I did not grow up fascinated by movie monsters the way some people did. While I knew the names Dracula, Frankenstein, Godzilla and Kong, I related very little to films with these iconic characters in them besides being mesmerized by the senseless violence that they created. The only monster movie I grew up watching somewhat regularly as a kid was Peter Jackson’s 2005 King Kong, which more often than not scared me half to death to the point where I’d look away during many of the best (deadliest) scenes.
But then I saw Gareth Edwards’s film Godzilla when it was released in theaters back in 2014. As a senior in high school, I was mostly bored during much of the film…until the eponymous kaiju came on the screen. Ever since, my interest in monster movies has increased gradually to the point I have gained deep respect and admiration for some of the classic monster flicks like 1931’s Frankenstein and 1933’s King Kong as well as more modern films in this genre, such as 1986’s The Fly, 1993’s Jurassic Park, and 2018’s A Quiet Place. For many filmgoers, however, the films upholding the monster genre in the modern era are the films of Legendary Entertainment’s “MonsterVerse,” a shared cinematic universe of American reboots of the Godzilla and King Kong franchises. So, with today’s release of the fourth (and possibly final?) entry in this cinematic universe, Godzilla vs. Kong, I thought what better time than now to re-examine these four films to see if they work or ultimately fall flat. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Godzilla (2014) Having seen the 2014 Godzilla movie twice since my initial viewing in theaters, it has only become better in my mind. It is by no means a perfect film, but I think the sum of its parts make for a solidly entertaining monster movie with enough human heart and drama to ground the larger-than-life aspects in a story that people can relate to and be invested in from beginning to end. During my most recent re-watch, I appreciated Edwards’s approach to showing Godzilla very little more than ever before. While I do understand peoples’ frustration with this aspect of the film’s storytelling, I find it refreshing compared to most horror movies of the modern era that go out of their way to put the monster that the studio spent so much money on front and center from the get-go. “Look! Look at what we made! Looks good, doesn’t it?!?” It’s tiring and unoriginal. Instead, Edwards teases Godzilla throughout the first act (which ends with the first full face reveal and roar that we hear). In the second act, he shows a little of what Godzilla can do in a fight which makes the audience crave for more. And by the end, the payoff of Godzilla’s final fight with the male and female MUTO so worth the wait. Of course, the other major complaint about this movie from many people is the lack of interesting human characters. Again, I totally get it. Particularly for the second and third acts, Godzilla lacks any super interesting human characters despite some notable people (primarily Ken Watanabe as the main pro-Godzilla human character). Unfortunately, Aaron-Taylor Johnson is unable to take the writing that he was given in force and carry the film. But, I think that the human characters are not meant to be super-fleshed out or interesting. If the film relied too much on human drama for the more dramatic beats of the story, then it would more likely than not falter and utterly fail (I’ll get to this later with this film’s sequel). I think Edwards and the creative team behind Godzilla were smart enough to know that the humans are simply vessels for the audience to vicariously experience the terror of losing their place at the top of the food chain in real time. Ultimately, that serves this kind of blockbuster monster movie better than focusing too much on developing the human relationships to the point that they overshadow our investment in the fate of the monsters that serve as the heroes and villains of these stories. That being said, however, I do genuinely enjoy Bryan Cranston’s somewhat understated performance in the film. His raw emotion at certain points that reflect a broken, guilt-ridden man who only wants an answer to (and thus closure for) his wife’s death is really intriguing. And while his death in the first act is upsetting (and not handled very well by Taylor-Johnson from a performance standpoint) I think it is one of the few things that makes the film’s initial thirty minutes or so bearable. By no means is 2014’s Godzilla a perfect movie. It’s probably not even a great movie. But, for what it is, I find it to be engaging, entertaining, and by the end worth my time every time that I watch it. Kong: Skull Island (2017) If 2014’s Godzilla is a good monster movie, then 2017’s Kong: Skull Island is a really good monster movie. Having seen it twice now, I was equally entertained both times. Without a doubt, it is both an improvement upon its predecessor in the “MonsterVerse” and a thoroughly engaging monster movie in its own right. In many ways, Kong: Skull Island is good because it fixes the “mistakes” (if you want to call them that) of Godzilla. To begin with the monster action, I find Kong to be a far more entertaining monster because of his ingenuity. While Godzilla is powerful and breaths blue fire (which is cool), Kong is creative in how he fights the various deadly creatures on Skull Island. Arguably the best example of this is in the final fight with “The Big One,” or the mother of all Skullcrawlers. By utilizing both his environment and the remnants of man around him as weapons, Kong keeps the audience on our feet with how he will harm, and eventually kill, his many opponents. This points to the fact that Kong is also a more relatable monster than Godzilla. Whereas the latter is a sea creature who lives in the deepest depths of the ocean and lacks much personality, the former’s physical and emotional parallels to primates make him a more empathetic monster that I can root for beyond just wanting to see him destroy buildings and kill MUTOs. However, unlike the original 1933 King Kong, this film does not rely on the “damsel in distress” trope to humanize Kong. Instead, his minimal interactions with ex-British SAS soldier James Conrad (Tom Hiddleston) and photojournalist Mason Weaver (Brie Larson) show his softer side with a brief yet powerful gaze. Say what you will about which monster is more powerful; I will never be convinced that Godzilla is a more sympathetic creature than Kong. Onto the characters in Kong: Skull Island, who are also far more interesting than those in Godzilla. There are two standouts for me: Samuel L. Jackson as the Army colonel with a chip on his shoulder, Preston Packard; and John C. Reilly as the World War II pilot stranded on Skull Island, Hank Marlow. Both of their arcs are overall satisfying, if not some of the best in film history. Jackson plays Packard as a battle-hungry soldier whose disappointment in America’s humiliating withdrawal from Vietnam gives him a reason to prove to himself and his men that the Army can still do some good. He gives us a solid, if not revolutionary, human antagonist who satisfies the audience upon seeing his final moments facing down Kong. Reilly, on the other hand, is a lovable guy whose mind has nearly withered away but his tragic backstory (and powerful reunion with his family in the mid-credits scene) is enough to be on his side from the get-go. A character that I do think is sidelined in favor of Jackson and O’Reilly is John Goodman’s Bill Randa, the Monarch official overseeing the expediting to Skull Island who hides the truth from virtually everyone involved. In the first act of Kong: Skull Island, he is arguably the most interesting character. There are enough subtle hints dropped that he knows more than he is letting on, which culminates in one of the better scenes of the film when Packard confronts him at gunpoint to fess up about what he knows. Randa reveals his underlying motivation to fix his reputation by convincing the rest of the world that monsters are real, even by risking the lives of Packard, his soldiers, and everyone else who arrived on Skull Island with them. Unfortunately, this is the last time that Randa has any significant screen time. So, I almost forgot that he existed by the time of his out-of-nowhere death in the mass grave. Without a doubt, Goodman is the most underutilized actor in the film as his character is introduced, made to seem important, and then virtually ignored until his last one-liner. A pretty disappointing choice, if you ask me. The other actors are serviceable, although I do want to shout out Brie Larson as photojournalist Mason Weaver. While she does not play a central role in the film’s plot or emotional core, she has great chemistry with the cast (notably Hiddleston and Jackson) and has a cool moment in the fight in the mass grave when her smarts save the lives of those who remain by lighting the Skullcrawler on fire. Overall, Kong: Skull Island is by no means a masterpiece. However, as a blockbuster monster flick, it is up there with the best of the last few decades and is a great modernization of Kong’s mythos. Furthermore, it sets up the stakes of his impending fight with Godzilla very well, but is certainly worth a watch on its own if nothing more. Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) I saw the sequel to 2014’s Godzilla in theaters and thought it was pretty decent at the time. Compared to its predecessor, Godzilla: King of the Monsters had far more monster-on-monster action, and thus seemed at the time an improvement over the 2014 film. Upon re-watching the film earlier this month, I discovered that my initial impressions could not be further off. To be clear, I do not think that Godzilla: King of the Monsters is an utter pile of garbage like some people do. There are some redeemable things about it, namely the third act for reasons that I will get into later. But, overall, it is not a film that I can recommend. My primary trepidation with this film is its approach to the human drama. Even though 2014’s Godzilla lacked many interesting human characters, the father-son dynamic with Bryan Cranston and Aaron Taylor-Johnson made the first act bearable and the use of the humans as on-the-ground perspective rather than story was, in my humble opinion, smart on the filmmaker’s part. But in this movie, the family drama between the Russells (Kyle Chandler, Vera Farmiga, and Millie Bobby Brown) lacks the emotional punch that it should have. While there are scenes that are interesting (mainly those involving Brown’s repudiation of her mother, played by Farmiga), my investment in their fates is next-to-nothing since one of the parents is a neglectful drunk while the other is a psychotic eco-terrorist. (No wonder she’d rather face down King Ghidorah!) The only human character that has a remotely interesting arc is Ken Watanabe as Dr. Ishirō Serizawa. While his use in the first Godzilla film was more plot-centric, Serizawa’s arc in Godzilla: King of the Monsters is more personal. By sacrificing himself to give Godzilla the necessary injection of radiation needed to rejoin the fight against Ghidorah, not only does he show his dedication to the film’s namesake but he also makes the best argument for the role that Godzilla serves in this world: to bring balance to the natural order. His death inspires the other humans (including Chandler’s character, who somehow rationalizes blaming a monster for the death of his son) to finally join Godzilla’s side in battle which is what they should have done in the first place. For the most part, the monster action in this film is better than in 2014’s Godzilla. Mainly because Ghidorah comes off as such an insurmountable creature right up to the third act, and because Mothra’s injection into the final fight against Rodan is fun to see. (I will unabashedly admit that I became emotional watching Godzilla fall from the sky, and when Mothra sacrifices herself to bide Godzilla some time). If anything, I was far more emotionally invested in the monsters than in the human characters, just showing how weak this film is compared to the two before it. So, is Godzilla: King of the Monsters awful? No, but that doesn’t mean it’s good, either. For me, it is the weakest of the “MonsterVerse” movies. Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) Despite the overall less-than-great results from the first three films in the “MonsterVerse,” I sat down in the movie theater genuinely excited to see Godzilla vs. Kong. Based on the minimal promotional materials I allowed myself to see and what the director Adam Wingard (You’re Next, The Guest) has been saying about the film, I started letting myself buy into the image that was being put out regarding what the movie would be. And, for the most part, my expectations were met. To begin with the positives. For those who saw Godzilla and Godzilla: King of the Monsters, did you dislike the convoluted plot threads, hallow human drama, and minimalist approach to the monster action? Well, Godzilla vs. Kong (mostly) does away with all of that. Once the story allows for Kong and Godzilla to converge and duke it out, Wingard and the cast and crew behind the film live up to the promise of its title. And, thankfully, the trailers did not completely reveal all of the best parts of all of the fights between the two king titans. On top of all of this, the fights are actually pretty well choreographed! While in the water, Kong is cornered by Godzilla’s turf advantage and must adapt and evade more than fight him directly. But on land, Godzilla must struggle to overcome Kong’s innovative use of the environment to his advantage. Furthermore, Godzilla vs. Kong does something that I think all three films in the “MonsterVerse” that preceded it either struggled or failed to do: it directly ties in the arcs of the human characters to the arcs of the monsters. For example, Madison Russell (Millie Bobby Brown) is our window into learning the truth behind why Godzilla is attacking humanity without seemingly being provoked. On the other hand, Dr. Ilene Andrews (Rebecca Hall) and her crew who follow Kong help us become invested in the king of Skull Island’s journey to find a new home and refuge from Godzilla. Whereas some of the previous films in the “MonsterVerse” tried (and failed) too much to make the audience care about the arcs of the human characters, Godzilla vs. Kong (almost) completely throws those ambitions away in favor of giving us a Kong-centric story that allows both of the titular monsters to shine. As with any film, one of the biggest compliments that I can give to Godzilla vs. Kong is that it left me wanting more. Whereas a movie like Godzilla: King of the Monsters overstayed its welcome, this film does what it needs to be wraps up without completely boring or pissing off the audience. On top of avoiding messy plotlines in favor of intense and fun monster fights, any movie that does this is one worth praising. All that being said, however, there are some things that keep Godzilla vs. Kong from being a great film. While none of the following weaknesses kept me from enjoying what I was watching, they do detract somewhat. My primary comes from the first act, which drags a bit by introducing us to the human antagonists of the movie. While the payoffs are pretty good, they do not fully make up for the somewhat dull first third of the movie. Related to this, the Madison Russell-centric subplot about discovering what the human villains are building almost feels like a different movie than all the Kong stuff. The focus on Madison and Bernie Hayes (Brian Tyree Henry) as these fellow conspiracy theorists just felt like a roundabout method of telling this aspect of the story to set up the big battle in the third act. Regarding the writing of Godzilla vs. Kong, I expected nothing revolutionary or life-changing but just a straightforward story that was somewhat coherent and allowed organic ways for the two titans to brawl. And while the movie mostly delivered that, it felt at times that some of the storytelling was rushed to a fault. And while I think the movie improves from its immediate predecessor in terms of minimizing the focus on characterizing the humans, it tends to half-ass developing our new primary human characters to the point where the more I think about the writing the more I ask myself, “Why mention this aspect of their backstory if it’s not at all relevant to the main plot?” All in all, Godzilla vs. Kong was a fun romp with some poor writing but incredible effects and action sequences. In that sense, it fully delivers on the promise of being the culmination of the “MonsterVerse.” But, without a re-watch, I cannot yet commit to believing that it is the best of the franchise. But it’s damn near close. At the end of the day, how will I remember this franchise? I look back fondly on most of these movies. I appreciate the style and approach to suspense of 2014’s Godzilla, I thoroughly enjoy the blockbuster action and intensity of 2017’s Kong: Skull Island, I think back fondly on the third act of 2019’s Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and I revel in the absurdity of this year’s Godzilla vs. Kong. So, while the “MonsterVerse” may not be the most sophisticated, ambitious, or fulfilling cinematic universe of modern history, I think it is largely a successful one. With all that said, here is my official ranking of Legendary Entertainment’s “MonsterVerse”:
What is your favorite monster movie, old or new? Do you appreciate the “MonsterVerse” as much as I do? 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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Today, I finally enter the 21st century of “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider by discussing one of the most unexpectedly entertaining Ang Lee films: the 2000 martial arts drama Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” You have been warned.] The History It was a childhood dream of Taiwanese director Ang Lee (The Wedding Banquet, Brokeback Mountain) to make a “wuxia” film in the tradition of Chinese martial arts movies. After finding source material for his movie in the five-part “Crane-Iron Series” of novels by Chinese author Wang Dulu, Lee went to work financing the project. He ended up securing production from studios in four different countries: CFGC in China; EDKO Film in Hong Kong; Zoom Hunt in Taiwan; and Columbia, Sony, and Good Machine in the United States. The film was shot throughout multiple provinces in East and North China, as well as in Beijing itself. Lee has reflected on how the harsh weather and intense shooting schedule forced him to not take a break for eight months straight. One of the issues he dealt with during principal photography was the differing accents of the four lead actors (only Zhang Ziyi spoke Mandarin in a native accent), often resulting in Lee forcing his performers to do dozens of takes to ensure the dialogue was culturally and phonetically accurate. Much of Lee’s motivation behind making the film was to create a “wuxia” flick that appealed to Western audiences. In addition to focusing on specific themes and aesthetics, he also personally edited the English subtitles to ensure they were sufficient for Western viewers. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon premiered in Taiwan, China and Hong Kong throughout the summer of 2000 before finally hitting U.S. theaters in December of that year. The film was a surprise critical and box-office hit in the West, becoming the first foreign-language film to gross over 100 million dollars in the United States. (To this day, it remains the highest-grossing foreign-language film in American history) At the Academy Awards the next year, the film received the most nominations for a non-English language film (Alfonso Cuarón’s film Roma tied this record in 2018) and won four, including Best Foreign Language Film. Critics and film historians today credit Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with introducing Western audiences to Asian film genres, such as “wuxia,” as well as making Asian cinema in general more marketable to English speakers. The film’s success also made Ang Lee one of the most recognizable names in directing in modern Hollywood. The Pros As someone who has, on many occasions, struggled to become invested in foreign language films, I went into Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon skeptically. Furthermore, I have never really been a fan of martial arts films, or fantasy films for that matter. In a way, this movie is both, so it did not have me bought in from the start. But within the first twenty minutes, I realized that Ang Lee had pulled off something I assumed to be near-impossible; he made Eastern storytelling appealing to a Western audience. Minus the language barrier (yes, I’m one of those Americans who’d prefer to not have to read subtitles when watching a movie), I found virtually everything else in the film to have Western, or at least Western-influenced, sensibilities. Perhaps what surprised me most was the story itself. Lee was able to balance melodrama with drama, and the more operatic aspects of the story with the more grounded ones. Despite being a story with martial arts masters and swordsmen (and women), at its heart this film is a character-driven drama about relationships between students and masters, as well as romances, and the conflicts between them in a society constricted by societal expectations and traditions. This is a story that, if stripped of the martial arts, could realistically take place anywhere and anytime. But, its unique blending of Eastern mythology and history with Western sensitivities makes Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon truly a one-of-a-kind when it first came out. Of course, one cannot discuss this film without addressing the action sequences. Which, much to my surprise, became my other favorite part of it. While it took some time to get used to watching thieves and warriors jumping from rooftops and over fortress walls, I eventually suspended my disbelief enough because the fight choreography was so damn fun to watch. I particularly enjoyed the three-way duel between Li Mu Bai (Chow Yun-fat) and his love interest Yu Shu Lien (Michelle Yeoh), who team up to fight against Jade Fox (Cheng Pei-pei), the master of the thief who stole Mu Bai’s “Green Destiny” sword from him. Overall, those are the main reasons that I thoroughly enjoyed Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. But, that is not to say that the movie doesn’t have issues. The Cons While much of the story worked for me, I found the romance subplot between Jade Fox’s pupil, Jen Yu (Zhang Ziyi), and Lo (Chang Chen) to be underwhelming and not as interesting as the drama between the other main characters. To be clear, I did enjoy Jen Yu’s fight sequences and her character in and of herself, but their romance was much more in-your-face than the nuanced subtlety of Mu Bai and Shu Lien’s unrequited love for each other. This subplot, in my humble opinion, adds too much to the runtime and I think by integrating it more naturally into the main story the movie could have benefitted greatly. Also, the more fantastical elements of the fight choreography (primarily the unbelievable feats of jumping and running up and around walls) can take some getting used to. And while I understand that these things are central to the visual style of wuxia films like this, I foresee that this slightly detracted from Ang Lee’s goal of making a Chinese martial arts film for Westerners. One of the more obvious drawbacks for many Western viewers (notably Americans) is that this is a foreign-language film, and thus is not in English. So, if you are averse to reading subtitles while watching the movie, this may detract from your viewing experience. It did not for me because the story was enticing enough, but I understand why some people will be turned off by this aspect. So, what are my final impressions of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? Given the fact that I tend to avoid martial arts films and many foreign-language films, I found Ang Lee’s big-budget debut in the West to be more than satisfactory. Despite some of its drawbacks in storytelling, it is well worth the watch if you want to see an absorbing, character-driven drama with some fast-paced, well-conceived action sequences. What is your favorite Ang Lee film? Do you think Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is genuinely engrossing or a bit too over-the-top for your liking? 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 “We sing because we can’t speak anymore.” – Kristin Chenoweth Since I was little, I remember being enthralled by musicals. The songs from the 1994 Disney film The Lion King have been stuck in my head since I was a toddler. From a pretty young age, I recall singing along to movies like Grease and Hairspray. And, as I grew up, I distinctly remember discovering other classic musicals from Funny Girl and The Blues Brothers to newer ones like Chicago and La La Land. Not long after starting this blog, a particular question came to mind: why do I like musicals so much? Granted, I’m not obsessed with them. But I tend to enjoy watching them more than I do not. Today, I will begin to seek out the answer to my question by exploring my thoughts on several classic movie musicals. The films I will examine today are all adapted from Broadway musicals. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! West Side Story (1961) Independent film producer Walter Mirisch hired Jerome Robbins, the director and choreographer for the 1957 stage production of “West Side Story,” to adapt the story for the silver screen. Since Robbins had no film experience at that point in his career, Mirisch also hired director Robert Wise (The Day the Earth Stood Still, The Sound of Music) to co-direct alongside Robbins. However, Robbins’s inexperience behind the camera led to principal photography ending up being 24 days behind schedule and his dismissal from the project (Wise successfully advocated that Robbins retain his co-directing credit due to his creative contribution to the final product). Ultimately, Wise stayed in close contact with Robbins and took his advice about the film’s editing to heart. Some of the filming took place on location in Manhattan near the San Juan neighborhood, while the rest occurred on sound stages in West Hollywood. Released on October 18, 1961, West Side Story was met with nearly universal critical acclaim and went on to win ten of the eleven Oscars that it was nominated for (the most of any musical film in history). Notably, Rita Moreno became the first Latino-American to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her performance as Anita. Furthermore, the movie became the highest-grossing film of the year raking in just over 44 million dollars. I really thought that I would enjoy West Side Story. The music is memorable, the performances are poignant, and the story of star-crossed lovers is timeless. And yet, I found myself ultimately underwhelmed by the end of the runtime. While it has taken some time to figure out what exactly I don’t like about this particular movie musical, I think I’ve nailed it down. I can best compare it to my experience seeing South Pacific, a musical set in the Pacific theater during World War II that (in my humble opinion) completely romanticizes war in order to tell a glamorous story of romance that does not justify its existence. Similarly, West Side Story uses gang violence and racial tensions as the backdrop for a musical about teenage romance. Granted, I think that it treats the subject more seriously (and thus delicately) than South Pacific. Notably the deaths of Riff and Bernardo and Maria’s final scene after Tony’s death wherein she threatens both the Jets and the Sharks to kill them because of their actions causing all of this. But, at the end of the day, I think this story (inspired by Shakespeare’s famous tragedy “Romeo and Juliet”) works better without musical numbers. In other words, isolate the music and it works well without the story, and vice-versa. But, when combined into this film, they just detract from each other. So, is West Side Story a bad movie musical? No, but I don’t think it’s that good. Funny Girl (1968) Originally written as a drama for producer Ray Stark (the son-in-law of Fanny Brice), Broadway actress Mary Martin suggested that the story would work better as a musical upon reading the script. So, Isobel Lennart (the screenwriter) adapted her script for the stage and it became a highly successful Broadway show starring Barbra Streisand (The Way We Were, A Star Is Born). When discussions about adapting the musical into a film started, Stark made it clear that his first and only choice to portray his mother-in-law was Streisand. Despite the protests of Columbia Pictures, who desired Shirley MacLaine (The Apartment, Terms of Endearment), Stark got his way due to Streisand’s and MacLaine’s friendship and their mutual agreement with Stark wanting to cast Streisand. Several directors were considered before Sidney Lumet (12 Angry Men, Dog Day Afternoon) was signed but then left after six months due to “creative differences.” The new director hired was William Wyler (The Best Years of Our Lives, Roman Holiday, Ben-Hur), who agreed to do the film because he warmed up to the challenge of directing Streisand because of her lack of experience acting in movies. Streisand, on the other hand, was initially skeptical of Wyler due to having never heard of him. Apparently when learning that Wyler won the Oscar for Best Director for Ben-Hur, she replied, “Chariots! How is he with people, like women? Is he any good with actresses?” For the part of Nick Arnstein, Fanny’s love interest, men from Frank Sinatra and Cary Grant to Marlon Brando and Gregory Peck. But when Wyler noticed Egyptian actor Omar Sharif (Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago) in the commissary one day, he was stricken with the idea of casting him beside Streisand (a Jewish actress). When the Six-Dar War broke out between Israel and Egypt, executives at Columbia Pictures wanted to replace Sharif, but Wyler and Streisand both threated to quit of that happened. Filming took place between August and December of 1967, with progress being somewhat stricken by Streisand’s perfectionist nature both in the recording studio and on set. There was also a contested feud between Streisand and her co-star, Anne Francis (The Forbidden Planet, The Twilight Zone), although both actresses have downplayed any animosity between them since production ended. Released on September 18, 1968, Funny Girl went on to gross nearly 60 million dollars and was met with critical praise, largely highlighting Streisand’s powerhouse performance as Fanny Brice. The film was also nominated for eight Academy Awards, only winning Best Actress for Streisand (although she ended up tying with Katharine Hepburn who won for her performance in The Lion in Winter). The film’s legacy has endured through its many iconic songs and for being one of the first subversively positive representations of a Jewish woman in film. I was so impressed when I watched this film. Expecting to be underwhelmed overall considering my more modern taste in movies, I did not think I would enjoy Funny Girl much at all. Fortunately, I could not have been more wrong. Within the first five minutes, I fell in love with Streisand as Fanny Brice. Her incessant charm, sharp wit, and engrossing personality make both the character and the actress the tour de force of the movie. My admiration of Streisand as a performer (in more ways than one) made my investment in Brice’s journey from working-class city girl to shining star all the more intense. On top of her ability to stand on her own, Streisand has palpable chemistry with virtually everyone that she shares the screen with (most prominently Sharif as Brice’s second husband, Nick Arnstein). What makes Streisand stand out the most is all of the iconic musical numbers, from “I’m the Greatest Star” and “My Man” to “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” Having heard well-produced covers of these songs in the past, I was rather impressed that the original renditions from Streisand remain stuck in my head every now and again. Her voice and poise on screen are a powerful combination of star power that make Funny Girl one of my favorite old-school musicals. I have thought for some time about whether or not the film’s story could work as a music-less biopic. Maybe it could, but the interpretation of Brice’s rise to stardom that Wyler, Streisand, and everyone else involved in the project delivered is one movie musical for the ages. Fiddler on the Roof (1971) Despite finding success in America as a filmmaker with movies like 1965’s The Cincinnati Kid and 1968, In the Heat of the Night, Norman Jewison moved himself and his family to England at the end of the 1960s due to being disenchanted with the country’s political climate. It was in England that he made one of his most famous films, Fiddler on the Roof, based on the 1964 Broadway musical of the same name. Due to the musical’s popularity in the West, translating it to the silver screen was a challenge. Notably, Jewison’s decision to not cast Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers) in the lead role of Tevye was quite controversial. This was mainly due to the fact that Mostel was the original Broadway actor who played Tevye on stage and made the role famous. These reasons were Jewison’s primary motivation for not casting Mostel, believing that his larger-than-life personality would prevent film audiences from suspending their disbelief. Despite many of the exterior shots being done in the now-defunct nation of Yugoslavia, much of principal photography occurred at Pinewood Studios in Buckinghamshire, England. Filming involved about three hundred extras who spoke a variety of foreign languages. Upon release on November 3, 1971, Fiddler on the Roof was met with largely favorable reviews (even though some critics deemed it inferior to the stage production). In addition to grossing over eighty million dollars on a nine-million-dollar budget, the film also won three Oscars out of eight nominations: Best Cinematography, Best Sound, and Best Original Score. Knowing very little about this film prior to watching it, I assumed that Fiddler on the Roof would be a cheesy 1970s musical that lacked any genuine heart or soul. And, while it was cheesy at times (especially since the protagonist and his family are dairy farmers 😊), I was pleasantly surprised by the ability of the cast (in tandem with Jewison’s direction) to invoke some powerful emotional moments. Throughout the never-ending drama related to Tevye’s children seeking out their own paths and his struggle dealing with how much the world around him is changing, I remained rather engrossed in the journey that Jewison was taking me on. All three hours of it. Which gets to my second unexpected positive of Fiddler on the Roof. There are SO many movies (lookin’ at you, The Lord of the Rings!) that do not justify their runtimes to the point of making my viewing of it excruciatingly painful. This film, however, is quite the opposite. When it is not dazzling the audience with its thoroughly entertaining musical sequences, it is absorbing you with its story by exploring universal, timeless themes like the uprooting of tradition, anti-Semitism, and the strength of familial bonds. Undoubtedly, I believe that this movie justifies its three-hour runtime in the same vein as some of the great film epics ever made. Similar to West Side Story, I do think that the story of Fiddler on the Roof could be done without music intertwined into to. However, like Funny Girl, I believe that it would suffer without it because of how well the musical numbers not only capture the spirit of the moment as well as transform throughout the story to match its changing, darker tone and more serious story at its core. Grease (1978) John Travolta was on the rise in the late 1970s with a supporting role in Brian de Palma’s Carrie and starring in John Badham’s Saturday Night Fever. Having previously played the character of Doody on a touring stage producing of “Grease,” Travolta had significant influence over producer Robert Stigwood’s decisions regarding adapting the musical to film. Notably, Travolta recommended Randal Kleiser to be the director (despite his lack of experience directing feature films) and Olivia Newton-John for the female lead (despite her minimal acting experience). And while Kleiser changed very little about the story in the original stage production, he changed the setting from Chicago to the suburbs to reflect his high school experience at Radnor High School near Philadelphia. Notably, many of the supporting cast members were television stars from the 1950s like Sid Caesar (Your Show of Shows, Caesar’s Hour) as Coach Calhoun and Eve Arden (Our Miss Brooks) as Principal McGee. Other stars from mid-20th-century Hollywood in supporting roles include Alice Ghostley (Bewitched, Designing Women) as auto-shop teacher Mrs. Murdock, Edd Byrnes (77 Sunset Strip) as Vince Fontaine, and Frankie Avalon (Beach Party) as the Teen Angel. The film was shot in an around the Los Angeles metropolitan area. Notably, the opening beach scene between Danny and Sandy was shot in Malibu and the race between Danny and “Crater-Face” was shot between two bridges peering over the Los Angeles River. When released in the summer of 1978, Grease was met with largely positive reviews but some critics thought it to be mediocre and cheesy. Making over 360 million dollars at the box office, it became the second-highest-grossing film in the U.S. (behind Richard Donner’s Superman), and the highest-grossing film worldwide that year. It was also nominated for Best Original Song at the Oscars for Newton-John’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You,” but lost to Donna Summer’s “Last Dance” from the film Thank God It’s Friday. Unlike the previous three musicals I have written about today, I grew up with Grease. It very well was the first movie musical I ever saw, and I make it a point to revisit it every few years just to remind myself how great it is. Needless to say, the wacky cast of characters front and center here are endlessly charismatic and endearing, from the innocently lovely Sandy and tough yet shallow Danny to the ideal greaser Kenickie and the razor-sharp but vulnerable Rizzo. Furthermore, the teen dramedy (as I’ve said before) is a timeless genre ripe with great themes to explore and stories to tell. Unlike the other musicals I’ve written about today, however, Grease has an identity that is simultaneously unique and overpowering. Its full embrace of the quirky and dated aspects of 1950s youth culture as a source of humor, without ever coming off as distasteful in its parody, continues to be one of my favorite elements of the film. From the greasy production design to the rock n’ rolling musical numbers, Grease stands out as one of the better movie musicals of the 20th century. All that being said, however, I do think that the film’s story could be done well without music. While much of the charm and energy in what we ended up with comes from the singing and dancing, there are clearly several examples of great coming-of-age dramedies that are successful without being musicals. But, akin to Funny Girl and Fiddler on the Roof, Grease almost certainly needs its music to be as iconic as it is. (The fact that I was humming “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee” while writing this blog is a testament to this) So, three of these four movie musicals that are adapted from stage productions (in my humble opinion) rely on their song-and-dance elements in order to be as great as they are. But is it because they are “unoriginal” productions that this is so? What about “original” musicals that are not inspired by their own Broadway shows? TO BE CONTINUED…
Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay To continue my journey delving into films from the book “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider, I will be discussing one of my favorite Wes Anderson movies. None other than the off-beat, late-90s coming-of-age comedy Rushmore.
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Rushmore.” You have been warned.] The History Longtime Wes Anderson-collaborator, Owen Wilson (Wedding Crashers, Midnight in Paris), has not only acted in several of Anderson’s films but has co-written three of them. Starting with Anderson’s 1996 directorial debut Bottle Rocket, Wilson went on to co-write two more of Anderson’s films: 1998’s Rushmore and 2001’s The Royal Tenenbaums. Regarding Rushmore, Anderson and Wilson wanted to create a “heightened reality” in the spirit of Roald Dahl’s fiction for children but set in an elite prep school (both of them had attended private schools as kids). Both of them injected elements of their own life into the screenplay, specifically projecting them onto the film’s protagonist (i.e. Wilson was expelled from his private school, Anderson lacked motivation in school and fell in love with an older woman). Anderson has also cited films like Chinatown, The Graduate, and Harold and Maude as influences on this movie. Despite writing the screenplay with Bill Murray (Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day, Lost in Translation) in mind for the character of Herman Blume, the middle-aged man who befriends the film’s adolescent protagonist Max Fischer, Anderson and Wilson doubted they would ever manage to get him to read it. Alas, Murray was so impressed with the script he agreed to take the role for what amounted to approximately nine-thousand dollars. This has really paid off for Anderson, who has gone on to direct Bill Murray in several more of his films from The Royal Tenenbaums to Isle of Dogs. After seeing the auditions of 1,800 teenagers from across North America and the United Kingdom, Anderson nearly gave up on discovering a teenage actor to play Max Fischer. That is, until he discovered the 17-year-old Jason Schwartzman (The Darjeeling Limited, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World), who Anderson believed could keep the audience sympathizing with him in spite of all of the “crummy” things that the character did in the story. After filming in and around Houston, Texas (Anderson’s hometown), Rushmore premiered in the winter of 1998 to mostly positive reviews and ended up grossing nearly double its budget. More importantly, however, this film came to define Anderson’s unique cinematic style and made him a household name in the independent film world. Rushmore also inspired a renaissance for Murray’s career, who went on to become identified with independent films all the way up to today with his most recent role in Sofia Coppola’s On the Rocks. The Pros The first Wes Anderson film that I ever saw was Moonrise Kingdom, and I was really impressed. I was under the notion that his films were too pretentious and artsy for my tastes, but this film caught me by surprise. So, I was excited to watch some more of his work. Unfortunately, I found that my notion about many of his films ended up being true. One by one, I was less and less entertained by Anderson’s style and aesthetic and was convinced that I would not end up liking any of his movies nearly as much as Moonrise Kingdom. But then I saw Rushmore, and it remains my second-favorite film of Anderson’s. I think what I gravitated most to in this film is the quirky world established through the eyes of its protagonist, Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman). The story of this eccentric teenager who becomes embroiled in a faux-love triangle with the first-grade teacher he has a crush on (Olivia Williams) and the middle-aged, lonely businessman that he befriends (Bill Murray) is shockingly endearing. In fact, when you boil this film down to its essential bits, it is Anderson’s characters that make it so damn tantalizing to watch. Despite being a despicable human being, Max’s youth and ignorance make him empathetic and someone that we hope learns from his mistakes by the end. Despite being a pompous businessman, Herman’s deep-seated loneliness makes him a sympathetic character who we hope can find happiness and come to good terms with his teenage friend. And both of these characters’ chemistry with Rosemary is somehow strange yet refreshing. Besides the characters, Anderson’s signature aesthetic is still in its infancy stages in Rushmore. While there are elements of his unique cinematography (due to the work of Robert Yeoman) evident in this film, Anderson has not yet fully embraced what would become his look as showcased in films like The Royal Tenenbaums and The Grand Budapest Hotel. So, if you are turned off by the look of those films, you should not have much issue with Rushmore. The other thing that I really enjoyed about this film was its dry sense of humor. While I struggled to connect with the dry, sardonic wit of other Wes Anderson films, I found it to work very well here. Perhaps it had to do with my admiration for the characters relative to those in his other movies, but I think it works best when the characters are not only likeable but when the journeys that they go on are both entertaining and satisfying. The Cons Much of what I like about Rushmore can certainly be reasons why other people do not like it. In my humble opinion, this can be said for pretty much any Wes Anderson film. From one movie to another, you either connect with it or you don’t. So, you might find the characters to be annoying, pretentious, and absurdly unrealistic. Or, you might find the humor of the film either unnatural or it may escape you altogether. Either way, Rushmore is very much a “love it or hate it” kind of flick. So, what are my final impressions of Rushmore? Whatever your reaction to this film, Anderson’s quirky characters, odd world, and cynical sense of humor will stick with you. For me, it remains one of my favorite Wes Anderson films and one of the better comedies of the last thirty years. What is your favorite Wes Anderson film? Do you think Rushmore is one of his best or worst features, or somewhere in the middle? 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 “The important thing is to make a different world…A real world, a genuine world, but one that allows myth to live. The myth is everything.” – Sergio Leone Like many film genres, the Western has a number of subgenres all its own. From the horror Westerns like Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk till Dawn and S. Craig Zahler’s Bone Tomahawk to comedic Westerns such as Mel Brooks’s Blazing Saddles and Clint Eastwood’s Bronco Billy, this genre has certainly not escaped new, original twists on the endless tropes and plot conventions that defined it for nearly a century.
Perhaps the most prolific Western subgenre is that of the Neo-Western. Having written about some good and bad Westerns already, I want to examine some of my favorite Neo-Westerns that (in my humble opinion) represent the best of the genre. But first, I address the question: what is a “Neo-Western”? In many ways, this subgenre emerged and garnered popularity in the mid-2000s with the Coen Brothers’ 2007 feature No Country for Old Men, based on the 2005 novel of the same name by Cormac McCarthy. In its purest form, the Neo-Western deconstructs the tropes and conventions of traditional Westerns films by (among other things) placing Western archetypes in a modern setting.[1] Many seem to agree that the defining element of Neo-Westerns films is the relationship between lawlessness and morality.[2] In many films of this subgenre, the laws of nature supersede the laws of civilizations for political, economic, cultural, or environmental reasons. As a result, the characters in these films often wrestle with a lack in moral clarity surrounding their own decisions and the decisions of others. Whether it’s a federal agent being forced to participate in extralegal tactics in the fight against the drug cartels in Denis Villenueve’s Sicario, or an FBI investigator having to rely on locals to aid to learn the truth about the murder of a young woman in Taylor Sheridan’s Wind River, the rules of mankind are thrown out the window. This lack of strong moral guidelines frames not only what the characters do but how they live with the consequences of their decisions. So, what are some of my favorites Neo-Western films? Without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED!! Brokeback Mountain (2005) Days after publishing her short story about two cowboys who fall in love in The New Yorker in 1997, author Annie Prouix was asked by writer Diana Ossana for an option to write a screenplay based on her story. Despite her trepidations about her story’s potential feasibility as a film, Prouix agreed. Ossana completed the screenplay in 1998 with her writing partner Larry McMurtry, and struggled for years to get financial backing from a studio. Over the next several years, development of the film picked up steam when award-winning Taiwanese-American director Ang Lee (The Wedding Banquet, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Life of Pi) became re-interested in the film despite considering retirement after making his 2003 comic book movie Hulk. Despite some studios deeming the project risky, casting was underway. Despite other actors being considered for the two lead roles, Lee claims that no other auditionees except for Heath Ledger (Monster’s Ball, The Dark Knight) and Jake Gyllenhaal (Zodiac, End of Watch, Nightcrawler) were courageous enough to accept the roles. Principal photography began in the summer of 2004 on location in Alberta, Canada (even though the short story took place in Wyoming). Both Gyllenhaal and Ledger spoke highly of Lee’s hands-off, disconnected directing style which allowed for improvisation, self-improvement, and becoming comfortable with each other during the more intimate scenes. Released in December of 2005, Brokeback Mountain ended up grossing nearly 180 million dollars on a fourteen-million-dollar budget. While it was largely praised by critics, there was some pushback from figures in conservative media and various organizations that deemed the film’s subject matter inappropriate. Still, the film ended up on dozens of film critics’ top-ten lists for the year and received eight nominations at the Academy Awards, winning three: Best Director for Lee, Best Adapted Screenplay for Ossana and McMurtry, and Best Original Score for Gustavo Santaolalla (Babel, Biutiful). Today, Brokeback Mountain is regarded as one of the most important pieces of LGBT cinema and a significant example of progress in terms of the portrayal of same-sex relationships in popular media. In reading up about this film, I learned that many of the people involved (including the leads) agreed that its central theme is loneliness. The two protagonists, Ennis Del Mar (Ledger) and Jack Twist (Gyllenhaal), find love with each other during one fateful summer herding sheep. But, they exist in a mid-20th-century society which they both know will not accept their relationship. So, they spend the next several years living apart, getting married, and having children all while taking time off work now and again to go on fishing trips together and rekindle their love, if only briefly. What makes Brokeback Mountain so powerful in my eyes is its expertly-crafted deconstruction of the “star-crossed lovers” trope to deliver a modern love story that transcends any criticism of it by embracing the relatability of unattainable love. To do this, it embraces the truth of its core message to deliver a deeply tragic tale of two men oppressed by the time and place they live in and thus must suppress their true feelings and never live honestly. Its strengths are too numerous to single out, but I found the two lead performances from Ledger and Gyllenhaal to be simply astounding. Their chemistry on camera makes Ennis and Jack’s story all the more heartbreaking by the end. While certainly a sad film about loneliness, Brokeback Mountain is undoubtedly one of my favorite modern deconstructions of the Western genre. It may even be one of my top-50 films of all time. If you haven’t seen it yet, please do so. It’s worth it! 😊 Hell or High Water (2016) Texas native and former television actor Taylor Sheridan has written three films that he refers to as a trilogy of “the modern-day American frontier.” The first was the 2015 thriller Sicario, directed by Quebec native Denis Villeneuve (Arrival, Blade Runner 2049). The second in this thematic trilogy was filmed in New Mexico from May to July of 2015 on a twelve-million-dollar budget. Upon release in August of 2016, Hell or High Water went on to gross nearly 40 million dollars and received universally positive reviews. Many critics claimed that the film revitalized the genre as a whole. Much of the praise was for Sheridan’s screenplay, which ended up getting a nod at the Academy Awards. In addition to being nominated for its writing, Hell or High Water was nominated for three other Oscars: Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor (for Jeff Bridges), and Best Film Editing. I was genuinely unsure if I would enjoy Hell or High Water. Aesthetically, it seemed too similar to films like Sicario or No Country for Old Men which would turn me off. Thematically, I was unsure if it could pull off the kind of socioeconomic message that it was aiming to. Thankfully, I was proven wrong. Hell or High Water is a thoroughly enjoyable watch and one of the better embodiments of the Neo-Western genre in recent years. On the one hand, the main performances here all excel at what they need to. The dynamic between Chris Pine and Ben Foster as brothers Toby and Tanner, respectively, makes their noble cause for robbing banks both relatable and enticing to watch. Equally, seeing their downturn into the depths of chaos they created for themselves by the end of the film is all the more satisfying as Tanner stays behind to give Toby time to flee with the money. And the final scene of Toby’s visit from the Texas Ranger who followed his and his brother’s trail, Marcus Hamilton (Jeff Bridges), is a great way to wrap up the story of both characters. Moreoever, Hell or High Water packs a thematic punch as it dissects modern American poverty. If you combine the underlying dire socioeconomic conditions of this film with the cultural existentialism for Native Americans in Wind River (writer Taylor Sheridan’s directorial debut), it quickly becomes clear that the Neo-Western is a necessary realm for filmmakers to use in exploring the struggles of modern American “outcasts” and “vagabonds” by humanizing their struggles for the audience. On top of all that, the robberies, chase scenes, and shootouts are entertaining and absorbing. So, if you’re just looking for a good time with a well-constructed action film, Hell or High Water is for you. But if you’re looking for a modern classic that has something to say while also being entertaining, then Hell or High Water is definitely for you. Logan (2017) Despite the mid critical and unexpected commercial success of 2013’s The Wolverine, director James Mangold (Girl, Interrupted, Ford v Ferrari) and star Hugh Jackman (The Prestige, Prisoners, The Greatest Showman) indicated that a third film was not a foregone conclusion. Out of a desire to go beyond what they did together in The Wolverine and provide some finality and closure to its protagonist, a third Wolverine film was announced to be in the works by 20th Century Fox as early as 2014. In the pre-production phase, Jackman (according to Mangold) often brought up more intimate character studies (The Wrestler and Unforgiven, to name a few) in outlining what he wanted for his character’s swan song feature. Ultimately, the film became a unique re-telling of Mark Millar and Steve McNiven’s 2008 Marvel Comics run of the “Old Man Logan” storyline. Additionally, classic Western films (particularly Shane) ended up influencing the film’s tone, themes, and visual storytelling. Filming took place from May to August 2016, spanning locations such as New Orleans, Mississippi, and New Mexico. Prior to the film’s release, Jackman confirmed on his social media that his performance in Mangold’s film would be the last time that he played the claw-wielding superhero that he first starred as in Bryan Singer’s 2000 superhero film X-Men. Upon the release of this film, Jackman would have racked up a total of nine performances (seven starring roles and two cameos) in Fox’s ensemble comic book franchise over the course of seventeen years. Released on March 3, 2017, Logan became the fourth-highest-grossing film in the X-Men franchise (behind Deadpool 2, Deadpool, and X-Men: Days of Future Past) by making over 600 million dollars worldwide. Also, it stands today as the sixth-highest-grossing R-rated film behind (among others) 2019’s Joker and both Deadpool films. Additionally, the movie was critically praised; many cinephiles called it one of the best comic book films ever made. Jackman’s performance was singled out alongside Patrick Stewart as Logan’s mentor/father figure Charles Xavier and Dafne Keen as Logan’s clone Laura/X-23. Logan also became the first live-action comic book film to be nominated for its screenwriting at the Academy Awards. Ultimately, it is the best-reviewed film of 20th Century Fox’s X-Men franchise among review sites like Rotten Tomatoes. Honestly, I have no idea how to condense all of my thoughts about Logan into several paragraphs. Similar to my desire to write an entire blog about Dances with Wolves, my love for this film cannot be adequately summed up in a fifth of the word count. So, I shall do my best to focus on specific aspects of this film as they relate to my exploration of the Neo-Western and this film’s place within that subgenre. First off, what impresses me the most about Logan is the character arc of its protagonist. Hugh Jackman expertly portrays the incredible journey about a man displaced from time whose only goal at this point in his life is to save up enough money, buy a boat for his mentor/father figure to die in, and then put a bullet in his brain. He is a character who has spent well over one hundred years killing to save his friends whom he outlives no matter what he does to prevent it from happening. His healing abilities keep him from dying, so the essence of his existence is never having to confront his own mortality while constantly facing the mortality of those he loves and those he kills. Much of the emotional core of Logan is Wolverine gradually taking on the responsibility of keeping a young mutant clone of himself, Laura, out of harm’s way while taking her to a safe haven for young mutants. While not the most original storytelling device, the adoptive father-daughter relationship that Wolverine and Laura develop with each other is an immensely effective one. Not only does Laura come face to face with the hero she has come to admire in a comic book, but she finds love with the closest thing she has to a father. Through his protection and delivery of Laura to safety, he comes to care about someone again. By the end, he relishes feeling love and facing mortality while looking upon Laura’s face hoping she will not become the heartless, cruel weapon that she was made into. All of this is thanks to the palpable chemistry between Jackman and Keen. There are few character arcs in film as good as that of Wolverine in Logan. Few superhero films also achieve this kind of deeply personal and powerful character study (in many ways, only 2019’s Joker can compare). In that sense, Logan is a unique deconstruction of the superhero genre through the demythologization of its protagonist. Unlike the classical hero who upholds tenets of nobility, tradition, and honor, Wolverine retains a hyper-pragmatic sense of his own understanding of right and wrong and (mostly) cares little for the lives of others. Many heroes carry some visage of hope; not Wolverine. Instead, he embodies existential nihilism as someone who lives forever but never stops feeling pain and guilt. Thus, Logan is a prime example of both a Neo-Western and a postmodern comic book movie. One way to look at the evolution of genres is in four stages: experimental, classical, parody, and deconstruction.[3] The first stage involves the rules of the genre being created and defined, while in the second stage those rules are refined and serve as the bedrock of all films within that genre for a time. During the third stage, the tropes and expectations of the genre have become so familiar to audiences and artists alike that they are satirized and lampooned. But it is the final stage―deconstruction―that films like Logan represent. For it is through deconstruction that genre films break the conventions which confined their predecessors in order to transcend the genre and create something new. Of course, all Neo-Westerns (by definition) are examples of this. And I would argue that Logan is a deconstruction of the comic book movie formula established in the 2000s by films like Spider-Man, Batman Begins, and Iron Man. Besides its character work, Logan successfully deconstructs the Western and the comic book movie through the thematic relationship between violence and morality that it explores. As I am easily entertained by senseless violence in movies, I understand why many people are turned off by otherwise-great films due to what they perceive as excessive violence. In my humble opinion, Logan is a film that is not overtly violent just for the sake of it. Instead, the harsh world established in the film is an honest reflection of how Wolverine has survived and continues to survive as a mutant and outcast: by killing whoever gets in his way. Furthermore, by integrating intimate acts of violence with Wolverine’s powers, Logan masters that inner conflict between violence and morality. For Wolverine must harm others to survive regardless of whether or not he wants to, yet it is the ability to harm others that keeps himself and those he cares about safe. One final thing I want to touch on with the film is the parallel symbolism of the landscape and mutants. In the film, mutants are nearly extinct and an essential part of its story is the fact that society has rooted them out to the point where they are mythologized. The film’s obvious inspiration by Westerns seems to confirm that this element of its subtle world-building is a metareference to the common theme of “the dying frontier” in Westerns. This makes me glad that the Western exists if only for Logan to be an homage to them. All in all, Logan is a more visually and thematically rich and nuanced film than most comic book movies tend to be. Not only is it one of my favorite genre-bending examples of the Neo-Western, but it is arguably my favorite superhero film of all time. I cannot understate how much watching this film is worth it. Wind River (2017) Inspired by the “thousands of actual stories” of indigenous women who are sexual assault and/or murder victims, Taylor Sheridan decided to complete his trilogy of “the modern-day American frontier” by writing and directing the film that would become Wind River. He wanted to make people aware of the neglect of Native American women. After principal photography occurred in Utah from March to April of 2016 on an eleven-million-dollar budget, the film was released in the late summer of 2017 and grossed 45 million dollars. It also received generally positive reviews from critics and audiences alike, although some within the indigenous community criticized the film for casting some of the indigenous parts with non-indigenous actors. Having not loved Sicario but really enjoyed Hell or High Water, I was cautiously optimistic about watching Taylor Sheridan’s directorial debut and the third act in his “frontier trilogy.” Needless to say, my expectations were greatly exceeded. There are many things I could say about Wind River, but instead I will focus on my two favorite things about it. First and foremost, Sheridan (as both writer and director) does a fantastic job overseeing the creation of a film and story that appeals to a diverse audience in the best way. While critics tend to appreciate its cinematography, performances, and themes explored, audiences seem most absorbed by the story, use of tension, and characters. In other words, Wind River pulls off what most movies either fail to do or bother not even attempting: it is a film that almost everyone who watches it can appreciate. While this may sound easy, there are countless examples of films that fall flat on their face trying to appeal to too many people but that end up appealing to very few. Primarily, these movies focus too much of their energy on trying to cross over the so-called “boundaries” that divide critics and audiences rather than transcending them to offer something for any lover of film, casual or otherwise. Instead, Wind River effectively provides an entertaining murder mystery, a gripping and tense thriller, some well-constructed action sequences, and exploration of resonant themes in order to be a film for virtually anybody. The other thing that I thoroughly enjoy about this film is its powerful and relevant message about the continuing legacy of erasing Native Americans’ struggles and experiences from contemporary memory. While films like Dances with Wolves do a great job humanizing the past of indigenous peoples, Wind River does very well to show that (similar, though not akin, to the ongoing legacy of slavery) our society wants nothing more than to ignore the present-day lives and experiences of Native Americans. The simple fact that (as the epigraph of the film’s final shot states) indigenous women are the only demographic whose “missing persons” number is not tracked by the government is proof enough of white society’s demand to forget about indigenous peoples. While the story focuses primarily on uncovering the mystery of a young woman’s rapist and murderer, the powerful subtext of Wind River emphasizes that justice for this one Native American does not (and will never) make up for the centuries of injustice committed all of them. By setting this film in a modern setting rather than playing into the “hindsight bias” of films like Dances with Wolves, Sheridan forces his audience to confront the fact that Native Americans exist to this day and that their influence on our society remains important to highlight in an effort to at least establish a dialogue dealing with how to help them today. For those who have not seen Wind River but are interested in watching an engrossing mystery-thriller set in the contemporary West with a powerful cultural subtext, I cannot recommend it enough. Nomadland (2021) Over the course of three years, New York Times journalist Jessica Bruder drove for 15,000 miles all across the country while living in a van documenting the lives of older Americans who, in the wake of the Great Recession of 2008, left their domestic lives behind in search of seasonal work and becoming nomadic “vandwellers.” Her work eventually became the book “Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century,” published in 2017. The book went on to be recognized by the New York Times and was nominated for several awards, winning the Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers Award. In early 2019, Searchlight Pictures was announced as the distributor for a film adaptation of Bruder’s book which would star and be produced by Frances McDormand (Mississippi Burning, Fargo, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) and would be written and directed by Chloé Zhao (Songs My Brothers Taught Me, The Rider). Principal photography took four months over the course of the fall of 2018, with Zhao relying primarily on non-actors who are/were real “vandwellers” to portray fictionalized versions of themselves. Nomadland initially premiered at the Venice Film Festival in September of last year, but was theatrically released in the United States last month. It won several awards at film festivals, notably honoring Zhao as the writer/director and McDormand as the lead actor. The film has been universally praised, with both the National Board of Review and the American Film Institute listing it as one of the ten best films of 2020. At this year’s Golden Globes, Nomadland won Best Drama and Best Director, making Zhao the second woman and first Asian director to receive the latter. Surprisingly, Nomadland is perhaps (thematically speaking) most similar to Hell or High Water. Both tell the stories of the economically disenfranchised who seek purpose and refuge out west by taking their own unconventional paths to finding those things for themselves. Of course, the Howard brothers in the latter adopt a criminal lifestyle to do so whereas Fern (Frances McDormand) adopts a loner, migratory lifestyle to do so in the former. Evidenced by my ranking at the end of this blog, I found Hell or High Water to be slightly more entertaining. But I think that Nomadland is a great example of blending fiction and reality to shine light on truth. Zhao’s expert usage of real-life nomads to fill out the cast of colorful folks who Fern encounters throughout her travels makes the world of 21st-century American nomads believable right away. Also, the film makes the most of its star to humanize the motivations, desires, struggles, and triumphs of this particular group of marginalized people who feel they have been given no choice but to reject the life being handed to them in exchange for one that prioritizes freedom and frugality over a life of plenty. If anything, I was hoping for Nomadland to explore more of the political dimensions of this story by elaborating more on why these peoples’ lives have arrived at where they are. But, at the end of the day, I respect the work that Zhao, McDormand and everyone else involved in this film did to explore the deeply personal dimensions of such a lifestyle. So, while not my favorites Neo-Western film, it is one that resonated with me and one that I highly recommend. Ultimately, I am grateful for having gone on this weeks-long journey reflecting on my complicated feelings about the Western. I have come to hate some in the genre and love others. I have come to recognize that the Western might be the quintessential American film genre. I may consider superhero comics (and the films inspired by them) to be America’s mythology, but I now see an argument for Westerns filling that role in film history. Its exploration of the hero’s journey in a rough-and-tough environment, the dissection of morality in dire circumstances, and the capturing of some of the most beautiful landscapes this side of the Prime Meridian all make the Western arguably the signature element of American cinema to this day. And while there are other takes on the genre throughout history and across the world (notably the films of Akira Kurosawa, such as Seven Samurai and Yojimbo), few can match the historical legacy or contemporary cultural impact of films like The Searchers, Dances with Wolves, and Brokeback Mountain. With all that being said, below is my ranking of all of the Western movies I have discussed in blogs over the past couple of months:
What is your favorite Western film? Do you even like Westerns? 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 [1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=38XFRVrJxk8&list=WL&index=57 [2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLxLLmy5Su4&list=WL&index=59; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ipV8AP8vAQ&list=WL&index=59 [3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLxLLmy5Su4&list=WL&index=56 |
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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