TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 7 – STAR TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN (1982)

 

[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.

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 6 - SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (1977)

 

[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. 

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 5 - THE CROW (1994)

 

[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.

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 4 - "HIGHLANDER" (1985)

[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 4 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 or do not, there is no care.

What started out as a class thesis project turned into one of the most maligned and mocked film franchises in modern cinema. Where to begin? Gregory Widen’s original soulful and earnest screenplay about the inherent tragedy of immortality undermined by money-grubbing producers and a too-cool-for-school director hoping for a quick buck; a lead who at the time barely knew English, much less emulate a proper Scottish accent; a proper Scot cast as a Spaniard with an Egyptian pedigree; a film that was clearly meant as a “done-in-one” branched out into ever-worsening film sequels that only marred the original’s legacy.

Yet for all that, “Highlander” (1985) captures the imagination with it’s barely-scratched mythology of Immortal beings living among humanity “down through the centuries, living many secret lives, struggling to reach the time of the Gathering, where the few who remain…will battle to the last.” Christopher Lambert’s performance as “Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod” may have been wooden, but his screen presence perfectly fit the film’s milieu and zeitgeist; his unique accent totally appropriate for an individual having lived throughout the world for four centuries. Looking at those feral-yet-haunted eyes (an unintended-yet-welcomed consequence of the lead's myopia), one could imagine all the joys and tolls of those lifetimes lived. Despite only being available for a week of shooting, none can deny that Connery made the most of it, imbuing a much needed levity to balance the gravitas a character like “Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez” would carry.  Clancy Brown, a fine actor in any production, had been hampered by Peter S. Davis & William Panzer’s desire to make the fearsome “Kurgan” into a stock, cartoonish ‘80s nutjob (in the original screenplay, the Kurgan was as weighted down by his immortality as much as Connor was, fighting for “the Prize” only because it was all that was left to him, which would have made for a much more meaningful and powerful take).

Say what you will about director Russel Mulcahy, his MTv-generation sense of style gave this film its own distinct identity, and the one-two punch of Michael Kamen’s score along with the stirring soundtrack by Queen elevates what could have been B-movie fare to something close to mythic. Case in point, Brian May was inspired to write “Who Wants To Live Forever” after watching the montage of MacLeod watching his beloved wife, Heather (Beatie Edney), whither and die while he remains unchanged…it’s this sequence that elevates the entire film, and presents a glimpse as to Widen's narrative intentions. Be that as it (Brian) may, the soundtrack and orchestrations perfectly underscore the sense of weariness and loss an unending lifetime can evoke, yet at the same time provide a stirring, rollicking sense of occult adventure. This film is (despite it's flaws) "a kind of magic"...and it is felt throughout the film. Without embarrassment I can say that, for a time, I was obsessed with this mythology. As with the Immortals, the film stands outside the fringes of the every day. Much of the mythology wouldn’t be properly (in varying degrees) explored until the series it inspired several years later. But here, just a hint of that world was enough to incite the imagination. 

The image above is the climatic shot, representing not only the receipt of “The Prize”, but also a moment of orgiastic catharsis: Pain, pleasure, power…release...the culmination of a nigh-interminable existence…all embodied in one image. 

The film’s most famous tagline is “There Can Be Only One.” In truth, there should have been only one for, marred though it be, “Highlander” achieved all it had to do in one.

(And for the record…to this day I absolutely LOVE that Masamune katana).

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 3 - "THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS" (1992)

[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.

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 2 - "STAR WARS" (1977)

 

[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.

TEN MOVIES THAT MADE AN IMPACT ON ME: SOCIAL MEDIA CHALLENGE REVISITED: DAY 1 - "SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE" (1978)

[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.