Image by Alexandra_Koch from Pixabay One of my very first blogs was dedicated to my thoughts on the filmography of Christopher Nolan, who is considered by many to be one of the best directors of his generation alongside the likes of David Fincher, P.T. Anderson, and Quentin Tarantino. To summarize my thoughts here, I tend to enjoy the more grounded Nolan films like The Dark Knight and Dunkirk while his philosophical epics (specifically The Prestige and Tenet) tend to be more hit-or-miss. And so going into his sophomore feature Memento, I was cautiously optimistic as I thought the story being told would be thoroughly engaging and I would come away really liking it.
Unfortunately, this was not the case. To be clear, there is a good deal to like and respect about the craft that went into making Memento and thus it’s understandable why so many Nolan fans and moviegoers in general consider it to still be one of his best films. But I have to ask…why isn’t Memento great? [NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Memento.” You have been warned.] What’s It About Memento follows Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce), a victim of assault that caused him to have anterograde amnesia and thus no longer be able to form new memories. However, Leonard’s primary concern in life now is not his own disability but avenging his wife Catherine (Jorja Fox) who was raped and murdered. While he managed to kill the man who assaulted her, the accomplice managed to escape that night leaving Leonard with a singular goal of inflicting his own form of vigilante justice on the man whom he believes to be named “John G” or “James G.” To help in his investigation, Leonard keeps tedious notes to himself, takes Polaroid photos, and tattoos names and other information on himself since he forgets everything within five minutes of learning it. During the film’s black-and-white sequences, Leonard remembers a man called Sammy Jankis (Stephen Tobolowsky) who suffers from a similar amnesia to Leonard which caused him to fatally overdose his wife with insulin shots. However, Leonard suspects that Sammy’s condition is actually fake. In the film’s color sequences (which are shown in reverse chronological order), Leonard tattoos the license plate of “John G” onto himself before meeting a bartender named Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss) according to one of his notes. At first, Natalie notices and comes to resent Leonard due to the fact that his clothing and car appear identical to her boyfriend’s Jimmy Grantz (Larry Holden). However, once aware of Leonard’s condition, Natalie persuades him to drive a man called Dodd (Callum Keith Rennie) out of town in exchange for running the “John G” license plate number for him. Afterwards (or beforehand 😊), Leonard meets a contact named Teddy (Joe Pantoliano) who warns him about Natalie but Leonard’s photograph of Teddy indicates that he cannot trust him. Once Natalie provides Leonard with the license plate information for a John Edward Gammell (which ends up being Teddy’s full name), Leonard drives Teddy to an abandoned building and shoots him (which happens to be the opening scene of the film). The final black-and-white sequence shows Leonard meeting with Teddy (an undercover police officer) and learns from him that the “John G” that he’s been looking for is Natalie’s boyfriend Jimmy. After strangling Jimmy, Leonard photographs his body and the final color sequence for the movie begins as the Polaroid develops. After swapping his clothes for Jimmy’s, Leonard becomes skeptical of Jimmy’s role in his wife’s murder when he hears him whisper “Sammy” (Leonard has only told the story of Sammy to those he has met). His concern and skepticism leads him back to Teddy, who reveals to Leonard that he and his wife’s real attacker was killed a year ago. Ever since, Teddy has been using Leonard and further reveals that “Sammy” is really Leonard’s memory of himself (which he has repressed out of guilt). The film concludes with Leonard burning the Polaroid of Jimmy’s body and tattooing Teddy’s license plate on himself and noting to himself that he is not to be trusted in order to mistake Teddy for “John G” and kill him. In a monologue, Leonard expresses his willingness to lie to himself in order to get justice for anybody that he feels has wronged him yet feels confident in his ability to be aware enough of the consequences of his actions. What’s Good About It That plot sounds pretty confusion, doesn’t it? On paper, Memento (in my humble opinion) simply doesn’t work. But with several creative minds at work both in front of and behind the camera, the film manages to overcome those odds and be moderately easy to follow. While many people can take credit for a piece of this pie, I want to shoutout a handful of notable individuals. On screen, Memento just cannot work without a believably sympathetic yet morally askew character being portrayed. And I think Guy Pearce fits that mold perfectly. The way he exemplifies the nuances of Leonard’s oddities with regards to how he copes mentally and emotionally with his amnesia not only comes off as grounded but serves for some great interactions with several supporting characters. Furthermore, the third-act reveal of Leonard’s devious actions doesn’t feel cheap or out of step with the narrative that writer-director Christopher Nolan has created. Instead, Pearce’s off-beat charisma combined with his moments going to deplorable lengths to maintain some semblance of psychological stability feels in line with the character that Nolan has written. Simply put, the central performance behind Memento’s protagonist makes the tragedy of this tormented soul a compelling part of a film that should draw you in more with its editing style and unconventional narrative structure. Not to understate the importance of Pearce’s acting to the movie, but most people (including myself) would agree that the MVP of Memento is its editor Dody Dorn (Insomnia, Matchstick Men, End of Watch). Without question, Nolan’s outside-the-box approach to telling this story could very easily turn off most general viewers if not for an editing style that keeps the audience following the narrative with relative ease. Of course, the dichotomous color schemes helps but also the way Dorn handles scene transitions from Nolan’s script is very on point. Whether or not you like Memento at the end of the day, you cannot deny that Dorn’s work as the editor makes the film worth seeing on its own terms. Of course, ultimately the genius (if there is such a thing at work here) that makes Memento a good movie is the story and direction from Christopher Nolan himself. Based on much of his later filmography, from Inception to Tenet, only a madly auteur-ish mind like his could conjure such a narrative and such a cinematically unique way to tell it. And it is his handling of the team that worked on the film is what, for me, makes Memento good enough to call a “good movie.” So, if you’re a little skeptical based on the plot description I gave earlier, take a chance on it knowing that it’s not a movie for everyone. If nothing else, you’ll come away knowing that Nolan has earned his reputation as one of the best filmmakers of his generation. What’s Holding It Back Reading the prior section might’ve convinced you that I actually love Memento. Well…I don’t. I respect it, which is why I wanted to write about its strengths while also arguing that I cannot consider it a “great movie.” Much of me holding back on giving such an accolade for the movie has to do with what I characterize as its “doubled-edged sword” nature. To begin with Nolan’s screenplay for Memento, I think there’s enough good in there to recommend it to people without giving off the impression that it’ll be a guaranteed “worth your time” kind of flick. For me, I look for any movie to give me characters that I fall in love with and enjoy watching their story unfold. And while I found myself somewhat charmed and sufficiently entertained by Leonard’s vigilante journey, I was never enthralled or enchanted by it. Furthermore, he’s certainly a sympathetic anti-hero while avoiding full-on villain status but never came off as a truly great character. Upon reflection, much of this for me comes from the lackluster reveal about the truth behind Leonard’s actions in the third act. It just didn’t hit for me the way Nolan seemed to intend, and I think much of this has to do with the fact that Leonard never came off to me as having a purely good side to him. Sure, he’s complex and tragic but that isn’t enough to convince me that he’s worth really caring about by the time the credits roll. Aside from the story and characters, I just think that the editing style and narrative structure of Memento turns off too many people to be considered great. Is it unique and unconventional? Definitely. Is it worth studying for historical or artistic purposes? For sure, if that’s your thing. But as a piece of gripping entertainment, I simply cannot place it on the same level as many other great films made around the same time or films with similar stories. On top of that, I’m more likely to recommend several other Christopher Nolan films to people than this one (including the weird ones), from Insomnia and Inception to The Dark Knight and Dunkirk. All of those I consider great films (or masterpieces, in the case of The Dark Knight), but Memento just doesn’t fit into that cinematic collective in my humble opinion. But maybe I’m wrong, and Memento is truly a cinematic masterpiece. I suppose you’ll have to convince me otherwise. 😊 What am I missing about Christopher Nolan’s Memento? Do you think it’s a great movie or do you agree that something’s holding it back from greatness? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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“One is always considered mad when one perfects something that others cannot grasp.” – Edward D. Wood, Jr. “Back in the 1970s, it was mostly all-black audiences coming into the theaters. So, we presented stories they could relate to.” – Rudy Ray Moore While many critics, cinephiles, and cinema lovers often focus their time and energy on turning peoples’ attention to the work of who they consider to be the best, I think that we often forget how any art form (including moviemaking) attracts people with less-than-exceptional tastes and talents to its studios. But in recent years, the institutions that honor movies, such as the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) with Oscars and the Hollywood Foreign Press Association with Golden Globes, have been joined by the likes of the Golden Raspberry Awards Foundation to bestow recognition on the flip side of the world of cinema who mainstream critics and audiences consider to be the worst of the worst.
Why does this matter? Why should be look back at the heritage of bad movies (almost) as much as that of good ones? I think this is an important question for movie lovers to ask, and I’ve noticed that in recent years filmmakers have decided to share the stories of some of the most maligned artists in an effort to both educate the general public about their travails in making the art they believe in. And maybe—just maybe—some people have come away from these movies finding a renewed appreciation for those creators who never lose zeal for making their art in the face of relentless shaming from viewers, critics, industry people, and fellow artists alike. As I find these types of “failing forward” stories quite fascinating, I thought what better way to honor January as the stereotypical “dumping ground” for the studio’s worst films than examine the stories of those whose art has been met mixed (or universally negative) reception yet did not let that stop pursuing their dreams and creative passions. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED!! [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for several movies. You have been warned.] Ed Wood (1994) The idea for a biopic about Edward D. Wood, Jr., considered in the world of cinema to be one of the worst filmmakers of all time, began with screenwriting team Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski (The People vs. Larry Flynt, Man on the Moon, 1408) during their tenure as roommates studying film at USC School of Cinematic Arts. However, they knew that the idea was far-fetched from the get-go and thus wrote a ten-page treatment based on interviews of Wood’s family and colleagues and pitched it to director Michael Lehmann (Heathers), who they had gone to school with. Lehmann presented the treatment to producer Denise Di Novi (Batman Returns, Little Women) who brought in director Tim Burton (Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas) into the fold as another producer. Once involved in the project, Burton read some of Wood’s letters and was taken by how he viewed the movies he was making with such genuine pride “as if he was making Citizen Kane.” Around this time, he was in the works to direct the gothic horror flick Mary Reilly when he dropped out of that project for various reasons. Now free, his interest in directing Alexander and Karaszewski’s treatment spiked. Luckily for Burton, who wanted to make the film quickly, Lehmann was busy making the comedy movie Airheads and thus relinquished his directing duties over to Burton while retaining credit as an executive producer. In six weeks, Alexander and Karaszewski finished a 147-page screenplay which Burton agreed to shoot without any rewrites due to his excitement for directing a more character-driven movie compared to some of his prior work that was more style-driven. Furthermore, Burton’s decision to shoot in black-and-white turned off Columbia Pictures who put the project into turnaround which sparked the interest of several major Hollywood studios. Ultimately, Walt Disney Studios agreed to finance the film under the Touchstone Pictures name due to its perceived minimal financial risk. Not because of the film’s low budget, Burton refused a salary for his work on the film. Principal photography took place for three months in the summer and fall of 1993 in and around the Los Angeles area. In a diversion from his six movies before, Burton hired Canadian composer Howard Shore (The Silence of the Lambs, The Lord of the Rings, Spotlight) to write the score for the film as opposed to Burton’s frequent collaborator Danny Elfman (Batman, Good Will Hunting, Spider-Man). This put strains on their working relationship, in addition to their collaborations on Burton’s other films Batman Returns and The Nightmare Before Christmas. Released on September 30, 1994, Ed Wood did not manage to recuperate its costs by earning just under six million dollars on an eighteen-million-dollar budget. However, the film received mostly positive reviews from critics who particularly appreciated Johnny Depp’s and Martin Landau’s performances as Ed Wood and Bela Lugosi, respectively, as well as Burton’s sincere approach to telling Wood’s story rather than mocking or parodying him. Not only did Ed Wood make it onto several critics’ top-ten lists for that year, but it also won both of the Oscars that it was nominated for: Best Makeup, and Best Supporting Actor for Landau. However, some took issue with the lack of historical authenticity of some of the elements of Burton’s depiction of Wood’s life and the people involved therein. Notably, several people (including Bela Lugosi’s son) took issue with Landau’s portrayal of Lugosi as a profane, cryptic individual whose acting ability waned with his age. To Burton’s credit, he openly admitted that he did not make Ed Wood to be “a completely hardcore realistic biopic.” Conversely, Burton aimed to celebrate Wood’s spirit as a cult filmmaker and American dreamer as opposed to satirize or document his life and legacy. When Burton has said in the past that he made Ed Wood with an undeniable bias in favor of its eponymous protagonist, he’s by no means underselling what this movie is. After watching it, I came away deeply appreciative that a person like Wood walked on this Earth and graced those alive at the time with his cinematic trash fires. And this is perhaps the movie’s greatest quality: it made a determined artist lacking in both self-awareness and creative merits not only charming but an unexpected hero in his own right worth rooting for. Of course, this wouldn’t work without Johnny Depp’s exceptional central performance that gives Wood enough humanity to ground the character in reality while also inviting the audience into his psychosocial outlook on the world in all of its excessive optimism and unabashed pride in his work. Despite the apparent lack of quality in Wood’s movies, you simply can’t help but admire his gall and ambition for making his visions reality with the help of mix of easygoing, tolerant, or outright antagonistic actors and producers that surround Wood’s movie sets. But what I think makes Ed Wood more than just an unashamed tribute to one of the worst filmmakers of all time is the friendship between Wood and an icon of classic horror cinema, Bela Legosi (Martin Landau). His chemistry with Depp and how it evolves throughout the film makes for that “special something” which separates it from other films like it (including the ones that I’ll be discussing later in this blog). As someone who lacks any extensive knowledge about either of these people in real life, I felt the vibrant back-and-forth of their professional and personal relationship in every scene they were in. Furthermore, I truly don’t believe that the movie works if Wood doesn’t go through quite the turbulent journey with Lugosi from his initial fawning admirations to seething hatred to sadness, built and ultimate respect and love for his favorite star performer and friend. All in all, Ed Wood accomplishes more than simply celebrating the cinematic legacy of the man named in the title. It highlights the complex intricacies of working relationships in the artistic world while never shying away from reminding us that, at the end of the day, the art itself isn’t worth forsaking those relationships. For that reason and others, Ed Wood is both one of my favorite Tim Burton movies and (in my humble opinion) one of Johnny Depp’s best lead performances. If there’s one movie about a “cult artist” you’re going to watch, you wouldn’t go wrong with this one. Big Eyes (2014) With the critical success of several of their screenplays following Ed Wood, such as Miloš Forman’s biopic The People vs. Larry Flynt and Mikael Håfström’s psychological horror film 1408, Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski reunited with director Tim Burton in the 2010s on another film centered on the life of painter Margaret Keane. By the mid-2000s, they had completed a spec script and were in negotiations to direct the film with Kate Hudson (Almost Famous, Deepwater Horizon) to star as Keane. However, development stalled until 2010 when Burton was confirmed as a producer. Hudson was then replaced with Reese Witherspoon (Walk the Line, Wild) and Ryan Reynolds (Buried, Deadpool, Free Guy) signed on to play Keane’s husband Walter. It took another three years for filming to begin, at which point Burton had taken over directing duties and Amy Adams (The Fighter, Arrival, Vice) had secured the role of Margaret Keane and Christoph Waltz (Inglorious Basterds, Django Unchained, Spectre) was chosen to play Walter. Released on Christmas Day in 2014, Big Eyes proved more commercially successful than Burton’s previous film Ed Wood by earning just over 29 million dollars on a ten-million-dollar budget. Critics were also generally positive, specifically noting Adam’s and Waltz’s performances as the highlights of the film. However, some critics took issue with the film’s uneven tone and pacing. Nevertheless, Adams ended up winning a Golden Globe for Best Actress (Musical or Comedy) that year. As the second Tim Burton film being examined here today, it’s virtually impossible to not compare Big Eyes to Ed Wood in terms of how Burton approaches telling the story of a vagabond of the art world. Easily the most noticeable difference in approach is the story being told. Whereas Ed Wood grounded its tale of a bad filmmaker in a genuine friendship, Big Eyes is more dramatic by highlighting the mental and emotional duress that its protagonist Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) experiences at the hands of her abusive husband Walter (Christoph Waltz) and the journey she goes on to gain the public recognition for her artwork that she deserves. Not only does this make the film distinct from Ed Wood, but it might just make it a better movie in my book. The star of the show, undeniably, is Adams who injects a homely yet believably innocent quality into Keane as a character. As a mid-20th-century housewife who balances family life with her passion for painting, she feels like a character who is both stuck in her time and one who transcends it. And when enveloped in the drama of Keane getting out of her husband’s abusive household only to show him up in the third act during the fantastic “courtroom painting” scene, Adams never strips the film of its lightheartedness nor diminishes Margaret’s struggles as unrelatable or unbelievable. Simply put, if you’re gonna watch Big Eyes for one reason only it’s to see Adams’s great performance. While (in my humble opinion) outshined by Adams, Waltz pulls off a tricky balancing act as Margaret’s manipulative and selfish husband Walter. He could easily have made Walter an over-the-top, cartoonish kind of villainous patriarchal figure which would take away from some of the down-to-earth nature of Margaret’s story. Instead, he elevates Adams’s portrayal and Margaret’s story by always ensuring that Walter’s motivations are grounded while also morally corrupt. But what about Big Eyes as a celebration of a “cult artist?” Honestly, it’s not really about the art itself. This both helps and hinders the film. While I did appreciate Burton not simply redoing Ed Wood by unabashedly celebrating Margaret Keane’s underrated creativity, it doesn’t work quite as well as that kind of story. But, that by no means detracts from the film’s quality. In fact, I’m sure many people will enjoy this movie more than Ed Wood because it tells a different kind of story about a woman overcoming domestic abuse and earning the recognition for her paintings while putting her husband in his place via publicly shaming him. So, if you’d rather see that kind of a movie, than Big Eyes will almost certainly be for you. The Disaster Artist (2017) Ten years after the release of Tommy Wiseau’s independent drama film The Room, what is considered by many film historians and cinephiles to be the worst movie ever made, his co-star and former roommate Greg Sestero published a novel entitled “The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside the Room, the Greatest Bad Movie Ever Made.” In the book, Sestero shares his struggles as a young actor, how he met Wiseau, and the troubling behind-the-scenes production of The Room. The book was well received upon release, winning for Best Non-Fiction from the National Arts & Entertainment Journalism Awards. Less than six months after its publication, Seth Rogen’s production company successfully acquired the film rights to Sestero’s novel with James Franco (Spider-Man, 127 Hours, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs) set to direct and star as Wiseau while his brother Dave Franco (21 Jump Street, Now You See Me, If Beale Street Could Talk) had been cast to play Sestero. Within a year, Rogen signed on to play Sandy Schklair, the script supervisor for The Room, with the rest of the cast being revealed by the end of 2015. Filming took place in Los Angeles from December 8, 2015 to January 28, 2016. Released in December of 2017, The Disaster Artist grossed just under 30 million dollars on a ten-million-dollar budget and was largely praised by critics. Franco’s lead performance as Wiseau and direction was repeatedly singled out as the core of the film’s strengths, with some critics expressing how impressed they were that the film could be appreciated by someone who has never seen The Room. In addition to Franco winning the Golden Globe for Best Actor (Musical or Comedy) that year, the film’s screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber (500 Days of Summer, The Fault in Our Stars) were nominated for the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay but lost to James Ivory (Howards End, The Remains of the Day) who wrote Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name. As someone who knew very little about The Room or the “cult of personality” that is Tommy Wiseau, I had virtually no expectations going into The Disaster Artist. But within the first scene, I was very much sold on this movie. And, unsurprisingly, the allure of this story is largely captured by the direction and lead performance of James Franco as the eccentric and enigmatic, foreign-born actor Wiseau. Within the first quarter of the film, it is evident that Franco recognizes that the charming heart and soul is Wiseau’s character. Without that, I imagine that The Room would not have the cult following it has earned over the years. To that end, without Franco understanding what this role needed I cannot imagine The Disaster Artist being as good as it is. (NOTE: My appreciation of Franco’s role in this movie is by no means a commentary on the accusations against him regarding his personal conduct). Of course, Franco’s portrayal of Wiseau is not the only thing to like about the film. Similar to Ed Wood, Wiseau’s nearly-unbelievable presence is balanced out by and rooted in his mentor-like friendship with another hungry actor Greg Sestero (Dave Franco). From their initial meeting and time rooming together to them working together on The Room, I found their relationship always enjoyable and unpredictable. Mostly due to whatever Wiseau’s whims told him to do next, but I think the Franco brothers’ chemistry makes for a more dramatically hefty dynamic than Johnny Depp and Martin Landau had in Ed Wood. And with Sestero’s presence in the film, it never feels like Franco is excusing Wiseau for his behavior towards the cast and crew of The Room but instead contextualizing and humanizing it by showing us a man who wanted to make a great movie. That balancing act is pretty commendable for a story like this. Aside from the two leads, the movie also has some great supporting and cameo performances. My personal favorite is Seth Rogen playing Sandy Schklair, the script supervisor of The Room who also worked as the first assistant director in an unofficial capacity. He brings an ability to call out Wiseau for his absurdities on and off set in a way that Dave Franco as Sestero struggles to do. Aside from the celebrities in the film portraying actors from The Room (notably Ari Graynor, Alison Brie, Zac Efron, and Josh Hutcherson), my favorite unexpected appearances came from the cold open involving excerpts of interviews with several big Hollywood names showering praise for Wiseau’s “Citizen Kane of bad movies.” From Kevin Smith and Kristen Bell to Keegan-Michael Key and J.J. Abrams, this was a great choice to set the tone for what The Disaster Artist set out to do. But what I appreciated most about this movie was how it told the story of the making of The Room by tailoring it to people who have never seen The Room. I am among them, and hope to live out my days without ever seeing that movie. Yet, watching The Disaster Artist made me feel like I grew up with The Room due to its uncanny ability to show the audience enough of the moviemaking process to grasp what The Room is in a nutshell. To be clear, I really like all of the movies I’m blogging about today. But The Disaster Artist, while not necessarily being my favorite, I think is the best made and does this kind of story the most justice from start to finish. If that doesn’t convince you to check it out, then it’s your loss. 😊 Dolemite Is My Name (2019) As early as 2003, Eddie Murphy (Beverly Hills Cop, Coming to America, Shrek) began collaborating with Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski on a biopic about the life of comedian and filmmaker Rudy Ray Moore. Prior to Moore’s death, in 2008, Murphy actually arranged meetings between him and Alexander and Karaszewski so that he could share many life stories as inspiration for their screenplay. It was not until ten years after Moore’s passing that the film was officially greenlit by Netflix, with Craig Brewer (Hustle & Flow, Footloose) attached to direct and Murphy signed on to star as Moore. Filming took place during the summer of 2018, during which time Nicholas Josef von Sternberg, the cinematographer of Moore’s film debut Dolemite, visited set and shared additional stories about both Moore and the filming of Dolemite. After a limited theatrical release, Dolemite Is My Name came to Netflix on October 25, 2019 and was met with overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics who felt that Murphy’s performance as Moore in the film served as a successful “comeback” to the big screen. Some also saw it as a return to form to his roots in adult comedies earlier in his career such as Trading Places. The film also earned positive comparisons to other films about cult artists, with one critic referring to it as “a blaxploitation answer to The Disaster Artist” while another likened it to Ed Wood due to its “tribute to an entrepreneur.” Despite being nominated for the Golden Globe for Best Actor (Musical or Comedy), Murphy did not win despite some viewers deeming him worthy of an Oscar for his performance. Akin to my lack of knowledge of Tommy Wiseau and The Room, I had never even heard of Rudy Ray Moore, his character “Dolemite,” or any of the blaxploitation movies that Moore had been in. But after watching Dolemite Is My Name, I think it’s best if you know very little about Moore going into it because the film does such a good job immersing you into his personality, his world, and the eclectic cast of characters that surround him. Without question, Murphy makes the film work at its core. He brings an endearing level of sass, drive, and energy to Moore that captures an essential amount of humanity while also ensuring the audience fell in love with Moore from the get-go. I’ve seen a number of Eddie Murphy movies, and undoubtedly Dolemite Is My Name ranks among his best performances. Period. Some credit must also go to the handful of standout supporting actors who don’t let Murphy steal the whole show. I particularly appreciated Da’Vine Joy Randolph as Lady Reed, a female comedian in the South who befriends Moore, whose presence alongside Murphy made the movie more than just about a “cult of personality” in the Dolemite character but also about a group of people caring about each other and wanting to make art for people like them. Additionally, Wesley Snipes surprised me in how enjoyable he was playing D’Urville Martin, the director of Dolemite. The director, Craig Brewer, did an exceptional job juxtaposing Martin’s easygoing nature with Moore’s zany personality in a way that never diminished either character. While I wish both Randolph and Snipes had more screen time, I enjoyed time every time they were in scenes. Going into watching this movie, I was somewhat familiar with the contemporary and historical criticisms of the blaxploitation genre and was curious how the creative team behind Dolemite Is My Name would handle these in a 2019 movie. And I was pleasantly surprised at how the film handled it. Perhaps most similar to Johnny Depp’s performance in Ed Wood in this respect, Murphy plays Rudy Ray Moore as a self-starter and enthusiastic artist but never as someone who is perfect. Furthermore, numerous characters in the movie (notably screenwriter Jerry Jones, played by Keegan-Michael Key) that call Moore out for some of his ridiculous ideas or commitment to aspects of Dolemite that don’t quite play as well anymore. To be clear, Dolemite Is My Name is certainly a celebration of these important yet controversial roots of black cinema. But Brewer, the cast and crew retain self-awareness in both the more problematic elements of blaxploitation movies as well as the sillier ones. By placing them in a specific historical context, the audience can enjoy the story being told while also understanding why a movie like Dolemite (and others like it) was made at the time that it was. Ultimately, for Moore and the people around him, blaxploitation was about seeing people from their ethnic and cultural background represented on screen. While the finished product might be flawed, the intentions are undoubtedly noble enough to warrant attention to this day. All in all, films that bring attention to storytellers and artists like these are worth your time. From filmmakers like Ed Wood, painters like Margaret Keane, and performers like Tommy Wiseau and Rudy Ray Moore, the stories of determined creative minds making themselves incredibly vulnerable deserve great storytellers to share with us their lives, dreams, flaws, and legacies to laugh at and with forever. Which of these “cult artists” do you think is truly the worst one? What are some other “cult artists” do you think deserve some reappraisal? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Nearly one year ago today, I offered my perspective on the Western by examining my problems with four classic films of the genre. And in writing that blog, I was partially inspired to devote an entire new series dissecting some films that many consider great that just didn’t work on that level for me. One such film is John Ford’s 1956 classic The Searchers, starring none other than the Western icon himself John Wayne.
So, to kick off this series, I want to delve into the redeeming qualities of the film before sharing what, in my humble opinion, holds it back from being a truly great piece of cinema. Certainly, there are things to like about this movie despite its age and style. But I have to ask…why isn’t The Searchers great? [NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “The Searchers.” You have been warned.] What’s It About After eight years away from home as a soldier (including in the Confederate Army), curmudgeon veteran Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) returns home to Texas where his brother Aaron (Walter Coy) has a homestead. There resides Aaron’s wife Martha (Dorothy Jordan) and son Ben (Robert Lyden), and Ethan’s two nieces Lucy (Pippa Scott) and Debbie (Lana Wood). Despite being home, Ethan remains on edge after refusing to swear allegiance to the Texas Rangers and supposedly being wanted for an unknown crime. Not long after being back home, Ethan and several locals under the command of Rev. Captain Samuel Clayton (Ward Bond) ride off to return some stolen cattle only to discover that it was a ploy by the local indigenous Comanche population. Upon returning to the homestead, Ethan finds Aaron and his family murdered and Debbie and Lucy abducted by the Comanche. Thus, he sets off with Clayton and several Texas Rangers to retrieve his nieces. Throughout the journey, Ethan never tries to hide his overt hatred of and racial prejudice towards the indigenous people despite partnering with Debbie’s adoptive brother, Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter), who does not hide the fact from Ethan that he is one-eighth Cherokee. Over the course of five years on the trail, Ethan and Martin discover Lucy’s body brutally raped and murdered and Martin accidentally purchases a Comanche wife, among other misadventures. Five years after her initial capture, Ethan and Martin finally discover Debbie (Natalie Wood) at a fort in New Mexico. To Ethan’s dismay, Debbie has been living among the Comanche and expresses her desires to stay with them. Since Ethan would rather see his niece dead than living “with a buck,” he acts with the intention to shoot her but Martin intervenes and stops him. They are ambushed, Ethan is wounded, and they flee without Debbie. After returning back home, Ethan is confronted by Lieutenant Greenhill (Patrick Wayne) who informs him of the whereabouts of Scar (Henry Brandon), the Comanche chief who originally kidnapped Debbie. Just before Ethan and Clayton command a head-on assault of the camp, Martin successfully sneaks inside the camp and finds Debbie. In the ensuing chaos, Martin kills Scar to save Debbie before Ethan scalps Scar. In the wake of the battle, Ethan rides up to Debbie, puts her on his saddle, and they return to the ranch of Ethan’s neighbors the Jorgensens (John Qualen, Olive Carey, Vera Miles) whose cattle were stolen five years earlier. With Debbie and Martin safe, Ethan leaves the homestead alone. What’s Good About It As someone who’s not much of a fan of old Westerns (particularly John Ford’s take on the genre), I was surprisingly pleased with certain elements of The Searchers. For one, his direction for how to capture the verdant hills, rustic plateaus and barren deserts of the American West is on point. His eye, in combination with the cinematography work of Technicolor pioneer Winton C. Hoch (Joan of Arc, The Quiet Man), makes for the most aesthetically stunning and picturesque film of Ford’s career that I’ve seen. So, if nothing else, The Searchers is usually pretty nice to look at. What about on a story level? I’ll get to some of its pitfalls in the final section of today’s blog, but Ford’s take on the historical Wild West does have some nuance to it in comparison to some of his prior work like the 1939 film Stagecoach. In adapting Alan Le May’s novel, screenwriter Frank S. Nugent (She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, The Quiet Man) managed to not make John Wayne’s character a purely heroic character in the way that many leading men in the classic Westerns of Hollywood’s “Golden Age” were. Largely thanks to the disconcerting looks given towards Ethan Edwards by his mixed-race traveling companion Martin Pawley, the audience is given the impression that we can feel satisfied in never fully giving our sympathies over to Ethan’s plight. Aside from Wayne’s character, Ethan’s niece Debbie is given a sliver of something akin to a complex relationship with her uncle. Despite being captured by the Comanche as a little girl after they murdered her family, we find her years later as having integrated herself into the Native Americans’ society and way of life. Furthermore, she protests Ethan’s desire to rescue her and tries to assert her autonomy as a young adult who wants to remain with her adopted family. Admittedly, Ford and Nugent could’ve just made Debbie an innocent, mindless damsel-in-distress who lacked agency and was grateful for being “rescued” by her racist, curmudgeonly uncle. For that, I give them some props. If these things sound appealing to you, then The Searchers might just be the Western for you. But before watching it tonight, you should know about the film’s problematic elements as well. What’s Holding It Back While Ford never fully revokes blame or judgment off of Ethan’s shoulders, the story he tells never truly condemns him either. At the end of the day, despite the efforts of supporting characters (namely Martin Pawley) trying to steer him in the right direction Wayne’s veteran and gunslinger never has to answer for his wrongdoings. While you could argue that this is part of Ethan’s character work as a complex Western hero, I found this to be utterly disappointing given the potential of The Searchers to be a transitional film for acknowledging the horrific history between white settlers and Native Americans that’s ridden with murder, rape, and genocide perpetuated (mostly) by the former against the latter. Thus, Ford’s direction of this movie comes off as ultimately stuck in the 1950s rather than transcending them and becoming a truly timeless classic. But what disappoints me the most about The Searchers is how the story was told. While I understand why Ethan Edwards is the protagonist given the time when the movie was made, I firmly believe that if this was made nowadays you could tell a much more compelling story of the moral ambiguities of the American West with one fix to the screenplay: divide the time between Ethan’s search for Debbie and Debbie’s assimilation into the Comanche tribe. This simple tweak in perspective would provide an incredible amount of rich, thematic nuance that The Searchers desperately needs. Like other stories of cross-cultural understanding in Westerns (notably Dances with Wolves), telling this story through the eyes of Debbie and the Comanche’s slow-building mutual trust over the course of several years would have made Ford’s lack of forceful critique of Wayne’s vengeful Texan somewhat more forgivable. But couldn’t you say that Ford was simply a victim of time and thus ignorant of the crucial need for diversifying perspective in this way? Maybe, if he hadn’t made the film Cheyenne Autumn less than a decade later (coincidentally his final Western) where he made a conscious effort to empathize with the centuries-long plight of indigenous Americans at the hand of the land- and power-hungry white man. Clearly, he knew what to do but failed to do it in this film! That speaks volumes to the fact that (in my humble opinion) The Searchers doesn’t deserve the mainstream popularity and critical praise that it has received since it came out in the mid-1950s. Ultimately, I think that The Searchers can be viewed as an important film rather than a great one. Similar to the likes of Wes Craven’s Scream or the Wachowskis’ The Matrix, its technical prowess and legacy within the Western genre of its time makes it worth appreciating for historical and aesthetic purposes. However, the film’s commendable strengths simply do not make up for its substantive drawbacks as both a Western and a classic piece of Hollywood cinema. But maybe I’m wrong, and The Searchers is truly a cinematic masterpiece. I suppose you’ll have to convince me otherwise. 😊 What am I missing about John Ford’s The Searchers? Do you think it’s a great movie or do you agree that something’s holding it back from greatness? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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