So, what is it like to teach this film class? It is a joy, of course. When I teach American history, I don't feel like the course is mine, in any way. The curriculum is what it is, despite my best efforts to force a change in the inexorable tide of history. I did consider diverging from the script in a drastic way once, but I knew that the students would probably know that Eugene Debs was never President.
But with the film class, I own it. Think of it this way. Imagine being able to invite 30 of your very best friends over to your place every day to show them your favorite films. Then, after you've finished watching, you force them to sit and listen to you expound on this and that, ad nauseum. Most of us would pay big bucks for the sheer bliss of such an activity. but, I actually get paid to do it. Who's got it better than me?
And you people are indeed my close friends. After all, in my other classes, we have more of a business relationship. The grades are a factor, the tests, the AP exam must be passed, the need to keep discipline is paramount etc. Also, the students are younger, especially the freshman. One has to "lay down the law" and "rule with an iron fist" and "brook no nonsense" and a whole host of other absurd but necessary cliche'd actions. But not here. Here, at last, after three and half years of noses to the grindstone, we can just kick back and enjoy one another's company in a relaxed, yet intellectual atmosphere. You know, it's pretty rare (though not unheard of) that a student in one of my history classes makes an observation or analysis that is so profound that I have not thought of it myself in some fashion. But the films are so complex, and the students so smart that new and unseen observations are the norm here, not the exception. I've learned a lot from the students in my film classes, which only adds to my enjoyment. (Naturally, I will use your material next year without attribution.)
The irony is that this class, arguably the easiest you will take in your long and ongoing scholastic career will remain with you in memory for many years, (I hope) and will impart to you a skill which you will use constantly in your day to day lives. I never like to compare the value of any class with any other. All have value. I just think this one has value out of proportion to the amount of work required of you. (I exempt James from this, as he's currently writing 18 essays per day) (Nick too, but he's poaching from his other blog).
Anyway, I was moved to write this today because the 7th Seal evokes this sense of joy in me perhaps more than any of the films we show. I'm not sure why. Bergman died last year and it occurred to me on that day that there were several hundred former students out there somewhere who thought about this class, however briefly. And I knew that they were proud that they knew who Bergman was, and were able to speak about him intelligently. And several of them contacted me.
I recall the first time I showed the 7th Seal to a class. I thought I was taking a chance. There was no way that a bunch of teenagers would respond to this obscure Swedish art film. I remember pleading with the class to give the film a chance, to not put their heads collectively down upon their desks. How little faith I had in the power of Bergman's art, and in my students. Perhaps you can imagine how overjoyed I was when that class, and every one since, responded so enthusiastically to this film, which is one of my very favorites.
For those of you who are wondering if I can keep up this steady stream of great films, the answer is yes. I've got about a dozen more gems in that filing cabinet and it will be a joy to share them with you.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Squire Jons
Watching The Seventh Seal again for the umpteenth time and it still moves me. The amazing thing about this film is that it actually works. Can you imagine trying to sell this film to a producer? He'd laugh you out of the office. It is a film that simply could never be made today, in the same way that a Van Eyck tryiptych will never be painted ever again. The era has passed.
I'm taken by how beautiful the print looks on the large screen, particularly with the new projector. Those of you who scorn Black and White may wish to rethink your aversion after you see this film in its entirety.
In the past, it was always the knight who was the focus of my attention. Perhaps I identified with his philosophical quest, his agonizing over the great questions. This time, I find Jons far more attractive, in all senses. His attitude, his humor, and even the way he looks. Strange how our sense of aesthetics changes with age. When I was younger, I thought he was ill-cast for the role of a tough, macho-man. He seemed delicate, somehow, and not convincing. Maybe I couldn't get past the leotards.
Nowadays, his vulnerability simply complements and adds nuance to his character. I particularly liked when he saves the girl and then gets annoyed when she's not grateful and doesn't thank him. Or when he gets unnerved by the description of the plague, but denies it.
I'm taken by how beautiful the print looks on the large screen, particularly with the new projector. Those of you who scorn Black and White may wish to rethink your aversion after you see this film in its entirety.
In the past, it was always the knight who was the focus of my attention. Perhaps I identified with his philosophical quest, his agonizing over the great questions. This time, I find Jons far more attractive, in all senses. His attitude, his humor, and even the way he looks. Strange how our sense of aesthetics changes with age. When I was younger, I thought he was ill-cast for the role of a tough, macho-man. He seemed delicate, somehow, and not convincing. Maybe I couldn't get past the leotards.
Nowadays, his vulnerability simply complements and adds nuance to his character. I particularly liked when he saves the girl and then gets annoyed when she's not grateful and doesn't thank him. Or when he gets unnerved by the description of the plague, but denies it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Prodigal Son
One of the best movies I've ever seen is "The Prodigal Son" directed by Luis Trenker, from Germany, 1934. While the film itself is very special, the film experience was even more so. You see, it was part of a film series shown at Lincoln Center in 1994 entitled, Films of the Third Reich.
Naturally, I supposed that all of the movies would be dreadful propaganda films showing evil Jews conspiring to destroy the world, like the infamous "Der Ewige Jude" (The Eternal Jew) or "Jude Susse" (Suss, the Jew). Both of these are infamous for their portrayal of the what the Nazis called the Jewish Menace. And both of them are awful films from an artistic point of view. You might think that those two qualities always go together, but you'd be wrong. One of the greatest films of the silent era is D.W Griffith's "Birth of a Nation" 1915, yet its outlook and message are so racist and bigoted that one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. By way of explanation, suffice to say that the movie's hero is the leader of the Ku Klux Klan.
Anyway, I was very interested in seeing these Nazi movies. My interest was thoroughly from a historical point of view, however. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I was going to see a masterpiece. But, lo and behold, Luis Trenker, whom not one American in 100,000 has ever heard of is one of the giants of cinema, bar none. After fifteen minutes or so, I turned to my wife and whispered, "Am I crazy, or is this one of the best movies I've ever seen?" She replied that it was.
I'm sure you're interested in hearing what it's about. The film is typical of a genre called "Heimatfilm" or films of the homeland. They celebrate German virtues of small town farm life, family, etc. In this film, a farm boy decides to leave Germany and travel to New York to make his fortune. He meets with all sorts of trouble and returns just in time for the winter festival.
The scenes of New York are actually filmed on location in our fair city. In fact, the shots are among the most detailed street scenes of New York city shot during the Depression and are amazing. Much of the film is in English. The final sequence shows a German peasant festival, and is also amazing.
Afterwards, I researched Trenker. Turns out he was not a Nazi, and was not sympathetic, particularly with the regime. However, he elected to stay in Germany and continued to make films. After the war, his career withered for various reasons that I don't recall. The lesson for me was powerful. Great art knows no borders and great artists live in every society. This one, alas, is doomed to obscurity because he happened to be born in a society that we rightly regard as the worst ever. It is simply not acceptable to show a Trenker movie on TV in the United States.
And yet, wasn't the Soviet Union also a totalitarian state, guilty of harrowing crimes? But, the artists of the USSR are celebrated in the US, and we don't hate them, we shake our heads in pity that their great talent was stifled due to their bad luck of having been born in an unfree society.
In film, of course, the greatest name in Soviet cinema is Sergei Eisenstein, and his great work, "Battleship Potemkin" is shown on Channel 13 every other Thursday.
Naturally, I supposed that all of the movies would be dreadful propaganda films showing evil Jews conspiring to destroy the world, like the infamous "Der Ewige Jude" (The Eternal Jew) or "Jude Susse" (Suss, the Jew). Both of these are infamous for their portrayal of the what the Nazis called the Jewish Menace. And both of them are awful films from an artistic point of view. You might think that those two qualities always go together, but you'd be wrong. One of the greatest films of the silent era is D.W Griffith's "Birth of a Nation" 1915, yet its outlook and message are so racist and bigoted that one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. By way of explanation, suffice to say that the movie's hero is the leader of the Ku Klux Klan.
Anyway, I was very interested in seeing these Nazi movies. My interest was thoroughly from a historical point of view, however. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I was going to see a masterpiece. But, lo and behold, Luis Trenker, whom not one American in 100,000 has ever heard of is one of the giants of cinema, bar none. After fifteen minutes or so, I turned to my wife and whispered, "Am I crazy, or is this one of the best movies I've ever seen?" She replied that it was.
I'm sure you're interested in hearing what it's about. The film is typical of a genre called "Heimatfilm" or films of the homeland. They celebrate German virtues of small town farm life, family, etc. In this film, a farm boy decides to leave Germany and travel to New York to make his fortune. He meets with all sorts of trouble and returns just in time for the winter festival.
The scenes of New York are actually filmed on location in our fair city. In fact, the shots are among the most detailed street scenes of New York city shot during the Depression and are amazing. Much of the film is in English. The final sequence shows a German peasant festival, and is also amazing.
Afterwards, I researched Trenker. Turns out he was not a Nazi, and was not sympathetic, particularly with the regime. However, he elected to stay in Germany and continued to make films. After the war, his career withered for various reasons that I don't recall. The lesson for me was powerful. Great art knows no borders and great artists live in every society. This one, alas, is doomed to obscurity because he happened to be born in a society that we rightly regard as the worst ever. It is simply not acceptable to show a Trenker movie on TV in the United States.
And yet, wasn't the Soviet Union also a totalitarian state, guilty of harrowing crimes? But, the artists of the USSR are celebrated in the US, and we don't hate them, we shake our heads in pity that their great talent was stifled due to their bad luck of having been born in an unfree society.
In film, of course, the greatest name in Soviet cinema is Sergei Eisenstein, and his great work, "Battleship Potemkin" is shown on Channel 13 every other Thursday.
Something light!
So, let's see where we have travelled, shall we? First, we dragged ourselves through the slough of despond that was the First World War, then we discovered that we are all desperately alone and you can never really know another person, a small detour ensued through the gritty world of down and out New Yorkers, only to land on our feet in a desolate Alaskan landscape, hurtling toward our death albeit with a smile and the words, "I am free" on our lips.
I'd say we deserve a break.
Our next film is a song and dance hit from 1935 called "Top Hat," starring Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers. The plot is pretty simple. Astair meets Rogers, is immediately smitten, complications arise that take exactly 89 minutes to resolve. They dance several numbers and finally waltz off into the sunset, arm in arm. No questions of the ultimate meaning of life, the existence of God, the nature of free will, or anything else.
Of course, every film I show is subject to some kind of critical analysis, and this is no exception.
I'd say we deserve a break.
Our next film is a song and dance hit from 1935 called "Top Hat," starring Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers. The plot is pretty simple. Astair meets Rogers, is immediately smitten, complications arise that take exactly 89 minutes to resolve. They dance several numbers and finally waltz off into the sunset, arm in arm. No questions of the ultimate meaning of life, the existence of God, the nature of free will, or anything else.
Of course, every film I show is subject to some kind of critical analysis, and this is no exception.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Runaway Train
I trust that all of you will have something to say about Runaway Train on your blogs. This film has an awful lot going on. The problem, if we can call it that, is that the plot is so engrossing that it leaves little brain-time to think about what is going on behind the scenes. However, if everyone contrubutes just a bit, I imagine we'll get a fairly accurate snapshot of what the creators were driving at. I hesistate, again, to give you any direction or clues in this regard. I'd prefer to hear what you have to say before I send you off on a directed treasure hunt. And there's much treasure to be mined in this film, as one would expect with such an elegant pedigree. Kurosawa, Konchalovsky, Milosevic, Zindel, Voigt. Good luck
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Runaway Train
And so we begin one of my favorite films. I promised that I wouldn't stop the film after every shot and so far I have kept my promise. Of course, I'm in misery the whole time because there's plenty to talk about already. Even now I want to point out a few things. Like the first time we see Manny in the cell. Steam is escaping from a heating pipe, giving the dungeon the aura of an engine room. From out of the dark we hear the hissing and puffing a locomotive, only it's not a train at all, its' Manny doing push-ups in the dark.
Warden Ranken's speech. "Listen to you [clowns] hiding there in the dark. Let me tell you where it's at. First there's God, then the warden, then my guards. Then, there are the dogs out in the yard. Finally, there's you. Pieces of human waste, no good to yourselves or anyone else."
Warden Ranken's speech. "Listen to you [clowns] hiding there in the dark. Let me tell you where it's at. First there's God, then the warden, then my guards. Then, there are the dogs out in the yard. Finally, there's you. Pieces of human waste, no good to yourselves or anyone else."
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Favorite lines.
I have watched these films so many times that the lines start to become engraved upon my memory. And a few of them are so useful in my daily life that I employ them regularly, without attribution. Most of the time, it is my wife who is the beneficiary of these lines, spoken in the same cadence, if perhaps not a perfect mimicry of the film. She knows the films as well as I, so it is usually recognized, but I use them among the benighted masses as well, and they know nothing, so I can smile knowingly. The three lines from Midnight Cowboy that I use a lot are:
1. I'm walkin' here! -- usually addressed to my dear wife when the two of us are both working around the house at the same time. She has a way of always getting underfoot. Or is it me that always has a way of getting overfoot? No matter.
2. I'm fallin' apart here! -- Normally spoken to my beloved on a Sunday night when I scan the chaotic wasteland that is my school work files. Occasionally spoken when I have a bad cold or have descended into a black depression. In other words, almost every day.
3. It don't say nothing about you. (repeat with emphasis) This one is rarer, and, again, my wife is the usual beneficiary. You may not recall this line. It is said by Joe Buck to Ratso when they are "invited" to the party by the two weirdo's.
Oh, a word about names. My recollection of the rules for what form of name to use in essays goes something like this. In journalism, a (real) man's name is cited in full the first time it appears in the body of a news article. Each subsequent time, he is referred to by his last name alone. A woman gets the full name first, then Ms. so and so each subsequent time. A woman's last name is never cited alone.
In fiction (or film) analysis, things are simpler. Just use the form of the name most common in the film. Familiarity is not allowed in journalism, but it is welcome in analysis. A first reference might be full name. After that, simple is best. It should then be Joe and Ratso, not Buck and Rizzo. And certainly not Rico. By the way, I think in the credits they are listed as Joe and Ratso.
Important also to separate the actor from the character. It would be bad form to say "Jon Voigt says 'I ain't a fer real cowboy...." In terms of the film, it is Joe Buck who says that, not Jon Voigt, despite the fact that Voigt does mouth the words. In Citizen Kane, one should refer to Kane, Susan Alexander, Jed Leland, Bernstein, (does he have a first name?) Thatcher, Kane's mother, Rosebud, the nurse, Thompson, the reporter.
Speaking of Kane, there's a lot of lines I use from Kane:
1. A pack of money-mad pirates.
2. A wasted day.
3. My reasons satisfy me.
4. You're gonna need more than one lesson, and you're gonna get more than one
5. It’s an antique
6. To ... buy things.
7. We’re lucky. We live in a palace
8. Thanks for the use of the hall
9. That’s when you’ve gotta fight ‘em
10. Have the warden send me a letter
11. You can’t do this to me
12. Don't worry about me, Gettys.
13. And a happy new year
14. You’re awful funny aren’t ya?
15. Hmm… yes and no.
16. Impossible, Impossible
1. I'm walkin' here! -- usually addressed to my dear wife when the two of us are both working around the house at the same time. She has a way of always getting underfoot. Or is it me that always has a way of getting overfoot? No matter.
2. I'm fallin' apart here! -- Normally spoken to my beloved on a Sunday night when I scan the chaotic wasteland that is my school work files. Occasionally spoken when I have a bad cold or have descended into a black depression. In other words, almost every day.
3. It don't say nothing about you. (repeat with emphasis) This one is rarer, and, again, my wife is the usual beneficiary. You may not recall this line. It is said by Joe Buck to Ratso when they are "invited" to the party by the two weirdo's.
Oh, a word about names. My recollection of the rules for what form of name to use in essays goes something like this. In journalism, a (real) man's name is cited in full the first time it appears in the body of a news article. Each subsequent time, he is referred to by his last name alone. A woman gets the full name first, then Ms. so and so each subsequent time. A woman's last name is never cited alone.
In fiction (or film) analysis, things are simpler. Just use the form of the name most common in the film. Familiarity is not allowed in journalism, but it is welcome in analysis. A first reference might be full name. After that, simple is best. It should then be Joe and Ratso, not Buck and Rizzo. And certainly not Rico. By the way, I think in the credits they are listed as Joe and Ratso.
Important also to separate the actor from the character. It would be bad form to say "Jon Voigt says 'I ain't a fer real cowboy...." In terms of the film, it is Joe Buck who says that, not Jon Voigt, despite the fact that Voigt does mouth the words. In Citizen Kane, one should refer to Kane, Susan Alexander, Jed Leland, Bernstein, (does he have a first name?) Thatcher, Kane's mother, Rosebud, the nurse, Thompson, the reporter.
Speaking of Kane, there's a lot of lines I use from Kane:
1. A pack of money-mad pirates.
2. A wasted day.
3. My reasons satisfy me.
4. You're gonna need more than one lesson, and you're gonna get more than one
5. It’s an antique
6. To ... buy things.
7. We’re lucky. We live in a palace
8. Thanks for the use of the hall
9. That’s when you’ve gotta fight ‘em
10. Have the warden send me a letter
11. You can’t do this to me
12. Don't worry about me, Gettys.
13. And a happy new year
14. You’re awful funny aren’t ya?
15. Hmm… yes and no.
16. Impossible, Impossible
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Midnight Cowboy Riddle
This "thing" is a central part, or at least an ancillary part of 99% of all films.
Films that don't have it organically almost always have it added somehow.
Midnight Cowboy does not have it.
And yet, it does have it, just in modified form.
And it is much more satisfyingly portrayed here than in 99% of the other 99%.
Its unique handling is what makes this a timeless film and a great film, in 1969 or anytime.
It's not a sled.
What is it?
Films that don't have it organically almost always have it added somehow.
Midnight Cowboy does not have it.
And yet, it does have it, just in modified form.
And it is much more satisfyingly portrayed here than in 99% of the other 99%.
Its unique handling is what makes this a timeless film and a great film, in 1969 or anytime.
It's not a sled.
What is it?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Blanco y Negro, bebe.
What is it about Black and White that turns you youngsters off so much? I've had to hear this dirge for almost 20 years now. "Ugh. Not another black and white film." "Is it in color?"
I love black and white. The atmosphere. The mood. The Manichean universe. And you Coen Bros. fanatics, why do you think they used b/w for "The Man who wasn't there?"
We will see three more b/w films, the rest in color. They are:
The Seventh Seal
Top Hat
The Asphalt Jungle
The last of these is one of my very favorite films ever. If you want to understand the genre known as "Film Noir" this is the film to watch. It has all the elements of the genre. Alas, year in and year out, the students tell me that they hate it. This does not deter me. You will watch it. This year will be different. You will love it. You will demand more b/w. And the Dow will hit 12,000 again by the end of the semester.
I love black and white. The atmosphere. The mood. The Manichean universe. And you Coen Bros. fanatics, why do you think they used b/w for "The Man who wasn't there?"
We will see three more b/w films, the rest in color. They are:
The Seventh Seal
Top Hat
The Asphalt Jungle
The last of these is one of my very favorite films ever. If you want to understand the genre known as "Film Noir" this is the film to watch. It has all the elements of the genre. Alas, year in and year out, the students tell me that they hate it. This does not deter me. You will watch it. This year will be different. You will love it. You will demand more b/w. And the Dow will hit 12,000 again by the end of the semester.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Dark Night
Years ago, I used to abuse my students who admired films that I didn't. I took a certain pleasure in flying high above everyone in a hot-air balloon. And hot air is the proper metaphor. I was a bit puffed up with my own sense of what was great and what was not. Anyway, I hope I've been kinder this year to those who hold differing opinions.
And now, I will be as kind as I can to those who recommended "The Dark Knight." I did my best hanging on for one hour and 15 minutes. The swirling camera made me dizzy. The plot was tedious. The characters did not engender any interest. Even the romantic lead was funny looking and a bad actress.
Then, when I had written it off completely, I remembered that it's based on a comic book, so I tried to judge it on that basis, but to no avail. I could not care less. And the thought that Heath Ledger won some award for pretending to be an effeminate psychopath sort of annoyed me.
But, perhaps I missed something. This is the first Batman installment I've watched in two decades (I think I walked out after seeing Danny Devito scarfing down raw whole fish) so any continuity was lost on me. Also, these kinds of films don't do much for me, so I'm the wrong guy to ask. I can't watch Harrison Ford type action movies either. I just fall asleep. I skipped "The Bourne etc." series for that reason, although I'm sure I'll want to watch it in 30 years (if I'm alive) to see all the shots of NYC.
Anyway, feel free to tell me why I'm mistaken in a comment below. And, allow me to state for the record that anyone who liked this film has not lost a scintillia of my respect. I still love you all. Mwah!
And now, I will be as kind as I can to those who recommended "The Dark Knight." I did my best hanging on for one hour and 15 minutes. The swirling camera made me dizzy. The plot was tedious. The characters did not engender any interest. Even the romantic lead was funny looking and a bad actress.
Then, when I had written it off completely, I remembered that it's based on a comic book, so I tried to judge it on that basis, but to no avail. I could not care less. And the thought that Heath Ledger won some award for pretending to be an effeminate psychopath sort of annoyed me.
But, perhaps I missed something. This is the first Batman installment I've watched in two decades (I think I walked out after seeing Danny Devito scarfing down raw whole fish) so any continuity was lost on me. Also, these kinds of films don't do much for me, so I'm the wrong guy to ask. I can't watch Harrison Ford type action movies either. I just fall asleep. I skipped "The Bourne etc." series for that reason, although I'm sure I'll want to watch it in 30 years (if I'm alive) to see all the shots of NYC.
Anyway, feel free to tell me why I'm mistaken in a comment below. And, allow me to state for the record that anyone who liked this film has not lost a scintillia of my respect. I still love you all. Mwah!
Monday, March 2, 2009
A Gift.
What can compare with the sheer bliss of diving back into bed at 6am on a miserable snowy moring after hearing the incredible news that the schools are closed?
There I was, blearily shivering, hand trembling over my first double Scotch of the cursed new day, when the blessed herald arrived. Thus did that ambrosial draft launch me, not into the hell-bound fury of a raging snowstorm, but rather, back into the welcoming arms of Morphius.
I re-awakened at 9:30am, a feat of Olympian slumber of which even a teenager would be proud.
[Note for those interested in historical exactitude and/or moral terpitude: The previous posting is a thoroughly reliable and accurate depiction of events at the Bennett household at 6am this morning, with the singular exception of aforementioned ambrosial draft.]
There I was, blearily shivering, hand trembling over my first double Scotch of the cursed new day, when the blessed herald arrived. Thus did that ambrosial draft launch me, not into the hell-bound fury of a raging snowstorm, but rather, back into the welcoming arms of Morphius.
I re-awakened at 9:30am, a feat of Olympian slumber of which even a teenager would be proud.
[Note for those interested in historical exactitude and/or moral terpitude: The previous posting is a thoroughly reliable and accurate depiction of events at the Bennett household at 6am this morning, with the singular exception of aforementioned ambrosial draft.]
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