During my deep-dive into the works of famous film directors that has now spanned more than two years, I was most trepidatious about the works of Clint Eastwood. Having only seen four of his movies in the past, I was still familiar enough with his sensibilities as a director to worry whether I would connect with much of his work (particularly his Westerns like High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales and Unforgiven).
While I cannot say this for many directors that I’ve familiarized myself with, I am happy to say that I enjoyed more of Eastwood’s features than I assumed I would. But, there were a handful that really impressed and surprised me that I wanted to highlight on the blog in case others like me are unsure about diving head-first into Eastwood’s directing career. With the release of Eastwood’s latest directed feature, Cry Macho, this weekend I figured it was no better time than now for this venture. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Million Dollar Baby (2004) While there are many sports movies that I love, the genre tends to be a hit-or-miss for me. Fortunately, Eastwood’s 2004 boxing drama Million Dollar Baby was definitely a hit for my viewing experience. It shares the pantheon of powerful, emotionally grounded sports films (alongside the likes of The Wrestler, Warrior, and Creed) in telling the story of Maggie Fitzgerald (Hilary Swank), a working-class woman who longs for a shot to enter the amateur boxing world and comes under the reluctant tutelage of aged trainer Frankie Dunn (Clint Eastwood). As a sports movie, Million Dollar Baby spends its first two acts hitting all the right beats without feeling reminiscent of lesser films in the genre or cheesy. In fact, there is very little (if anything) about the movie that comes off as sentimental. The emotionally hardened interplay between Eastwood’s gritty, standoffish nature and Swank’s youthful energy and enthusiasm is infectious to the point that the story’s reliance on some of the more traditional beats of an up-and-comer athlete can be easily ignored and forgiven. In addition to the leads, the movie offers up some great supporting performances such as Morgan Freeman as Frankie’s gym assistant and retired boxer Eddie “Scrap-Iron” Dupris. Despite the film’s framing device being potentially distracting in the wake of other movies like The Shawshank Redemption, Freeman’s narration from start to finish never distracts and only enhances the emotional and thematic core that is Maggie and Frankie’s relationship. My other favorite supporting character (because I loved to hate her) was Margo Martindale as Earline Fitzgerald, Maggie’s selfish and narcissistic mother who plays such a character earnestly so as to avoid falling into the pit of cartoonish antics. But what makes the film truly great is that it transcends any formulaic structure in order to achieve a heightened rawness and intensity based in Swank’s character’s tragic fall due to a near-fatal injury during her title shot against Billie Osterman (Lucia Rijker). Eastwood stated after the film’s release that, at is core, Maggie’s story is a microcosm of the American dream. I can certainly see this in the film’s ending paralleling the emotional stakes of classic tales like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby.” And while I understand some peoples’ criticism of how Eastwood portrays Maggie’s death wish, I choose to buy into this allegorical interpretation of the film because it makes sense to me. Furthermore, it makes the movie better because it becomes more than just a great sports movie. Rather, it is transformed into a modern classic. If that hasn’t convinced you to check out Million Dollar Baby, I don’t know what will. 😊 Letters from Iwo Jima (2006) Of the five Eastwood movies I’ll be talking about today, his 2006 war drama Letters from Iwo Jima was the only one I have seen multiple times. Despite that, it remains my favorite of his directorial career and one of my personal favorite war movies of all time. If you’re unfamiliar with this flick, I cannot urge you enough to check it out. As a war movie, Letters from Iwo Jima is unique in tone and style. Its first act alone feels less like a traditional action-heavy war film and more like a quiet, character-driven drama that explores the roots of soldiers’ loyalties and drive in wartime along with the prideful, honor-based culture of imperial Japan. Through the eyes of Private 1st Class Saigo (Kazunari Ninomiya) and General Tadamichi Kuribayashi (Ken Watanabe), the experience of the Japanese people in World War II is gracefully complicated in order to humanize those who were—to the United States—the enemy. Whether it be highlighting the wife and life that Saigo left behind in his village or the admiration that Kuribayashi has for America after spending time there, Eastwood effectively uses these characters’ perspectives to ground Japan’s viewpoint on the war without ever making them out to be angelic or pure of heart. Instead, they are human—just like the American soldiers were. I firmly believe that this accomplishment cannot be overpraised. As other war films have shown, Eastwood could have easily given in to hyperbolizing the more seemingly inhumane elements of wartime Japanese culture (i.e. ritual suicide in place of surrender, hyper-nationalism). But instead, he holds back such temptations in order to show empathy for Saigo and his fellow soldiers just as any good director would do in a more Western- or American-centric story. In my humble opinion, this approach is essential to make Letters from Iwo Jima more than just your average war story. All in all, this film highlights the smaller moments of war to pull off being a relatively quaint war film focused on characters and themes rather than blood-and-gore-soaked violence. For these reasons and more, Letters from Iwo Jima remains one of my personal favorites that is well worth your time on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Gran Torino (2008) As a child, I was familiar with the name Gran Torino because of a story my dad would share about its opening scene that was filmed inside Saint Ambrose Roman Catholic Church at Grosse Pointe Park in Wayne County, Michigan. As my father’s side of the family was partially from Michigan, it turned out that his [great aunt?] can be seen within one shot during the funeral scene. Despite this little family story, I had never seen Gran Torino until about a year ago (admittedly, it was pretty cool watching it knowing that a distant relative was in it as an extra!). And while I was under the impression that I would not like it very much, I was happily surprised by how much I loved it. Without question, Eastwood’s turn as the morally despicable and curmudgeon widowed veteran Walt Kowalski is one of his most emotionally captivating performances that I’ve seen. The journey that the character goes on as a lonely and distant man developing a slow-burn mentor (and then father-like) relationship with Thao Vang Lor (Bee Vang), a troubled Hmong teenager in his neighborhood, is compelling due to its morally ambiguous dimensions. Unquestionably, Walt’s past service in the Korean War shrouds the better aspects of his personality in racial prejudice towards Asians and Asian Americans in general. So, watching members of the Hmong community, such as Thao, his grandmother (Chee Thao) and his sister Sue Lor (Ahney Her), warmly embrace Walt into their community over time fosters his transformation into an honorable man who pays the ultimate price to protect Thao from his demented gangbanger cousin Fong, better known as “Spider” (Doua Moua). Of course, I cannot shower praise onto Gran Torino without noting some of the criticisms regarding Eastwood’s portrayal of the Hmong community in the United States. Similar to his work done in Letters from Iwo Jima, Eastwood has tasked himself in this film with humanizing a group of people viewed as different—or “the other”—to many American eyes. On the surface, it should be easier to do in this film as he is putting first- and second-generation Americans on screen versus members of an enemy army. However, I feel that such a task actually has something that makes it more difficult than humanizing Japanese soldiers. In my humble opinion, audiences watching a war movie generally find it easy to empathize with soldiers of any stripes—regardless of which side of a war they fought for—because there are certain character traits (loyalty and bravery, to name a couple) that many soldiers on screen are given. These traits are virtually universally admired by moviegoers as virtues of a good person. However, in Gran Torino, Eastwood is shining a spotlight on a minority community of civilians in which many are decent people but include a handful of degenerates that (through the racially-biased eyes of Walt Kowalski) spoil the bunch. Thus, Eastwood’s direction has to both complicate the narrative of this community in a realistic manner without resorting to romanticizing the crime-ridden elements as shown by characters like “Spider” or exoticizing the other Hmong in order to make them more palatable to viewers. While I think that he largely pulls this off, I understand the criticisms towards Eastwood doing too much of the latter while also injecting some incorrect elements of Hmong culture. At the end of the day, despite its flaws, Gran Torino remains for me one of Eastwood’s best films and possibly my favorite performance of his in a movie. Period. Fight me. 😊 The Mule (2018) If Eastwood’s protagonist in Gran Torino is his most emotionally interesting performance, then his turn as the octogenarian horticulturist-turned-drug mule Earl Stone in The Mule is probably his most comedically consistent and charming. What I think is funny about it is that Eastwood, as both the director and star, plays into some ageist tendencies in portraying Earl as an anachronistic and sentimental man. However, it’s acceptable since Eastwood is essentially poking fun at the fact that he was 88 at the time of filming and thus making fun of old actors as an old actor. This is akin to his 1980 Western comedy Bronco Billy in which Eastwood effectively parodies the many cowboy characters he has played by putting that kind of personality into a modern carnival-like setting. And in the case of both that film and The Mule, I was in for it from the get-go. However, it is not a perfect movie. It lacks any outstanding aspects regarding the central story of Earl being on the run from DEA agent Colin Bates (Bradley Cooper) and his partner Trevino (Michael Peña). It does a serviceable job as a fugitive story, but is not exceptionally great in any respect except for the performances. Aside from Eastwood, both Cooper and Peña stand out in their respective supporting roles which makes The Mule better than any random crime drama. Furthermore, its theme of the importance of making amends for the past no matter how long it has been is nothing unique. But the way Eastwood handles it in both his acting and directing is graceful with his signature grounded touch. For that, the film is better than many others like it. Honestly, I don’t have much more to say about The Mule. While it’s not Eastwood’s best, its impact on my memory is unquestionable and I think it is worth watching even if you’re not a huge Eastwood fan. Richard Jewell (2019) I had approximately equal expectations for Eastwood’s 2019 biopic Richard Jewell that I had for The Mule. As it no longer seems to be his golden period of directing, I was unsure of how I would react to it. Fortunately, its star power makes up for its notable flaws to make a pretty good film for how late it is in Eastwood’s directing career. First and foremost, Paul Walter Hauser commands the heart of the film as its eponymous protagonist due to much of what made Eastwood’s turn as Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino so great. Simply put, Hauser’s portrayal of Jewell as a simple-minded, unambitious security guard whose understated heroism brings him more pain and heartache than acclaim and hero-worship is surprisingly effective. The way I think of it is that I sympathize with Jewell’s plight and how it affects his personal life (specifically his relationship with his mother). And yet the character is not the kind of person that I would care to befriend and hang out with because his personality can be abrasive and straight-up unlikeable. Only a talented actor like Hauser could pull off such a balancing act so gracefully. Arguably, however, the supporting cast brings just as much A-game to Richard Jewell that Hauser does. For me, the standouts are Kathy Bates as Jewell’s enduring and overprotective mother Barbara (which earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress) and Sam Rockwell as Jewell’s witty, smart-mouthed lawyer Watson Bryant. Both of their roles in Jewell’s struggle against the media and the federal government grounds him in a humanity necessary to making the audience empathize with him in spite of his many character flaws. But this film also has some significant flaws that keep it below the other films that I’ve discussed thus far. Notably, Jon Hamm’s turn as the FBI agent in charge of investigating Jewell plays into Eastwood’s cartoonish portrayal of the federal government as a soulless entity that only cares about convicting. While there is arguably a kernel of truth in this, the overt political bias on display here turns me off in the way that some of his other more politically slanted films (lookin’ at you, American Sniper!) do. Also, the film received some well-deserving controversy in its outright character assassination of Atlanta journalist Kathy Scruggs (Olivia Wilde) who is portrayed as giving sexual favors to Hamm’s character in return for the story. The irony of this is that Eastwood’s intention seemed to be to highlight the gross character assassination by the federal government upon the real-life Richard Jewell, and yet seemed to have done just that to Kathy Scruggs in telling this version of his story. An unforgiveable misstep, for sure. All that being said, I believe that Richard Jewell is ultimately a better film than the sum of its parts. Notably, the central performances carry its emotional weight and distract me enough from its on-the-nose political bias and unflattering blurring of the lines between truth and fiction. Reflecting on these films from a classic American director, I wonder if the best is yet to come or if these later swan-song films represent all the creative juices that Eastwood has felt. I guess only time will tell. With all that being said, here is my ranking of my five favorite Clint Eastwood films:
I also want to highlight a handful of Clint Eastwood’s directed features that I feel are both generally ignored and underrated (in chronological order of release):
What is your favorite Clint Eastwood-directed film? How do you think Eastwood’s career in Hollywood will be remembered? 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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Many argue that it’s the greatest film of all time. But Orson Welles’s feature directorial debut Citizen Kane is far from my favorite film, despite being on the list of the “1,001 Movies You Must See Before You Die” by Steven Jay Schneider. So, on the 80th anniversary of its release, I want to share why I struggle to like or enjoy what many cinephiles and critics call “the” masterpiece of cinema.
[NOTE: This blog will contain spoilers for “Citizen Kane.” You have been warned.] The History As early as 1937, acclaimed theater actor and director Orson Welles (The Stranger, Macbeth, Touch of Evil) was turning down scripts and acting offers from acclaimed studios and directors such as Warner Brothers and William Wyler (The Best Years of Our Lives, Ben-Hur, Funny Girl), respectively. Only in the wake of his now-famous radio broadcast adapting H.G. Wells’s novel “The War of the Worlds” did a lucrative enough movie contract come along to lure Welles away from theater out west to Los Angeles. After arriving in 1939, with the intentions of staying only a few months to make enough money to pay off his debts and fund his next play, Welles was mesmerized by the movie studio. Thus, his film career was officially in motion. On August 21 that same year, Welles signed his revolutionary contract with RKO Pictures which granted him (at that time) unprecedented creative control over his two films with the studio. Not only did Welles retain final cut privilege and freedom to develop his stories without studio interference, but RKO was not allowed to make cuts to his films without his permission. In addition, Welles had complete control over the hiring of his cast and crew and RKO was barred from seeing any footage until Welles deemed it necessary. However, after several months developing projects, Welles’s prospects for creating a finished film under RKO’s required $500,000 limit that could make money seemed lesser every day. Eventually, after workshopping some other ideas to no avail, Welles began brainstorming with New York screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz who was already employed by Welles writing plays for his CBS Radio series. By February of 1940, Welles gave Mankiewicz hundreds of pages of notes before hiring him to write a first draft based on their collaborations up to that point. Infamously, Welles seemingly downplayed Mankiewicz’s involvement in the final script. Despite initially agreeing to be a script doctor and thus receive no official credit for his work on the project, Mankiewicz eventually threatened Welles with claiming credit for the whole thing unless his work on the screenplay was publicly acknowledged. The controversy was not resolved until January of 1941 when RKO Pictures agreed to give Mankiewicz credit. However, questions of the true authorship continued well into the 1970s with film critics such as Pauline Kael and university professors like Robert L. Carringer publishing essays and books reviewing the evidence of who was the primary author. While the film’s protagonist, Charles Foster Kane, was a synthesis of different personalities, the life of newspaper magnate and politician William Randolph Hearst served as the basis for the character. Some of the other people that helped form the basis of Kane were business tycoons Samuel Insull and Harold Fowler McCormick, publishers Joseph Pulitzer and Alfred Harmsworth, and journalist Herbert Bayard Swope, Sr. Welles hired many actors from the Mercury Theatre, an independent theatre company that he founded, and for many of them it was their feature film debut. One of the exceptions to this rule was Welles casting Los Angeles native Dorothy Comingore, who was recommended to him by fellow actor and director Charlie Chaplin (The Kid, City Lights, The Great Dictator) and immediately cast Comingore as Kane’s second wife Susan Alexander Kane. In breaking with tradition of much of Hollywood at the time, Welles had his actors rehearse every single scene before principal photography to ensure that he was given the best performances possible when filming actually began. In preparation for filming, Welles carefully studied the fundamentals of filmmaking from a textbook given to him by production advisor Miriam Geiger and watching the films of Frank Capra and Fritz Lang (among others), especially John Ford’s Stagecoach (which he watched approximately 40 times). Welles described the experience learning to be a film director as “like going to school.” Welles chose to begin principal photography on a Saturday morning in 1940 so as to prevent studio executives from RKO from being aware that any filming had actually began at that point. Apparently, the executives were under the impression that Welles was doing camera tests. While there was some locating shooting (specifically at Balboa Park in and around the San Diego Zoo), most of the film was shot on Stage 19 at the Paramount Pictures lot in Hollywood. Furthermore, Welles went through incidents of physical trauma throughout production including severe pain from the contact lenses applied to his eyes to age him up. He also fell ten feet during a scene with Ray Collins (The Magnificent Ambersons, Touch of Evil), resulting in two bone chips in his ankle that bound him to a wheelchair for two weeks (which he directed from). Ultimately, the film was made on a budget nearing $840,000 (more than one-and-a-half times the maximum budget allowed by RKO in Welles’s initial contract). Citizen Kane received its wide domestic release on September 5, 1941. Although it did not recoup its costs during its initial theatrical run, the film was lauded by critics for its innovative style of filmmaking (notably the cinematography and editing) with many identifying it back then as one of the greatest movies ever made at the time. The film was nominated for nine Academy Awards (including Best Director and Best Actor for Welles), but only won Best Original Screenplay for Mankiewicz and Welles. Nevertheless, it has gone down in history as one of the best films ever made (evidenced by its selection by the Library of Congress as one of the first 25 films to be preserved in the National Film Registry for its cultural, historic, or aesthetic significance). The Cons After watching Citizen Kane for the first time, I struggled to narrow down what exactly I disliked about it. The acting? The story? The themes? I remained puzzled about why I was not fulfilled by this movie that was supposed to be one of (if not the) greatest films of all time. It was a second viewing that clarified what my dismay was ultimately about. And after researching the making of the film, the source of my disdain for Citizen Kane became even clearer. For a film that was made in the 1940s about political corruption and big business through the lens of newspaper tycoons, it was obviously made to be a look at contemporary American society (that is, early-20th-century society). And while audiences in 1941 may have found the themes explored by the rise-and-fall of Charles Foster Kane (Welles) to be prescient and timely, that story being told 80 years later simply fails to be “timeless” like other films are. Are there younger films that tackle “rise-and-fall” stories which could be considered “timeless”? Certainly, for films like Goodfellas, Boogie Nights, and The Wolf of Wall Street come to mind. All of which capture a particular time period (often spanning more than one decade) in a way that is both entertaining and engrossing. Furthermore, the protagonists of these films are all more compelling and interesting than Kane in Welles’s feature directorial debut. Why? In my humble opinion, a lot of it comes down to the story being told. As I’ll expand more on in “The Pros” section of this blog, my lack of investment in Kane’s downfall has nothing to do will Welles’s acting chops which are front-and-center and unquestionable. Rather, the story of Citizen Kane of a poor boy who is given an inheritance and becomes a successful newspaper magnate is not at all relatable on a personal level nor captivating on a cinematic one. Fans of the film, however, might ask: But what about the degradation to Kane’s mental and emotional state due to his success? Does that make him relatable? Ultimately, my answer is not enough. Simply put, I think that this kind of tale is done better in other films. Citizen Kane may be timeless for other reasons, but its story and themes are not those reasons. The Pros To give some much-deserved praise for Citizen Kane, I will grant that its technical achievements do earn their place in cinematic history. While there are many I could dissect here, I will focus largely on two. First, the cinematography of Illinois native Gregg Toland (The Grapes of Wrath, The Best Years of Our Lives) which earns the praise that it gets for being both unique for its time and forward-thinking for cinema as a whole in terms of its approach to visual storytelling. I want to dissect one famous scene from Citizen Kane to highlight its accomplished cinematography. Early in the film’s first act, it is the first flashback to Kane’s life (specifically his childhood). While he is playing in the snow outside his home, his mother (Agnes Moorehead) and father (Harry Shannon) are indoors agreeing to place their son’s newfound inheritance in a trust overseen by a banker Walter Thatcher (George Coulouris) who is also becoming Kane’s legal guardian. The master shot of the scene is framed so as to place the audience inside the house and at the table where Kane’s future is being decided. However, the focus of the frame is not on the three adults but on young Kane playing outside in the snow. This scene is significant for a few reasons. Thematically, it shows that the foundation of Kane’s success was not of his own making but rather a fate decided for him which plays into the tragedy of his downfall very effectively. Furthermore, the lack of attention paid to the sled that young Kane is playing on is a tasteful way of introducing such an important element of Kane’s life (and death) without beating it over the audiences’ heads. Overall, this scene early on in Citizen Kane is one of numerous examples of how the film’s approach to visual storytelling marked a new phase of Hollywood filmmaking. Regarding its production design, I was most impressed with the make-up effects done on Welles himself. Pivotal to the story is the reliance on flashing backward and forward through time to show different parts of Kane’s life from a young up-and-coming newspaper manager to one of the most powerful and well-known names in American politics. Aside from the early scenes of Kane as a child playing in the snow, Welles portrays Kane spanning decades from young adulthood to the deathbed. Unquestionably, Welles’s acting plays into suspending the audience’s disbelief as he moves differently the older he gets. But enough credit cannot be given to Maurice Seiderman (Gunga Din, The Hunchback of Notre Dame), whose aging of Welles to contrast with the virile younger Kane is easily one of the most noticeable innovations of the film. So, what are my final impressions of Citizen Kane? While I understand it being viewed as a masterpiece of cinema back in 1941, I do not believe that it remains one today. But, it deserves credit for being an important film for what it did for the art form back then and that may just be enough to justify watching it if you never have before. What do you think about Citizen Kane? Do you think I am being too harsh on it? 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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