasons 1, 2, and 3, and plenty of intriguing documentaries (many with multiple episodes).

In terms of more traditional films, from last year in particular I can share that Emilia Perez (2024) was a debacle (wtf?); Anora (2024) caught me up in waves of sadness comparable to the heyday of indie films; September 5 (2024) nicely supplemented Munich (2005); Conclave (2024) was a good old-fashioned drama with a kick of a surprise ending; and A Real Pain (2024) did a better job displaying vulnerable narcissism than any other recent title (thanks to Dr. Ramani for her take on this). I still need to catch up on a bunch of others.

But first — 563 titles from the 1970s and 1980s await me! I’m grateful I’ve taken the time over these past 19 years to make note of my impressions of all the other titles in Peary’s GFTFF, since I’m pretty sure I would otherwise have forgotten much of what I’ve written about. Thankfully, despite a literal onslaught of shows and movies and series available to watch these days, classic movies aren’t going anywhere; check out the many awesome blog sites which are part of the CMBA (Classic Movie Blog Association) for even more takes and approaches other than mine.

I’ll see you online soon.

Godfather, Part II, The (1974)

Godfather, Part II, The (1974)

“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Synopsis:
After immigrating from Italy as a child (Oreste Baldini), young Vito Corleone (Robert De Niro) rises to a position of power and influence in New York City. Years later, his son Michael (Al Pacino) becomes increasingly alienated from his wife (Diane Keaton) while navigating ongoing tensions in Las Vegas with his brother Fredo (John Cazale), his stepbrother Tom (Robert Duvall), his sister Connie (Talia Shire), and Jewish mob boss Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Al Pacino Films
  • Betrayal
  • Diane Keaton Films
  • Family Problems
  • Flashback Films
  • Francis Ford Coppola Films
  • Historical Drama
  • Mafia
  • Marital Problems
  • Robert De Niro Films
  • Robert Duvall Films
  • Siblings

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary is not a huge fan of Francis Ford Coppola’s Oscar-winning follow-up — a combined prequel and sequel — to 1972’s The Godfather. He asserts that “Coppola doesn’t have De Niro or Pacino do much acting, limiting them to little snippets of dialogue and many moments when they react (with quiet, calm voices) to the more emotional and demonstrative peripheral characters around them.” (I disagree, but will keep going with Peary’s assessment.)

He argues that “De Niro gets by on presence alone (his charming smile, his quizzical look, his physical grace), but Pacino is a brooding bore” — a character who “does not develop logically from the person he played in the original,” but rather “is a caricature of a crime boss” (again, I disagree). He adds, “All [the] major scenes seem unreal, calculated for audience response,” and “phoniest of all is his breakup scene with wife Diane Keaton, who looks over-rehearsed, like a scene for an acting class.”

Peary continues his take-down by noting that “several of the major scenes in the contemporary section come across as mere duplications of real-life drama we’ve seen on television,” noting specifically that “the scene in which the senator (G.D. Spradin) is found in a brothel with a hooker he brutally killed is similar to numerous sequences in exploitation films of the era and is included for no reason other than sensationalism.”

He asserts that “the only moments that come across as real are when the crime bosses and legitimate businessmen gather in Batista Cuba to decide how to divide up the American pie”:

… and “when a Jewish crime boss (a terrific, subdued debut performance by legendary acting teacher Lee Strasberg) raises rather than lowers the volume on a televised football game while talking over important crime business with Michael.”

In Alternate Oscars — where he names Chinatown (1974) the Best Picture of the Year instead — Peary concedes that The Godfather, Part II “went a step farther” than the original film “by exploring the link between organized crime and politicians — which was certainly a topical theme in light of the Watergate scandal.”

I — along with most other film lovers and critics — disagree with Peary’s take on this justifiably lauded sequel. It’s equally, if differently, compelling throughout, taking the sprawling storyline in fascinating directions (both backwards and forwards) and continuing to evolve our understanding of precisely how a mob family like the Corleones may have evolved. I don’t have any complaints, and find both De Niro and Pacino suitable in their roles; to that end, for another take on the depth of Pacino’s characterization as Michael, check out the video “How Michael Corleone Looks at People”.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Al Pacino as Michael Corleone
  • Robert De Niro as young Vito Corleone
  • Gordon Willis’s cinematography
  • Fine attention to period detail
  • Nino Rota’s score

Must See?
Yes, naturally.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Film Fanatic End of 2024 Greetings

Film Fanatic End of 2024 Greetings

Hello, GFTFF readers!

As 2024 comes to a close, I’m excited to briefly reflect once again on how this blog is progressing.

While I’ve spent most of the second half of the year working on other writing projects, I did manage to review 102 titles this year, nearly finishing out the 1960s (there are only 8 titles left to review from 1969!), and continuing my new routine of writing recaps of each year as I closed them out.

Reflection on Must-See Films From 1960
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1961
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1962
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1963
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1964
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1965
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1966
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1967
Reflection on Must-See Films From 1968

(I’ll eventually go back in time to provide similar overviews from earlier years in cinema history.)

There are just 564 titles left to review from the 1970s and 1980s (out of a grand total of 4300 in GFTFF). So close!

Wishing you all happy classic movie watching!
— FilmFanatic

Godfather, The (1972)

Godfather, The (1972)

“I need a man who has powerful friends.”

Synopsis:
When the youngest son (Al Pacino) of an Italian-American mafia boss (Marlon Brando) returns home from serving in World War II, his hopes for a ‘square’ life with his WASP-y girlfriend (Diane Keaton) are quickly squashed as he finds himself embroiled in violent altercations involving crime-family rivals and his siblings: Sonny (James Caan), Fredo (John Cazale), and Connie (Talia Shire).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Al Pacino Films
  • Assassination
  • Betrayal
  • Character Arc
  • Corruption
  • Diane Keaton Films
  • Family Problems
  • Father and Child
  • Francis Ford Coppola Films
  • Grown Children
  • James Caan Films
  • Mafia
  • Marlon Brando Films
  • Richard Conte Films
  • Robert Duvall Films
  • Siblings
  • Sterling Hayden Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary accurately notes that “Francis Ford Coppola’s epic adaptation of Mario Puzo’s best-selling novel about a powerful Mafia crime family, the Corleones, is a stunning piece of filmmaking.” He points out that “this Best Picture winner takes place over 10 years, has scenes set in New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, and Italy”:


… “employs different styles of cinematography and music according to time and setting, and introduces numerous characters in and out of the family,” all while keeping this nearly-three-hour-long film “coherent and consistently exciting.”

He points out that the extended opening sequence — “when godfather Vito Corleone… hosts the lavish wedding of his only daughter” and we “meet the many people in Corleone’s immediately and extended family,” including “family lawyer Tom (Robert Duvall), who is like Corleone’s fourth son”:

— “reveals the secret of the film’s success: Coppola doesn’t rush through his scenes so that he can squeeze every event from the book into his film,” instead having “fewer scenes but mak[ing] them count by making it clear who his characters are, how they act with each other, and what their allegiances are, providing time for even his less important characters to make strong audience impressions.”

Peary notes that the film shows the Corleones succeeding “because they are as shrewd and monstrous as their opposition,” with the most notable character arc occurring to “newcomer Pacino” as Michael Corleone rather than Best-Actor-Winning Brando, whose “character dominates the proceedings even when he isn’t on the screen.”

Among the “numerous classic sequences” in this film are “the opening in which Corleone first utters his famous ‘We’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse’ and agrees to help a friend of the family do away with the punk who harmed his daughter”:

… “the wedding”:

… “Michael rescuing his father from an assassination attempt in a deserted hospital”:

… “Sonny brutally beating his sister’s abusive husband”:


SPOILERS AHEAD

… “Michael assassinating a policeman (Sterling Hayden) and a top man with a rival family in a restaurant”:

… “a Hollywood director (John Marley) finding the head of his $500,000 horse in his bed”:

… and “Corleone’s death scene.”

Most impressive of all, however, “is the brilliantly edited Corleone massacre sequences (one of several scenes with savage violence), in which the victims are killed at several different locations at the same time.”


Peary expands upon his review in his Alternate Oscars book, where he agrees with the Academy in naming this the Best Picture of the Year (though he nominates Pacino rather than Brando for Best Actor), and points out that the Corleones “are among the most peculiar of movie ‘heroes'” — “monsters” within “their sinister section of the world” who are nonetheless “the nicest guys around.”

Peary’s insights — along with all the many others available online and through DVD extras — are voluminous enough to prevent me from spending more time here on my own review; feel free simply to (re)watch this genuine classic knowing it deserves its fame (and stay tuned for my take on its equally lauded sequel).

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Al Pacino as Michael Corleone
  • Marlon Brando as Vito Corleone
  • Fine supporting performances across the entire cast



  • Gordon Willis’s cinematography
  • Excellent attention paid to period detail
  • Numerous memorable lines: “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”
  • Nino Rota’s score

Must See?
Yes, of course.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Oscar Winner or Nominee

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Femme Douce, Une (1969)

Femme Douce, Une (1969)

“She made me see woman as an instrument of pleasure.”

Synopsis:
A pawnshop owner (Guy Frangin) reflects back on his troubled marriage with a beautiful young woman (Dominique Sanda) who has just killed herself by jumping out a window.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Flashback Films
  • French Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Robert Bresson Films
  • Suicide

Review:
Robert Bresson’s ninth of 13 feature-length films was this adaptation of an 1876 short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky called “A Gentle Creature”, which has inspired numerous cinematic renderings (though I’m not sure why). To put it mildly, I’m not a fan of Bresson (I only have one more of his titles left to review — not that I’m counting), so I wouldn’t have liked this movie anyway; but I don’t quite see the appeal of the story itself: a pawnbroker lusts after a beautiful young woman without much money, who he believes he can rescue:

… and then is surprised when she’s not too pleased with his overbearing, objectifying approach to her. Maybe this is a common challenge for some men (“Why isn’t my wife happy? I give her everything she wants and needs…”) but it’s crystal clear that these individuals don’t actually relate to one another in any way except sexually. He’s penny-pinching, she’s inclined to generosity; he likes jazz, she likes classical music; she looks perpetually miserable, he looks perpetually suspicious and sour.

What could go wrong? Well, as we know from the opening scene, pretty much everything, in the worst possible way.

Of course it doesn’t help that Bresson has instructed his actors, as usual, to NOT act, rendering them essentially robotic from the get-go. Skip this one unless you’re a Bresson fan and somehow understand what he’s going for.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Ghislain Cloquet’s cinematography

Must See?
No. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Phantom India: Reflections on a Journey (1969)

Phantom India: Reflections on a Journey (1969)

“I’m afraid they’re dreaming India, like I am.”

Synopsis:
Louis Malle films various aspects of Indian life in the late 1960s, including religion, art, daily subsistence, and politics.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Class Relations
  • Documentaries
  • French Films
  • India
  • Louis Malle Films

Review:
Louis Malle’s seven-part docu-series chronicling his five months of travel and exploration across India was a personal favorite among his works, and remains a fascinating document of a certain time and place — as seen through a particular lens (that of a White male French filmmaker). Each 51-minute segment is accompanied by Malle’s commentary, though at times he simply allows his curated images to speak for themselves. The episodes — which I’ll discuss in turn — are as follows.

1. “The Impossible Camera”
2. “Things Seen in Madras”
3. “The Indians and the Sacred”
4. “Dreams and Reality”
5. “A Look at the Castes”
6. “On the Fringes of Indian Society”
7. “Bombay: The Future India”

(As a fair heads up, this review will be much longer than my usual posts, given how much there is to cover as well as my personal interest in this topic, which I’ll discuss at the end; feel free to skim or skip to my vote if you don’t want all the deets!)

In Episode 1, we’re introduced to Malle’s intentions with the film. His very first line is:

“Only 2% of Indians speak English, the official language after colonization. This 2% talks a lot, in the name of all the rest. Politicians, businessmen, intellectuals, bureaucrats — all explained their ideas to me at length, and I immediately sensed that the real questions weren’t being addressed. In learning English, they also learned to think as our civilization does. Their words about their country were ordered by Western symbols and logic. I’d heard them all before. I recognized them as my own.”

With that established, Malle and his team move out to the countryside, exploring one of the most enduring themes of the film: the widespread persistence of manual labor. He laments the fact that his camera brazenly “steals” from women who “have absolutely nothing” (sic) and who (he believes) perceive his team as “Martians” entering “their universe without permission” — their camera a “weapon.”

We hear more of Malle’s take on what he’s seeing: he’s simultaneously patronizing (“They seem from another age”) and refreshing in his candor; at least he acknowledges what a stranger he is here. With that positionality firmly in mind, we can watch the rest of his film knowing that it’s simply — as all documentaries are — one person’s take on a place and time. We can choose — and probably do — to take him at his word most of the time, as when he tells us (for instance), “This traditional dance is called the Tiger Dance. It’s also a job. The man and child earn their living dancing.”

He then shares with us the following:

“Everywhere we go, the first thing I see are [people’s] eyes, their stares. In a moment we’re surrounded by Indians. We came to see them, but they’re the ones looking at us. So we preferred to film them that way, their sea of enormous eyes turned on us, on the camera’s single eye. We decided to film all these looks, to make them the leitmotiv of our journey.”

The entire series is, indeed, filled with faces, which I “collected,” too, as I was watching.








Next, Malle briefly lands on a village wedding:

… before returning to peasants at work:

… noting that the camera “keeps returning to this young woman, because we’re drawn to her beauty, her graceful modesty, her laugh. Because she dazzles us. Because that’s what it was like that morning.”

Malle is similarly poetic throughout his entire commentary — acknowledging both the destitution and the beauty he sees; it’s mostly a fair balance. He insists, “We follow the camera; it guides us. We’re not filming to defend an idea, or demonstrate one… Each step we take is part of the film, Westerners with a camera — Westerners twice over.” He makes special note of “a transvestite with too much makeup,” referring to the performance “like something out of a Fellini film.”

Other elements in Episode 1 include a festival; an introduction to the caste system; the familiarity of seeing Catholicism in Kerala; a Communist demonstration; and an infamous sequence of cattle — revered across most of India — being devoured by a dog and vultures.

Malle’s commentary here is refreshing, once again, in its candor:

“I realize we reacted in terms of our culture. Around us, the landscape reminded us of Greece, bathed in some austere grandeur that lent an air of mysterious sacrifice. To us it was a tragedy, a drama in several acts. For our Indian companion, it was an everyday scene: a glimpse of life and death and their calm alteration. It was nothing worth filming, nothing extraordinary.”

Malle goes on to film statues of gods; a party:

… and villagers creating “drawings with ritual meanings,” with “the women who create them allow[ing] only tiny variations on specific symbolic themes.”

He adds, “Where we take aesthetic pleasure in the abstract floral drawings, these women experience and recapture a link with the divine. They draw to bring their god to them.” (We must assume, once again, that this is what he’s been told by an inside informant, and then interpreted through his own lens.) He comments openly that “Indian women are very beautiful” and continues touching upon themes and landscapes he’ll come back to in future episodes.

Evidence of his western perspective shines through, especially during comments like, “We spent five months in India without ever seeing love” (!!!), adding with delight that his footage of “a boy and girl flirting” became “our most precious footage, absolutely unique.”

(As a reminder, Malle’s breakthrough film was 1958’s The Lovers, all about an affair.)

In the rest of Episode 1, Malle touches openly on colorism and racism (“In Northern India especially, a dark-skinned child’s birth into a high-ranking family is seen as a catastrophe.”) before filming an erotic temple; hippies from the West traveling through the country (one ends up going home from illness):

… and a completely inefficient tire factory, leading Malle to remark, “They possess infinite patience; time doesn’t seem to exist.” before reflecting back on his own youth filming in the Seychelles. The episode ends with images of caste-bound fishermen who are relegated to working from the shore.

* * * *

Episode 2 begins with lengthy footage of a festival in which an “immense chariot is taken from the temple and solemnly paraded around the temple walls,” taking “five hours to cover the half-mile circuit.”

Malle’s time spent on this event makes sense given how colorful and revealing it is, showing collective traditions of great and time-consuming importance to locals. Back in the city, he comments on watching a comedic play about bureaucracy, which he posits is “truly the scourge of this country, a legacy of the English, a state within a state.”

He includes quite a bit more political commentary throughout this and future episodes, helpfully clueing in outsiders to the complexity of governing such a massive post-colonial nation. A particular facet shown in this episode is the government’s “colossal effort at population control,” including Malle’s visit to a “family planning” exhibit at a fair, with condoms handed out like candy and men offered a free radio if they’re willing to be sterilized.

Malle moves straight from this to somewhat dismissively discussing India’s thriving movie industry, noting that the many studios there will make “anything that draws an audience.” He concedes that as “terrible as these films may be, they’re the means of expression and sole entertainment for the people in a country in which TV is practically nonexistent,” and he also admits he “liked some of these films, with their incoherence, dramatic plot twists, one-dimensional characters, and constant intervention of magical forces.”

Perhaps to balance out what he’s just been through artistically (!), Malle spends the rest of his episode on graceful young girls practicing traditional Indian dance; he’s fixated on them to an extent unsurprising for the man who brought us Pretty Baby (1978) (more on this in a later episode).


I agree with Malle, however, that these dedicated young dancers are utterly enchanting to watch.

* * * *

Episode 3, “Indians and the Sacred,” opens with Malle commenting, “India can sometimes be dizzying.” and then proceeding to show us a “man moving through the crowd with faltering steps under a burning sun, in the midst of an exuberant religious ceremony,” bearing “a complicated framework of hundreds of metal rods, each pressing into his skin, and “a long needle pierc[ing] his tongue.”

Malle informs us “he’s obviously a yogi practicing some form of asceticism, one of the countless cruel methods to mortify the flesh, to control and dominate it.” Moreover, he adds, “There are thousands like him in India, fanatics of the Absolute.” This entire episode is devoted to the central role played by religion in India — though Malle starts by sharing his observation that, “Even when awake, southern Indians seem to me drowsy, lifeless, absent.”

At temples, we see priests performing rituals to the gods:

… and we hear from a temple water-bearer that he’s “not asking for a lot,” but rather wants “five more rupees,” “for [his] daughter’s schooling.”

Malle comments, “We’re fleeced like this at every temple; the priests’ greed knows no bounds.” Upon visiting another temple, he remarks, “In reality, contrary to what I first believed, priesthood holds no prestige for Brahmans,” and is “even seen as degrading.” He asserts, “India is complicated indeed,” but is more than willing to concede that many believers find deep solace in their religion.

He describes a bit of Hindu religion, appropriately noting that it’s much more complex than he can possibly hope to convey, and introducing us to an ashram where a disciple explains:

“Each of us must understand the Self, the truth inside us. We must separate the self from the flesh in order to reach the Self. The great teaching of the guru, and the principal aim of all the disciples, is the ultimate knowledge of the Self. “

At another temple, Malle finds a “woman sitting between the double walls,” “practically immobile,” who “softly murmurs some unknown litany” and is “in the exact same spot, in the same position” when they leave that evening.

Next we learn about the crucial role played by water in Indian society: “Rivers are sacred, and daily ablutions punctuate believers’ lives,” Malle tells us.

He and his crew spend hours filming individuals engaging in sacred rituals, noting: “These gestures can seem funny, and we could have easily exaggerated their comic aspect and made a sarcastic portrayal of fetishism and excessive piety. But we didn’t want to.” (Nice of him and his team.) “We show them to you as we filmed them. You decide whether they’re ludicrous or admirable.” (I would like to quickly point out that many Christian — not to mention all other religious — rituals would seem equally nonsensical to outsiders.)

Malle goes on to add his guess that engaging in religious rituals may offer believers “an outlet, a chance to finally be alone through worship” — thus making “these southern Indians, normally so drowsy and full,” “unrecognizable” — after all, they are promised “transmigration” and reincarnation “in other bodies indefinitely.”

We learn that so-called “hermits” wandering the roads indefinitely are often men who “are social misfits, unstable and abnormal people, as if society got rid of them by sending them out on the road” — and yet, “the existence of these millions of renunciants is an essential aspect of Hinduism — the antithesis of the caste system, a sort of safety valve for such a restrictive world.”

We also learn a little more about why so many people are seen begging in India.

Malle points out: “Begging is a sacred act, and the faithful are obliged to give alms.” Indeed, beggars “symbolize the renunciation of the material world and physical reality” — but he adds the interesting caveat that while the beggars themselves had no problem being filmed by Malle and his crew, wealthier Indians tried to intervene, to prevent this aspect of their society from being documented.

On a broader note, this might be a good time to share that upon this miniseries’ release, “Many British Indians and the Indian Government felt that Malle had shown a one-sided portrait of India, focusing on the impoverished, rather than the developing, parts of the country. A diplomatic incident occurred when the Indian government asked the BBC to stop broadcasting the programme. The BBC refused and were briefly asked to leave their New Delhi bureau.”

* * * *

Episode 4 — entitled “Dream and Reality” — opens with Malle reflecting on how by this point in their project, he and his team had only the “goal to lose ourselves in the infinity of Indian villages,” living “almost as they did,” spending “entire days without filming, as if it was no longer what mattered.” Eventually, he notes, they came to “feel as if we’ve rediscovered something we’d lost… It’s not about explaining or dominating the world, but being a part of it, fitting into it.” He adds with wonderment:

“If happiness is defined as a sense of balance and bliss, being in harmony with one’s surroundings, interior peace, then these Indian peasants are happier than us, who’ve destroyed nature and do battle with time in the absurd pursuit of material well-being, in the end sharing only our loneliness.”

(There is more-than-a-little romanticization of poverty and manual labor in Malle’s words — though his point is well-taken, and certainly reflective of the times.)

Shortly after this, Malle notes (in a wondrous yet droll tone reminiscent of Werner Herzog):

One afternoon, we came upon the unreal vision of this man pushing a sewing machine down a deserted road. In France, this would be quite surreal. Here, we watch without comment.

Of course, in reality, there is nothing odd about a villager with a sewing machine rolling it to another village to conduct his trade — it’s less surreal than practical; context matters.

We learn about a colony of bats left unharmed; the legacy of railroads (brought by colonialist England) across the nation:

… and how women continue working on tea plantations.

We see how elephants are treated like slaves and used for labor:

… given that they are “intelligent, obedient, and very powerful,” and “cost less than a bulldozer or tractor.” Malle points out that wild tigers are nowhere in sight; the only one the film crew came across was “a well-behaved tiger at the Mysore Zoo.”

We see women weaving coconut husks in a Keralan village where “just like about everywhere, production is controlled by the landowners and merchants, who own the coconut palms and to whom the peasants are indebted.” Malle comments: “This tropical paradise is also a hell on earth.”

He notes that Kerala is where “the largest Communist parties in India are found” — though he asserts that “the orthodox Communists don’t really [seem to] want a peasant revolution.”

* * * *

In Episode 5 — “A Look at Castes” — Malle hones in on a topic he’s been addressing off and on throughout his series: social castes. The episode opens with a White male American Peace Corps volunteer — a “specialist in agriculture” — noting how challenging it is to convince villagers “to adopt several new techniques at once.”

We see more footage of women at (manual) work, making chapati bread to serve with dal:

.. making patties from cow dung to use for fuel:

… and carrying jugs of water from the same well as other women from their caste.

To that end, Malle notes that the caste system in India “is incomprehensible, and even invisible,” yet simultaneously “manifest in every gesture of daily life.” He includes a potent metaphor of a blind camel walking around and around, “dragging a millstone behind him to mix the cement”:

… which he offers up “as a heavy-handed symbol of Indian society,” noting that while “the caste system was officially abolished by the Indian constitution,” “laws can’t erase a tradition dating back millennia.” We learn about so-called “untouchables” (a term coined by Europeans), and see how ideas of purity and impurity are integral to caste.

Malle then makes the decidedly Euro-centric observation that “In India, individual people don’t matter; it’s their relationship that matters. One isn’t pure or impure; one is more or less pure than someone else.” Thankfully, he shifts immediately to showing us children in an open-air school learning to count; it seems education is the primary hope for change in the future.

We also learn in this episode that the untouchables are responsible for taking care of India’s laundry:

… vigorously beating the dirt out of the clothes they’re tasked with cleaning each day; as Malle describes it, “The village clothes-washers attack the washing with an energy that makes up for the lack of soap.” This work is shared by men, women, and children, and is “remarkably organized” as a “plain and simple form of economic oppression.”

We see a funeral next, with a “flower-covered corpse… carried to the place where it will be burned” as “Marlborough” (a.k.a. “The Bear Went Over the Mountain”) plays in the background (!).

Malle comments that he sees “no suffering or tears, nor even sadness. To us, for whom death is so tragic, this aspect of Hinduism is stunning.” (However, as with Malle’s earlier commentary on a lack of public displays of affection and love in India, he’s only seeing the outward, socially allowable manifestation of emotions here.) He adds:

“Death is not an end, nor even a separation. One lives and dies and is then reborn, over and over in an unbroken chain. Each life is judged, and the next life constitutes the verdict. If you’re born an Untouchable, it’s your fault, because in a previous life you proved yourself unworthy. You can imagine the social efficiency of the system.”

Touché — and yet, yes. The final sequence in this episode consists of villagers who “don’t want [the crew] to leave without filming their traditional sport, a mixture of Red Rover and Greco-Roman wrestling.”

* * * *

Episode 6 — “On the Fringes of Indian Society” — brings us near the end of Malle’s magnum opus, but also to some of his most controversial comments. He first goes to visit the remote Bonda tribe, which he asserts is “like traveling back in time.” He writes that as “one of the many aboriginal people who’ve survived until today, conserving their way of life and ancestral religion,” they have been “gradually forced… into the most inaccessible mountains with the poorest soil in central India.” Men hunt with bows and arrows for increasingly rare game, while “the women make brooms to sell at a local market,” using most of their money to purchase jewelry.

Malle shares about the Bondas’ sexual and marital practices, noting that in dormitories “set apart from the rest, boys and girls mix with total sexual freedom before marriage,” with the dormitories functioning “as a matchmaking service, a kind of club where they get to know each other before choosing a spouse.” (Other than the sexual freedom part, this sounds remarkably like some Christian fundamentalist sects I’ve heard of in America.) In terms of marriage:

Generally, a 20-year-old girl will marry a 14-year-old. Marriage follows strict exogamous rules; it’s forbidden to take a husband from your own village. Divorce isn’t a rare occurrence. If a husband leaves his wife, he sends his in-laws a goat. If the wife leaves, her new husband gives her ex three goats.

Also of interest is that the Bonda don’t have writing or last names, and are simply called by the day of the week they were born on.

Next, Malle turns to other groups on the fringes of Indian society — including a small sect of Jews who tell him that India is the only country where they have never been persecuted.

Malle, ever blunt, comments on the “degenerate and sickly” results of “pure bloodline jealously guarded in this tiny community.” We see another ashram, this one run by an aging French woman referred to as “Mother” who doesn’t want to be filmed, though we hear her voice and see some followers:

… including an Italian man explaining he was spiritually searching across the globe for years.

“I’d read verses of the Bhagavad Gita that really impressed me, and I’d also noticed the transformation on people’s faces when they returned from India: their faces were calm, not stressed like typical Europeans. I’d intended to travel through India up to the Himalayas — but after a few days of travel, I arrived here and found what I was looking for.”

A Swedish woman similarly explains her reasons for being at the ashram, noting:

“I had practically no religious background. God was not a living presence. That didn’t exist there [in Sweden]. I didn’t know I had a soul. Essentially, it was questions: Who am I? Why am I like this? Why is the world the way it is? … Why am I here? Is there a reason for life?”

Members of the ashram — which still exists and can be visited — “believe in evolution,” that “a day will come when the human body will undergo a transformation. Transcending the limits of reason, the new man will achieve, through inner enlightenment, a state of super-consciousness that will set him free, and all of humanity, too.”


Finally, on the topic of the fringes, Malle informs us:

“In the Nigiri mountains, at an altitude of 8,000 feet, we found the ideal society: the Toda tribe… No Toda girl is a virgin past the age of 13. Before puberty, they’re entrusted to an experienced male to learn [love-making]. These lessons are part of their education, just like singing and cooking. Sex is a natural need, and throughout their lives, the Toda practice free love. The Toda language has no word for sex. They use the words ‘fruit’ or ‘food.’ Children don’t go to school. Their education comes from their contact with nature … Marriages are arranged from birth, but since there are fewer women than men, it’s customary for a girl to marry several brothers of the same family. Since absolute sexual freedom prevails throughout the tribe, paternity is impossible to establish. The oldest brother is the legal father.”

While listening to and watching this section, I was paying careful attention to the faces of all the young females, wondering what it’s like for them to grow up in such a culture; if something like this is normalized for all girls, does that lessen the pain of such toxic patriarchy? Malle choosing to refer to this as “the ideal society” reminds me once again of how and why he put forth something like Pretty Baby without blinking an eye. He may believe that “these 800 Toda are the last remnants of a free society that never knew war, hunger, prudishness, or injustice” — but is that how these girls feel?




* * * *

The final episode — “Bombay: The Future India” — is the most overtly political and forward-looking, while also reflecting back and closing out the series. Malle points out the monotony and sameness of much of the city:

… which is “crammed with people from all over the country.” He states, “You never get used to the poverty in India, even after four months — especially in the cities, where it shows its most terrible face.” Of course, he adds, poverty in villages is just as extreme, thus leading many to come to the city in search of jobs — and so the cycle goes. He notes that “it takes endless ingenuity just to survive”:

… points out the presence of many Muslims (despite the creation of Pakistan):

… and shows us an “ultramodern petrochemical factory.”

We’re also taken to Bombay’s red-light district, which for some reason is shocking to Malle.

We hear about stock trading (informed by astrological input) and free enterprise in India, and learn about the Parsis, a group of Zoroastrians who “came here from Persia to escape Muslim persecution” and became wealthy primarily through steelworks.

We’re reminded once again in this final episode of the renaissance of yoga across the country:

… and we see a young police officer being trained in the remnants of British traffic operations:

… before hearing from various intellectuals, politicians, and economists about what’s next — or should be next — for India.

It’s especially eerie seeing footage with Bal Thackeray, founder of Shiv Sena — “an extreme right-wing movement serving purely local interests, expressing native Bombay residents’ desire to defend themselves against the invasion of immigrants from southern India, who are both despised and feared.”

Thackeray argues that if Muslims aren’t happy, they should go to their own country; and he asserts that “Ruling with a firm hand doesn’t mean dictatorship. I’m not talking about dictatorship, just keeping people in line. We need order in this country.” Shiv Sena remains in global news to this very day.

Episode 7 ends with the following depressing quote:

“In India, we discovered with wonder another way of being, another way of living and seeing the world that made us all feel nostalgic, like a secret forever lost. But we felt all along it was a world living on borrowed time. Here, where the population is greater than Africa and South America combined, modern life increasingly takes the form of man exploiting his fellow man.”

* * * *

Well — after many hours of writing, I’ve now reached the end of my own lengthy overview of Malle’s ambitious project, which has lingered in my mind for days since watching it. As a bit of personal background, I spent a month in India in the summer of 2004, hanging out and exploring while my husband (boyfriend at the time) was working with a tech company. Many things have changed, of course, since Malle’s visit, but much still rings true to my own observations. I recall the vibrant colors, flowers, and fabrics; the endless crowds; temples everywhere; cows left alone on streets; dogs roaming freely; relentless begging — and so much manual labor and poverty, with class separations as stark as ever. (There are now a lot more cars crowding the streets — that’s a significant difference.)

An added interest for me with this documentary is the particular time it was filmed, when so many Europeans — including my own young parents — were looking to the East for spiritual enlightenment. My Norwegian parents happened to find and follow a guru from Indonesia (not India), but enough is similar to what I saw and heard in this documentary to give me a sense that I was watching a parallel journey of sorts. Indeed, I recognized my parents and their peers in the clothing, glasses, and viewpoints expressed here, as cultures were inter-mixing and the world was — evolving? Well, it was changing at least, and continues to shift with the relentless forces of globalization. In 2024, India is once again at its own political cross-roads, as are we — it was ever thus and likely always will be. Pockets of peace and happiness may exist everywhere, but never without troubles of their own.

I’ll end my review by circling back to something Malle said in Episode 1:

“Once the film has been finished, edited and projected, it can be seen as folklore, but it’s you and I who make it so.”

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Numerous memorable sequences and images


Must See?
Yes, as a valuable and fascinating historical document. Listed as a movie with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant
  • Important Director

Links:

This Man Must Die (1969)

This Man Must Die (1969)

“Chance is wonderful — and it exists. It’s the only thing that exists.”

Synopsis:
When a grieving father (Michel Duchaussoy) vows to hunt down and kill the man who murdered his son (Stéphane Di Napoli) in a hit-and-run accident, he finds himself connecting with an actress (Caroline Cellier) whose brutal brother-in-law (Jean Yanne) is a prime suspect.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Amateur Sleuths
  • Claude Chabrol
  • French Films
  • Mistaken or Hidden Identities
  • Revenge

Review:
Based on a 1938 novel by Cecil Day-Lewis (writing as Nicholas Blake) entitled The Beast Must Die, this Claude Chabrol psychological thriller gives off definite Hitchcock vibes — which makes sense given that Chabrol, alongside Eric Rohmer, interviewed Hitchcock and co-authored a book about him in 1957. (With that said, Chabrol stated that three other directors — F.W. Murnau, Ernst Lubitsch, and Fritz Lang — influenced him even more.) At any rate, having long ago finished reviewing all of Hitchcock’s actual titles in GFTFF, I decided it was time to revisit what one means, exactly, when using the term “Hitchcockian.”

1. First, and most importantly, “Hitchcock uses film as a place for audiences to project their anxieties.” Does Chabrol do that in this film? Absolutely. The film opens with a devastating attack on the core of one’s existence (losing a child):


… and absolutely everything that comes afterwards is laser-focused on attempting to rectify this loss, in some way.

2. “Hitchcock’s films were a way for him to deal with his own worst fears.” This I can’t speak to, since I don’t know enough about Chabrol’s motives in deciding to make this particular film…

3. “Hitchcock knows you’re watching.”

… As does Chabrol. Voyeurism plays a clear role in this film, given that Duchaussoy fakes his identity and “falsely” pursues Cellier:

… in order to enact an elaborate, double-twisty plot of worming his way into her family (and all while we’re well aware that he may not even have the “right” culprit).

4. “Hitchcock mastered every tool at his disposal.” Chabrol did as well, to the extent that one simply becomes absorbed in his best films (and his longtime collaborations with composer Pierre Jansen and editor Jacques Gaillard resonate here, too).

As in Hitchcock’s best films, good use is made of diverse locations, ranging from the opening sequence at a seaside town, to Duchaussoy’s search for a garage where someone may have thrown away a damaged car part, to the bar where he picks up Cellier, to Yanne’s showy mansion:

… to a literal cliffhanger:

… and a tense scene out on a boat.

This one remains worth a look.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Jean Rabier’s cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a fine thriller by Chabrol. Listed as a film with Historical Relevance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Good Show
  • Important Director

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