The latest American Culture Critic Podcast is LIVE! A somewhat informal affair wherein I and my producer Adrian De Jesus discuss topics ranging from the state of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the latest cinematic superhero offerings, genre fatigue, The Killers, and Killers of the Flower Moon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ka6VwSvsDR8
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 10 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Y’know what? Fuck it! I challenge all the moderators of FanFreeks.
Others might think differently, but in my estimation Rodgers & Hammerstein shot the proverbial wad with this one; both a helluva production and a helluva film. Yet some assert it would be problematic to produce as it was originally presented so many decades ago. After all, The King of Siam (Yul Brynner), its male lead, was chauvinistic, self-centered, entitled, and stubborn, while the women were presented subserviently.
But in my opinion, those critics miss the point. Mistress Anna (the beguiling Deborah Kerr), the female lead, was anything BUT subservient. Her own person with a strong sense of self, wit, and poise, she was the "very difficult woman" who was progressive in a way that challenged everything the King held dear. The story is more than an (almost) chaste love story between two people of different worlds; it’s also a story of inexorably encroaching progress, and of the pains of generational transition when the old must give way to the new.
In the hands of any other actor, the King would have been insufferable. But no one…absolutely no one…could have ever been more suited to the role than Yul Brynner (it had once been a dream of mine to someday play the role but the closest I ever got was to subtly homage it during living chess games at Vizcaya in 2001). When one discusses charismatic, magnetic performances, his is textbook example. Yet if you pay close attention, the twinkle in his eye and the subtle smirk belies any seriousness his character takes himself. More often than not, he is a brat; a man who balances his responsibility to his people and culture with Pimp Daddy energy. There are moments wherein he’s a mischievous boy in a man’s body; one that’s fearful of this new world and way of life that's encroaching on his beloved nation. He epitomizes a way of life that arguably can no longer survive but instead of embracing change in the form of the beguiling and steely Kerr-as-Anna he rebukes it, sending her away. By not embracing that love…and by extension that way of life…he withers and dies, but not before recognizing and instructing the next generation in the form of his son, to embrace the new ways while remembering the old, for only in that understanding that true progress and prosperity can result. Brynner pulled it off in spectacular fashion, his performance was so beloved he played the role for years even after his initial Broadway run and this performance…a total of 4,625 times on stage (even under excruciating physical duress). It bears mentioning that at the end of the iconic musical number, Brynner and Kerr engage in a primal, erotically passionate stare down that surpasses almost anything else of its kind ever in celluloid, all without word or touch.
The image above exemplifies the film completely. Two people of differing perspectives, each imperious and strong in their own way, but standing together as equals, all smiles (subtle though they be), basking in each other’s presence despite themselves, yet each too stubborn to acknowledge that, despite their differences, they’re stronger together.
In my opinion, there’s never been a greater love story put to film.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 9 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Inspired or not, thy will be done.
This choice would have been more appropriate for day 7, but that would have been too obvious. Suffice it to say, this one was difficult because it’s more the film series rather than any one film that impacted and inspired me, and it can be summed up in a single line:
“Bond. James Bond.”
What started as a mocking introduction in “Dr. No” has morphed into a declaration (Hell, Roger Moore’s delivery of the line practically demanded acknowledgement by genuflection). A character who started out as a stone-cold killer changed to become something different within the times he was represented. He’s been derided as much as he’s been celebrated: a representative of arrogant-yet-in-decline British imperialism at best, and “kinda rapey” (in Millennial speak) at worst. Yet for all that, 25 films later, we still follow his adventures no matter where they lead. The films were an exotic travelogue at a time when tourism was not so affordable. Some of the lushest scores by John Barry were inspired by this series (as well as some of the most dated. I’m looking at you, Georgio Moroder and Bill Conti) and the women; oh god, the women…
(Wipes drool off computer)
>Ahem<
Connery is undisputed King; the standard by which all others are judged. Craig is the worthy title holder and longest serving actor in years if not in film. Moore was the charming tongue-firmly-in-cheek rogue with a twinkle in his eye. Dalton was damned good and closest to Fleming’s literary take, despite the naysayers (think about it. He was Craig before Craig); a great Bond in a world that wasn’t ready for it. Lazenby was…ok.
But this...this is MY Bond, and this was his best film. I had been waiting for “Goldeneye” since the television series “Remington Steele” premiered. Brosnan was a natural for the role. Because of that show, the public believed he would be the successor (the producers of RS must have felt the same, for how else can one explain the off-key parody of the “Bond” theme used in the series’ very first episode?).
He was to have been Bond for 1987’s “The Living Daylights”, but a last-minute “fuck you” stunt by NBC precluded that from ever happening. The public would not let go, though. Brosnan’s series of “Diet Coke” commercials kept the hope alive. EON Productions had to take legal intervention to stop Putnam Books from putting Brosnan’s silhouette on the covers of the John Gardner-penned continuation novels. For six years, the franchise was put on hold due to various lawsuits. In 1994, when the litigious smoke cleared, Brosnan's frustrating journey to the role finally ended here.
“Goldeneye” reinvented the mythos without destroying it (a female “M”, a Moneypenny who, while still love struck, wasn’t exactly pining either), putting everything that was great about Bond there for all to see. It had Brosnan’s only adversary who was 007’s equal (Sean Bean), a very crazed, effective assassin (Famke Janssen in a go-for-broke performance), a capable heroine who wasn’t afraid of one-upping “our hero” (Izabella Scorupco).
The irony is that this pop-culture build up to the crown yielded a triumphant climax in this one film…to the detriment of those that followed. Because of the lackluster reception to Dalton, the aforementioned years of litigation that kept Bond out of theaters, coupled with the changing zeitgeist, the producers “played it safe” with the character. Thus, the three films that followed were nowhere near the standards here. Unfortunately, it’s also undeservedly tarnished Brosnan’s take. One only needs to see films such as “The Fourth Protocol” and “The Tailor of Panama” to see what “Goldeneye” hinted at.
A sexist, misogynistic dinosaur and relic of the Cold War he may be but to this day, Bond endures. In my opinion, Brosnan made it his own, and this is his Bond at his finest.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 8 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Do it today, ‘cause there is no tomorrow.
Speaking of Sly (see day 6)…
Yo, Adriaaaaaaan…we got 'n Osca’ winnah, ova’heeya….
Oscar winner.
All these years later, who’da thunk?
Hell, even back THEN, who’da thunk?!
After all, this 1976 film went up against some serious pedigree for “Best Picture” at the 49th Academy Awards. Compared to such sophisticated fare as “All the President's Men”, “Bound for Glory”, “Network”, and “Taxi Driver”, “Rocky” was the uncomplicated and relatively simplistic “odd man out”; the "Marisa Tomei" of its day. But then, the John G. Avildsen-helmed feature was truly a study of “the underdog” in both narrative and actuality. It's thematically resonant and deeper than the critics gave it credit for. It also had the advantage of being released at the right time...or perhaps it was created because of those times, rather than in spite of. The Seventies was a very powerful, experimental, and examinatorial period in cinema; one wherein society’s ills and problems were being reflected back to us in celluloid with all stories tinged with varying shades of grey. The zeitgeist of the time didn’t help matters either. For all the “come on get happys” and "free love" of the period, there was equal or greater amounts of reports of government corruption, rising crime rates, job decimation, and economic hardship (sound familiar)?
So is it any wonder that “Rocky” made the impact that it has? Though the plot is based upon fighter Chuck Wepner’s ability to go the distance with then-champ Muhammad Ali, the film (as to many degrees all the films that followed were) is autobiographical, running parallel to creator Sylvester Stallone’s life. According to legend, he wrote the script at his most destitute. The producers wanted to buy the script but wanted a name attached at the lead (his biggest roles at that time was a part in the ensemble film “The Lords of Flatbush” and a film Sly would rather be off his resume, “The Party at Kitty and Stud's” [later retitled “The Italian Stallion” for obvious reasons]). Stallone held fast, insisting he be the lead or no deal. In a foreshadowing of the film’s thematic hook, against all odds, the producers acquiesced. Maybe that’s what made Balboa so appealing against the likes of Woodward and Bernstein, Howard Beale, and Travis Bickle. It was a film that showed the world as an unforgiving landscape that blocked our development at every corner; a world that dictated who one was opposed to presenting the chance for self-identification. It postulated that when that rare opportunity in life presents itself, it has to be grabbed as ferociously and tenaciously as possible with both hands with an iron grip. That despite circumstance, we can rise above it all and surprise not only our naysayers, but ourselves. Whether or not one succeeded in the venture didn’t matter…it was the attempt to rise above the hole that is fatalistic expectation was all-encompassing.
It’s said that the best stories are the most personal; the ones wherein the author is personally invested, and the audience identifies with on a fundamental level. I believe that’s why it won, and why to this day it remains one of my favorites.
In that sense, we are all “Rocky”.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 7 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by the esteemed educator and author Andrew Baldwin. You got your own choices to post, don’t you? What’re yew waitin’ fer?
Here’s another “big surprise” entry. In truth, the surprise was actually WHICH film of the first two film in the series to choose! The first film may have been derided in later years as “The MotionLESS Picture,” but that film "wow’ed" me in so many different respects that compensated for the action-less narrative. For the first time, one got a tangible sense of the immense size of the U.S.S. Enterprise. For those of us used to reruns of ‘60s (state-of-the-art-on-a budget) effects, the special effects of the first film were astounding. Further, Jerry Goldsmith’s (with uncredited assist from series theme composer Alexander Courage) orchestrations were nothing short of phenomenal.
But my personal winner, even to this day, remains the most powerfully affecting. It was a game changer. Back then, as the intrepid crew of The Enterprise was created on broadcast television, they carried with them the same subconscious expectations of television as it was back in the day: done-in-one adventures with the characters resetting back to the status quo by episode’s end. Yes, there’d be some moral imparted and people learning something new about themselves, but by the end each toy was put back in the box as pristine as they were taken out. Even the first film followed this paradigm.
Not this time.
Instead of being forced to wear Vaseline on their faces and pretend to be only 2 ½ years older rather than a decade, the actors were presented as the were in “real time”, facing issues rarely explored on broadcast television. Instead of being treated as avatars of well-worn pop culture catchphrases, they were presented as three-dimensional characters. The weight of their history and age upon their shoulders, even if it only seemed to weigh down Admiral James T. Kirk. The crew found themselves facing their mortality and the real prospect of death in intimate, real fashion that they never had before.
"I haven't faced death. I've cheated death. I've tricked my way out of death and -- patted myself on the back for my ingenuity. I know nothing."
- Admiral James T. Kirk (William Shatner).
So much can be said for this film…the space naval score by rising-star composer James Horner, Ricardo Montalban’s real-chesty, go-for-broke performance, the debut of the then-fetching Kirstie Alley…but it’s the relationships that carry the film, none more powerfully than the image presented here. Back in the day, the actors were marginalized; their talents dismissed by the nature of the material and medium of the original presentation. Say what you will about Shatner (trust me, I do), but he is capable of powerful subtlety. The late Leonard Nimoy was the show’s and films’ blessing, being the type of actor whose presence elevates the material he’s given. Yes, the scene can be considered a cheat because the emotions were for many bolstered from years of seeing these characters in endless reruns (“Star Trek”, technically, has never been off the air). But it was that moment that many realized that they saw these characters as real people, and that the “big death” was akin to that of a family member. The status quo was gone. There was no reset; no pat, pithy comeback to end an episode and off to the next adventure. Instead, there was the understanding that despite the death, life goes on.
"You knew enough to tell Saavik that how we face death is at least as important as how we face life."
"Just words."
"But good words. That's where ideas begin. Maybe you should listen to them."
- David Marcus (Merritt Butrick) and Admiral Kirk (William Shatner).
The consequences would carry over from this film onward. Most importantly the characters emotionally matured, now in sync with their physicality. It would take two films for that status quo to be reset (to a certain degree), but here there was something the franchise had lacked until that moment: Unpredictability. It felt like it had truly gone where it hadn't gone before. There was a new tomorrow on the horizon; a bittersweet one, but a new one nonetheless.
It felt…young.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 6 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. If you want to participate…what?...today should have been day “8”? What happened to days “6” and “7”, you ask? Hey, no one said nuthin’ ‘bout it havin’ to be consecutive….
>Ahem<
There are some common themes in my previous selections, but this one is different. To paraphrase another film, as far as I can remember I always wanted to be a dancer. Actually, that’s a misstatement because “wanted to be” implies a conscious choice. It was something I already was. According to my parents and people who knew from birth, it seemed I could naturally boogie right out of the womb. When I discovered Tom Jones, I would emulate his performances using my bed as a stage with a disconnected tape recorder mike in hand. So when John Travolta’s “Tony Monero” exploded on the pop culture scene in his now-and-still-iconic white suit, I had to see it. While the women (and some men) were screaming for the sex symbol Travolta had become almost overnight (“Welcome Back, Kotter” notwithstanding), my eight-year-old self was enraptured by the dance. To subsequent generations, the music and styles may seem the height of cheese, but dancers GET IT. Life is movement, movement is life, and dance is its ultimate expression. The music and the moves made me come alive inside. The electrifying soundtrack fronted by the Bee Gees and including the likes of Kool & The Gang and Miami's own KC & The Sunshine Band (which was only used in post; Travolta and the other actors were dancing to Motown standards during filming) was the highest grossing of all time until Prince's "Purple Rain” and is inextricable from the film.
However, that same little person wouldn’t get much of the narrative or its motifs until he got older; themes that would run parallel to his own life in many ways: Dance as an escape from a dreary existence; the longing for something more (in common with other films on my list); the quest for an identity, the desire for respect in a world that withholds same; the realization that the party can’t last forever, where one has to dismiss the superficial and be stripped to their essence to see what is there and determine what comes next. When the (dancer’s) high is gone and all one’s left is an empty dance floor…to borrow a song lyric, “[o]h, yeah, life goes on…long after the thrill…of living is gone.”
The film is dismissed in many circles as schlock, but that’s mostly due to aesthetics. For all its party atmosphere, it’s a particularly deep piece of cinema dealing with very adult conflicts. It’s a time capsule of its period, but its story, and the issues it tackles, are timeless. It’s a difficult coming-of-age story with no real resolution (let’s just pretend the Sylvester Stallone-directed '83 follow up never happened). But in the backdrop of life's capriciousness, there is the momentary, unbridled joy brought about by the dance. The film posits that it may be transitory, but that is what makes it all the more powerful and exultant.
This image is so iconic that the film’s title need not be mentioned.* Suffice it to say, in December, 1977 in a movie theater on a Saturday night, I was struck with a fever; and you know what?
I didn’t want to be cured.
*Except in this article’s title, natch.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification/update where warranted)]:
Day 5 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Anyone else care to try? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
“Take your best shot, Funboy. You got me dead bang”.
No, Mr. Lee…you had US “dead bang”.
“Reality Bites”, “Dazed and Confused” …those films and a few others are among those considered the cinematic benchmarks of "GenX". Well, I submit that “The Crow” (1994) is THE seminal film of that...my...generation. While those films did humorously touch upon the concerns and preoccupations of those of us coming of age in that tumultuous period, this film (despite its fantastical nature) touched upon and explored the existential angst (whether affected or not) that simmered beneath the surface, belying the dismissive Boomer sobriquet of “the slacker generation.” Ours was the generation who saw all our institutions crumble as we grew into adulthood: Church scandals, Vietnam, Watergate, Iran Contra, skyrocketing divorce rates and broken homes, Reaganomics, the Iraqi war, Rodney King, Compton, Nicole and Ronald, S&L…is it any wonder that a certain degree of nihilistic apathy developed? This film captures those concerns in atmospheric, Gothic, foreboding fashion. In that sense, WE collectively ARE Eric Draven, a victim of a world that has robbed him of all foundation (represented by his wife Shelley, ethereally played by Sofia Shinas), stripping him of his very life. However, his frustrated anger and despair cry for vengeance; to make sense of a world made senseless by forces beyond his control…and it’s only in the supernatural that he finds his outlet, one not afforded to the viewer. My own world had crumbled by this point, to which I almost lost everything, including my own life. Because of that, perhaps I’m making more of this than warranted; reading into it more than I should. But the film is literally a work of art for it is emotionally evocative in a way that goes beyond simple film. But isn't that what good art is supposed to do? Stir the emotions? Inspire self-reflection? The soundtrack by various grunge artists and the bittersweet, haunting, tribal, affecting score by Graeme Revell adds to the aesthetic. It is initially oppressive and permeated with a sense of loss.
That loss is no more powerfully felt than it is in the form of Brandon Lee as the title character. In many ways, his story is that of Draven’s: a man on the cusp of stardom and (arguably) a happy life until fate unexpectedly robbed him of it. Lee had been known primarily as the son of martial arts “god” Bruce Lee, and his highest profile film to date had been the eminently forgettable “Showdown in Little Tokyo”, playing second banana to Dolph Lundgren (even going so far as to proudly comment on his co-star’s manhood in script in an especially embarrassing sequence). Yet he was more than a martial arts star in the making. He was a bona-fide actor who gave the performance of a lifetime, which serves as both the apex of his craft and a hint of what could have been. The tragedy of his on-set death only adds to the material in a way in-and-of-itself supernatural. Like the character he portrays, Lee is the specter that hangs over the entire production like a shroud; his presence, and lack of same, permeating every facet and aspect of the entire film. Ernie Hudson is especially moving as “Officer Albrecht”, representative of the previous generation whose job is to protect the next, yet woefully inadequate to the task. Rochelle Davis, as “Sarah”, gives an equally moving performance representing the next generation whom ours is charged to protect. Yet how protective and nurturing can one be when one is dead inside? "The Crow" offers a bittersweet response.
Like the comic that spawned it, “The Crow” is a film that transcends itself. Yet, it is also subversive, for beneath its nihilism is a theme that resonates especially in the film’s tagline “real love is forever”, for this film is ultimately about love: How it uplifts us when it’s there, and how we despair when it’s gone. Love drives us, motivates us, and figuratively and in this film literally, restores us to life. There is no way to truly remake this film…though not for lack of trying Like yesterday’s cinematic choice, a host of diminishing sequels (and one moderately successful television series) followed, each incapable of capturing the evocative power of the original.*
Truth is, no matter what I say about this film, it would still be inadequate. “The Crow” is an iconic piece of art; one that despite its air of oppressive despair, shows us that where there is love, there is hope: it’s a film that reminds us that no matter how bad life can be…
…it can’t rain all the time.
*As of this writing, a remake starring Bill Skarsgard and Danny Huston will be in theatres in 2024. While whether it succeeds or fails remains to be seen, it will be due to its own merits. I’ve said on this blog before that “every generation deserves its own iteration”, and from that idea is the understanding that it will be its own entity completely devoid of the circumstances mentioned above, both internal and external, that makes this film so special.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety (with some modification where warranted)]:
Day 3 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. Have fun doing your own.
Fuck “Titanic”! THIS is the seminal cinematic historical romantic fiction of the ‘90s (fight me!). Michael Mann took a plodding, near-interminable novel and turned it into one of the most visually arresting, dynamically riveting, emotionally resonant adaptations ever put to screen. Daniel Day-Lewis surprised all and sundry in his turn as Nathaniel (the original “Hawkeye”), proving that the then-darling of the burgeoning indie scene could easily slip into the shoes of a heroic, romantic lead. Madeline Stowe’s “Cora” was, like the heroine mentioned in yesterday’s choice, not a wilting wallflower waiting to be rescued, but a woman of strength and fortitude equal to that Nathaniel’s. Most especially, Wes Studi’s chilling performance as “Magua” put him among the pantheon of the greatest of screen villains.
The cinematography, which included the incredible vistas of the Blue Ridge Mountains, is nothing short of breathtaking, matched by one of the most powerful, arresting, and as-close-to-spiritual-as-you-can-get scores ever recorded for film by the combined talents of Trevor Jones and Randy Edelman (with assist by Daniel Lanois). Trust me...I could go on for DAYS about this score (and it counts among my top five).
It’s high adventure, soulful romance (especially epitomized in the chaste but doomed love between Alice Munro [Jodhi May] and Eric Schweig [Uncas]), and powerful performances that stay with you yet demand re-watching. I know I'm "breaking the rules" by posting two (three?) images, but both relationships depicted not only epitomize the entire film in their respective shots, they also anchor the film, in my opinion, in equal measure.
[Back in 2018, there was a social media challenge on
Facebook in which a person posted a picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that
made an impact on them. However, I went a step beyond and posted an explanation
as to why they made that impact. For the sake of posterity, they're being
reposted here in their entirety (with some modification where warranted)]:
Day 2 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated for this challenge by Andrew Baldwin. I won't be challenging anyone to share but if these posts inspire you to do so, by all means...go to, go to.
This film is seminal to GenX and the generations that followed. Most adore it, some are "meh" about it, few cannot stand it. Yet George Lucas' long shot, little-film-that-could became a juggernaut for a nation feeling the weight of historical/cultural strife and cynicism; providing an antidote that was both throwback to a simpler time and a timely reminder of (there's that word again) hope. It was one of those forever films, and that's not hyperbole folks. In fact, this film in a sense paved the way for yesterday's choice, even though "Superman: The Movie" (1978) lagged in pre-production hell for a couple of years before this film debuted. With its themes of plain "good versus evil", it was dismissed by the critics at the time as Saturday morning kiddie-fare (harsh, but understandable given that its inspiration was steeped in the serials of the thirties and forties). Debatable as to whether or not it was intentional, further scrutiny showed that it is replete with mythological themes and constructs, wholly recognizable to the collective Jungian unconscious (even noted mythology scholar/expert Joseph Campbell gave it his seal of approval).
For some, "Star Wars" is Han Solo (Harrison Ford), the mercenary shoot-'em-first cynic who undergoes a character arc to come (or return) to the hero that lies beneath the cool exterior. For others, it's Princess Leia Organa (the late Carrie Fisher), an ahead-of-her-time (or perhaps, of-her-time) heroine of equal measure who was anything but a damsel in distress. Many others view it as Obi-Wan Kenobi (the late Sir Alec Guiness) and Darth Vader (James Earl Jones/David Prowse/Bob Anderson)...both father figures of a previous generation locked in battle, both figuratively and literally passing their sins and conflict onto the next generation.
But the image [above] is "Star Wars"' core essence; a bildungsroman for a young farmer named Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), who epitomizes 70's (or any other time's) youth. Dissatisfied with society and "the way things are", locked into place by family responsibility and circumstance, looking wistfully off into the distance for adventure and excitement (things he would be admonished later for craving), accompanied by John Williams' (there's that other word again) iconic theme, seeing the twin suns, one shining brighter than the other, not realizing that they (would come to) symbolize the choice as to which path he would take; a mirrored opportunity to rectify the error of his (then unknown) progenitor.
In my opinion, this image represents every child's...every person's...hope for a life full of adventure and fulfillment. While the events of the latest film in the series would mar it's finish, the image here is still serves as powerful a testament of the desire to truly live as any put to film.
[Back in
2018, there was a social media challenge on Facebook in which a person posted a
picture a day for 10 days of 10 films that made an impact on them. However, I
went a step beyond and posted an explanation as to why they made that impact.
For the sake of posterity, they're being reposted here in their entirety].
I usually don’t take up social media challenges, but this one is fun and plays into my side role as critic, so why not?
Day 1 of 10 movies that had an impact on me. 10 films that inspired you, 10 days, one image. I was nominated by this challenge by Andrew Baldwin.
For anyone who really knows me or frequents this page, #1 should come as no surprise. For a nine-year-old kid who was still optimistic enough to believe in fantasy and heroes, this film lived up to its tagline “you’ll believe a man can fly”. A film celebrating its 40th anniversary this year, it’s quixotically dated yet timeless.
It seemed that destiny wanted to ensure that all the pieces fell into place: Noted Bond franchise director Guy Hamilton was on tap to direct when his tax exile status in England precluded him from doing so, leading the Salkinds to reach out to last minute replacement Richard Donner, fresh from “The Omen”, who lived up to his credo of “verisimilitude”. Jerry Goldsmith had been first choice for score (so much so that the teaser trailer featured his music from the film “Capricorn One”), but his schedule wouldn’t allow for it. However, he did recommend his buddy John Williams, who created one of the most rousing musical scores ever produced for film. The cast, from Marlon Brando, Gene Hackman, and Terrance Stamp, to Margot Kidder, Jackie Cooper, Ned Beatty, Valerie Perrine, and a slew of others were, to varying degrees, believable in their roles. Ground breaking (for the time) special effects gave the illusion of reality within the fantasy.
But were it not for the person pictured here, this film would not have worked. Rarely does an actor give such a pitch-perfect performance; more so when the role he or she plays is based on a preexisting entity. Yet Christopher Reeve’s portrayal became as iconic as the part he took on and is still the standard by which all others are judged. This picture captures all that. The hope and determination of the character evidenced just in the eyes alone. The pose a study of soaring power and resoluteness. You can practically hear John Williams’ equally-iconic theme in the background. In this case, the weight upon Reeve’s shoulders to carry the day where Herculean, yet he did it as effortlessly as the Man of Steel himself.
For some, it’s a near-perfect mythological three-in-one film (science fiction, Americana coming of age bildungsroman, superhero adventure); for others, an un-ironic quaint fairy tale peppered with a smidgen of cheese. However, for a nine-year-old sitting in a theater in New Jersey across the bay from New York, living during the time of Son of Sam, rising crime rates, black outs, and protests, this movie not only showed to power any film can convey, but also reminded him that there is hope and good in the world...and that everything will be all right.
“You’ll believe a man can fly.”
Indeed.
His Dudeliness producer and I discuss one of our favorite modern films...and get a bit deep into the discussion.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NW3z770q1o&t=3s
The blog's corresponding podcast is now LIVE. Please give a listen to the first episode here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZQexCll9rs&t=4658s
[NOTE: THIS REVIEW PERTAINS TO AN
ADVANCED SCREENED WORK-IN-PROGRESS VERSION, AND NOT THE FINAL CUT. AN ADDENDUM
MAY OR MAY NOT BE ADDED AFTER THE OFFICIAL CUT RELEASE] [MINOR SPOILERS ABOUND]
"It was the best of times, it
was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of
foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it
was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of
hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing
before us, we were all going to direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the
other way...."
- Charles Dickens; "A Tale of Two
Cities".
"Two roads diverged in a wood,
and I - I took the one less traveled by - And that has made all the
difference."
- Robert Frost; "The Road Not
Taken".
Comparing
a super hero film to the literary likes of Dickens and Frost seems pretentious,
but The Flash, directed by Andy Muschietti, is a weighty film disguised as a
popcorn flashy fun film that plays to the conceits and themes of the quoted
from works above: duality, alternate paths, and the consequences of decisions,
measured or rash, are replete in the story of one man's inability to accept his
grief and, in doing so, try to change the immutable. The quotes above
succinctly encapsulate the story's premise and stakes.
It's
no secret that this film as had a troubled production from its announcement
five years ago: Production delays, actor availability, the COVID pandemic, the
diminishing quality and box office returns from each DC film released in
between, and the public relations nightmare that is its lead. It's a film with
a delicate balancing act of measuring tragedy against fun and, surprisingly
enough, The Flash equally manages to do both.
A
few years after the events of Justice
League (2017), Barry Allen (Ezra Miller) is a forensic scientist with the
Central City Police Department; a position which allows him to continue his
search for elusive evidence that would exonerate his father Henry Allen (Ron
Livingston, taking over for Billy Cidrup) of the murder of his mother, Nora
(Maribel Verdu). When the latest attempt fails, a frustrated Barry returns to
the past to alter the events leading to her death, causing a chain reaction
that can result in the destruction of the multiverse.
It's
appropriate that this film tackles this subject. In the comics, it was the
Barry Allen version of The Flash who ushered in not only the Silver Age of
comics, but the concept of multiverse and alternate timelines in the DC
universe. Further, the plot (fleshed out by screenwriters Christina Hodson and
Joby Harold) is loosely based on the DC Comics story line
"Flashpoint" by writer Geoff Johns and Andy Kubert. While this isn't
the only adaptation of the story (having been covered in animation in the DC
Animated Universe "The Flashpoint Paradox" and in the second season
of the CW series The Flash starring
Grant Gustin), it is the one that's most ambitious in its scope. It's a tight
story that doesn't slow down and doesn't chintz on the drama. The ramifications
of Barry's actions are disastrously epic, and Muschietti's horror background is
in full evidence here as a dystopian feeling of foreboding hangs in the air. Barry
finds himself in a new timeline wherein not only is mother alive, but he finds
a happier-go-lucky version of himself and a world without heroes...save one.
As aforesaid, the problematic nature of the film's lead ran the risk of tarnishing the production as a whole. No matter how fast the plot goes, it cannot outrun the shadow of Miller's real-life malfeasance. However, if one can divorce the art from the artist, it can be said that Ezra Miller pulls impressive double duty as two different iterations of Barry both visually and in characterization. The Barry we first see in this film is not the ADHD sprite we met in Justice League. Though still somewhat spastic and unsure, this is a Barry who's matured and embittered by a system he's sworn to uphold. The contrast between "our" Barry and the Barry who is unmarred by tragedy and unencumbered of responsibility is immense, allowing for the opportunity for character development that Miller sinks their teeth into. For purists, Miller's interpretation of Allen has struck a sour note. Yet one cannot deny the fact that when playing their version of each version, they bring their A-game. Miller engenders sympathy for Barry as the character comes face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, even as he believes that they can be circumvented. [Personal note: Perhaps I'm a bit more receptive to the performance than most. I myself have recently suffered a personal tragedy, which makes Barry's quest much more tragically relatable to me. But for me to feel that resonance shows how effective their performance is]. There's only perhaps one moment of unintentional humor from an overdramatized scene, but one cannot argue that the performance is a solid one. Ben Affleck returns as Batman one last time to provide Barry sage wisdom, and it's the most relaxed performance he's given as the character; offering a glimpse at what could have been.
It's
no secret that the tale involves a world without a Superman. Instead, it has
Supergirl, originally teased by an open pod in Man of Steel (2013) and finally
paid off in the form of newcomer Sasha Calle. Sasha is...fierce; imbuing Kara
Zor-El with loads of Latinx fire. Her fish-out-of-water character exudes
confidence to the extent that one can't help but accept her almost immediately
as Kal-El's cousin. Michael Shannon and Antje Traue reprise their roles of
"General Zod" and "Faora-Ul" from the aforementioned film,
imbued with a villainous precision brought to fruition; even more deadly than
in 2013, if that can be believed.
Honestly,
the real hook of this film is neither its star nor its premise. It's a return
31 years in the making: Michael Keaton,
donning the batsuit as his version of Batman. Just as there's a notable
contrast between the two Barrys, it's also a contrast between two Bruce Waynes.
While Affleck's bat is still a broken, weary warrior whose mission hangs upon
his shoulders like a shroud, Keaton's version is age-tempered and centered, if
no less eccentric. His Batman is more efficient and effective than he was in
Batman and Batman Returns. It's a performance that's imbued with history and filled with poignancy. Keaton is having a blast in the role, and it shows.
The screening I went to was unfinished, therefore no observation concerning the CGI can be fully assessed until the actual film release other than the those concerning the two Barrys, which was where the majority of the focus was for this version but, given what was shown, the visuals will be nothing short of spectacular. Benjamin Wallfisch score is more than serviceable, even if the only themes that are recognizable are not of his orchestration. Nevertheless, it hits the emotional beats where it needs to.
The
ending was cut short and no end credit scenes were shown, but even in this
version there were surprises galore (and if you've seen any of the
behind-the-scenes production footage, you can guess at least what one aspect of
the "surprise ending" will entail). It closes the book on one chapter
of DC cinematic history while it celebrates all that came before, implying that
every interpretation is valid, and every representation is respected. It's a
surprising love letter to DC live-action output.
Though
this version was still a work-in-progress and despite its controversial lead,
The Flash promises to be a satisfying conclusion to the Snyder-verse of DC
films (the trouble-plagued forthcoming Aquaman and The Lost Kingdom
notwithstanding); one that is epic in scope and intimate in emotion.
Run,
reader, run...to see The Flash.
