Here's a thoughtful NY Times article. It makes me want to see the movie again, with a different mindset. I may not agree with the author--or, I may--but I appreciate his reminiscence.
Wonderful? Sorry, George, It’s a Pitiful, Dreadful Life
Wonderful? Sorry, George, It’s a Pitiful, Dreadful Life
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Yesterday's fencing tournament went well. I placed in epee, and did well enough in foil. And I got to hang with people I enjoy.
Unfortunately, my week was, from one point of view, a failure. I got nowhere near meeting my client goals. But, I did get good work done, and I was fighting a cold, so I think I can do better this week.
I've also been on a Body Snatchers kick. I watched the 1956 and the 1978 versions. Next up is the 1993 version. I've read that the 2007 version isn't worth bothering over, so I won't. Or maybe I will. You'll find out.
Unfortunately, my week was, from one point of view, a failure. I got nowhere near meeting my client goals. But, I did get good work done, and I was fighting a cold, so I think I can do better this week.
I've also been on a Body Snatchers kick. I watched the 1956 and the 1978 versions. Next up is the 1993 version. I've read that the 2007 version isn't worth bothering over, so I won't. Or maybe I will. You'll find out.
Tonight's acting class homework was to bring a favorite or much-loved scene and explain what it meant to us. There were many great scenes, from across the years and genres.
My favorite--and not the one I chose--had to be the ending of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, the 1972 version with Gene Wilder, Peter Ostrum and Jack Albertson. The joy in Gene Wilder's performance, the sincerity, and the tenderness all conspire to get me all mushy-eyed. As the actor who discussed the scene said, it's also the tremendous lesson of integrity and honesty that leaves such an impression.
For those who are curious, I chose a scene from Silent Running.
My favorite--and not the one I chose--had to be the ending of Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, the 1972 version with Gene Wilder, Peter Ostrum and Jack Albertson. The joy in Gene Wilder's performance, the sincerity, and the tenderness all conspire to get me all mushy-eyed. As the actor who discussed the scene said, it's also the tremendous lesson of integrity and honesty that leaves such an impression.
For those who are curious, I chose a scene from Silent Running.
Director Wiliam Friedkin's style reminds me a lot of Sam Peckinpah in The Wild Bunch. It's continuously gritty and interesting, despite long scenes where there is, arguably, no action. This kind of film making probably wouldn't fly today, and that's too bad. In action films of the last ten years or so, the emphasis has become heightening the adrenaline in the audience. In The French Connection (1974), the reality of the situations is what grips you.
Take, for instance, the famous chase scene where Gene Hackman drives--and mostly destroys--a commandeered car as he follows a New York train. There are no ridiculous exploding vehicles. No huge pileups or vaulting over fruit stands. Instead, Hackman's character doesn't get killed because he's a) skilled, and b) very lucky.
This film is a crime drama. And unlike most pretenders to that genre, the movie shows police work more like it (presumably) actually is: lots of waiting around for something to happen. Friedkin and company manage to take deadly dull work and give it taut energy. A lot of this comes from his superb direction, specifically his navigation from character to character. On stage this is called blocking--directing where actors stand and move. I assume the term is the same in film. The added element is the camera, which moves from one character to another while they're moving within the scene.
In the days before the Stedicam, you had the "steady hand". There's lots of hand held camera work in the movie, and whoever was holding that camera should have been a surgeon. It's amazingly smooth. I also enjoyed the score by Don Ellis. It's the kind of slightly avant garde jazz style that was popular in the 70s, and could be truly horrible. But Ellis does the job just right. My first thought was, "This sounds like Mission: Impossible music." In fact, Ellis did compose music for one episode of that series!
So, is The French Connection just a big, long car chase? Not at all. It is a big, long chase, lots of following, lots of missteps. There's no contrived drama. Neither Hackman nor partner Roy Scheider have subplots that warm your heart, or other melodrama. And this is certainly not a movie for kids. It's positively not "politically correct". That's obvious within the first ten minutes:
This is the last of my AFI Top 100 films to watch and review. It's been almost a year since I started this project. I've accomplished my goals, which were to watch quality movies that I might not otherwise see, instead of the general crap I'd been watching. I would probably never have rented The French Connection on my own. I'm certainly glad I did. It's an impressive piece of work.
The cinematography is fantastic. Here's a shot of Marseille, France. Just as gritty and "messy" as New York.
Roy Scheider and Gene Hackman in what I immediately dubbed "the Santa Claus chase".
Gene Hackman, whose performance is a masterpiece of subtlety and detail.
The wonderfully low-key Roy Scheider.
Eddie Egan, as the classic NY police sergeant. In fact, the actor was one of the detectives involved in the actual case upon which the movie is based. He was the basis for Hackman's "Popeye" Doyle.
Fernando Rey, who just oozes competence. According to the IMDB trivia, he was hired for the role by accident, when the casting director misunderstood who Friedkin asked for.
Roy Scheider and Gene Hackman.
Take, for instance, the famous chase scene where Gene Hackman drives--and mostly destroys--a commandeered car as he follows a New York train. There are no ridiculous exploding vehicles. No huge pileups or vaulting over fruit stands. Instead, Hackman's character doesn't get killed because he's a) skilled, and b) very lucky.
This film is a crime drama. And unlike most pretenders to that genre, the movie shows police work more like it (presumably) actually is: lots of waiting around for something to happen. Friedkin and company manage to take deadly dull work and give it taut energy. A lot of this comes from his superb direction, specifically his navigation from character to character. On stage this is called blocking--directing where actors stand and move. I assume the term is the same in film. The added element is the camera, which moves from one character to another while they're moving within the scene.
In the days before the Stedicam, you had the "steady hand". There's lots of hand held camera work in the movie, and whoever was holding that camera should have been a surgeon. It's amazingly smooth. I also enjoyed the score by Don Ellis. It's the kind of slightly avant garde jazz style that was popular in the 70s, and could be truly horrible. But Ellis does the job just right. My first thought was, "This sounds like Mission: Impossible music." In fact, Ellis did compose music for one episode of that series!
So, is The French Connection just a big, long car chase? Not at all. It is a big, long chase, lots of following, lots of missteps. There's no contrived drama. Neither Hackman nor partner Roy Scheider have subplots that warm your heart, or other melodrama. And this is certainly not a movie for kids. It's positively not "politically correct". That's obvious within the first ten minutes:
[Scheider] How the hell was I supposed to know he had a knife?
[Hackman] Never trust a nigger.
[Scheider] He could have been white.
[Hackman] Never trust anyone.
This is the last of my AFI Top 100 films to watch and review. It's been almost a year since I started this project. I've accomplished my goals, which were to watch quality movies that I might not otherwise see, instead of the general crap I'd been watching. I would probably never have rented The French Connection on my own. I'm certainly glad I did. It's an impressive piece of work.
The cinematography is fantastic. Here's a shot of Marseille, France. Just as gritty and "messy" as New York.
;)
Roy Scheider and Gene Hackman in what I immediately dubbed "the Santa Claus chase".
;)
Gene Hackman, whose performance is a masterpiece of subtlety and detail.
;)
The wonderfully low-key Roy Scheider.
;)
Eddie Egan, as the classic NY police sergeant. In fact, the actor was one of the detectives involved in the actual case upon which the movie is based. He was the basis for Hackman's "Popeye" Doyle.
;)
Fernando Rey, who just oozes competence. According to the IMDB trivia, he was hired for the role by accident, when the casting director misunderstood who Friedkin asked for.
;)
Roy Scheider and Gene Hackman.
;)
The Cohen Brothers (Joel and Ethan), make quirky films. Brilliant, audacious, belly laughing, tender, dark, elegant, quirky films.
The balance between comedy and drama sustained in Fargo (1996) is masterful. The film concerns an absolute train wreck of a crime conceived by William H. Macy, who wants his wife kidnapped for a share of the ransom money. With his share, Macy will pay off some other debts. What could be simpler? What could possibly go wrong?
As you anticipate, everything goes wrong because it can't possibly go right. Not with inept criminals Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare. As we, the audience, try to figure out if we're supposed to laugh, the mistakes mount along with the body count. Into this mess walks the pregnant Frances McDormand, in a picture postcard perfect performance. She's the polite bulldog, a kind hearted country girl with the mindset of a New York cop. It's like combining Die Hard with A Prarie Home Companion.
A terrific film. Absolutely.
William H. Macy can do anything, as an actor. Here he combines his gift for edgy comedy and pathos. He completely embodies the calamity to which he gives birth.
Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare. Buscemi is great fun, but also somewhat scary. Stormare gets under your skin without you knowing why..until you see the knife he's been using to flay you.
In many ways, this movie is truly in the style of Hitchcock. I know that gets said about many films, but I'll stand by my statement. Take, for instance, this wonderful shot. It could easily have come from North by Northwest.
Frances McDormand, in one of many scenes where she delivers. Some actors only show you the white crests. She gives you the ocean, too.
Frances McDormand and the perfectly cast John Carroll Lynch
The balance between comedy and drama sustained in Fargo (1996) is masterful. The film concerns an absolute train wreck of a crime conceived by William H. Macy, who wants his wife kidnapped for a share of the ransom money. With his share, Macy will pay off some other debts. What could be simpler? What could possibly go wrong?
As you anticipate, everything goes wrong because it can't possibly go right. Not with inept criminals Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare. As we, the audience, try to figure out if we're supposed to laugh, the mistakes mount along with the body count. Into this mess walks the pregnant Frances McDormand, in a picture postcard perfect performance. She's the polite bulldog, a kind hearted country girl with the mindset of a New York cop. It's like combining Die Hard with A Prarie Home Companion.
A terrific film. Absolutely.
William H. Macy can do anything, as an actor. Here he combines his gift for edgy comedy and pathos. He completely embodies the calamity to which he gives birth.
;)
Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare. Buscemi is great fun, but also somewhat scary. Stormare gets under your skin without you knowing why..until you see the knife he's been using to flay you.
;)
In many ways, this movie is truly in the style of Hitchcock. I know that gets said about many films, but I'll stand by my statement. Take, for instance, this wonderful shot. It could easily have come from North by Northwest.
;)
Frances McDormand, in one of many scenes where she delivers. Some actors only show you the white crests. She gives you the ocean, too.
;)
Frances McDormand and the perfectly cast John Carroll Lynch
;)
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