The Hours (2002)

by Bruce E. Parry

What a story! Actually it’s three, one-day stories: Virginia Woolf in 1923 (with some events in 1941), the Browns in 1951, and Clarissa Vaughan in 2001. Each has characters who are truthful to a fault, mixed with characters who are just living life. The truth that comes out is difficult, but important.

In short, this is not a light film. And there is a lot of depression in it in each age. But the characters debate the reality of life, the reality of death and the meaning of the hours spent just living life between the events that seem to define us (hence, the name of the film). Also, it turns out that The Hours was the working title Woolf used for her novel, Mrs. Dalloway.

Apparently, Virginia Woolf was quite depressive for much of her life. The snippets we are shown deal with her writing Mrs. Dalloway—which I confess I have never read—and her suicide (in 1941). I gather from the film that the third story of the film—that of Clarissa Vaughan—is actually the story of Mrs. Dalloway. It isn’t subtle. Clarissa (Meryl Streep) has a friend, poet Richard (Ed Harris), who is dying of AIDS. He has called her Mrs. Dalloway for just about their entire adult life. Not coincidently, in the novel, Mrs. Dalloway’s first name is Clarissa. Vaughan’s opening line in the movie is the opening line of the novel and we learn from Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman) that instead of killing Mrs. Dalloway, she kills of the poet, the visionary. She does it so the others would know the  value of life. Of course, Richard dies.

Richard is brutally honest. He wants to capture every aspect of every moment and its history. That, of course, is an impossible task, but he has labored over ten years to produce a novel that does just that. It is proclaimed by all the characters in the film to be a “difficult” read. We, as viewers, of course, don’t get to read his novel.

The interplay between Richard and Clarissa is tense. While dying and depressed, he is brutally honest with her and points out that she has stayed alive basically to take care of him and he has stayed alive basically because he doesn’t want to disappoint her. That statement really gets to her and she wonders if her life isn’t somehow “trivial.” She makes the unfortunate mistake of saying this to her daughter (Julia, played by Clare Danes), who of course, is the most un-trivial thing in her life. Clarissa also has a lover, Sally (Allison Janney). Her relationships with these two are anything but trivial., We all get in funks like that sometimes, but it’s important to remember that we all have relationships that are important and hardly trivial.

The second vignette is of the Brown’s in 1951. The father (John C. Reilly) is an absurdly happy, World War II vet who is oblivious to the depression his wife, Laura (Julianne Moore), is suffering. Of course, she keeps it carefully hidden from him, but not from her son, Richy, who turns out to be the poet Richard in the third vignette. She, too, is reading and living out the novel, Mrs. Dalloway. She contemplates suicide, but is in the fifth month of her pregnancy with Richy’s younger sister. She decides against dying, instead making a devastating decision that is only revealed at the end of the movie. But—and this is the important point of the movie—she has opted for life.

The story of Virginia Woolf is also interesting. She, too, is a visionary who is brutally honest, but depressed. She has been moved by her husband Leonard (Stephen Dillane) and the doctors to a small British town of Richmond—from London—to make her life more “peaceful.” Of course, Richmond is killing her; she craves life in London. Her sister visits, but Virginia is deeply ensconced in Mrs. Dalloway and trying to decide whether to kill off her heroine or not. Her relationship with her husband  is explored, for he’s the one trying to care for her, but isn’t listening to her. It’s clear that she never gets to move back to London; her death occurs while she is still residing in Richmond.

This is the kind of film I like to watch multiple times because it explores life from an emotional angle and really probes the basis for those emotions. This is not a light film. It really gets into the meaning of life and relationships, and while that sounds trite, the film is not. I’ve suffered from depression. Some say that depressives have a more realistic view of life. I don’t subscribe to that, but I believe the film uses that approach to confront both the other characters and the viewers. It forces us to make think about who we are. Much of the film is about what we look at and value, such as when Clarissa Vaughan is seeing her life as trivial, but ignoring the existence of her daughter and her relationship to Sally.

All in all, the film was duly recognized with Oscars and many other awards. Nicole Kidman got the Oscar for Best Actress and the film was nominated for another eight Oscars. It won two Golden Globes out of seven nominations. I think it is a film that has and will stand the test of time. Whether viewers will let its honesty stand the test of time is another question.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Moulin Rouge! (2001)

by Bruce E. Parry

If you haven’t seen this movie, go and see it. It’s a musical. It’s fun, funny, poignant and extravagant. The story is about a young guy, Christian (Ewan McGregor), who wants to be a writer, so he goes to Montmartre in Paris in 1899 to live the bohemian life. He connects up with Toulouse Lautrec (John Leguizamo) to write a play titled “Spectacular, Spectacular.” He falls in love with the lead, a courtesan named Satine (Nicole Kidman). Of course, the bad guy, The Duke (Richard Roxburgh) also desires Satine, and has the money, the power, and the leverage to bend Harold Zidler (Jim Broadbent), the manager of the Moulin Rouge, to his will. His will is an exclusive relationship with Satine. The leverage is that he holds the deed to the Moulin Rouge.

The play within the movie is nothing more than the storyline of the movie. With a Maharaja substituted for the Duke and a Sitar Player substituted for the writer, Christian writes what is happening at the Moulin Rouge. The scenes are funny, hilarious perhaps. The whole thing culminates with the presentation of “Spectacular, Spectacular.” The Duke seems to have won, but Christian returns for the last time to the Moulin Rouge to see Satine.

The play is based on the premise (and movie tagline) that, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” The whole movie is a battle between love and material security with the proviso that no matter what happens, “The show must go on.”

It’s all very moving and poignant. Funny at times, sad at others, the whole show is made to elicit tears: first of sadness, then of joy. It is a fantasy. All the music is modern, not of the period portrayed. It should be noted that Nicole Kidman was nominated for the Best Actress Oscar for her portrayal of Satine, and deservedly so. She was excellent.

Why then, couldn’t I watch the movie all the way through? Why did the Movie Group find the film disappointing? Why didn’t the hilarity and musical variety appeal to us throughout the film? We asked these questions of ourselves and came to a conclusion.

First, the film lasts for one, perhaps two showings. It is not to be studied by watching it three or four times as I did. It is supposedly a high-energy, song and dance musical with wildly popular music throughout and a pithy plot. It’s not. The pacing of the film is seriously problematic and after watching it once and being mesmerized by the action, the feelings don’t last and action doesn’t fit.

The film starts out at an incredible pace. There is an extravaganza of a song and dance scene where the Moulin Rouge is presented to us. The action is unrelenting for almost 20 minutes. A narcoleptic Argentinian falls through the ceiling; a midget dressed as a nun pops up; we’re taken to the Moulin Rouge itself, where the Can-Can is the order of the day. The dance scenes are reminiscent of Busby Berkeley with his geometric design patterns. The scenes consist of hundreds of women and men. Satine herself drops from the ceiling and does “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend,” the film’s materialistic counterpoint to Love.

That pace is kept up for a good portion of the beginning of the film. But when action shifts to rehearsals of “Spectacular, Spectacular,” the pace of the movie gets slower and slower. At the end of the film, the musical numbers within “Spectacular, Spectacular” aren’t exciting to us: the audience watching the movie. It’s actually quite dramatic. But it’s exciting to the audience in the film watching the play. We are shown that they are totally ignorant of what is “actually” happening on stage. Hence, the pace slows to nothing and cannot maintain the film.

Furthermore, really listening to the lines and to the music—as one does on the second, third and fourth viewing—you realize how inane it really is. Song titles and song lyrics are used throughout the film as dialog, but a lot of it is banal. It is unfortunate that Elton John’s “Your Song,” a beautiful and moving piece, is subjected to having its lyrics repeated over and over until you can’t miss their tawdriness. (Don’t look them up, you’ll be disappointed). Other songs are simply jammed together to make dialog, not because the songs go together or even complement each other. The only song written for the film is “Come What May,” the quite beautiful “secret” love song between Christian and Satine used to fool the Duke in the movie and the Maharajah in the play.

The film is almost exactly two hours long. It is too long. In many musicals, the musical numbers push the plot forward. In Moulin Rouge! plot points are made before hand and the music is just there to reinforce them. That was particularly noticeable in the musical scene of “Like a Virgin.” Either the dialog beforehand or the music itself is extraneous to the unfolding of the movie. The result is that for many scenes, the music makes the movie drag, an absolute travesty.

The editing is also problematic. In order to maintain the frenetic pace set at the beginning of the film, there are myriad cuts. Unfortunately, the over-cutting seems to continue throughout the film, even  when it is unnecessary. In one scene there were multiple cuts back and forth between Kidman and McGregor for no reason. There was no dialog in the cuts or facial expression. They were superfluous.

I think it’s unfortunate. We selected Moulin Rouge! in order to do a musical, a comedic, fun film in a genre we’ve been light on. This wasn’t it. It didn’t wind up really being a comedy, and as a musical it was mediocre. It has no subtlety whatsoever. The three lines, “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return,” “Diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” and “The show must go on” are repeated endlessly, ad nauseum. It gets very old.

So see it once and enjoy it. It’s a piece of fun fluff. But for your own sake, don’t study it.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

by Bruce E. Parry

Well, I finally saw The Wolf of Wall Street, Martin Scorsese’s three-hour extravaganza of excess that was based on the memoir of the same name by Jordan Belfort. It’s a Scorsese movie, so you know that the directing, acting, editing and cinematography are going to be superb. You can also guess that there is going to be a lot of action, which, in this case, drives the film.

The film is the story of a Wall Street stock broker (Belfort, played wonderfully by Leonardo DiCaprio) who—after being laid off by a large blue-chip firm—finds the profit margins in penny stocks to be 50 percent: some 15 to 20 times higher than on blue chips. Being a brilliant—and unscrupulous—salesman, he puts together a firm of his own that specializes in pulling in customers using blue chips, then sells them the penny stocks, reaping huge profits. In a famous line, even shown in the trailer, Belfort boasts that at 26, he made $49 million, which ticked him off because it was $3 million short of $1 million a week.

The excesses of legality, drugs, women and money laundering (not that these are entirely separate categories) are shown throughout the film. Needless to say, by the end of the film, every law-enforcement agency on the federal level, and a few on other levels, are after Belfort, the firm and his associates, all of whom we get to know in the film.

It doesn’t come as any surprise that the situation can’t end well. And it doesn’t. The feds have a way of letting these people hang themselves. They get them in a position where they can’t survive on the principles that got them into the situation to begin with. Belfort lived that kind of life based on the loyalty and silence of others toward him and on his loyalty and silence toward them. In the final analysis, the feds make him either rat or lose everything.

The film shows the excesses of the most decadent section of the bourgeoisie (the capitalist class, the class of business owners, rich and famous who run the country). That section is gross by any standards. But the film makes it seem that the problem is their excesses, not the system itself. Wall Street  dealers mostly deal with stock owners and investors, who, by definition, tend to be financially well-off. A lot of ordinary people also naively put their life savings into the market and on the line, and are taken to the cleaners by these immoral scuzballs. The real problem is not just the excesses, but the entire system of stocks, speculation and financial investing: the economic system of capitalism.

Of course, Scorsese isn’t going to show that. Nor will most of Hollywood. Nor does the audience necessarily want to see it either. This film is still enormously popular, having already grossed almost four times its $100 million budget. My take is that audiences either like to vicariously revel in the excesses of these people, or like to watch as they are taken down. I’m of the latter ilk: I like to see them go down. But I have no illusions about the reality of the situation either. Most do not go down. All of the super-rich can and do live excessive life styles in one way or another. The point is they live at our expense.

Wall Street (1987), with Michael Douglas and Charlie Sheen, also showed financial manipulation and excess based on a true insider story. Wolf would, In some ways, be just a follow up (although there was an “official” sequel, Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps [2010]). Both Wall Streets were directed by Oliver Stone. Wolf is more over the top; the Wall Street films more display the more vicious side.

I enjoyed The Wolf of Wall Street, but have to say that at three hours, it’s long. As I said, the action keeps the film moving: the illegality, the tricks, the hutzpah, the sheer guts it takes to play the game. The conclusion—where Belfort falls—lacks the twists and turns, the excesses that are so appealing during most of the film. But it’s what the film is about and therefore is necessary. Plus, its based on a true story. So I enjoyed it, but I recommend we look deeper for the real message.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Thanks for Sharing (2012)

by Bruce E. Parry

This is one of those films everyone ought to see, but most people won’t (or haven’t). It’s sort of like 12 Years a Slave or Philadelphia in that it’s important that people be aware of the film’s content. It is unlike them in that those films got their message to a wide audience. Thanks for Sharing did not. It grossed about $1 million. It received mixed reviews and was the directorial debut (first film) for Director-Writer Stuart Blumberg.

It’s unfortunate, because this is a story that needs to be told. As one reviewer intoned a la Jack Nicholson, “You can’t handle the truth!” And I think that had a lot to do with the film and the small viewership.

The film is about sex addiction. The key characters are Adam (Mark Ruffalo), Mike (Tim Robbins), Neil (Josh Gad) and Dede (Pink, aka Alecia Moore). They are all sex addicts going to 12 Step meetings for sex addiction. They have various levels of sexual sobriety. Adam has 5 years and has not dated in that period. His sponsor is Mike, who is married and has 15 years sobriety from alcohol. The implication is that he has a lot of sexual sobriety, too. Neil has been around, but is just faking it. He has no sobriety and he’s lying about it. Dede is a newcomer who arrives at the meeting having hit bottom and having been given the gift of desperation. The movie unfolds their struggle with sex addiction.

Since each of the characters has a different situation, a different level of sobriety and commitment to the program, and different challenges to face, the film presents a wide picture of sexual addiction and responses to it. Adam begins dating Phoebe (Gweneth Paltrow) and is faced with the challenges of both a growing intimacy and then a breakup. Mike is faced with an addicted son, Danny (Patrick Fugit) from whom he has been estranged. Danny is addicted to drugs, has stolen from his parents and has basically been thrown out of the house by his father. Their conflict develops when Danny returns home, much to the relief of his mother, Katie (Joely Richardson), who supports (or enables) him. Danny says he has about 8 months clean. Neil links up with Dede when she walks in the door (or more correctly, she latches onto him): a recipe, I thought at the time, for disaster.

As the plot unfolds, some lose their sobriety, some lose their jobs, some almost lose everything and some get sexually sober. Who gets which is not necessarily what I expected and lends the film some interesting twists and turns. Much, however, is predictable, such as the conflict between father Mike and son Danny. You can see it coming and it resolves as anticipated. But addiction and sobriety are—to quote the book Alcoholics Anonymous—cunning, baffling and powerful. The solution is rarely what is expected and the film makes the most of that. Who gets and stays sober is dependent on many variables, not the least of which is the ability of the addict to surrender to his or her Higher Power and the program.

So the film gets it right. That doesn’t make it a great film. It had real shortcomings. But it did accurately portray in a realistic manner how sex addiction and—more importantly—how recovery manifest themselves. Sex addiction is a disorder of intimacy; sex addicts have trouble developing and maintaining intimate relationships. They are used to the quick, anonymous and often solitary sexual release.

The addiction affects the very core of the addict’s being: their sexual identity. This is different from other addictions and makes it one of the most pernicious of all addictions. The film got that right.

Sex addiction is in the news mainly when people of renown are caught acting out their addiction: Tiger Woods, David Duchovny, Michael Douglas at various times. The stigma attached to it is immense. It is far more stigmatized that other addictions. And addicts don’t want to admit it. Alcoholism and other substance abuse have become more acceptable since recovery has become a national phenomenon. Sex addiction is just starting to emerge from the shadows. (The seminal work on sex addiction is Patrick Carne’s book, Out of the Shadows [1983]).

Kudos to those who made the film and put it out there. It needs to be seen. We need to de-stigmatize this addiction and recognize it as a disease. This film is a step—perhaps a small one, but a very important one—in that direction.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Weekend (2011)

by Bruce E. Parry

Weekend is a British film about a gay couple who meet in a club and quickly find their relationship has depth and is meaningful to both of them. In the middle of the weekend (Saturday night), Glen (Chris New, on the left) stuns Russell (Tom Cullen, on the right) with the news that the next day (Sunday) he is moving to the USA for two years. Russell struggles with the news and with the relationship. It is obvious he is in love. Ultimately, he goes to see Glen off at the railroad station, knowing that it’s the end of their relationship.

The film is interesting on a number of levels. First, it is an openly gay film that unabashedly (and pretty explicitly) shows the love (emotional and physical) between Glen and Russell. And they are real people. They drink. They do some drugs. They talk and voice different points of view. And that’s the next level. Their discussion of being gay, of life, of relationships is profound. Glen is more cynical, Russell more flowing. Glen challenges Russell about how “out” he is with his friends and his parents. Russell is comfortable with where he is and listens, but is not cowed. It is an equal relationship of different opinions. I found it very interesting.

Leaving is also an important part of the film. Much of the action takes place in Russell’s apartment on the 14th floor. Glen leaves, and there is a fascinating shot looking down from Russell’s window to the paved path Glen is taking. We see this shot a number of times in the film and each time it’s a little different. Glen is wearing different clothes; the weather is different; who else is on the path is different. And yet, none of these are Glen leaving, just departing for a while. He is only really leaving at the end of the film, by rail, when Russell goes to the station and finds him. All the other shots are just partings, not leavings.

I had never heard about this film until one of the members of my Movie Group recommended it. It’s very well done: tight in both story and editing. I’m really glad I saw it.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

by Bruce E. Parry

I had seen The Color Purple when it first came out in 1985. While I thought it was moving and a good movie, I realize upon re-watching it how much I missed, or forgot, in the interim. This was a great film. I give it it’s point of view, with which I have disagreements, but that’s between me and the likes of Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey.

The first thing that is obvious about the film is the incredible fact that after being nominated for 11 Academy Awards, it won zero. None. Nada. Zilch.The films, directors and actors that were honored that year are for Out of Africa, Kiss of the Spider Woman, Cocoon, The Trip to Bountiful, and Prizzi’s Honor. None of those films are remembered for anywhere near the quality that The Color Purple brought to the screen. I can only see the fact that the Oscar’s ignored the film as gross and racist. Of course, that’s not the first time (nor will it be the last, I’m sure) that the Oscar’s have ignored a timeless film for one that is more momentarily acceptable to Academy members.

The film is definitely difficult to watch. It shows a period (the early 1900s through about the 1930s) of Jim Crow and the terrible oppression of Blacks. It is set in the South and shows the evolution of Celie Johnson (played as a late teen and an adult by Whoopi Goldberg in her first major role) from a shy, terrified, retiring, dependent girl to a powerful, self-reliant woman. The plot is complicated and I have no desire to try to re-create it here, but involves incest, male supremacy, the oppression of women, and particularly minority women. It shows how women taught each other, took and gained independence, mentored, survived and even thrived. The film was made to be a tear-jerker and succeeds admirably. In the end, the characters transcend their shortcomings and their situations and find self-fulfillment.

The Color Purple was directed by Steven Spielberg, who I believe is one of the great story-tellers of our time. He has proven it with Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the Indiana Jones trilogy, E.T., Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan, Lincoln, and others. He is masterful at presenting a story that audiences can and will accept, without overstepping the sensibilities of the audience and attempting to take them where they cannot go. Thus, I often want his films to be something that they cannot be, and still reach the broadest audiences at the same time. The Color Purple is one of those.

It is definitely not a story of the most economically disadvantaged section of African Americans in the South. It is the story of the emergence of a petit-bourgeois. That does not negate the incredible struggles and oppression the characters in the movie—and in real life—faced. It just emphasizes the fact that the film is from a point of view regularly expressed by Spielberg and Winfrey. Both have become over-the-top wealthy putting forth that point of view.

As expected in a Spielberg film, all aspects of film making are done with brilliance and sensitivity. The color, the camera work, the editing, the writing and the acting are all superb. Not only does Goldberg really put forth her character, but becomes transformed in a subtle and believable manner. Later, it’s not so subtle, but by then the audience understands. Winfrey plays a powerful woman, Sofia, who is imprisoned  and cowed by the system, in a selfless, vulnerable, powerful performance. She emerges, with the help of her friends, to find her old inner strength. With this film, she established her brilliance as an actor.

I’m really glad I re-watched this film. It was well worth it. The film has definitely stood the test of time and I predict it will remain a classic in years to come. It has deservedly become part of the iconography of American culture.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

M (1931)

by Bruce E. Parry

I admit to having done a complete, 180 degree turn-around on this film after seeing it with my Movie Group. The film is a classic. It begins with the development of the terror a German city is experiencing at the hands of a serial killer of children. The police cannot find any clues and are hamstrung in trying to develop the case. There are no suspects. Panic ensues in the city where everyone becomes a suspect. In reaction, the police are everywhere, harassing all the known criminal haunts, investigating every one of 1,500 “tips” they have received. This so disrupts the organized criminal element, that the criminals themselves decide to catch the killer, Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre). The movie then follows the twin investigations of the criminals and the police. The police finally get a clue and move in. The criminals spot the killer and follow him by marking him with an “M” on his coat. The criminals catch him first and take him for a “people’s trial,” where they all want to kill him. His assigned defense attorney valiantly, but hopelessly, pleads for the “people” to see that he’s insane and shouldn’t be put to death. In the penultimate scene, the police find the lair of the “people’s trial” and take custody of the killer.

The film was directed by Fritz Lang, who was a known anti-fascist. But the film was made in 1930 and  released in 1931, before Hitler became the German Chancellor. Much of our discussion of the film was about the social context within which it was made.

My take on the film was that the criminal element represented a distorted view of the working class. The period in which the film was made was one of intense class struggle in the late Weimar Republic. If those depicted as criminals were not the working class, then the working class, as such, was entirely absent from the film. That seemed unlikely to me. But the leader of the criminal element, Schanker (Gustaf Gründgens) is  disturbingly militant about killing Beckert, although he himself is wanted on three counts of manslaughter. That bothered me, but the entire idea of the “people’s trial” bothered everyone else in the Group more than it did me. I am not against the death penalty; I am against the way it is applied only to working class people, particularly minorities. The real killers: war criminals and politicians that kill hundreds of thousands around the world, and corporate executives who condone and create conditions which kill workers on the job and by destroying the environment, and allow poverty and death through social violence, are exempt from the death penalty. Besides, in the movie, Beckert has killed eight children and we, the audience, know he’s the killer. Furthermore, Beckert has been institutionalized before for mental illness. He was released as “cured” and after release, began killing. Concerns by the criminals that that scenario would be played out again should he be declared insane, seem real. I could see the point of view—put forth by the mothers of the victims as well as the “mob”—that they wanted Beckert dead.

But at a crucial point in the discussion, Patrick, a Movie Group member, said, “I just can’t believe that Fritz Lang made a film that wasn’t denouncing the Nazi’s.” Patrick is the one in the Group with an encyclopedic knowledge and memory for movies, movie makers and actors. He knows all about Fritz Lang and what he was about. He made his statement at just the right time; I was persuaded. Release of the film had actually been held up by the Nazi’s, who were suspicious that it would depict them in a bad light. The film never depicts the Nazi’s per se, but after considering Patrick’s statement, it became clear to me that that’s what the film was about.

The criminal element shown was exactly what Lang portrayed it as: the organized criminal element. There was no working class grouping displayed as such. Lang was portraying the Nazis as criminals, without explicitly saying so. That way he got by the censors. Lang was defending the State and the Rule of Law. There was no depiction of “people’s justice” as I had thought, just the depiction of “criminal’s justice” (i.e., the Nazis). At the end, when the State steps in and takes Beckert, it is the Rule of Law that Lang is defending in the film. As such, the film was a progressive and early exposure and denunciation of the Nazis. The Group was right and I was wrong.

The problem I brought to the table is that I don’t trust the State. The bourgeois State to me represents the defense of killing Travon Martin, Jordan Davis and myriad other African American and minority people. It represents the rich and powerful and drives the poor and working class people into jail, poverty and desperation. I don’t trust the police and I don’t trust the court system, whether it was in Germany in 1930 or in the United States in 2014. Therefore, I was against those elements of the film from the beginning. That distorted my view and brought my 21st Century American consciousness to a 1931 German film. Even though I know the history, I didn’t see what Lang was doing until it was shown me by the Movie Group.

So it’s a great film, which I knew anyway. The technique is absolutely amazing. In 1931, Lang uses voice-over techniques to transition from scene to scene in ways that are thoroughly modern; they were cutting edge then. He uses shots from all angles (above, below, from the floor, from directly overhead and everywhere else) to make his points and to keep the film lively and interesting. One shot, where he rapidly zooms in on a character, was breathtakingly difficult at the time because they had to manually keep the camera in focus. Also, the cameras in that period were so loud they had to be muffled to make “talkies.” That made the cameras unbelievable bulky and unmanageable. But Lang managed them with precision and brilliance. His use of silence was also innovative: several times in the film, he makes the film entirely silent and reminiscent of the recent silent films he and others had made.

So that’s my story of the film. I know some of my positions during the Movie Group disturbed the others in the Group. I had to go through that to find some real meaning in the film. Like life, I can’t do that by myself; I need help. I got it from my Movie Group!

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Mary Poppins (1964)

by Bruce E. Parry

So after seeing Saving Mr. Banks (see my blog on it), I was inspired to re-watch Mary Poppins. Talk about the ultimate feel-good film. I loved it again! It’s nothing but fun and feel good about yourself, with music and dancing and make-believe. It’s sort of the opposite of the other films I’ve seen lately (Divergent, M, and The Color Purple) and was a welcome break.

Since I am very familiar with the film (I’ve seen it many times), I watched more closely for the acting, animation, cinematography, etc. I was richly rewarded. My first observation is that Dick Van Dyke should have been given top billing, notwithstanding that Julie Andrews was in the title role. Van Dyke actually has more screen time and is certainly more central to the musical and dancing that make the film than Julie Andrews. I am aware much of this has been said before by others, but I’ve never before really looked at the film with this critical eye, so I’m just seeing what has already been said for the first time. Van Dyke plays Bert, who is the center of virtually every dance scene in the film. And the dance scenes develop the story that’s being told. In the two sets of scenes that aren’t dance scenes, but also develop the story, Van Dyke remains central. One is the laughing scene with Ed Wynn as Uncle Albert where all the characters wind up floating to the ceiling because they’re laughing so hard. Bert is central to the joke telling with Ed Wynn. The second is the scene at the bank, where the elder Mr. Dawes—also played by Van Dyke—takes away Michael Banks’ (Matthew Garber) tuppence.

It is clear that while Julie Andrews has both a marvelous voice and a personality and presence that really create Mary Poppins, she isn’t a dancer or comedienne. To the degree that these are key elements of the film, the producer, director and choreographer have worked around her. She’s given relatively simple dance moves and, of course, is the one in comedy routines to always be “proper” in the British sense of the word. She’s great and does a great job, but with these limitations.

I also got a careful look at the animation, which plays a key part in the film, especially during the sequence in the park, where Mary and Bert take the kids on a jolly holiday. The integration of the live action shots with the animation is superb. The exact positioning of the live-action characters is, of course, crucial. And the animated characters have to appear as if they’re actually in the scene. For a film made in 1964, this is carried off superbly. The positioning is exact. There was only one tiny moment where a penguin appeared very slightly off, but it was hardly noticeable unless (as I was) you were specifically looking for that. The carousel horses were a bit problematic, but they, too, were integrated with the animated characters very well for 1964. Today, we’d do it with CGI, but that’s 50 years later!

The distinction between the chalk animation and the character animation was also excellent. You will recall that the whole holiday starts with the characters jumping into Bert’s chalk drawing on the sidewalk of the park. The parts that are chalk and the parts that are actual (animated) characters Mary, Bert and the kids meet (animals and jockeys), are carefully distinguished. The distinction is maintained throughout. It was cute and lent admirably to the fantasy. If these aspects of the film were not done well, the audience would have trouble suspending disbelief, a crucial aspect of the film’s success. The care taken was amply rewarded.

Of course, I watched it with an eye toward the theme of Saving Mr. Banks. In that film, Walt Disney (Tom Hanks) discloses to the Mary Poppins author, P.L. Travers (Emma Thompson) that he thinks Mary Poppins is there to save the children. Travers replies, “You think she’s there to save the children?” The title of the film clarifies the author’s intent. And it is clear. Mary Poppins is there to save Mr. Banks (David Tomlinson). He’s the one who is miserable (and makes others miserable) throughout the film, until he is redeemed, not by Mary Poppins directly, but by his kids. She works through them, to have Banks see the real value in his life. Bert also plays a crucial role.

So the film is the ultimate feel-good film. I re-watch it periodically because it has stood the test of time. It still resonates. despite its age. I have to add that there are two racist lines spoken by Admiral Boom (Reginald Owen) that jumped out at me. I only wish they could be excised. Other than that, the film is great. I recommend it to all, particularly if you’e feeling a bit down, or seeing a lot of “downer” films. Take a look at Mary Poppins. It’s worth it.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Divergent (2014)

by Bruce E. Parry

I had read the book nearly a year ago and didn’t like it, but with all the hype, my son, Savaun, wanted to see it, so I took him and his friend, Marcus, to see it. The movie followed the book pretty closely, which is good for the movie. My sense was that the book was written—as are many popular books today—with the movie rights in mind. A lot of the action comes across better in the movie than on paper (or in my iPhone Kindle App, as the case was).

My complaint about the book carries over to the movie: it’s about being put in a box (a “faction” in the book and movie) and not being allowed to cross boundaries. Those who can and do cross boundaries are Divergent and hated and hunted down as dangerous. I believe the target audience is teens and I’m WAY beyond that. Being put in a box—having people choose your identity for you or forcing you to be someone—is a big deal for teens and probably resonates with them. It’s a period where you are finding out who you are, trying new things, and want to go through changes—and are acutely aware of the difficulties in doing that. I think that’s why the movie resonates with its audience. It does not resonate with me. I’m comfortable with who I am, and if people want to categorize me, that’s their problem, not mine. The book and the movie just didn’t float my boat.

I found the action in the movie to be quite absorbing. Again, that’s the target audience: lots of action. The movie provides that. It depicts a young woman, unsure of who she is, trying to be a warrior and finding herself in that. With the adulation of warriors today—part of the militarization of society—the movie plays right into the current popular mood.

But outside of the action, the writing and direction were mediocre. Some of the dialog was really flat and the development of characters one-dimensional. It was also predictable. It helped (me and probably my son and his friend) that it was set in a futuristic, dystopian Chicago. You got to see the Willis Tower (neé Sears Tower), the corncobs, the Wrigley Building, the ferris wheel at Navy Pier, the John Hancock and other buildings in disrepair and partially destroyed. But they were familiar. Some of the camera work was fun, particularly the vertical shots from the various heights that were there to make you feel queasy. But even those weren’t really powerful, just fun.

Part of the reason I didn’t like Divergent was the unrealistic aspect of the training. Our heroine, Tris (Shailene Woodley), has transferred to the warrior faction, Dauntless. The first period of her transition is a training/testing period where she must prove herself as worthy to be Dauntless. Well, I was part of the warrior class in my younger days. I went to West Point, was in the Army infantry, went to Vietnam, and served another three years after that. I know a little about training and developing warriors. And the movie doesn’t.

The premise of the movie is that each individual must basically teach him or herself the basics of being a warrior. It’s only when Tris shows she’s willing to go above and beyond that she receives some help from Four (Theo James). Each individual was on their own. This is ridiculous. In order to build a strong faction (Faction before Family, as the film sloganeers) you need two things. One is a training program where people are taught how to fight, how to survive, how to kill others. Another is a sense of cooperation and therefore trust. You learn to work together as a team, each with a division of labor within the warrior team, and each dependent on the other. Within the inter-dependence, you must develop your personal attributes and the trust (and distrust as appropriate) that comes with working with other people.

None of that would have negated the theme of the film. Instead, the film just shows an unsophisticated, superficial view of what being a warrior is. It looked good, but actually—in my opinion—undercut the film. It made it even more shallow that it was trying to be. Also, it was ridiculous that a member of Dauntless—the warrior faction—would be traumatized by killing, as Tris is when forced into a combat situation. The whole purpose of the training is to make people effective killers. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but that’s the purpose.

As you can tell, this movie didn’t float my boat: it irritated me. I have no desire to see (or read) the sequels. It’s the first installment of a trilogy and the sequels are already planned. However, as I emphasized at the beginning, I’m not the target audience. Since teens seem to love it, I’m sure the films will be immensely popular, as the books have been.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry

Do the Right Thing (1989)

by Bruce E. Parry

I’ve seen Do the Right Thing a number of times. I saw it when it came out and watched it again 10 or 15 years ago. But it was only by watching it for my Movie Group and discussing it with them I came to fully appreciate it.

Spike Lee had left me unmoved. Do the Right Thing was part of that. It’s a moving, disturbing movie, don’t get me wrong. But I always felt something was off about it. I thought it was sort of mechanical: put together without finesse and just telling a story without showing the energy behind it. I could never quite put my finger on it, but I knew there was something I didn’t like.

That something boils down to a few scenes that need work in the movie. I’m not sure whether it’s the director’s fault for not demanding more, the writer’s fault for stilted dialog, or the actor’s fault for not putting themselves into it. Today, I think it’s a little bit of all three, but it no longer drags the movie down for me. I can see it for what it is: imperfection in something very, very good. I also have some trouble with the film’s ending, but I’ll discuss that below.

Just to get it out of the way, the two biggest violators were the scene on the stoops where Ella is yelling for Ahmed. It just didn’t work for me and, since it was relatively early in the movie, it tainted the rest of the scenes, making me seek out imperfections. The second was the conversation between Coconut Sid, Sweet Dick Willie and ML. The cops pass by and say, “What a waste.” Coconut also says, “What a waste.” Then there ensues a dialog that just seems trite to me and doesn’t work. I think the scene would have worked better if, after the cop says “What a waste,” the camera just showed the contempt in the three residents’ faces (which was vividly portrayed) and left it at that. The scene is important because it goes on to link-in the Korean-owned market, but that could have been done in a more nuanced manner also.

Enough. I now realize that these little things got under my skin. I now look at the movie in a totally different way. One of the Group members pointed out that it’s a fairy tale. We’re in a dream land. While there are a lot of people without jobs and without money, there is no real poverty displayed. In fact, throughout the movie, everyone is color-coordinated not only for themselves, but with the other actors and the scene as well. An epitome of this is the same stoop scene I mentioned above.

But there is a veritable plethora of characters and they are developed well. We’re shown through the whole movie who the characters are, how they interact, what the community—an isolated, cut out block in Brooklyn’s Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhood—is like and who the players are. And there is every stripe of character. From Mooky (Spike Lee)—our protagonist—through Radio Raheem (Bill Nunn) to Buggin’ Out (Giancarlo Esposito) to Jade (Joie Lee) to Sid (Danny Aiello), Pino (John Turturro) and Vito (Richard Edson). Then there’s Da Mayor (Ozzie Davis) and Mother Sister (Ruby Dee). Finally there is the mentally challenged character, Smiley (Roger Guenveur Smith) who plays a crucial role in the film, and Mister Sénor Love Daddy (Samuel Jackson), our DJ and narrator of sorts. That’s a lot of characters (and that’s not all of them) and Lee handles them with subtlety and nuance.

The interaction among them—and this was written, directed and starred in by Spike Lee—is what makes the movie. The two characters that seem to me to precipitate trouble are Pino and Buggin’ Out, but everyone plays a part. The one who seems to interact the least—except through his music box—is Radio Raheem. And he and Sid are the ones that the trouble revolves around. Neither Pino nor Buggin’ Out are directly involved: Sid smashes Raheem’s radio. That’s what starts the final action.

It’s interesting, because everything interconnects and there are no simple answers. Sid only destroys Raheem’s radio. The cops actually kill Raheem. The violence is set against Sid’s Famous (the restaurant), not against the cops. Mooky—in my mind against all odds—throws the garbage can through the window that starts the final melee. Why did he throw it? Why Mooky? Why not Buggin’ Out or one of the other characters? As was raised by the Movie Group, did Mooky thereby save Sid, Pino and Vito by focusing the mob energy on the business instead of them? All these questions defy simple answers and that’s what Spike Lee wanted to portray. There are no simple answers. I respect the film most of all because it puts that front and center.

I didn’t like the end at all and I’m not sure what it’s role in the film was. Mooky goes to Sid the next morning, after throwing the garbage can through his window that starts a melee that destroys Sid’s business and practically destroys Sid, and then asks him for his previous day’s pay. Sid says right off that the window is worth more than his pay, but then throws the money at him. My reaction would have been, “F*** Y**!!!” This again raises the question whether Sid and Mooky recognize that he saved the people by destroying the restaurant. Sid figuratively killed Radio Raheem by killing is music. Mooky figuratively killed Sid by destroying Sid’s Famous. ‘Tis a puzzlement! And I respect it for that, although I don’t necessarily agree with it or like it.

That’s the story, the directing and the acting. The music and cinematography are another whole story. They are a crucial part of the action. The music starts even before the film starts. Tina (Rosie Perez) does a carefully choreographed dance/boxing sequence that makes Tina Turner look tame. It’s wild and powerful. The music is “Fight the Power!” and that’s one of two messages that reverberate throughout the film, particularly through the music. The other—sent to us through dialog—is, “Wake Up!” The music is sometimes from the radio station DJ, Mister Sénor Love Daddy. Sometimes it’s from Radio Raheem, sometimes it’s from other in-the-movie sources, sometimes it’s background music. The music was by Bill Lee who has done several films for Spike Lee.

The camera work was by Ernest Dickerson, who has also worked with Lee and who is today recognized as a leading cinematographer in the business. The use of color—vivid here, washed out there, glaring here, muted there—is masterful. His shots, angular, top shots, off kilter—put us exactly where he and Lee want us: off balance or into the action as the case may be. The use of close ups is particularly notable. There is one so close, of Mooky and Tina, that you practically feel it was drawn rather than shot. Many of the shots of the stoops and Mother Sister are askew. The shear variety of camera angles and distance is mind boggling.

I guess I was looking for something simpler, clearer, more “worked out.” Life—and Do the Right Thing—aren’t like that. And if Spike Lee had been like that, we wouldn’t be discussing the film 25 years later. The film stands as a monument, as a classic, that raises questions and provides a powerful portrait of the anger underlying sections of society. For there is no doubt: just about every character brings his or her anger into the film and it is the collective rage that erupts into the finale. That kind of social rage has been triggered many times in history—I’m thinking here of U.S. history—and will again. This film helps us explore what is really going on.

Copyright Bruce E. Parry