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Post by joekiddlouischama on Feb 3, 2024 4:35:50 GMT
Two versions of the same story, both directed by Raoul Walsh. The earlier one is a Noir (starring Humphrey Bogart) and the remake is a Western. The latter is included in Criterion’s High Sierra Blu-Ray, which was collecting dust in my shelves until the other day when I finally got around to watching it, and then a few days later I plopped in disc 2. The story is very similar on both versions: a career criminal is helped out of prison by a former associate under the condition that he take part in one last very lucrative job. There are two hot-headed accomplices and two love interests and double-crossing. But I have to say that I liked the Western version better. I thought it was leaner and wisely avoided some melodramatic plot points that the Noir version had. Plus, it has some pretty exciting horse-riding and train sequences. Has anyone seen either of those, or both?
I have seen High Sierra twice, most recently this past November on Turner Classic Movies. (I do not actually receive TCM nowadays thanks to Comcast's decision in late 2019 to ax this wonderful station from the company's basic cable package, but thankfully many recent TCM screenings are available On Demand.) I first viewed High Sierra in December 2004 on TCM, and I have seen Colorado Territory at least once, also on TCM—but not since the fall of 2003. I never really drew a connection between the two, perhaps because they are different enough in historical setting and tone. In fact, only thanks to your post and my subsequent cursory research do I realize that the two films share the same director, the famous Raoul Walsh. I saw Colorado Territory more as a tale that sort of anticipates Bonnie & Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967), which rather affirms your point about it being "leaner" and less "melodramatic." Since it has been over twenty years since I last viewed it, and since I may have only seen it once (at least in full), I cannot speak that definitively about it, but I really like Colorado Territory. Virginia Mayo looks great, and classic Western star Joel McCrea is certainly in his element. I am not sure if High Sierra fully, or truly, constitutes a film noir, nor do I feel that there is a historical consensus defining it as such. Indeed, to the extent that a consensus exists, it seems to suggest that another Bogart movie, this one released the following year (1941) and directed by John Huston, The Maltese Falcon, represents the first full-fledged film noir, truly establishing the archetypes and tropes (both thematic and visual) that would start to become commonplace in the mid-1940s, thus building a distinct genre. High Sierra is perhaps a touch more sentimental than most films noir, and one could see it as more of a gangster movie—and the one that anticipates Bogart's conversion from villainous roles to heroic ones, although he would of course make those heroic parts rather ambiguous, moody, and morally complex. Of course, definitions of noir can be somewhat fungible, and High Sierra certainly anticipates the evolution of noir, both in some visual traits and also its sense of a shaded protagonist (ostensibly a bad guy, but one with a heart, trying to do right). I rather agree with scholar Douglas Gomery in his essay on Walsh in The St. James Film Directors Encyclopedia (1998, edited by Andrew Sarris), where he refers to High Sierra as a "crime melodrama" in its studio's (Warner Brothers) mold, but that " High Sierra looked ahead to the film noir of the 1940s. In that film the gangster became a sympathetic character trapped by forces he did not understand" (page 545). Regardless of classification, I consider High Sierra "very good." The story is rather forgettable, but Bogart's sense of doom, combined with his palpable desire for transcendence (meaning a different life), makes for a powerfully paradoxical performance. Most notable is the film's climactic chase sequences. The editing and location shooting are riveting, and the use of extremely steep high and low angles during the ultimate mountainside shootout are stunning. Indeed, High Sierra is a film that I would love to see in the theater, and I imagine that it made quite an impact on those who saw it back in 1940.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Dec 24, 2023 9:01:56 GMT
I think it's overrated. But I think most Hawks films are overrated. This can't be a serious question though. The '70s BS is terrible. The Mitchum FML is a bit better, but that film is most notable for the appearance of pulp novelist Jim Thompson (The Getaway), who worked w/Kubrick on the scripts for The Killing & Paths Of Glory. I mean, I can follow the 70's version. Can't do that with the original.
Actually, I would have to see it twice in order to understand the plot I reckon. But no matter how many times I watch the original, I wouldn't understand it.
I have only seen it once, but I understand where you are coming from. Then again, I am pretty sure that the plot is not the point—rather, the appeal lies in the dialogue, the repartee, the stars, the rhythm, and the atmosphere. As for the seventies version, like another poster, I did not even know that it existed.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Dec 22, 2023 7:36:39 GMT
I find The Iron Claw to be "decent/pretty good," meaning slightly above-average—and I do mean slightly. A pseudo-epic saga of professional wrestling's famous Von Erich family, the movie offers neither realism nor stylization, either visually or tonally. Both in terms of the acting and the direction, one senses the gears shifting and the "process" invisibly at play—which is not the effect that a film ever wants to create. Indeed, the enterprise feels a tad too "mediated," as if it is not quite happening organically. Impressive stylization could have compensated, but that factor is largely lacking, too. Instead, the movie's effect is synthetic—replicated rather than authentic. The film is well-cast, yet aside from Maura Tierney as the reserved, aloof matriarch and Jeremy Allen White as one of the brothers/wrestlers, the performances leave something to be desired, which is an indictment of director Sean Durkin (also the movie's writer). In the lead role as the oldest (sort of) brother, Zac Efron is adequate and flirts with quiet poignancy, yet in the end, his physique is more impressive than the rest of his (somewhat mechanical) performance. (Of course, Efron deserves credit for building his physique to such an extent.) Overall, one might draw an analogy to Ford v Ferrari from four years ago, a middling, milquetoast movie—both emotionally and visually—that miraculously managed to score five Oscar nominations, including one for Best Picture. (Promotional campaigns, I suppose, can indeed count for so much.) And I drew that analogy before noticing that The Iron Claw has won two National Board of Review awards, one for "Best Ensemble" and one for "Top Films," the equivalent of a Best Picture nomination from the Academy.
On the other hand, the material in The Iron Claw is quite strong: a tragic, patriarchal, real-life American Dream that mixes genuine darkness and disaffection with bittersweet, belatedly redemptive qualities. And to its credit, the film creates a sense of quietude rather than spelling out its themes. Occasionally, director Durkin offers a memorable shot: Efron's character emerging into a dark room from deep inside the frame, barely backlit by the bluish light emanating from just outside the door and its small window; a heavenly-type long shot with the four brothers and their father frolicking in a golden field, perhaps playing backyard football as they had in the past, suggesting what could have been; a still medium-range shot that reveals the legacy of an accident; a tight shot where Efron's character, while training in the ring, continually bounces from one side of the ropes to the other, everything blurry except for the ropes in the foreground, suggesting his sense of psychological mania and how it dovetails with his athletic endeavor. And some of the late scenes stand out, especially two where Durkin uses minimal staging and dialogue to foster deep resonance. In one, Tierney's character has resumed her painting—a talent from her past—and tells her stunned, questioning husband that she has not made dinner, that she wasn't hungry. The exchange, and the resulting silence, prove powerful and haunting, telling a lot with a little. The other, the movie's final scene and coda, is both tender and thematically revealing, ultimately lifting The Iron Claw just above its essential mediocrity.
The film is one of dangerous ambition, masculine archetypes and their changing definitions within the milieu of Americana, and the effects of wrestling on the body, psyche, and soul. And again, the picture presents these matters without exposition. Rather as in Ford v Ferrari, the material is stronger than the movie, but that material is better in The Iron Claw—richer, more ironic, more complex—and this film makes a little more of its material. At its best, it (sort of) could have been Giant (George Stevens, 1956) transferred to the tawdry realm of modern wrestling. The Iron Claw, conversely, is a far more limited, far more routine venture, but the subject matter still resonates, and in its best shots and scenes, the movie makes an impact.
Some people might agree with me, others with the National Board of Review. But along with untapped potential, there is something to this intriguing mixed bag of a motion picture.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Dec 20, 2023 7:21:15 GMT
Wholesome family film to end the year. Decent enough non-Christmas film for families this break. Does it possess any of the social subversiveness of the original?
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Dec 20, 2023 7:00:13 GMT
I just saw it today; if you have a chance to do so before it leaves theaters (in a day or two, in most cases), Eileen is worthy of a look. Set in the Boston area in 1964, and based upon a novel by Ottessa Moshfeg (who also co-authored the adapted screenplay), the movie follows the curious relationship of two sexually ambiguous women, a young staff assistant played by Thomasin McKenzie (who resembles Rooney Mara) and a somewhat older, much more glamorous, doctoral psychologist played by Anne Hathaway. The film's style is somewhat overwrought, but the narrative ultimately moves in unexpected ways. The characters' motivations, and the justifications for their actions, sometimes seem undernourished, but the movie's lean, allusive style makes for concision while inviting audience participation, forcing viewers to think for themselves. Visually, Eileen offers an attractively gritty (if typical for a period piece) look, although there is nothing remarkable about its compositions or lighting. The movie suggests that the raw and dark New England winters lead to sexual suppression, supposed deviancy, and perversion, but the cinematography could have done more with landscape and environs to invite this impression. Nonetheless, Eileen manages to be atmospheric and fairly engrossing.
All of that is a way of saying that (for me, at least) the film's quality feels ambiguous while watching it and also immediately afterwards—you don't quite know what to make of it. But a few minutes later, Eileen might firmly strike you—as it did me—as "good." It uses simple gestures to suggest powerful themes rather than constantly spelling them out. One senses that the novel fleshes out the issues and characters much further, and one perhaps misses that level of detail in the movie. But again, the film's leanness proves compelling, offers a sense of mystery, and engages the audience rather than pandering to or oversaturating viewers. Sometimes, less is more, and the movie's jazz score makes Eileen all the more esoteric and enigmatic. McKenzie's quiet, naturalistic performance is the most powerful, while Hathaway is adequate—as good as she can be.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Dec 20, 2023 6:22:58 GMT
Pretty impressive first-time effort from writer/director Cord Jefferson. Equal parts hilarious and thought-provoking with the analysis of how highlighting Black stories can be problematic when only one type of story sells. Some of the family drama didn't work for me fully, but I can get a sense of why it's included. Best Actor worthy performance from Jeffrey Wright. 7.5/10. I was looking forward to it based on the trailer, but it has not come to any city in my theater.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 25, 2023 5:58:26 GMT
Yeah, it is really ridiculous. Popeye Doyle is supposed to constitute a problematic character, and The French Connection is supposed to reflect both the vision of its filmmakers and the mores and manners of its time, in which there was a certain frankness and rawness about both race and language. For better or for worse, 1971 was not 2021, and neither history nor art should be whitewashed. Moreover, it is not as if The French Connection is, say, The Birth of a Nation (which should not be censored, either). It is not remotely a racist film, but one that merely reflects the existence of racism to a modest extent. Are we supposed to believe that the slur "n*gger" was never uttered by a white New York City cop in the early seventies? I viewed The French Connection twice in the theater just ten years ago, in September 2013, and the film was not censored then. As the article that you linked to suggests, this decision by Disney (apparently) does not seem to be inspired by some liberal ideologues (who was calling for this removal?) but rather by corporate defensiveness and cluelessness. Look, if one is concerned about children being exposed to the word, the film is Rated "R." If we are now at the stage where we cannot use the rating system and need corporations to protect adults from themselves, then society has reached a real low point.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 21, 2023 1:58:53 GMT
Have you heard about the situation with The French Connection?
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 4:04:31 GMT
Weird that everyone seems to think the last hour was bad or boring. It was probably my favorite part of the movie. It was fine, alas it'll be a barrier from many re-watches. The Trinity test with an hour remaining will be noted forever. I just think litigating known history as it were for re-watches will keep me from it. Reminds me of Goodfellas' hand holding narration - fine the first 3 or so viewings... now it's just deja vu. But the Trinity test is nowhere near the endpoint of the overall story, and that is why Oppenheimer's saga flummoxes and haunts us (as a society). Indeed, the Trinity test is as much a beginning as an end. The last hour rather brings everything into focus: the unintended and apocalyptic consequences of Oppenheimer's creation; the false idolatry and convenient scapegoating; the ruthless opportunism of allegedly altruistic people supposedly devoted to science and country; the personal disloyalty masquerading as national loyalty. But then, too, there were legitimate concerns about how the Soviet Union had built its atomic bomb so quickly and how American nuclear secrets could have leaked out, and whether Oppenheimer's hope for international cooperation as a means of curtailing the arms race was hopelessly naïve, and why he opposed the hydrogen bomb morally yet did not oppose the atomic bomb for those same reasons. One could certainly argue that these questions would have been better addressed by a quieter, more intimate, more idiosyncratic film. However, to not have raised them (principally through the post-Trinity portion of the movie) would have been to glorify subject matter that needed to be critiqued rather than celebrated. Nolan's sense of spectacle does not optimally lend itself to this darkly twisted tale, but at least he acknowledges that the tale is darkly twisted.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 3:36:17 GMT
oh man, i did Not like the movie at all. am bummed I wouldn't go that far but it's certainly far from Nolan's best. I was into it up until they finally detonated the bomb, and just when you think "well, that was good, and the three hours mostly flew by", it goes on for another hour. And while Oppie's post-war troubles are somewhat interesting in of themselves, the whole "twist" with Downey Jr was kinda ludicrous. Like, we barely know this guy or his relationship to Oppenheimer in the first place and suddenly he's this Machiavellian supervillain motivated by the thinnest of petty grievances and it's impossible to care about any of it. Some strange editing choices (ie, Oppie becoming "naked" in his interrogation and being cowgirl'd by Florence Pugh) and while knocking Nolan for his writing of female characters is a cliche at this point, the ones in this...oof. At least Pugh's character was supposed to be crazy. Emily Blunt seemed a few fries short of a happy meal herself. I actually had a free pre-screening ticket for this but chose to wait to see it in my town's sole true-imax theater. And while I knew it'd mostly be guys sitting in rooms talking about quantum mechanics for 99% of the runtime basically since the movie was announced, I figured "hey, at least the trinity test scene should be spectacular". What we got was actors reacting to a bright light followed by close ups of fire and then a boom noise. Don't get me wrong, it's a tense scene and good filmmaking in its own merits, but there's no real need or reason you have to see it in imax. ... good comments, but I would say that the last hour is perhaps the most significant because it raises all the paradoxes, ironies, and quandaries about the whole experience: patriotism, freedom, liberty, loyalty, celebrity, the nuclear arms race, scientific congeniality versus competitiveness, and how none of these matters are necessarily what they seem. Oppenheimer's saga represents something of a Greek tragedy, and although the film is not exactly reflective in that regard, it at least shows the audience that this story is far from simple and easy, and that we live with that complicated legacy to this day. Your take on the Lewis Strauss character (Downey) is certainly fair, and again indicates how the film suggests depth as opposed to exploring depth and delving into human relationships in a realistic or profound manner (see my de facto review of Oppenheimer in this thread). That is why having watched the NBC News Studios documentary To End All War: Oppenheimer & the Atomic Bomb, as I did in July on MSNBC, helped, as it familiarized me with the basic issues and relationships before having to rapidly devour them in the format of a fast-paced spectacle. And the documentary is great—intimate and reflective in the way that Oppenheimer is not (by design).
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 2:54:37 GMT
**Disclaimer before I start this** Not the biggest fan of Nolan, but I was curious about this one. I'm in agreement with Creped on this, it wasn't the last hour that I had issues with, but that first hour or so was brutal for me to get through. I thought a couple of times that if it didn't get better, I might excuse myself early...then the narrative moved to Los Alamos and the movie picked up from there all the way to the finish line for me. One of the few three hour movies I've seen that FELT like a three hour movie. 7/10 I concur that the last hour or so, or the last two hours or so, work better than the first hour. Perhaps the viewer just needs time to become acclimated to the film's thickly interwoven style.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 2:51:44 GMT
The lightning-fast editing was a bit disorienting at times, but I think I understood what they were going for. There’s a deliberately uneasy and tense atmosphere throughout the film, and the fact that it barely gives you time to breathe certainly helps contribute to this feeling. The Trinity test scene does a great job of feeling utterly nerve-wracking. It could be that; it also could constitute more of a commercial choice. Although I like Oppenheimer quite a bit ("good/very good" after an initial IMAX screening), it is an unambitiously ambitious movie—historical drama as cinematic spectacle. One could argue that it is perfect and flawless, in part because Oppenheimer never strives for genuine greatness or even a moment's worth of realism. Likewise, it merely suggests depth rather than exploring its depths. The movie is very much a manifestation of commercial cinema—a movie's movie, a movie about 'movieness,' and in some ways it plays like a three-hour theatrical trailer, with constant non-diegetic music, the continually quick editing, and the snappily stylized dialogue where language serves to provide historical summaries and synopses rather than reflect how most anyone would have actually spoken to one another. It could be that Christopher Nolan felt that the only way that he could make a summer blockbuster out of a three-hour film regarding events from the forties and fifties would be to employ such a style, with spectacle serving as content or vice versa. Alternatively, it could be a case where Nolan's filmmaking style simply leans toward spectacle and busyness regardless, as seen in his earlier historical epic, Dunkirk (2017). Still, unambitiously ambitious (or ambitiously unambitious) as Oppenheimer may be, it also knows exactly what it wants to be and executes that mode and manner efficiently, to the point where it did not feel as long as three hours (which is the effect that Nolan and the studio must have been hoping for). And while it does not seek greater personal depths or take risks beyond cosmetic choices (some of which, such as certain editing decisions and their attendant visual effects, are quite daring), Oppenheimer at least raises all of the important issues (more or less) and presents them to the audience. It does not stop or pause to explore the wrenching ironies and poignancies of those issues, to let them marinate and find their own organic pathways. But by at least presenting them and refusing easy sentimental escapes, Oppenheimer stands as perhaps the most substantive and legitimately grave summer blockbuster ever. Just make no mistake that it is first and foremost a summer blockbuster (with fine acting) by design, not an idiosyncratic film that happened to become a summer blockbuster.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 2:22:34 GMT
1957 is the dying embers of Noir, in the USA at least, though it was still a relative novelty in other countries. Sweet Smell of Success is one of the greatest, but hardly a typical Noir, amd was directed by someone who had forged a career in the UK. It has an oblique relation to the noir canon as does the equally great Sunset Boulevard. The other week I watched a film on YouTube and wondered 'Is this the first neo-noir?', but my senile brain can no longer remember which it was. I believe it was mid-1960s. Any suggestions? If you want to get all technical about it, most critics and film historians who have weighed in on the question seem to have come to something like a consensus that the film noir era ended in 1959, possibly with “Odds Against Tomorrow” being the last true noir. If you go by that, any movie you saw from the 1960s would be a neo -noir. Personally, I would like to extend the era into the mid-‘60s, or maybe even take the entire decade. Perhaps you saw: The Girl Hunters (1963). Author Mickey Spillane plays his own creation Mike Hammer in an adaptation of one of his hard-boiled novels. The Killers (1964) with assassins Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager on the trail of robbery loot. Ronald Reagan’s last film and his only villain (unless you count his presidency ). The Eyes Of Annie Jones (1964). Richard Conte in the U.K. A touch of the supernatural. Seven Days In May (1964). A famous movie about an attempted coup on the U.S. government. You would probably know if you saw this one. Mirage (1965). Gregory Peck thinks he is one person but isn't sure. People after him think he is someone else. Était En Noir (The Bride Wore Black) (1968) French thriller deliberately “Hitchcockian.” I do not know about the others, but although I have not seen The Killers, I know that it is in color. Conversely, that consensus of film historians and critics that you speak of seems to believe—quite rightfully, perhaps—that genuine films noir are in black-and-white and that anything in color constitutes neo- noir by definition. Perhaps you would dissent, but thanks for another knowledgeable post, as usual.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 2:08:51 GMT
Thanks, and that is one more reason for people to make a small donation to them, if and when they can, as I did last month.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 19, 2023 2:04:49 GMT
It is such a great tradition. Unfortunately, Xfinity axed Turner Classic Movies (from the basic cable package) in my area in late 2019, but I am able to watch some via TCM "On Demand." Right now, many Paul Newman and Alan Ladd titles are available.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 18, 2023 4:59:25 GMT
One other thing, this film is full of things that are unrealistic. I don't have a problem with them. Except for the thing I mentioned. For example here's another thing about it. If he was actually going to walk with him so that he could pee off the train... The guard would have stood, behind him anyway. For one thing, that way he wouldn't actually risk seeing him pee. He don't wanna risk seeing his junk for one thing. Because nobody wants to see that. He wouldn't. Besides that, standing behind him would be more safe, for his sake. There is the possibility that the length and flexibility of the chain would not quite have allowed for such an angle, at least to the point where Tuco could urinate properly (i.e. fully out of the train car). Mainly, though, the factors that I cited earlier would explain matters: Wallace is not, of course, a professional prison guard, nor is he the type that would pay much attention to detail or protocol. He is undisciplined and prone to laxity, and Tuco seemed to understand that.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 17, 2023 8:16:21 GMT
When the one person in the film is on a train... and he's chained to the guard.
And then he says he has to go pee. And then he escapes by throwing him off the train.
That whole sequence is the most unrealistic thing in that film. For one thing if he was gonna keep the prisonor on a chain he would have chained it to something. Other than himself.
Secondly, if that person said he was gonna take a pee. The guard wouldn't walk and stand on the edge of the train while the other guy was taking a pee. For fear of him throwing him off of the train, which he did.
Just to add to my earlier comments ... Wallace had already chained Tuco to himself prior to entering the train. At least within the context of the film, that was probably the mode of operation. Since Tuco was chained to Wallace, Wallace had to walk with Tuco. When Tuco then says, "I can't while you're watching me," Wallace turns away and thus inadvertently grants Tuco his opportunity. Indeed, returning to one of my points in my prior post, "realism" is not an especially useful prism for understanding The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, but "naturalism" is indeed instructive. This film, along with its predecessors and the other Italian Westerns now proliferating in the midst of the Leone-Eastwood collaborations, brought a level of naturalism—sweaty, gritty, grubby, dirty naturalism—that had been foreign to American Westerns. For instance, when Tuco tells Wallace that he needs to take a piss, the latter replies, "You smell like a pig already. Let's try not to make things any worse." And when Tuco says, "I can't while you're watching me," Wallace naturally complies—after all, what man (especially what straight man) wants to look too closely at another man while he is urinating? So Wallace's naturalistic, visceral impulses regarding smell and bodily functions (and even the fear of homoeroticism) help explain his choices in this scene. These types of visceral impulses had been essentially omitted in American Westerns (and Hollywood films in general) up until this time (1966), but The Good, the Bad and the Ugly brought all these sensory urges and instincts and revulsions to the screen.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 17, 2023 3:44:49 GMT
Ok so, what I meant was. Those are the most overrated. I didn't mean, that those films are overrated but also good. Have you seen them in the theater? I have viewed It's a Wonderful Life nine times in the theater, Casablanca three times in the theater, and Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb four times in the theater. Seeing them on the big screen helps. I consider all three films genuinely great, and It's a Wonderful Life ranks among the most potent and timeless movies ever made, if you ask me. It is actually a much darker film than one might imagine. Dr. Strangelove, meanwhile, has to rank among the most brilliant satires in history. What I will concede is that Casablanca, like, say, Gone with the Wind, is one of those classics that is not far removed from mundaneness and mediocrity. Indeed, one could argue that there is banality at its core, but what makes the difference is the staging, the editing, the lines, and the acting by iconic performers.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Aug 17, 2023 3:28:37 GMT
When the one person in the film is on a train... and he's chained to the guard.
And then he says he has to go pee. And then he escapes by throwing him off the train.
That whole sequence is the most unrealistic thing in that film. For one thing if he was gonna keep the prisonor on a chain he would have chained it to something. Other than himself.
Secondly, if that person said he was gonna take a pee. The guard wouldn't walk and stand on the edge of the train while the other guy was taking a pee. For fear of him throwing him off of the train, which he did.
I think that the point is that the prison guard ("Wallace," played by the Italian actor Mario Brega, who also played a vividly villainous character role in the previous Sergio Leone-Clint Eastwood Western, For a Few Dollars More) is not too bright. Moreover, his hefty, husky physique suggests a slovenly attitude, which would help explain why he is less than vigilant in this situation. "Wallace" also may have imagined that his prisoner, "Tuco" (Eli Wallach, "the Ugly"), would not risk jumping off the train, while chained, because of the danger involved. So I would not say that the scene is unfathomable, especially given that "Wallace," like "Angel Eyes" (Lee Van Cleef, "the Bad") is a violent swindler and not exactly a professional officer. Nor is sheer realism the point, given the satirically stylized nature of this radically revisionist Western and its two predecessors ( A Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More). Rather, the point is the dark irony and animalistic violence that one man is willing to inflict upon another. Thus, like most any scene in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, I would say that this one works exceedingly well. Certainly, it proves memorable.
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Post by joekiddlouischama on Jul 28, 2023 2:52:45 GMT
Regardless of age - can you imagine a comedy about parents who hire a man to "date" their shy daughter who's a virgin and doesn't like partying?
It's a double standard, but not one that particularly bothers me.
exactly, total double standard.
(but i will watch it and probably like it)Did anyone see Red Rocket from 2021? I viewed it twice in the theater and found it "very good," about as good as any other movie from that year. Indeed, it offers an extremely raunchy, daring situation that would place any "controversial" aspect from No Hard Feelings to shame. (And of course, Red Rocket did not receive any Oscar or Golden Globe nominations, although it did fare well among critics societies and on the film festival circuit.) But, yes, there is certainly a double standard at play, as also seen in Licorice Pizza (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2021). That film also proved "very good" and received three major Oscar nominations (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay), which Red Rocket certainly did not. The discrepancy cannot entirely be attributed to the gendered double standard, as the Academy makes all kinds of dubious decisions for all sorts of reasons, and Red Rocket is probably just too raw and darkly comedic for Oscar voters anyway. But, yes, Red Rocket is politically incorrect in a way that No Hard Feelings and the much better Licorice Pizza are not (incongruously enough).
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