The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

Terry's Grade: A

John Carradine as Jim Casey

I don't know if you can make movies like this anymore. By today's standards it's a bit too obvious and straightforward. But I couldn't help but think throughout the movie of what a modern-day Grapes of Wrath would look like: something about the mortgage crisis and the loss of manufacturing jobs in America, maybe.

John Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath was published in 1939, and the film adaptation, directed by John Ford, was released in January of the following year. Henry Fonda stars as Tom Joad, the recently-paroled eldest son in an "Oakie" family who've just been kicked off their farm by some mega-farm industrialists who like to bulldoze honest people's houses with Caterpillar tractors. The story follows the family as they head west to California as they struggle to find work as migrant farmers picking peaches and cotton. We get excellent performances from Fonda as well as Jane Darwell as his mother, Ma Joad, and John Carradine (yes, the father of David Carradine) as Jim Casey, an ex-preacher-turned-1940s-hippie/commie. Casey walks around the entire movie wearing a grin that apparently reflects his post-Christian enlightenment -- he looks like he's constantly high on mushrooms or something.

There's some excellent photography in this movie, and some great sets (most of the film was obviously shot on a sound stage, but there are a few legit outdoor shots as well). It's not a short movie, and despite running 129 minutes it still feels like a lot of the story has been condensed. I didn't really know much about this movie going into it (despite the fact that it's probably among the most well-known titles there are), other than the fact that it had to do with the dust bowl and the great depression. I had no idea it was practically a communist propaganda film. I got that feeling watching it, but reading about it later I guess the producers of the film were in fact fairly conservative and did their best to limit the pro-communist message (there's a memorable line where Fonda's character asks, "What's a 'Red' anyway?" (okay so the line isn't that memorable; trying to find the exact wording I found at least three different variations on the web). The implication is that we (Americans) are Reds, or could be, or at least we could sympathize with the ones who are, or something. The enemies in this movie are the corporations and their cronies (which includes the police), and the heroes are the farmers and the government (at least that part of the government that was responsible for that nice camp the Joads stayed in). Early in the film there's a line that suggests that it's somehow the corporations themselves, and not any individual human being, that's really to blame. An agent from the farm corporation has come to kick a farmer off his land:

Agent: I can't help that. All I know is, I got my orders. They told me to tell you to get off, and that's what I'm tellin' ya.
Muley: You mean get off of my own land?
Agent: Now don't go to blamin' me! It ain't my fault.
Muley's son (Hollis Jewell): Who's fault is it?
Agent: You know who owns the land. The Shawnee Land and Cattle Company.
Muley: And who's the Shawnee Land and Cattle Company
Agent: It ain't nobody. It's a company.
Muley's son: They got a President, ain't they? They got somebody who knows what a shotgun's for, ain't they?
Agent: Oh son, it ain't his fault, because the bank tells him what to do.
Muley's son: All right, where's the bank?
Agent: Tulsa. What's the use of pickin' on him? He ain't nothin' but the manager. And he's half-crazy hisself tryin' to keep up with his orders from the East.
Muley: Then who do we shoot?
Agent: Brother, I don't know. If I did, I'd tell ya. I just don't know who's to blame.

The Grapes of Wrath is definitely a movie I feel like I could watch again and again. I love it when I find one of the true classics that I haven't seen yet. Even though it seems like there are fewer and fewer of them, it's a great joy when you do get to experience one.

Bernie (2012)

Terry's Grade: B-

This is an interesting true story, and I think that's the main attraction. There's also Jack Black giving a pretty good performance (and singing every chance he gets in the movie), and Matthew McConaughey in some ugly glasses. Some of the best lines, however, are delivered by real people familiar with the events of the movie, which mixes the dramatic scenes with "interviews" with locals from Carthage, Texas. (I say "interviews" because I'm not sure whether the lines were actually scripted or not.)

In the end, though, Bernie is just a bit boring. I'd heard a radio story about the movie earlier, which described the real-life events that inspired the movie. I don't think that knowing what happens really spoils the movie---there really isn't any suspense, except perhaps for the sentencing part at the end. But events unfold onscreen in a very matter-of-fact way, and if it weren't for the colorful local interviews and the occasional funny scene, this movie would be unwatchable. As it is, it's an enjoyable movie that raises some thoughtworthy questions about crime, punishment, and popularity.

Mad Men (2007)

I've had a lot of prodding to get caught up on Mad Men for season five, so I'm finally giving it a go from episode one. Don't know how far I'll get, but this is as good a pilot as I've seen in a while; it might take a while, but I'll probably get through the series at some point.

It's impossible to be alive and conscious in 2012 and not know something about Mad Men. I know that it's about white guys in suits who smoke and drink (rye) all day. I know that Christina Hendricks has enormous boobs. I know that Don Draper talks smooth. And I know that Sterling is sexy not despite, but because of his silver hair, and I know that he has enough one-liners to fill a YouTube highlight reel.

The singular impression that I get, though, is that Mad Men is a reflection of what it used to be like to be a (rich) (straight) (white) man in (New York) America, and the first episode makes that distinction shine out against a multitude of foils. We have the blacks (a waiter and an elevator operator), the Jews (a mail clerk and a business-woman), the gay (a graphic artist), and the women (the aforementioned businesswomen, but otherwise secretaries, switchboard operators, strippers, automat girls, and housewives). Every character in the first episode is defined by either being a straight white man, or not being a straight white man.

Mad Men is set in the 1960s, but there's no doubt that it's intended for a 2000's audience. In addition to the white/black, gay/straight, man/woman issues, the first episode raises the tobacco issue, which is one of those debates (like climate change or evolution) that feels like it should have been settled decades ago, but isn't. The cancer issue may be settled, but the recent mandate for graphic health warnings on cigarette packaging in the U.S. reminds us that there are certainly plenty of people out there who don't give a fuck, and there are plenty of other people out there trying to convince them otherwise.

I watched this episode streaming on Netflix, and was immensely relieved when the picture quality improved drastically about a quarter of the way in. Mad Men is a pleasure to look at, and it's well-crafted television in every way. My intuitions might turn out to be wrong, but I certainly got very strong indications, even though this is just the first episode, as to who the main characters were and who it was safe to ignore, and what each character's persona is. For one example, after about five seconds of screen time, it is clear, without being blatent, that Sal is gay. (It only becomes blatent in a later scene in a strip club when a woman comments "I love this place. It's hot, loud, and filled with men.", to which Sal replies "I know what you mean.") We also get introduced to the Jon Hamm effect, which gets a wonderful send-up in 30 Rock, whereby he is able to overcome any obstacle by virtue of his good looks. (I'm thinking of how he manages to offend a female Jewish client, only to win her over by buying her a drink and smiling at her later that evening.)

Overall, episode one sets the stage well, and I'm looking forward to seeing where it leads.

Monsters (2010)

Terry's Grade: B

I think Monsters falls into that category of movie that definitely worth watching if you're looking for something to do, but isn't necessarily worth going out of your way for. My main criticism of the movie is that, basically, nothing happens. But that's also one of the reasons I like it. Monsters is a movie that takes on an established genre from a new angle, and does it well. First, it belongs to the sci-fi genre of "giant, slithery, blinking aliens have come to Earth and they're killing our people and desolating our landscapes," but it's generally a quiet, kind of slow movie. Sure, there are scenes with machine guns blasting and cars getting tossed around, but they're put in as punctuation, not the main content. Also, it's a movie in the "we don't really get a good look at these aliens until the end of the movie" genre, but it avoids the overused handheld camera trope, and reminds us that there's a reason why we like movies that use good photographers. (Not coincidentally, I suspect, the main character is himself a photographer.)

Monsters is entirely Gareth Edwards' creation; he wrote, directed, filmed, and created the special effects himself. According to Wikipedia, the shooting crew was made up of just five people, plus the two main actors, and the total budget was a half a million dollars. Monsters definitely has some of the qualities of the new low-budget sci-fi: the aliens have fairly limited screen time and the plot is very character-oriented -- it's much more of a love story than an alien invasion story. What stands out is the fact that the special effects stand up extremely well when we finally get a good look at them; while the budget might have been a factor in the limited amount of screen time for the aliens (I imagine Mr. Edwards had his hands full), these are not low-budget effects. In a similar sort of cost-saving measure, the script only involves two main characters, and the actors who play them are adept and well-suited to their roles. Most of the supporting roles are well-played by what I assume are local Mexican actors or just locals. The only bad actors in the movie are a couple of voices on telephones.

While the photography and effects are excellent, and the acting is more than passable, the script isn't exactly great. This is the sort of movie that isn't really out to explain where the aliens came from, or why they kill (eat?) people, and that's fine. There are some great hints about some aspects of their behavior, but that's not really a focus of the movie. The focus is on the two characters, but even in that area not much is explained. They fall in love, but I'm not sure why: the photographer, played by Scott McNairy, is kind of a sweetheart jerk, and the girl, played by Whitney Able, is pretty much a non-entity. (Actually, I guess they're they're perfect for each other.) This is a journey movie; the two characters set out at the beginning and reach their destination in the end, with all sorts of obstacles which need to be overcome along the way. But there's no real climax; I never got the big battle or chase that I felt was coming. They reach their destination, and the movie just sort of ends.

TL;DR -- quiet, character-driven sci-fi shot on location in third-world Mexico; great photography and good visual effects; well-acted love-story; slow plot with no climax or resolution.

Swing Time (1936)

Terry's Grade: B+

Fred Astaire plays John "Lucky" Garnett, a dancer and a gambler who's about to give up performing to marry his sweetheart. But after he misses his own wedding, he sets off for New York in order to make his fortune and come back and re-claim his fiancé. He is accompanied by his faithful companion "Pop" (Victor Moore), who performed card tricks in Lucky's old stage show. In New York, Lucky starts performing with a dance instructor named Penny (Ginger Rogers); the two eventually, inevitably, fall in love. Also along for the ride is Mabel (Helen Broderick), the former receptionist at Penny's old dance school, who ends up as Pop's companion after recognizing the usefulness of their gambling skills.

Fred Astaire is a very famous name, but when I think about it, I don't really know if I've seen him in (m)any other movies. Ditto for Ginger Rogers. Looking at his IMDB page, I've probably seen his spots in The Towering Inferno and on Battlestar Gallactica (I'm pretty sure I've seen all the episodes of that show but that was a long, long time ago). Astaire and Rogers made nine films together, apparently, and I have to assume that this is considered the best of them all. When or if I'll ever see another one is uncertain, but I can't say I'm opposed to the idea.

In the latter half of the movie, there's comes a romantic scene with Astaire and Rogers that should leave the audience kind of giddy, but that emotional high gets killed immediately when Lucky starts applying his makeup for an impending blackface song-and-dance routine. I suppose that a modern audience should be able to contextualize a scene like this and not be offended by it, but it still kind of spoils the mood, and reminds us of the truism that it's impossible for an audience separated by the better part of a century to appreciate a work of art in the same way it was appreciated by a contemporary audience. I always try to bring an open mind when watching older movies, but that's not always enough. To make things even more awkward, we have to watch blackface-Astaire through several scenes following the song before his character has a chance to clean up. Also, the one actual black character in the movie is pure stereotype, but fortunately is only on scene for a few seconds.

There are some classic songs I didn't realize were in this movie: A Fine Romance is the highlight, but the first song we get to enjoy is Pick Yourself Up ("You pick yourself up // dust yourself off // and start all over again"), another standard. I've never considered myself a huge fan of musicals, but when the songs and performers are solid like this, they can be pretty enjoyable.

In the end, there isn't much to say for this movie. It's got good songs, good dancing, and good singing, and some of the jokes still manage to be funny 75 years later. Plot-wise, there are no surprises, but that's not really why you watch a movie like this. If you're me, you watch this movie because it's on a list of movies somewhere that people say you ought to see. And if you're me, you don't feel like you wasted your time on this one.

Catching Up

I've been way behind on posting here, and I think I need to just get some stuff down before it's completely out of my memory. Each of these films deserves a full post, but given my current budget of free time, they're not gonna get them.

Singin' In The Rain (1952): A+

This movie is wonderful; intensely colorful, with great music, great sets, and extraordinary performances by Gene Kelly, Donald O'Connor, and Debbie Reynolds. I've got a full review on hold, so I'll put the rest of my thoughts there and post it.

A Streetcar Named Desire (1951): A-

Stanley Kowalski is a hunk. Too bad he's an asshole. This is a movie to watch with the windows open and a cold beer on a hot, humid, summer day. I'd completely forgotten about Karl Malden's love-hate-able role as Blanche Dubois' would-be fiancé, which should be a crime. Also, Tennesse Williams really was great at writing one-apartment plays, wasn't he? There's a reason this film is considered required watching in the civilized world.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939): C

I don't understand this movie at all; it's basically a propaganda film for America and the Boy Scouts. If you want to learn how congress works, watch I'm Just A Bill. If you want to see a Jimmy Stewart movie, watch Rear Window or Philadelphia Story. I'm seriously baffled why this movie shows up on lists of great movies. It's a kids' movie about politics. Really.

It Happened One Night (1934): B+

This is the first (and so far only) movie I've seen with Clark Gable in it, and I genuinely look forward to seeing more. I have some questions about this movie, though. Namely, I wonder why Gable's character has two pairs of pajamas packed in his single hard-shell suitcase. Is it purely for plot reasons, so he can loan a pair to Claudette Colbert, or is that just how people rolled in the thirties? Also, after Philadelphia Story, this is the second movie I've seen where a lower-class character lectures a higher-class character on the proper way to dunk a doughnut. I don't know... I don't pack one pair of pajamas, let alone two, when I travel, and I don't give a solitary fuck about dunking doughnuts. Maybe that's just me.

City Lights (1931): B

I am always going to get this movie confused with Modern Times. I just have to remember that Modern Times is the good one, and this is the not-so-good one. But I do like Charlie Chaplin movies, it turns out, so even the bad ones are worth watching.

The General (1926): B- 

I don't understand this movie. Apparently it's a comedy? With hardly any jokes? The only scenes worth watching are the one where Buster Keaton repeatedly tries to enlist in the confederate army, and the one where a bridge collapses and dumps a train into a river.

The Gold Rush (1925): B-

It took us three days to finish this movie, and I'm not sure why other than the fact that it's just not really a gripping story. But there are some classic, really funny, scenes in this movie: the shack gets blown around, so that the door opens up out into a crevasse; and one of the prospectors gets so hungry that Charlie Chaplin starts looking like a roasted chicken. Sadly, as usual Charlie Chaplin falls in love with a girl that doesn't deserve him, but they end up together in the end so I guess it's a happy ending? Also, some of the opening footage is fascinating to watch; it plays like documentary footage of the Alaskan gold rush, even if it was staged for production of this film.
 

The Hunger Games (2012)

Terry's Grade: C

Is this thing over yet?

I don't read a lot, really, so I don't often see movie versions of books I've already read. Hunger Games does illustrate some of the problems those movies face, though; in translating page to screen, it's important to make the transition from telling to showing. The script to this movie is true in every major way to the novel, and this might be one of its biggest problems. It's almost omission by inclusion; every character gets his time on screen (no matter how briefly), and as a result hardly any characters get their due. A book has the leisure to  fill in background and explain motivations; on the screen, we get only what we see.

Halfway through the movie, I was convinced that director Gary Ross didn't have all the necessary tools to direct a feature film. The story starts in the poverty-stricken, coal-mining District 12, then quickly moves via high-speed rail to the wealthy, narcissistic, over-styled capital of Panem. Both of these settings provide wonderful opportunities to illustrate the post-apocalyptic dystopia that Susanne Collins has created, and the art department doesn't disappoint; aside from a few wooden telephone posts and an electric fence, District 12 looks like 19th-century Appalachia, down to the hand-stitched dresses worn by the coal miners' daughters. And in the capital, every single individual has his or her own unique color palette--blue ponytails, gold eyeliner, purple suits, and facial hair trimmed to millimeter specifications. But it's extremely hard to appreciate the set design through Tom Stern's hand-held-camera shudders, close-zoom pans, and the unrelenting two-second-cut editing. When capital guards forcefully separate our heroine from her family, I don't want to see a close-up of a leather glove: I can get that anywhere (like on a Spinal Tap album cover). I want to see the juxtaposition of a white-uniformed, well-fed, soldier and a broken-down mother and her two starving children. By "juxtaposition", I mean put them all on the screen at the same time, dammit. These shots are so over-edited, it makes the movie feel cheap, as though the director is trying to hide something. It's a style that doesn't match the budget, or the subject.

In a way, these are some daring directorial decisions; the formula in a  movie like this would be to start off slow, emphasizing the quietness and simplicity of home life before before building up to the shock and excess of urbanity and finally the furious brutality of the games. Paradoxically, the over-editing of the first act gives the opening of the movie a plodding feeling. Every scene feels the same, and the audience isn't given a chance to develop any emotional investment in the characters and their circumstances. The problem with daring decisions is that sometimes they just don't pay off.

Fortunately, things get much better after the games start, when the subject matter finally catches up with the director's style. Curiously, at this point we also start to see a directorial range that was lacking in the first forty-five minutes. When Katniss is stung by a "tracker-jacker" wasp, she is thrown into a hallucinatory stupor, stumbling through the wilderness like a hippie on acid, and having flashing back (in one of the few scenes that manages to strike an emotional note) to the death of her father in a coal mining accident. And when a fellow tribute and ally dies, the film slows just long enough for Katniss to lovingly decorate her corpse with wildflowers.

As a fellow film-goer noted, the makers of this film didn't really have to work hard in order to get the fans out to the theaters. But I seriously wonder if they've worked hard enough to get us to come back for parts 2 and 3. On a radio interview, I heard Jennifer Lawrence joke that her character would be played by Hillary Swank in the future. In the same interview, Lawrence discussed her hesitation to take on a role that had the potential to define her entire career. For her sake, I hope she isn't remembered for being Katniss Everdeen. She's a good, maybe great, actress, but it's slight praise to say that she's the best part of a mediocre movie.