Murmur of the Heart (1971)

Murmur of the Heart (1971)

“Everyone has to discover love for himself.”

Synopsis:
In 1950s France, a teenager (Benoît Ferreux) with rowdy older brothers (Fabien Ferreux and Marc Winocourt) experiences a heart murmur while struggling to relate to his gynecologist father (Daniel Gélin) and developing a growing crush on his sexually promiscuous mother (Léa Massari).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Coming-of-Age
  • French Films
  • Incest and Incestuous Undertones
  • Louis Malle Films
  • Virginity

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that this “rude comedy” (I’m not so sure it’s a comedy) by Louis Malle about “incestuous feelings between [a] sexually curious 14-year-old… and his beautiful, sensuous Italian mother” is primarily concerned with “drawing a scathing portrait of the French bourgeoisie.” He argues that “in Malle’s customary uncontroversial way,” the “comedy [sic] advances [the] novel idea that the best way to show rejection of [the] bourgeoisie’s shackles is to break its sexual rules.” Maybe so — but there isn’t anything inherently amusing about this tale of sexual exploration and complicated mother-child dynamics.

While this film has quite a few fans who appreciate the “natural,” non-sensationalized way in which Ferreux and Massari grow increasingly affectionate with one another, I’ll admit I’m not among its admirers. Its best moments show the authenticity (based in large part on Malle’s own childhood) of Ferreux attempting to learn from a kind-hearted prostitute (Gila von Weitershausen) his brothers have taken him to:

… and navigating adolescent passes at girls once he’s at a sanitorium for his heart condition. Otherwise, frankly, the film feels manipulative; knowing the film’s taboo topic makes one simply wait with unease to see how it plays out.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Benoît Ferreux as Laurent

Must See?
No, though of course Malle fans will want to check it out.

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

Links:

Point Blank (1967)

Point Blank (1967)

“Wherever you go, trouble finds you out.”

Synopsis:
During a heist at Alcatraz, a thief (Lee Marvin) is shot and left for dead by his partner (John Vernon) and wife (Sharon Acker) — but he survives and seeks vengeance on them, demanding the money he is owed from a criminal organization and receiving help from both a mysterious man (Keenan Wynn) and his wife’s sister (Angie Dickinson).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Angie Dickinson Films
  • Ex-Cons
  • John Boorman Films
  • Keenan Wynn Films
  • Lee Marvin Films
  • Revenge

Response to Peary’s Review:
Since first reading it years ago, I’ve never forgotten the opening line to Peary’s review of this stylish revenge-flick, based on a novel by Donald E. Westlake: “With ice water in his veins, Lee Marvin goes after his ex-partner.”

Indeed, Marvin stays uncannily calm, cool, and collected as he carries out his deliberate quest to first annihilate the seemingly untouchable Vernon, and then collect the money he is owed, going as high up as he needs to on the organizational food chain.

Peary writes that director “John Boorman’s cult film boasts interesting characters, choice locales (around L.A., at Alcatraz prison), and virtuoso camera and editing techniques.”

He adds that “the extremely violent action sequences are particularly well handled” and “the film’s audacious style and unusual dialogue have made it extremely popular in Europe.”

He points out that Marvin — fresh off of his Oscar win for Cat Ballou (1965) and filming in The Dirty Dozen (1967) — “has one of his best roles” playing “his scariest character since he played villains”; as described in TCM’s article, “Lee Marvin moves with the precision of a machine, cold, calculating, relentless; he could be the predecessor to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s annihilating cyborg in The Terminator (1984).”

It’s impossible to imagine this film without Marvin, whose central performance is — well, dead-on. He is a freaking Terminator, but can one blame him given all he’s been through? His single-minded violence stands in interesting contrast with smarmy Vernon, who menaces beautiful Dickinson:

… but not for long. Meanwhile, the movie is filled with jarring action sequences, memorable imagery, and creative use of location shooting throughout California.


This flick remains well worth a look, and has held up well.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Lee Marvin as Walker
  • John Vernon as Reese
  • Angie Dickinson as Chris
  • Exciting action sequences
  • Philip Lathrop’s cinematography
  • Excellent use of authentic locales

Must See?
Yes, as a stylish thriller.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

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

Links:

Zorba the Greek (1964)

Zorba the Greek (1964)

“To be alive is to undo your belt and look for trouble.”

Synopsis:
When a British-Greek writer (Alan Bates) arrives in Crete with the intention of opening a lignite mine, he meets a charismatic laborer named Zorba (Anthony Quinn) who quickly becomes an inextricable part of his life.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alan Bates Films
  • Anthony Quinn Films
  • Character Studies
  • Greece
  • Mining Towns
  • Village Life
  • Widows and Widowers

Review:
Three years after co-starring in The Guns of Navarone (1961), Anthony Quinn and Greek actress Irene Papas were once again paired on-screen in this adaptation of Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1946 novel. Although the story follows Bates as he arrives in his rocky island village, it’s clear that the primary focus is on the larger-than-life title character, who has numerous “life lessons” to pass along to “Boss” (his affectionate nickname for Bates).

Zorba’s wisdom and guidance include the following, as evidenced from direct quotes:

“You think too much.”
“Why did God give us hands? To grab. Well, grab!”
“I got up, and I danced… It was the dancing — only the dancing — that stopped the pain.”
“Now I look at a man, any man, and I say, ‘He is good. He is bad.’ What do I care if he’s Greek or Turk?”
“A man needs a little madness, or else he never dares cut the rope and be free.”

So, the creatively-blocked Bates clearly must learn to “let go” and love life — which includes allowing himself to be seduced by a beautiful widow (Irene Papas) who the villagers wrongly believe “belongs” to another young man who is in love with her; but the outcome of their brief dalliance is nothing short of tragic.

Indeed, a primary take-away from this tale is that the type of morality-policing of women we still see going on (albeit now accompanied by a much-needed uprising) is endemic in some societies — alongside xenophobia, as exemplified by the villagers’ disdainful treatment of a local French woman (Lila Kedrova) who spends her time reminiscing about her numerous wartime lovers, and who Zorba takes pity on.

Her eventual fate near the end of the film is equally distressing, especially given that it’s primarily driven by other aging women.

Co-producer Quinn’s performance — while arguably over-the-top at times — drives the film, showing us the inherent complexity of this middle-aged dynamo, who lives, loves, dreams, and acts at full volume. His impassioned performance (along with Kedrova’s touching turn as a deluded former-siren) make this critically and commercially popular film worth a look, though it’s not must-see viewing.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Anthony Quinn as Zorba
  • Lila Kedrova as Madame Hortense
  • Walter Lassally’s Oscar-winning cinematography

  • Mikis Theodorakis’s instantly recognizable score

Must See?
No, but it’s recommended for one-time viewing. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Guns of Navarone, The (1961)

Guns of Navarone, The (1961)

“The only way to win a war is to be as nasty as the enemy.”

Synopsis:
During World War II, Major Roy Franklin (Anthony Quayle) leads a skilled commando unit — consisting of a former mountaineer (Gregory Peck), a demolitions expert (David Niven), a Greek colonel (Anthony Quinn), an engineer (Stanley Baker), and two female resistance agents (Irene Papas and Gia Scala) — in attempting to bomb a pair of gigantic, Nazi-owned guns on the Greek island of Navarone.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Anthony Quayle Films
  • Anthony Quinn Films
  • David Niven Films
  • Greece
  • Gregory Peck Films
  • Military
  • Nazis
  • Richard Harris Films
  • World War II

Review:
This top-grossing film of 1961 — based on a 1957 novel by Alistair MacLean, with a screenplay by Carl Foreman — was helmed by J. Lee Thompson, and featured an international cast of actors generally considered too old for their roles, but nonetheless convincing as a motley group of specialists brought together for a seemingly suicidal mission.

The action is nicely paced throughout, with tensions between characters emerging quickly, and an added eventual plot twist of a traitor in their midst. Meanwhile, there are ample Nazi baddies to hiss at.

The film was shot both in studio and on location (on the island of Rhodes), and the title (fictional) guns themselves are truly a sight to behold. As DVD Savant points out, the film’s “immediate legacy can be seen in the best of the James Bond films, where 007 similarly squirrels his way into outrageously grandiose vaults and fortresses.”

Given that this is a film best seen to be enjoyed, I won’t say much more about it.

Note: Interestingly, Alexander Mackendrick was originally hired to helm this film, but was fired due to “creative differences”.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Fine performances by the ensemble cast — particularly David Niven as Cpl. Miller
  • Good use of location shooting (merged with studio footage)
  • Numerous exciting action scenes

Must See?
Yes, as an engaging Hollywood epic. Listed as a film with Historical Importance in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Good Show
  • Historically Relevant

Links:

Major Dundee (1965)

Major Dundee (1965)

“How can we catch the wind — or destroy an enemy we never see?”

Synopsis:
Near the end of the Civil War, a Union cavalry leader (Charlton Heston) recruits a former-friend-turned-Confederate (Richard Harris) — as well as other prisoners-of-war, scoundrels, and a small group of Black soldiers — to help him fight a battle across the Mexican border against the Apache Indians.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Ben Johnson Films
  • Cavalry
  • Charlton Heston Films
  • Civil War
  • James Coburn Films
  • Jim Hutton Films
  • Mexico
  • Misfits
  • Native Americans
  • Richard Harris Films
  • Rivalry
  • Sam Peckinpah Films
  • Warren Oates Films
  • Westerns

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, while this “okay Sam Peckinpah epic western” — made in between Ride the High Country (1962) and The Wild Bunch (1969) — “contains several sweeping battle scenes,” the “emphasis is more on Bligh-Christian infighting between strict military man Charlton Heston and the more humane Richard Harris”, as well as “the tormented Heston’s personal journey” and “how Dundee’s troop, comprised of diverse elements, comes to represent imperialistic, impure, but somehow noble America.”

He points out (and many agree) that the “picture is confusing and boring at times,” though “it’s hard to judge because Columbia Studios broke the contract with Peckinpah and edited [the] film itself.” (See DVD Savant’s extensive overview of the film’s production, release, and re-release history if you’d like to read more.) He notes that because “Peckinpah wasn’t allowed to film several pivotal scenes that would have added more than an hour to the already lengthy running time” (the truth is more complicated than this), he “disowned this film” — and “some will recognize The Wild Bunch as his partial remake.” Meanwhile, Peary argues that “Heston’s cold, deeply flawed character is far too complex for the actor to play,” thus making it “hard for us to figure out what is going on in his head at any given time,” but he does make note of the “excellent cast” overall.

I’m essentially in agreement with Peary’s assessment of this disappointing western, which contains a reasonably interesting and coherent first hour, only to go flying off into frustratingly opaque directions for the remainder of its running time. The female characters — primarily Senta Berger as a German-born beauty who falls for Heston — are nothing more than romantic bait for the men:

… and the Apaches (perhaps predictably) are almost completely dehumanized. While this film has cult fans who consider it a guilty favorite, I can’t recommend it as must-see.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Sam Leavitt’s cinematography

Must See?
No, though of course it’s worth a one-time look simply for its historical significance, and Peckinpah fans will consider it must-see.

Links:

Dirty Dozen, The (1967)

Dirty Dozen, The (1967)

“Look, they may not look pretty — but any one of mine is worth ten of yours.”

Synopsis:
As punishment, an army major (Lee Marvin) during World War II is tasked by his superior (Ernest Borgnine) with the job of training and overseeing a dozen prisoners — including surly Franco (John Cassavetes), sociopathic Magott (Telly Savalas), simple-minded Pinkley (Donald Sutherland), African-American Jefferson (Jim Brown), and German-speaking Wladislaw (Charles Bronson) — to carry out a critical suicide mission at a Nazi-filled chateau in France.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Charles Bronson Films
  • Donald Sutherland Films
  • Ernest Borgnine Films
  • George Kennedy Films
  • John Cassavetes Films
  • Lee Marvin Films
  • Misfits
  • Nazis
  • Prisoners
  • Ralph Meeker Films
  • Richard Jaeckel Films
  • Robert Aldrich Films
  • Robert Ryan Films
  • Soldiers
  • Telly Savalas Films
  • World War Two

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, “Robert Aldrich’s much-copied war film… was a box office smash despite the moviegoers’ growing aversion to the genre in light of Vietnam,” largely “because it managed to stage exciting, brutal war sequences while simultaneously celebrating misfits, putting down authority figures and the military, and showing war to be a madman’s game that can only be fought down and dirty.”

He describes it as a three-part film in which the first third has Marvin whipping “twelve murderers and rapists” “into shape and making them into a team by developing their mutual hatred for him”:

… the second third showing “Marvin proving to the other officers (Robert Ryan, Ernest Borgnine, Robert Webber) that his unwashed ‘dirty dozen’ are a crack outfit,” and the final third comprised of “the mission itself.”

Peary points out that “the large doses of humor present in the earlier parts of the film are replaced by strong action and bloody killings,” with our side presented as shockingly vicious…

SPOILER ALERT

… as when the soldiers “pour grenades and petrol into an underground chamber where the German officers and their women are trapped and then set a fire that wipes them all out.”

Peary writes that the “film is solidly directed and has a strange appeal,” with perhaps “the oddest aspect… that these criminals are redeemed when they commit acts that are far more repugnant than the ones for which they were arrested.” Of special note is a stand-out performance by pugnacious Cassavetes, who earned a Best Supporting Actor nomination:

… and perfect casting of Savalas as a bigot you instantly know you can’t trust.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Fine direction and cinematography
  • Exciting action sequences

Must See?
Yes, as a classic of the genre.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

Links:

Mad Max (1979)

Mad Max (1979)

“They say people don’t believe in heroes anymore.”

Synopsis:
After his involvement in a high-speed crash that kills motorcycle gang member Nightrider (Vincent Neil), a policeman (Mel Gibson) in a dystopian Australian landscape battles gang leader Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne), ramping up his vengeance when his partner The Goose (Steve Bisley) is killed and the lives of his wife (Joanne Samuel) and child are threatened.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Australian Films
  • Dystopia
  • Gangs
  • Motorcyclists
  • Revenge

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, this “first entry in the fascinating, excitingly original, extremely successful futuristic action series starring Mel Gibson and directed by George Miller” was “inspired by [Miller’s] work in the casualty ward of a hospital, Australia’s car culture during the sixties, and petrol rationing in Australia in the seventies, which caused a surprising amount of violence.” He notes that “the first part of the film, which is dominated by The Goose, is shot like a motorcycle-gang picture”:

… while “the rest of the film is alternately a bike picture, a horror film, and another in the long line of fascist-heroes-on-a-revenge-spree films.” He points out that throughout the film, “Miller exhibits a striking visual style,” with “his use of a fender-level camera, sweeping pans, breakneck-speed tracking shots, and ‘shock’ editing correspond[ing] perfectly to the powerful images he shoots — specifically the speeding cars and cycles.”

Peary argues that “while you’ll like Max [Gibson] and Jessie [Samuel], a terrific married couple”:

… “and cocky, highstrung Jim Goose, this film is less interesting as a story about ‘people’ than as a marriage between the filmmaker’s machines (his camera, his editing tools) and the motor-powered machines that he films.” Indeed, he asserts that “Miller’s cynical, depressing film is about dehumanization resulting from an apocalypse,” with the film’s sequel — The Road Warrior (1981) — presenting a more optimistic view of humanity.

Peary discusses Mad Max at greater length in his first Cult Movies book, where his analysis centers on the film’s emergence as “the first and only [at the time] film of a genre that surely could be explored and exploited” — that is, “violent, futuristic car-motorcycle films full of spectacular chases and crashes,” in which “stuntmen are the stars”. (Sure enough, sequels emerged in 1981 and 1985, and then another much later in 2015.) He writes that “while the cult fascination for Mad Max has a lot to do with its apartness from other contemporary films, there is much in it that suggests certain familiar influences on Miller.” For instance, “one film that may have caught his eye is A Boy and His Dog (1975),” given that it’s “set in a post-apocalyptic age.”

(However, it should be pointed out that Miller has admitted that “it was not the intention when the script was written, to set it in a post-apocalyptic world”; rather, “this was done because they didn’t have the money for extras and properly maintained buildings,” and “in order to cover for this production value limitation, the title card was added to the beginning, explaining the story was set after a world war.”)

Meanwhile, “AIP’s biker films of the sixties likely had an impact on Miller as the cyclists’ menacing demeanor and slovenly appearance recalls the Hell’s Angels types of the AIP drive-in pix” — though “the scene in which the cyclists ride into a small town to spread terror among the townspeople, and line up their motorcycles as if they were a paramilitary outfit, is more reminiscent of The Wild One (1954), the original [motorcycle] gang picture.”

Peary points out that “the cyclists also have kinship with the futuristic gang in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971),” given that “not only do both groups speak a similar descriptive language,” but “they also vent their hostilities, boredom, and disrespect for law and order through sadistic rapes and thrill killings.”

He adds that the fact that “the cyclists and the main police force are distinguished from one another more by dress than by morality reminds [him] less of other cop-versus-gang films than it does of Quadrophenia (1979),” a film about the “often violent sixties rivalry between the Mods and the Rockers.” Finally, Peary points out that “the red-streaked hair of Nightrider’s girlfriend”:

… “and Bubba’s short-cropped hair” show “that Miller has [also] incorporated punk into his pop art.”

Peary elaborates on the film’s status as an “atmospheric horror film” by noting that “when Max approaches the Goose in the hospital bed and his partner’s burned-black hand falls out from beneath the sheets,” it “resembles a monster’s claw”:

… and although “Jessie’s confrontation with the cyclists while getting ice cream is typical gang picture fare,” when “she later discovers the severed hand of one of the bikers attached to her car, we are once more in the horror picture domain.”

These “elements take over completely” later in the film, once Max and Jessie are away at her aunt’s country home and the film becomes singularly focused on vengeance. While this action-packed, fight-filled movie will primarily appeal to those interested in hardcore car-chase flicks, it does hold interest and value as a crucial title in Australia’s burgeoning film industry, and for providing Gibson with his debut role.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Shakespearean-trained Hugh Keays-Byrne as Toecutter
  • David Eggby’s cinematography
  • Fine stunt work

Must See?
Yes, for its cult status.

Categories

  • Cult Movie

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

Links:

Terminator, The (1984)

Terminator, The (1984)

“Come with me if you want to live.”

Synopsis:
A soldier (Michael Biehn) from the post-apocalyptic future travels back in time to protect a young woman (Linda Hamilton) from a cyborg assassin known as the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Androids and Clones
  • Assassination
  • Dick Miller Films
  • Revolutionaries
  • Science Fiction
  • Single Mothers
  • Strong Females
  • Time Travel

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary’s review of “this modestly budgeted sci-fi thriller” — which “deservedly became a box-office smash, cult favorite, and a cause celebre of critics” — is excerpted from his longer essay in Cult Movies 3, which I’ll cite from here. He writes that “if Risky Business gave the sex/youth film a much-needed dose of class in 1983, then The Terminator did the same for the science fiction film in 1984, proving [that] talent, intelligence, and originality can make a positive difference in even the most formula-restricted genres.”

He asserts that “it’s easy to see why The Terminator became a sensation,” given that “the direction of James Cameron, a Roger Corman alumnus, is assured, immensely imaginative, and often dazzling,” while the script “not only is loaded with wit, clever touches, and jolts by the second but also injects bright, interesting ideas into the tired time-traveler-tries-to-alter-history premise.” He adds that “the noirish cinematography by Adam Greenberg, rapid-fire editing by Mark Goldblatt…, and special effects work” by Stan Winston, Doug Beswick, and Pete Kleinow “are genuinely impressive.”

Finally, he notes that “the casting couldn’t have been better, with the likable Linda Hamilton” — a “spunky, unintimidating actress who is sexiest in jeans and sneakers” — as “the heroine”:

… “one-time villain Michael Biehn as the hero, and always-the-hero Schwarzenegger as the villain.” He points out that Schwarzenegger “unexpectedly became a villain for the ages, a nightmare incarnate” who, “like Yul Brynner’s evil cowboy robot in Westworld (1973),” is “without fear, without feelings… is nearly indestructible, and, unlike Brynner, is so big and muscular that it could destroy everyone in its path even it if were human.” As a bonus, he “has been programmed with a perverse sense of humor… which is part of the reason Schwarzenegger seems to enjoy playing the part.”

Peary discusses how this film was critically lauded as “the most exciting science fiction film since The Road Warrior (1981),” adding that “comparisons to George Miller’s cult favorite make sense because it, too, has bone-crushing violence, spectacular action sequences, riveting car chases…, unrelenting suspense, abundant black humor…, a bleak vision of a post-apocalyptic future,” and “bizarre time frames.” He writes that while “Cameron doesn’t move his camera as much as Miller,” he “also keeps things from dragging by having his characters in constant motion” — and “here, too, there is a marriage between the filmmaker’s gadgets and the gadgets/machines (especially vehicles) that dominate the screen,” with Cameron keeping “tension high by smartly complementing his dramatic visuals with jarring sounds: engines revving, tires screeching, cars crashing, metal smashing into concrete, explosions, glass shattering, guns firing, sirens blaring, music blasting (in the Tech Noir disco), dogs barking, objects being crushed, [and] people screaming.”

Furthering his comparison between this and The Road Warrior, Peary writes that “both films venture into myth and into religion, offering a Christ figure… who becomes a rebel leader.” In The Terminator, Sarah (Hamilton) “represents the Virgin Mary,” who “will give birth to John Connor (a Jesus Christ figure we only hear about), who will become savior of the people on earth,” with Reese (Biehn) representing “the messenger angel Gabriel who told the Virgin Mary she would become pregnant.”

Because Peary’s major film books were written primarily in the 1980s, he naturally juxtaposes them with the politics of the day; in this case, he notes that while “it can be argued that The Terminator is another Reagan-era anti-abortion film in which a single woman wisely decides to have her baby rather than terminate her pregnancy,” he believes Cameron and co-screenwriter/producer Gale Anne Hurd “think of Sarah as an independent, leftist woman of the sixties and seventies, an era when unmarried women who gave birth to and raised their children stood in defiance of the pro-nuclear-family political right.” (Of course, Peary’s comments from 1988 map perfectly onto our current contentious era as well.)

Peary points out that “Reese, played by the slight-of-build, weak-voiced Biehn, bucks the trends of eighties’ macho heroes,” thus making him “an interesting adversary to Schwarzenegger’s huge Terminator because he is obviously human.”

He adds that “we admire his bravery and identify with his underdog status,” yet “refreshingly we aren’t in awe of him because he isn’t as formidable as a Sylvester Stallone, Chuck Norris, or Arnold Schwarzenegger superhero” — and “unlike many male heroes, he isn’t so initially protective that he keeps the female in a helpless mode,” instead encouraging her “to attempt brave acts (she has no choice).”

When writing about the film’s “anti-technology stance,” Peary notes that “the villain of the piece is the ultimate machine of the future” — and to that end Cameron “bombards us with images of contemporary machines to emphasize our growing dependency on technology: a garbage truck, a coin-operated telescope, cars, traffic lights, parking meters, an escalator, a moped, a time clock, sophisticated guns, telephones, televisions, a crane, a tractor, a radio, a headset, an answering machine, microphones, a TV camera, an electric clock, strobe lights, a disco’s music system, a refrigerator, a police intercom, a beeper, a video recorder, a generator, a pickup truck, a Coke machine, a motorcycle, neon signs, an oil truck, a computer, a hydraulic press, an ambulance, a jeep, gas tanks, a tape recorder.” !!!!

It’s a bit quaint reflecting on a list like this, given how inextricably machines and AI now inhabit every facet of our existence, but I’ve quoted it in full here simply to point out how much we do take such things for granted as an inevitable part of everyday life.

While I’m not an action film fan per se, I can appreciate the significant art and craft at work here, in Cameron’s first major film as a director (and of course, he went on to make numerous other blockbuster hits and become a huge name in Hollywood). All film fanatics should check out this iconic cult flick, and will likely want to see at least the first sequel as well.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Solid performances by the leads
  • Adam Greenberg’s cinematography
  • Impressive low-budget sets and special effects
  • Brad Fiedel’s score

Must See?
Yes, as a cult and popular favorite.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Historically Relevant

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

Links:

Blue Velvet (1986)

Blue Velvet (1986)

“I don’t know if you’re a detective or a pervert.”

Synopsis:
When a college student (Kyle MacLachlan) returns home after his father (Jack Harvey) suffers a heart attack, he stumbles upon a severed ear in a field and subsequently meets the teenage daughter (Laura Dern) of a detective (George Dickerson) assigned to the case. Sandy (Dern) is eager to tell Jeffrey (MacLachlan) what she knows about a lounge singer named Dorothy (Isabella Rossellini) who has been kidnapped by a local mobster (Dennis Hopper), and soon Jeffrey and Sandy are engaged in amateur sleuthing, with Jeffrey finding himself much more deeply involved in Dorothy’s plight than he anticipated.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Amateur Sleuths
  • David Lynch Films
  • Dennis Hopper Films
  • Gangsters
  • Hope Lange Films
  • Kidnapping
  • Laura Dern Films
  • Living Nightmare
  • Love Triangle
  • Murder Mystery
  • Obsessive Love
  • Peeping Toms
  • Psychopaths
  • S&M
  • Small Town America

Review:
Peary doesn’t review this dark cult classic in his GFTFF, but he covers it in his third Cult Movies book, where he notes that it was “easily the most controversial film of the [1980s],” stirring “heated debates and polariz[ing] critics like no film since A Clockwork Orange (1971) and Last Tango in Paris (1972)” — which were also “works that drew a disturbing correlation between sex, power, and violence.” Peary points out that “screenwriter-director David Lynch was applauded for his astonishing artistry and unflinching determination to get across a bold, unsanitized personal vision in an era of safe assembly-line films… yet was attacked by many viewers who felt his personal vision was so dark and disgusting that it should have been kept to himself.”

He goes on to write that “because Blue Velvet is both so uncompromisingly weird and so well made, it was destined for cult status on the level of Lynch’s Eraserhead (1977), the bizarre independent venture he made before going commercial with The Elephant Man (1980) and Dune (1984)” — but “unlike Eraserhead, it became a box-office hit.” After positing that some naive viewers at the time “left in a nauseous daze” after exiting what they thought would simply be a “Hitchcock-like thriller,” he notes he personally doesn’t “find Blue Velvet mean-spirited like many contemporary films” given that he doesn’t “think Lynch gets a kick out of Frank being so vile,” though he concedes “at times it is terribly unpleasant” — and while “the ugliness heightens the film’s impact,” it “also tends to cut down on one’s enjoyment.”

Peary goes on to provide an extensive analysis of this complex and disturbing “coming of age” film, which actually touches on quite a few topics; the extensive list of genres and themes above — amateur sleuthing, gangsters, kidnapping, a living nightmare, a love triangle, a murder mystery, obsessive love, S&M, Peeping Toms, and sociopaths — isn’t even complete, as the film goes in many different directions. He notes that everyone agrees “the picture has a brilliant opening, with Lynch presenting a red (roses), white (picket fence), and blue (skies) America, along the lines of the too-real Americas found in Blood Simple (1984), Gremlins (1984), Trouble in Mind (1985), True Stories (1986), and Little Shop of Horrors (1986).”

Indeed, “everything is so perfect on the surface that you can sense evil brewing underground; you can feel the approaching explosion” given that “the American dream [is] about to burst” — quite literally, as a “hose becomes tangled” and Jeffrey’s dad “has a seizure,” leading to “the neighbor dog prop[ping] himself on his belly and snap[ping] at the water shooting skyward.”

The juxtaposition of this with the crooning, comforting title song playing is an indication of exactly how much cognitive dissonance we’re about to experience, as we view a “perverted Norman Rockwell” existence. In Lynch’s perspective, “If you search beneath the surface of idyllic, tree-lined… America you’ll find a terrifying, violent, soulless world” with criminals running rampant at night just like bugs emerging from the soil. His other primary thematic concern is with the fact that “beneath the surface of ‘normal’ people you’ll find people with ‘abnormal’ desires.” To that end, there is plenty of disturbing S&M here, with Hopper’s sociopathic criminal a particularly loony type who is seemingly straight from a horror flick. As Peary writes, he “resembles an insect” while “dressed in black and with a plastic inhaler over his contorted face”:

… and “is meant to be the human counterpart of those hideous black bugs we saw in the opening,” a completely insensitive brute whose “sexual manner” consists “of groping, clutching, slapping, and mounting — while spewing vulgar threats” (he drops the f-bomb liberally). Meanwhile, at first ‘peeping Tom’ Jeffrey “has done nothing more shocking than James Stewart in Rear Window (1954),” but very quickly “he no longer is just a voyeur” as he gets inextricably caught up in Dorothy’s masochistic games. His relationship with Sandy progresses as well, as both leave the protective shells of adolescence and come to understand the depths of what’s possible, and what’s happened.

Peary ends his essay by noting that “despite all the violence in the film, Blue Velvet will also be remembered for its sensual visuals (i.e., Rossellini lying in Jeffrey’s arms), thematic use of colors, deadpan humor…, Diane Arbus-like background characters”:

… “creative use of sound effects, eclectic background music, and erotic renditions of pop songs.” These include first and foremost Dorothy crooning a soulful version of Bobby Vinton’s ‘Blue Velvet’.”

(If you check out the 2002 “making of” documentary about this film, Mysteries of Love, you’ll hear Rossellini admitting what a challenge this was for her as a non-singer.) But we also see and hear “effeminate Ben (Dean Stockwell will give you chills), queen of the gangster ‘insects’,” “lip-synching Roy Orbison’s ‘In Dreams'” in what may be “the strangest moment in the film”:

.. “and Jeffrey and Sandy kissing and dancing to ‘Mysteries of Love’.”

The ending is somewhat mysterious and open to interpretation; Peary writes he doesn’t think Lynch “want[s] viewers to completely figure out his film,” but rather hopes to present it as “a puzzle with too few or too many pieces, a dream-nightmare that will be interpreted differently by everyone who sees it.” Personally, it had been long enough since my first (and only) viewing of this film that I’d conveniently forgotten much of the storyline, and remained genuinely in-the-dark about whether the entire narrative would turn out to be a long-con or a dream of some kind, which was both infuriating and helped to hold my interest. After this second viewing, I don’t feel any need to return to this precursor of Lynch’s cult T.V. series “Twin Peaks”, but I think all film fanatics will be curious to check it out at least once.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Isabella Rossellini as Dorothy
  • Dennis Hopper as Frank
  • Kyle MacLachlan as Jeffrey and Laura Dern as Sandy
  • Dean Stockwell in a bit role as “Ben”
  • Frederick Elmes’ cinematography

Must See?
Yes, once, simply for its cult status.

Categories

  • Cult Movie

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

Links:

Blade Runner (1982)

Blade Runner (1982)

“You think I’m a replicant, don’t you?”

Synopsis:
In a dystopian future Los Angeles, a retired bounty hunter (Harrison Ford) is sent by his former boss (Edward James Olmos) to hunt down four escaped “replicants” (androids) — Leon (Brion James), Batty (Rutger Hauer), Pris (Daryl Hannah), and Zhora (Joanna Cassidy) — who are attempting to find their maker (Joe Turkel) in order to extend their limited lifespan; meanwhile, Deckard (Ford) meets and falls in love with Turkel’s beautiful young secretary (Sean Young), who is unaware that she, too, is an android.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Androids and Clones
  • Bounty Hunters
  • Dystopia
  • Harrison Ford Films
  • Los Angeles
  • Ridley Scott Films
  • Science Fiction

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that “although Ridley Scott’s ambitious, loose adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” — about a detective in a near-future dystopia “who tracks down [rogue] replicants (sophisticated androids)” — “didn’t do well when first released, it has since emerged as a cult favorite, a midnight-movie staple, and perhaps the first ‘thinking person’s SF film’ since 2001.” It has maintained its cult status over the many years since GFTFF was published, and — as all its fans know — has a complex and interesting history of being recut and re-released several times; much more about all of this can be learned by reading Paul M. Sammon’s Future Noir: The Making of Blade Runner, browsing the internet, and/or watching the 3.5 hour-long documentary Dangerous Days: Making Blade Runner (2007).

Peary points out that while the film “has several exciting scenes,” including “Ford chasing replicant Joanna Cassidy through the streets”:

… “being surprised by acrobatic replicant Daryl Hannah”:

… and “battling replicant leader Rutger Hauer on a building ledge”:

… “it’s very deliberately paced and characterized by an overwhelming sense of melancholy.” He adds that while the “slow pacing [is] initially off-putting… the film improves immensely on second viewing because you know what to expect and can concentrate on the many exceptional aspects of the picture.” Interestingly, a number of other reviewers have taken this same stance, admitting to not enjoying or understanding this title upon their first viewing, and only gradually growing to appreciate it (with some still considering it too slow and/or inscrutable in many places).

Peary asserts that “foremost, no picture since Metropolis has presented such a compelling vision of the future,” which I would agree with (though CGI has changed that landscape — so to speak — quite a bit since the 1980s). He notes that “conceptual artist Syd Mead and designer Laurence G. Paull created a crowded, hazy city full of huge, deserted, or retro-fitted buildings (they called the style ‘retro-deco’) where acid rain falls constantly, electric advertising covers the sides of buildings, and police spinners fly about.”

In his Cult Movies 3 essay on the film, Peary goes into even more detail about the film’s design, noting that “mammoth, pyramid-shaped buildings dominate the skyline” and “industrial tubing and pipe fixtures are in plain sight;” “bright strobe lights repeatedly shine through windows; [and] a mass of humanity — Asians comprise a large percentage of the population — marches impersonally through the always-dark streets”, while “faceless bike riders whiz by [and] bands of scavengers emerge from the shadows.”

Meanwhile, “rich [white] people live far above in high rises, with security systems fit for fortresses”:

… and “those people who walk on the foul streets… [are] literally of the ‘low-life’ variety.” What’s “so frightening about what we see in the picture — the environment, the technology, the clothes and makeup, genetically produced human and animal duplicates — is that it seems to be a logical future for us.” He adds that “in this cautionary tale, we are presented with much from our own present and past to remind us that what we see is the end result of our unfortunate progression.”

(By the way, we’ve reached and passed the film’s fictional setting of 2019; how are we doing?)

When I first saw this film many years ago, I reacted with (and was overwhelmed by) a healthy dose of despair that our potential future world could look and function like this. On subsequent viewings, I was able to more easily give myself over to the film’s gorgeous production design and “take delight in the marvelous cast — what faces and bodies! — and their fascinating characters.”

In addition to the extras looking “like they come from countless eras, from every possible country,” the team of androids is uniquely diverse, with “Zhora look[ing] ready for an S&M party,” “Pris look[ing] like a cross between a New Wave punk and a hooker on New York’s 8th Avenue,” and Rachel sporting a “stunning black suit, with each stripe consisting of a separate piece of silk, and with the wide shoulders and trim waist… appropriate for heroines of forties film noir.” She’s a gorgeous sight to behold, with “her hair tied back, dark brows and eyeshadow, watery eyes, red lips, perfect skin, and swirling cigarette smoke serving as a veil”; she is indeed “like those mysterious movie heroines who… were either completely honest and loyal or ‘inhuman,’ with blood that ran ice cold.”

Meanwhile, “Deckard may have a futuristic job — blade runner — but he is the classic disillusioned, morally ambivalent detective hero, complete with hard-boiled narration” (thankfully removed from later releases). Peary spends additional time in his Cult Movies essay discussing the controversy over how “human” the androids are, asserting his view that “it was by intention that the replicants were more human than Deckard,” and that it’s “through his interactions with the super-sophisticated, lifelike replicants during the course of the film that he regains his emotions.”

[Speaking of Deckard’s “humanness,” director Scott pissed off plenty of viewers by making claims about his status which many feel are unwarranted and illogical. Feel free to enter that foray at your own peril.]

Peary points out, too, that “Blade Runner deals with the arrogance of the rich, who would literally trash their home world, turn it into a barely habitable ghetto, and simply fly away to the off-colony suburbs and leave their mess for the poor.” (Sound like anything certain folks may be doing currently???) He adds, “like those who settled earth’s New World [sic] in the seventeenth century, they expect slave labor,” a “gap filled by replicants… who are considered less valuable than animals, have no legal rights… and are not built to last.” As he writes, “Man is so arrogant that he would create these genetically human androids, give them more intelligence and athletic proficiency than humans and the ability to develop the exact emotions of man, yet still consider himself superior to them.”

Sigh.

Finally, Peary reminds us that despite its status as a “heavy metal comic strip,” some of “the best scenes in Blade Runner are… slow and overwhelmingly sad: In Deckard’s apartment, teary-eyed Rachael, having learned her own photos are counterfeit, looks at Deckard’s collection and wonders if they’re real”:

… and “she sees if she can really play the piano… or if she previously played only in false memories.”

He writes that “these scenes create instant nostalgia,” and represent “how important… memories (even fake ones) [are] and how vacant [our] lives [are] without them.” Interestingly, Peary doesn’t comment on the romance between Deckard and Rachael, which some argue feels perfunctory and devoid of chemistry, but is distressing to me given how casually Deckard bullies her into lovemaking.

With all of this said, there’s one more highly significant element of the movie to point out: Vangelis’s incomparable score. It really is difficult to imagine the film without it. A combination of elements — ranging from the score to the cinematography and production design to the unsettling storyline — make this a cult classic worth visiting at least once, and probably more often.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Fine performances by the entire cast — especially Rutger Hauer as Batty
  • Jordan Cronenweth’s cinematography
  • Incredible production design and special effects


  • Vangelis’s haunting score

Must See?
Yes, as a cult and genuine sci-fi classic. Nominated as one of the Best Pictures of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Genuine Classic

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

Links: