One Hundred Nights At The Cinema: Nos. 60 - 41
Dec 30 '02 (Updated Jan 27 '03)
The Bottom Line I've finally passed the halfway point. To those of you still hanging in there, thanks for reading. To those who thought I'd bail by now.... Pbbbfffffft!
Previous installment(s):
Nos. 100 - 81: http://www.epinions.com/content_2970853508
Nos. 80 - 61: http://www.epinions.com/content_3007160452
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After much toil and trouble, here is the third installment (of five) in my seemingly neverending list of Top 100 favourite movies, conceived to celebrate my 100th review here at Epinions. You can check out the previous two installments at the links listed above.
It seems like the furor over my #77 pick has died down a bit. I can't say that I expected anyone to agree with me (although one did; thanks Chad), but I didn't expect to be hunted down in my castle by an angry mob of villagers carrying pitchforks and torches. Okay, I didn't get that, but I did get some tongue-lashings. It's okay, I'm a big boy. I can take it.
Can't promise that there will be anything as controversial in this installment. Although I'm sure there are some of you out there still in a tizzy over some prior picks, who will become even tizzier after you've read the twenty mini-reviews below…
60. Heathers
directed by Michael Lehmann, 1989
About "Midnight Run" I said "from about 1988 to 1991, if you'd have asked me what my favourite film of all time was, this might have been my answer". The caveat "might" was included because I also "might" have put "Heathers" at the top of the heap.
I remember going into "Heathers" cold, not knowing a lick about it and never having heard of any of its stars (Winona Ryder, Christian Slater, Shannon Doherty, et al.). I was also just on the brink of developing my own storm of -- quite powerful -- teen angst. "Heathers" came along at the right time, caught that wave, and rode it all the way into shore.
It seems like Veronica (Ryder) can't stand her friends, all of whom are named, in a fit of coincidence, Heather. They're rich and snobby; she's middle-class and bookish. Enter JD, a sort of Jack Torrence-in-shortpants. Slater is in Nicholson mode here (to the hilt), as the new kid in school, hell bent on raising hell. Death and destruction follow in due course; just another day in high school, methinks. This is Michael Lehmann's second film on this list; hopefully this entry is less of a surprise than "Hudson Hawk".
59. The Ref
directed by Ted Demme, 1994
I'm actually, as I write this, in the middle of composing a full-length review on "The Ref", to be submitted as part of my "Spawn of Scrooge" write-off (shameless plug alert #1). It should already be published by the time you're reading this list, so let me just make a few, short points.
Kevin Spacey used to be cool. "The Ref" proves this. Judy Davis deserves to work more. "The Ref" proves this. Denis Leary is a fine actor, and not just an acerbic comic. "The Ref" proves this. When Ted Demme died, he took with him a unique sensibility, and a propensity for making lovely small movies that told tales of woe set in small-town winterlands (see also "Beautiful Girls"). Despite "Blow", he will be missed.
Okay. I'll save my good stuff for the real review, which you can read here (shameless plug alert #2):
http://www.epinions.com/content_84783828612
58. Get Shorty
directed by Barry Sonnenfeld, 1995
In a staggering display of consistent ineptitude, I contend that John Travolta has given exactly one good performance in the 25 years since "Saturday Night Fever". I'm not talking about "Pulp Fiction", in which he was over-processed and hackneyed, or "Primary Colors", which was more of a caricature than a performance, or "Blow-Out", which I haven't seen and thus don't feel fit to judge. I am talking about his role as Chili Palmer, the loan shark turned prospective movie producer, in Barry Sonnenfeld's Elmore Leonard adaptation, "Get Shorty".
Travolta manages supreme cool, while working well with his supporting cast (which includes Gene Hackman, Rene Russo, Delroy Lindo, Dennis Farina, James Gandolfini, and Danny DeVito in the title role). Sonnenfeld, like Travolta, turns in his only good work here, too. It's a wry, touching little fable that's smart about itself and about the industry it satirizes. Leonard's dialogue, brought to the screen by ace screenwriter Scott Frank, is sharp and sassy, proving why it so influenced Quentin Tarantino (who, incidentally, strongly suggested Travolta take the role; if not for that sage piece of advice, Johnny-boy might have been ohfer the last quarter-century).
57. The Fisher King
directed by Terry Gilliam, 1991
This is actually the Terry Gilliam search-for-the-Holy-Grail movie that I prefer (that "other" Holy Grail movie I've never seen in a format that doesn't have a blurry picture or a muffled soundtrack, which, granted, might undermine my viewing experience). Robin Williams plays Parry, a knight-errant searching for the golden challis (er, rather he plays a crazy park-dweller who thinks he's a knight-errant). Jeff Bridges is a down-on-his-luck shock jock, relegated to hiding out in the backroom of his girlfriend's (Mercedes Ruehl) video store. And Amanda Plummer is the shy, awkward maiden who steals Parry's heart, and his last dumpling.
These broken people come together memorably, ably backed-up by a New York City filmed as if it were an Arthurian castle. Gilliam gets a lot of mileage out of the gothic architecture, the monolithic office buildings, and even the feral nature of Central Park. And on top of that, he has a firm grip on a story that is gripping and poignant and never at a loss for words. Richard LaGravenese, who incidentally also wrote "The Ref" from two slots back, hasn't been this good since.
http://www.epinions.com/content_81868852868
56. A Fish Called Wanda
directed by Charles Crichton, 1988
The last time I saw "A Fish Called Wanda" it was at a fundraiser for one of Toronto's older historical theatres. The theatre manager's brother's boss' wife's uncle (or maybe it was her aunt) knew John Cleese personally, and asked him to help out. Ever the obliging chap, Cleese offered to bring a print of "Wanda" (then celebrating its ten-year anniversary), introduce it, and answer questions afterwards.
Dave and I (Hi Dave) got there plenty early, took our seats in the fifth row, and waited anxiously. Not five minutes before the movie was to start, a rumbling emerged from the back of the auditorium. I turned to see John Cleese, head held high, satisfied smirk on his face, ambling slowly towards the stage. He had grown an enormous paunch in the ten years since "Wanda", and a moustache too, but there was no mistaking the tall gentleman for anyone but Basil Fawlty, 1/6 of Monty Python, and Archie Leach. Once he got on stage, he made a few quips, paused for multiple standing ovations, and introduced the flick.
After the credits rolled, Cleese came back on stage, again to thunderous applause, and proceeded to answer questions from the audience. I'd estimate that 75% of the questions were about Python, 20% about "Fawlty Towers", and, alas, only 5% about "Wanda". Still, if I didn't already love the film (and I did, immensely), my night with Cleese cemented my adoration for it forever.
55. Lola rennt, a.k.a. Run Lola Run
directed by Tom Tykwer, 1998
Many people have compared "Lola’s" déjà vu narrative structure with such films as "Sliding Doors" and "Groundhog Day". True enough, but I give it more credit than that. In those cases the character was caught in the film’s mystery, unable to break the time-warp spell and get on with their lives. Here, time breaks, shifts, bends, and cracks for one simple reason: because Lola wills it so. She wills herself a second chance to get her boyfriend Manni some much-needed money. She wills the spectacular futures of the people she runs into on the street. She wills the money from her father. And in the final sequence at a casino, her will is put on its most bare, full-throated display. Rarely have I been more satisfied with a clichéd ending; it had to be that way, because that’s what Lola wanted (and whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. Omigod! Is it all just a thinly veiled "Damn Yankees" reference?)
Tom Tykwer's schizophrenic style utilizes video, film, and cartoons, quick editing, disturbed camera angles, and even an oppressive industrial musical soundtrack. Couple this with the intense energy and vulnerable sexuality of his two-time leading lady, the fiery redhead Franka Potenete, and you get a film that doesn't stop running long enough to contemplate where it's been, where it's going, or to allow its audience to take a breath.
54. Fargo
directed by Joel Coen, 1996
This is the Coen Brothers' third entry on the countdown (so far), and probably their most successful venture to date. "Fargo" was not only a critical sensation (territory that wasn't new to the Coens), but also box office gold ("box office gold" being, of course, a relative term). Which is quite astounding when you realize that this is a film that features multiple, realistically filmed murders, and a cartoonish shot of Steve Buscemi being fed into a wood chipper.
It also features she whose name must be spoken in hushed, reverential tones. Frances McDormand, in an Oscar-winning role that doesn't start until the film is almost a half an hour old, brightens every scene she's in (a neat trick when the film's backdrop is bright white snow for as far as the eye can see). Her Marge Gunderson is the very pregnant chief of police, pausing momentarily during a homicide investigation for her morning sickness to pass.
My only regret, surrounding "Fargo"? That editor Roderick Jaynes, who was nominated for an Oscar, didn't win. I'd have loved to see how the Coens would have handled that one [editor's note: for all of you not in on the joke, Roderick Jaynes, like Alan Smithee and Peter Andrews and Donald Kaufman, does not exist].
53. Hard Core Logo
directed by Bruce McDonald, 1996
As a proud denizen of the Great White North, it shames me to note that this is the only purely Canadian film in my Top 100. Bad Canuck. Bad, bad, bad Canuck. Our cinema just doesn't excite me as much as yours does. David Cronenberg and Atom Egoyan are, to me, over-rated wankers, snobbish artistes, and inept storytellers. Bruce McDonald, on the other hand, I always enjoy.
The easy way to describe "HCL" is that it is Canada's answer to "This is Spinal Tap": it’s a rockumentary that follows a legendary punk band, broken up over much acrimony, as they reunite for one last concert, and then one last tour. Joe Dick (Hugh Dillon, lead singer of the Headstones, a ridiculous post-punk band themselves, shines ever so brightly) and Billy Tallent (Callum Keith Rennie, so good he could have taken over the role of his "Memento" co-star Guy Pearce, and that movie might have been even better) are stubborn fools and life long buds. They fight, they drink, they drive, the play music. I should really write a full-length review on this gem one day, because there's not enough room in this capsule format to tell you all the great things about this flick. I will say this, though: Julian Richings, who plays punk legend Bucky Haight, works out at my gym. Saw him on the bench-press machine just this morning.
52. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
directed by George Roy Hill, 1969
Maybe I've been brainwashed by reading too many William Goldman memoirs, but "Butch Cassidy" boasts what has to be one of the best screenplays ever written (and so does "The Year of the Comet" and "Memoirs of an Invisible Man" and "The Great Waldo Pepper"… [wakes up suddenly]… where am I?). Except for the montage sequence that announces their arrival in Mexico (an overlong bore), it moves along at a brisk but not quickened pace, features sparkling dialogue, and has a sense of humour about itself with nary a joke in sight.
The movie also benefits from the charisma between its two leads. Paul Newman and Robert Redford, the former already bankable and the latter the new redhead in town, exude enough star wattage to light up Time's Square, and have so much fun you'd think it was going out of style. George Roy Hill's direction is superb, marshalling the talents of his two actors impeccably. It's no wonder that these three men, so good together, would resume their partnership but 4 years later (more on that to come…).
51. Shichinin no samurai, a.k.a. The Seven Samurai
directed by Akira Kurosawa, 1954
When I moved to downtown Toronto -- from the sterile suburbs of Thornhill -- one of the first attractions I was excited to try out was the bustling repertory cinema community. It turns out that one such theatre, the Paradise, was but a 15-minute walk from my house (am I giving stalking-minded Epinionators too much information here? Probably. Come and get it, if you're man enough! Anyway…). One of the first films I saw at the Paradise (oh how aptly named she is!) was Akira Kurosawa's "The Seven Samurai". Having never seen a Kurosawa film before that, I was both anxious and excited at the treasures that awaited me.
And what treasures they are. Three hours worth of honour, revenge, swordplay, battles in the rain, insanity, death, destruction, and redemption. The seven warriors are each compelling and charismatic in their own way, with distinct characters and unique fighting styles. But it is Toshiro Mifune, of course, who steals the show. His dingy and feral Kikuchiyo is a ball of kinetic energy, yelling and screaming his way through a performance that you can't take your eyes off of. The big screen of the Paradise could hardly contain him.
(added bonus: My "Seven Samurai -- Criterion Collection" DVD arrived in the mail today. Thanks to eBay, I now own Kurosawa's masterpiece, to be watched over and over in the safety of my own home. Yippee!)
50. Saturday Night Fever
directed by John Badham, 1977
I titled my full review, "Much More Than Polyester And Platform Shoes" because, well, I expected "Saturday Night Fever" to be much less than even those lofty goals.. And I was pleasantly surprised when it proved me wrong.
I was 2 years old when "Fever" was released, at the height of disco mania. I imagine, for a time there, it was okay to dig the movie, to go to disco clubs, even to like the Bee-Gees. And then, for a time, it was probably equally cool to diss the movie, to abhor disco, and to spit on the Bee-Gees. Well, 25 years have passed, and, subjectivity being what it is, we can now all look at the film in a new light. And I have looked at the film in a new light. And I have declared it good.
True, a funkateer like myself should probably not admit that the dance scenes are rippingly good, and the disco music (a.k.a. the anti-funk) is kinetic. But I do. And I also admit that John Travolta, an actor who makes me want to scratch out my eyeballs with each passing film he makes, turns in a wonderful performance. He's no De Niro, but he doesn't have to be. And I'll also admit that the social realism of the film struck me as quite powerful (while I'm in such an admitting mood, let me just say… nah, forget it).
(author's note: We've finally reached the halfway point. Are you as tired as I am? Must move forward swiftly now…)
http://www.epinions.com/content_79114047108
49. The Abyss
directed by James Cameron, 1989
Take one James Cameron movie, about a technological disaster at sea that forms the backdrop for a gripping love story. Add another blockbuster, about a motley crew of oil drillers called on to save the world. Sprinkle in a classic late 1968 movie about an outer space adventure to meet intelligent life on the other side of the universe. Add some neat science, a little humanity, cutting edge special effects, and a whole lot of water. Mix briskly. Serve… “The Abyss”.
Comparisons to “Titanic”, “Armageddon”, and �: A Space Odyssey” notwithstanding, this is a gripping movie. Some have called it overlong, slow, and boring. Not to my eyes. The action sequences are intense and suspenseful, tempered nicely by some highly charged emotional content. I mean, fer godsakes, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio offers to drown herself, and let Ed Harris drag her back to base several hundred metres underwater, because they only have one working air tank in their crippled sub-pod. And when they get back, the scene where the crew tries to revive her is rendered stunning and gripping by Harris' focused intensity.
As for the aliens, well, even though their ultimate purpose is unclear in the story, I’m not sure it really matters. Please accept their ineffableness, and admire their beauty.
48. Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back
directed by Irvin Kershner, 1980
I'm not a huge Star Wars fan. Sure, I've seen every film, most multiple times, and once upon a time I owned Darth Vader lunch box. But I don't swear by the tenets of the Force, nor do I hold George Lucas' space opera up as the crowning achievement in special effects cinema. As such, no one of the films really deserves to make my list here. But on a whole, the trilogy does deserve to be recognized (the as-yet-unfinished sestology appears to be doing its best to crap on the earlier films memory). So I've singled out "Empire" as the most worthy candidate, and included it as the sole representative. I'll let Dante from Kevin Smith's "Clerks" tell you why (um, I guess a 'spoiler warning' should go here, but I can't imagine any of this is still a secret):
"Empire had the better ending, I mean, Luke gets his hand cut off, finds out Vader's his father, Han gets frozen and taken away by Boba Fett it ends on such a down note, I mean, that's what life is, a series of down endings. All Jedi had was a bunch of muppets."
Couldn't have said it better myself.
47. Love and Death
directed by Woody Allen, 1975
For me, "Love and Death" bridges together the slapstick satire of Woody's early movies with the grand verbal wit of the later movies. It never falls into the trap of relying too much on the former, and its reliance on the latter produces some of the silliest Woody dialogue I've ever heard. But it's the perfect mixture between the two that makes this my pick for funniest Woody Allen flick.
I've always felt that the context (Russia in the 19th century and the Napoleonic Wars) and the content (pre-existentialist philosophy) were fine targets to satire. There are many truly hilarious scenes here (my favourite: Woody, drawn into a duel, is offered to choose his weapon from a pair of guns; he picks them both up, examines them for a moment, and then says "I'll take these"), the scenery is shot gorgeously, the music by Prokofiev is jubilant and fits in perfectly with the film, and there is never a down moment. Come to think of it, the pace reminds me of the joke-a-minute style "pioneered" by the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker "Airplane" movies. Only Woody, dear Woody, bestows such intelligence and wit upon the material that it is elevated to a divine state.
46. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
directed by Guy Ritchie, 1998
"Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" would probably own a spot 10 or 12 places higher on this list, if I hadn't seen Guy Ritchie interviewed by Charlie Rose before ever seeing the movie. See, "Lock, Stock" had a wicked rep before it ever hit our shores, as a labyrinthine British caper picture that had just recently broken all box office records across the pond. Well, that's fine and dandy, but didn't "Bean" do the same thing?
Anyway, this wasn't enough to get my mouth salivating. But Ritchie was. On Rose, he was erudite, artful, witty, dry, and terribly amusing. He had personality to spare, and I had hopes that he had taken what he wasn't using and poured it into his film. Luckily, he had. "Lock, Stock" is indeed a labyrinthine British caper picture. Or, more accurately, it's hyper-labyrinthine, super-British, ultra-caperous, and is made up of a string of gorgeously composed pictures, 24 per second. A case of a film exceeding even the highest expectations.
45. The Quick and the Dead
directed by Sam Raimi, 1995
Many would point to the "Evil Dead" series as Sam Raimi's defining works. Or I suspect these days it is kind of trendy to look to "Spider-Man" as his crowning achievement (not even close, says I). Those looking for less fantastic fare might recommend "A Simple Plan", or "The Gift", or "For Love of the Game". But to me, the film perched highest atop Mt. Raimi will always be "The Quick and the Dead".
Okay, so you've got Gene Hackman as the despotic ruler of a small, Western town. He has this annual gunfight tournament, where the winner ("The Quick") gets to take home a mountain of gold, while the losers ("The Dead") get a quick burial. And its got, in pre-stardom roles, Leonardo Di Caprio and Russell Crowe as prospective gunfighters. It's got camera work and moody music that would make Sergio Leone green with envy. And a propulsive and redemption-filled narrative that, no matter how many times I see it, gets my heart a-pumping with unabashed glee.
It's got all these things, which are great in and of themselves. But as an added bonus, they make me forget that Sharon Stone set a foot anywhere near this film. Now that's an achievement.
44. A Night at the Opera
directed by Sam Wood, 1935
A Marx Brothers' movie is, of course, never about the plot. The plot is just the connective tissue used to get from one outrageous comedy piece to another. It's the pieces themselves that carry the weight of the picture. And my-oh-my are the pieces here astounding.
Everyone points to the stateroom scene, and justifiably so. It's the epitome of the Marx Brothers' style: Chico's mischief, Harpo's innocence/devilishness, and Groucho's bemused commentary. For me, the funniest moment of the scene occurs even before anyone enters the room, when Groucho tries to order room service from the steward. His joke about tipping ("Do you have two fives?" "Yes sir." "Good, then you won't need the ten cents I was going to give you."), and Chico and Harpo's desire for hard-boiled eggs have me on the floor laughing every time.
There are many such masterful moments here: the "sanity clause" scene, which seems to go on forever, producing laugh after laugh after laugh ("Bartender, two beers." "I'll have two beers, too."); the opening scene when Groucho is late for dinner; Harpo falling down the spiral staircase, and continuing around even after he's hit the bottom; and the riotous demolition of the opera at the end (when the orchestra plays 'Take Me Out to the Ballgame', I just lose it!). It's all madness, and it's all hilarious.
43. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
directed by Peter Jackson, 2001
"The Two Towers", the recently released second installment in Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, will probably never make any version of this list. Not because it isn't a great film -- it is -- but because I expected it to be a great film. And it lived up to its expectations.
With "The Fellowship of the Ring", however, no one knew. It could have been an enormous flop, taking down the careers of Jackson, Elijah Wood, and Cate Blanchett with it, while single-handedly causing the crumbling of New Zealand's economy. That it took the other road was a feat in itself. That it tore down that other road with all the power and speed and grace of an F1 Driver on the tail of Michael Schumacher makes it a monumental achievement, an enormous feather in Peter Jackson's hat, and most assuredly a deserving entry on this list.
42. Lawrence of Arabia
directed by David Lean, 1962
I was awed by this movie's epic beauty. That sounds like an odd statement to make about a David Lean movie (I mean, of course I was awed by its epic beauty), but I was still surprised at how beautiful it managed to be. The man really knew how to use a horizon. The shots of the slow sunrise, of the Howitat and Bedouin caravan crossing the Nefud desert, of the fallen train, and especially of Sherif Ali's entrance riding his camel in from the distance, are all magical in their composition. Not to mention the way he photographs Lawrence's piercing blue eyes and shiny blonde hair. He looks the part of an angel.
What surprised me most about the movie is its perfect use of comedic relief. This comes from both the wit of Robert Bolt's, and the foolish actions of some of the characters. The humour is paced perfectly. It never gets in the way of the narrative, and provides opportunity for further character development.
All that being said, the greatest aspect of this movie is its impressive cast of actors. Omar Sharif is cool and majestic; Alec Guinness offers his wit and dignity; Anthony Quinn (almost unrecognizable) brings brutishness and charisma. Even Jose Ferrer and Claude Rains in supporting roles add key elements to the picture. And of course, Peter O'Toole is perfect as Lawrence, capturing all of his boyish charm, beauty, and British snobbery. And eventually, he manages to capture his courage as well.
41. MASH
directed by Robert Altman, 1970
"MASH" is a curious little bird. It asks its audience to side with a group of egotistical, pretentiously intellectual, pompous and self-righteous surgeons, while looking on the hard-working but personality deficient nurses and administrators as villains. Okay. I'm with it on that count. And it asks its audience to laugh hysterically while a young boy, just back from the front, has his wounded leg detached by a bone saw. Yup. I can take that too. And it begs its audience to allow for a boatload of racism and sexism and elitism, because any -ism the human condition is capable of has to be a better hand than war itself. Sure thing.
And it asks its audience to appreciate Robert Altman's then-groundbreaking techniques (i.e. having his then-unknown actors talk over each other, documentary realism, in-your-face satire), for he's going to use them over and over again throughout his career. "MASH" was his first kick at the can, and, to me, his most effective strike.
http://www.epinions.com/content_79624375940
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[In the next installment: Two from Uncle Francis, Two from the Brothers Coen, and Two from Meathead]
Nos. 40 - 21: http://www.epinions.com/content_3058999428
Nos. 20 - 1: http://www.epinions.com/content_3078004868
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Member: Mike Stone
Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
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