#best cinematography of 1943

[thebarroomortheboy]

Jamie boy! You know you're not supposed to be out of bed! Haven't you caused me enough trouble already? Get back to your bunk! Oh, Jamie boy. That's only twice. Once more - I said 'three' times. Jamie boy...

TYRONE POWER and MAUREEN O' HARA in THE BLACK SWAN (1942) | dir. Henry King

[cinemaocd]

Movies I watched in March 2024

Under the Cherry Moon (1986)** I'm Not There (2007)*** Jingle All the Way (1996)* Three Graves to Cairo (1943)** Hitchcock (2012) ** Silent Partner (1978)** Possession (2002)** Oppenheimer (2023)** Oscar Wilde (1960)** Turning Point: The Cold War and the Bomb (2024)** Anselm (2023)*** 24 Hour Party People (2002)** Two of Us (1999)*** Remains of the Day (1993)*** Doubt (2008)*** Dune (1984)*** Dune Part II (2024)***

Under the Cherry Moon (1986)** Absolute bobbins of a script is still beautiful to look at, very gay and of course mainly a vehicle for Prince's music. Under the Cherry Moon was the follow up to Purple Rain. It was a box office flop, a critical failure that earned Razzie nominations, but is a worth another look. Prince and Jerome Beton are sex workers with a rich female clientele on the French Riviera, the kind of career that only exists in movies. Kristin Scott Thomas makes her film debut as the debutante who comes between the friends and threatens to part them. Prince's death scene, harkens back to Camille with Prince playing Garbo. Like Garbo, Prince was happy to exploit his own androgyny and like Garbo, he was doomed to only explore that in a way that could be squeezed into heteronormative films.

I'm not There: (2007)*** A fascinating look at Bob Dylan, dividing him into six personae played by six different actors. Haynes uses different film styles, the Cate Blanchett mid Sixties Dylan of Bringing it All Back Home and Blonde on Blonde is matched in style with the black and white cinematography of D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back. It also has elements of the Italian Surrealists like Felinni or Antonioni with a scoch of A Hard Day's Night. The soundtrack is particularly good, avoiding for the most part, the licensing pitfalls that plagued Haynes' Bowie biopic, Velvet Goldmine. Some of the most effective moments of I'm Not There, pair landscape shots with Dylan's music. Given the catalogue and the array of talent, Haynes has gathered, one perhaps expects a bit more , but then that has always been Dylan's nature, he's mysterious and aloof, leaving us wanting more.

Jingle All the Way (1996)* We watched this Christmas movie in March because we recently learned that part of it was filmed at my son's elementary school. It had Jake Lloyd somehow being more annoying than he was in the Phantom Menace as a bonus. Phil Hartman got dragged into this unfunny mess as well.

Three Graves to Cairo (1943)** Tense war time drama about a British officer who gets trapped behind the lines and ends up hiding out in a hotel working as a waiter for Field Marshall Rommel. Billy Wilder ratchets up the tension, his script giving all the best lines to Rommel, played by Erich Von Stroheim who really owns the film though Anne Baxter and Franchot Tone nominally "star."

Hitchcock (2012)** Hichcock's struggle to make Pyscho dramatized with fantasies where he hangs out with Ed Gein, while Alma Hitchcock gets involved in a Hitchcockian romance with a hack writer. Scarlett Johannson plays an almost deliberately obtuse Janet Leigh and James Darcy captures pre-Psycho Tony Perkins. It's a bit silly but I'll never turn down Helen Mirren and Anthony Hopkins in anything. This has a slight, arch feel to it, like many of Hitchcock's pictures, but lurking underneath are the ordinary hates and passions of a man who fears being left behind, at the height of his career. For his long-suffering wife's part, she too feels she's being replaced by the young actresses that Hitchcock is obsessed with at the moment. The conclusion is sweet enough for the Hayes office: husband and wife rediscover the magic of their working relationship, which was always the rock upon which their relationship was built.

The Silent Partner (1978)** With Elliott Gould, Christopher Plummer and Susannah York in the cast, this should have been better. Decent heist plot that devolves into slasher film . Christopher Plummer takes on the dubious mantels of playing a villain in a piss-poor American action film and a cross-dressing murderer.

Possession (2002)** A rather thin adaptation of a great novel, A.S. Byatt's story of two modern academics who disover a previous hidden romance between two Victorian poets. The film lacks the poetry of the novel, which I think is necessary for the story to have its full impact, but the film is full of plenty of jabs at academia as well as burning passions. Gweneth Paltrow and Aaron Ecklund play the young couple, while Jeremy Northam and Jennifer Ehle play the poet/lovers. Tom Hollander has a small but memorable part as does Toby Stephens.

Oppenheimer (2023)** My least favorite half of Barbenheimer still damn good and the physics nerd in me reveled in seeing my dead physicist boyfriends on screen. There are better films about Oppenheimer's life (BBC did a mini series starring Sam Waterston and it's on youtube) but something about the dreamy quality of Nolan's film captures that quantum mystery kinda vibe and put it in a blockbuster package. Cool.

Oscar Wilde (1960)** Preceded the landmark film Crisis by one year, without the world shaking honesty that film managed, around the topic of homosexuality and the law. Both films hinged on blackmail of a gay man but Oscar Wilde is careful to skirt around explicit mentions of sexuality, using tricks like showing the dictionary definition of "sodomy" briefly on camera. More was needed and more was achieved a year later. Ralph Richardson contributes to the courtroom scenes admirably and Morley is a terrific Wilde, who would rather make point for style than save himself from prison.

Turning Point: The Cold War and the Bomb (2024)** Fascinating background to our current situation, most of which is terrifying and now I'm worrying about the bomb again. I took off a star for the sheer number neo-con/Reaganite talking heads in this...

Anselm (2023)*** Wim Wenders stirring mostly visual documentary about Anselm Kiefer, a German artist who has explored his childhood memories of post war Germany in a frank and intimidatingly in your face way, on a massive scale combining sculpture, painting and physical spaces, many of which he has engineered himself. As a middle aged person who feels estranged and terrified to look more deeply into her own childhood, Anselm was something to sit with for two hours.

24 Hour Party People (2002)** Steve Coogan plays Tony Wilson, the Manchester TV personality and club owner who helped launch the careers of Joy Division, New Order and The Happy Mondays. Coogan has a tendency to make all his characters Alan Partridge and this is no exception, but it kind of works? It did more to get me to listen to Joy Division that numerous goth roommates ever could...

Two of Us (1999)*** I can't stop watching this made for VH-1 fanfiction of a movie starring Jared Harris and Aidan Quinn as John Lennon and Paul McCartney, dramatizing a probably apocryphal tale that John and Paul met up in NYC in the 70s when Paul was playing Madison Square Garden. Pure fluff and nonsense. I need it like air.

Remains of the Day (1993)*** Revisiting this old favorite and finding that it's kind of pacey and funny for a Merchant Ivory pic. The movie that made me love Tony Hopkins as an actor, his Stevens is really such a fascinating, ostensibly tragic character and yet there is a weird kind of triumph to living one's life so completely to a schedule and a code, and yet never being to eliminate desire and feeling.

Doubt (2008)*** This is the second Philip Seymour Hoffman movie I've watched in the last few months that has left me utterly haunted. Like The Master, Hoffman creates a villain who charms the audience at the same time you know that he's probably done unforgivable things and is only at the start of a long career of doing unforgivable things. Meryl Streep gives a heavy handed performance (Streep never met a colloquial accent that she didn't wear like a Groucho Marx nose) that certainly gets the point across that unpleasant people usually aren't the bad guys you want them to be. Amy Adams plays a naive young nun who, like the audience, is left wondering what to believe.

Dune (1984)*** Unapologetic Lynch Dune lover here. I love the cheesy acting, the wild tonal shifts, and the attempts to put this sprawling multibook epic in the Star Wars shaped box that the studio wanted him to use. My favorite scene has become Lynch's cameo, he seems so happy just pretending to be a spice miner, in his little spice mining suit in his little unconvincing space ship. I love him and this whole stupid mess. Sorry Frank Herbert.

Dune Part II (2024)*** My prediction is that Villeneuve's probable trilogy will--like so many franchises--peak in the second film. The first part was a slow-moving visual feast, that only hinted at the potential of this cast. Things actually start moving in the plot and Chalamet's Paul does his best to cope. Unlike MacLachlan's avuncular Atreides, who takes being a Messiah as just being another Tuesday of being the Universe's Most Gifted Child, he actually seems conflicted. Zendaya continues to utterly dominate every time she's on screen. Can Channi be the focus of the movie? Please?

[screamscenepodcast]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 2023: THE TOP TEN

Hey there, Creatures of the Night! Once again it is that time of year where we recap what films have made the cut of Scream Scene's top ten best horror movies of all time! (all time defined as 1895-1960) If you’re looking for some genuine classics to check out this year, we’ve got you covered, with running times and where to find them!

#10. I Walked With a Zombie (1943)

The second Val Lewton produced film on the list, I Walked With a Zombie is perhaps best described as Jane Eyre in the Caribbean, but what is surprising is that the film is also a well researched depiction of Voodoo practices for 1943. The haunting imagery, sparse sound design, and dreamlike poeticism of this film might make it among the most unique zombie movies you’ve ever seen, made in a time with zombies were supernatural undead slaves, instead of reanimated undead cannibals. Do yourself a favour and check it out - it’s available to buy online in SD for $9.99 from Apple TV, and $14.99 on Amazon Video, Google Play Movies and YouTube. 1h 8m.

#9. The Old Dark House (1932)

James Whale’s definitive take on this traditional mystery thriller formula is a movie that will have you laughing right until the moment it has you screaming. In some ways, it’s a movie of clichés, with the protagonists seeking shelter in an old mansion during a rainstorm in the night and having to deal with the reclusive family they find within. But the dark, brooding cinematography, and truly shocking twists that rivet up the intensity over the running time, all contribute to make this a harrowing watch. It’s one part Rocky Horror Picture Show, one part The Addams Family, and one part The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. I’m not kidding. The Old Dark House is currently streaming on AMC+, Criterion Channel, Flix Fling, and Tubi. 1h 10m.

#8. Horror of Dracula (1958)

Hammer Films had been producing X-rated horror and sci-fi content for a while by the time they got around to producing an adaptation of Dracula, but everything they learned from the success of The Curse of Frankenstein they applied tenfold to Dracula. From the subversive opening act to the shockingly graphic (for the time) finale, this film is full of action and excitement, as well as a sexually feral Count played by Christopher Lee for the first time. A Halloween crowd pleaser! Horror of Dracula is available to rent for $4.99 on Amazon Video, Apple TV, Cineplex, Google Play Movies, Microsoft Store, and YouTube. 1h 22m.

#7. The Spiral Staircase (1946)

This RKO classic is another great take on the old dark house subgenre, from noir director Robert Siodmak. A masterpiece of suspense, featuring wonderful production design and dynamite performances from its cast, this movie will draw you in to the world of a mute servant named Helen trapped in a dark manor on a stormy night with a whole cast of lunatics! A forerunner of giallo (no, really!), this classic and classy thriller is not to be missed! The Spiral Staircase is currently streaming on Classix, Flix Fling, and Plex. 1h 23m.

#6. The Fly (1958)

While the 1986 remake may be more well known today, the original rendition of this body horror classic still retains a punch with its central mystery, compelling drama, and traumatic ending. Excellent creature effects and memorable moments like a woman screaming seen through compound eyes cement this as one of the great sci-fi/horror films of its time! The Fly is currently available to rent for $4.99 on Apple TV, Google Play Movies, Microsoft Store, and YouTube. 1h 34m.

#5. Peeping Tom (1960)

While it may come across as fairly tame by today's standards, in 1960 the seminal British horror film Peeping Tom was considered so offensive it single-handedly ended the career of its director, former national treasure Michael Powell. Today, the film still has the power to disturb through its exploration of the relationship between victims, voyeurs, and viewers. Peeping Tom is currently available to stream on Tubi and to rent for $4.99 on Apple TV, Amazon Video, and Microsoft Store. 1h 41m.

#4. Gojira (1954)

Ishiro Honda’s classic giant monster movie, the progenitor of all kaiju and tokusatsu movies to come, is a masterpiece of ingenuity and imagination. But more than that, it’s a powerful statement about the horrors of nuclear war, an angry and relentless funeral dirge mourning for the Japanese lives lost and raging against the American foreign policy that continued to poison Japan with radiation even after the war. Godzilla is an apocalypse personified, the great revenge of the natural world against the hubris of man that has harmed it. But Gojira is also a film about the immense weight of personal and scientific responsibility weighed against the greater good, and its position on the use of weapons of mass destruction is perhaps more nuanced than you’d expect. Don’t let the campy reputation of Godzilla in the West fool you. Clear your mind of that and sit down to watch this powerful black & white epic. Gojira is streaming on Cineverse, Criterion Channel, Midnight Pulp, Plex, and Tubi, and can be rented for $4.99 on Apple TV. 1h 38m.

The American adaptation Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1956) is also worth a watch, and is available on The Criterion Channel, Plex, Tubi, and to rent on iTunes. 1h 20m.

#3. Cat People (1942)

Cat People is brilliant. The first of Val Lewton’s horror movies for RKO, it best exemplifies his shadow drenched, suggestive, adult, contemporary, and ambiguous brand of horror. Irena is convinced that if she experiences sexual excitement, she will turn into a black panther and kill the man she loves. Her husband is convinced it’s all in her head. What is the truth? Cat People gives the viewer plenty to chew on while being the first horror movie to understand that less is more, that the monster is scarier if you can’t see it, and also how to pull off a jump scare.You can find this absolute classic to stream on Amazon Prime, and to purchase for $9.99 on Apple TV, Google Play Movies, Microsoft and YouTube. 1h 10m.

#2. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)

Finally dethroned from the number 1 spot after 265 episodes! Early on in the first Hollywood horror craze, Paramount Pictures managed to outdo their main competitor Universal with this masterpiece from director Rouben Mamoulian. With a use of sound, visuals, effects, script, and performance far beyond what most films were doing at the time, this adaptation reigns supreme among other versions of the same story. Fredric March utterly inhabits the dual title role, but it’s Miriam Hopkins’ performance that will stick with you in this superb examination of domestic abuse, alcoholism, and the beast that dwells within us. Currently streaming on the Criterion Channel, and available to rent on Apple TV, Google Play Movies, and YouTube for $4.99. 1h 38m.

#1. Psycho (1960)

It's our new number one! Not a big surprise, as Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho changed the horror genre for decades to come. A low budget thriller based around its two big twists, the film's power is a little muted now that those twists have been thoroughly disseminated through pop culture osmosis, Psycho is still a master class in pacing and tension through its first half, and contains an incredible performance from actor Anthony Perkins. You can rent Psycho on Amazon Video, Apple TV, Google Play Movies, Microsoft Store, and YouTube for $4.99. 1h 49m.

A new top ten with a new number one! Will Psycho keep its throne as long as Jekyll and Hyde did? Keep listening to Scream Scene to find out!

[romanceyourdemons]

fritz lang’s espionage noir ministry of fear (1944) provides the best of both genres for its period, both narratively and artistically. in terms of visual artistry, the costumes and cinematography of this film are as rich, complex, and moody as you could possibly ask for, painting a respectable, paranoid, war-torn london that has charity fetes in the afternoon, seances in the evening, and blackouts at night. lang’s interest in sharp, jarring swings between the worlds of the highest- and lowest-class shines through even in a film like this where the contrast is not the main argument. not only are the visuals beautifully crafted according to lang’s interests, but the narrative presents a fascinating iteration on his favorite themes as well. although taking a similar premise to alfred hitchcock’s later north by northwest (1949)—a man accidentally invokes a secret code and finds himself sucked into a world of spies who will do anything to get a macguffin they believe he has—this film has none of hitchcock’s comedy elements. rather, the film follows the themes laid out in m (1931), hangmen also die! (1943), and even metropolis (1927): the protagonist finds that everyone around him knows his mind better than he himself does, or seems to, and that the reality he thought he understood and had some level of control over has shifted into german expressionist madness. lang has a skill for portraying huntedness and helplessness, a person who cannot know whom they will be betrayed by next, be it their closest friend or their own mind, and he puts this talent to full use in this film’s spy story. although there are points where the film plays it safe in a hitchcockian way, using irony or sex appeal to duck out of emotional situations, the story and style are all lang, and are all brilliantly done, and for fans of the director, the genre, or the period, i would definitely recommend ministry of fear (1944)

[amrass]

Amras' Halloween watchlist

I managed to finish my October watchlist a few days after the month ended. I'm really happy with that ☺️ Usually I send my list to a couple of interested friends with little indicators for films they might personally like, but I thought I'd share it here too but with "awards" at the end that are just based on my own enjoyment.

Honestly every movie I watched this year except one were worth watching, especially if you're a genre fan like me. Maybe you've seen it all before, maybe you'll find some gems 🧟 Don't take this to seriously, it's like, less like a film critic and more like a horror enthusiast you met at the pub listing up some neat flicks.

Viy (1967)

The Sadness (2021)

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)

Strange Darling (2023)

Skinamarink (2022)

Ghostwatch (1992)

Life (2017)

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957)

The Unknown (1927)

Scanners (1981)

He Who Gets Slapped (1924)

The Shining (1980) 

Triangle (2009)

Final Prayer/Borderlands (2013) 

Black Christmas (1974)

The Birds (1963)

Cronos (1993)

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) 

eXistenZ (1999)

Titane (2021)

Cure (1997)

Bride of Frankenstein (1935) 

Basket Case (1982)

Saint Maud (2019)

Event Horizon (1997)

I Walked With a Zombie (1943) 

Demonlover (2002)

Freaks (1932) 

Dark Woods 2 (2013) /// I turned this off, it was so bad

Decoder (1984)

Terrifier 3 (2024)

Best film: Cure Best scares: Ghostwatch Best atmosphere: Skinamarink Best gore/violence: Terrifier 3 Best protagonist: Titane Best antagonist: Life, Event Horizon, Terrifier 3 Best ending: Final Prayer or The Incredible Shrinking Man Best scene: The dollhouse sequence in Skinamarink, the clown crowd scenes from He Who Gets Slapped, every Terrifier 3 kill Best script: eXistenZ Best soundtrack/audio: Skinamarink Best acting: Lon Chaney in The Unknown and He Who Gets Slapped Best cinematography: The Shining or Cure, on depicting madness  Biggest surprise: Final Prayer Worst film: Dark Woods 2

Annnnd don't have much more to say here. I'd seen about 2-3 of these movies before, but they all hold up. Event Horizon is probably my all-time favorite despite the whacky script ("baby bear") but when I re-watched Cure this year it really got under my skin. Cheers!

[byneddiedingo]

Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones in Duel in the Sun (King Vidor, 1946)

Cast: Jennifer Jones, Gregory Peck, Joseph Cotten, Lionel Barrymore, Herbert Marshall, Lillian Gish, Walter Huston, Charles Bickford, Harry Carey, Tilly Losch, Butterfly McQueen. Screenplay: David O. Selznick, Oliver H.P. Garrett, based on a novel by Niven Busch. Cinematography: Lee Garmes, Ray Rennahan, Harold Rosson. Production design: J. McMillan Johnson. Film editing: Hal C. Kern. Music: Dimitri Tiomkin.

This is a bad movie, but it's one distinguished in the annals of bad movies because it was made by David O. Selznick, who as the poster shouted at moviegoers, was "The Producer Who Gave You 'GONE WITH THE WIND.'" Selznick made it to showcase Jennifer Jones, the actress who won an Oscar as the saintly Bernadette of Lourdes in The Song of Bernadette (Henry King, 1943). Selznick, who left his wife for Jones, wanted to demonstrate that she was capable of much more than the sweetly gentle piety of Bernadette, so he cast her as the sultry Pearl Chavez in this adaptation (credited to Selznick himself along with Oliver H.P. Garrett, with some uncredited help by Ben Hecht) of the novel by Niven Busch. Opposite Jones, Selznick cast Gregory Peck as the amoral cowboy Lewt McCanles, who shares a self-destructive passion with Pearl. Both actors are radically miscast. Jones does a lot of eye- and teeth-flashing as Pearl, while Peck's usual good-guy persona undermines his attempts to play rapaciously sexy. The plot is one of those familiar Western tropes: good brother Jesse (Joseph Cotten) against bad 'un Lewt, reflecting the ill-matched personalities of their parents, the tough old cattle baron Jackson McCanles (Lionel Barrymore) and his gentle (and genteel) wife, Laura Belle (Lillian Gish). Pearl is an orphan, the improbable daughter of an improbable couple, the educated Scott Chavez (Herbert Marshall) and a sexy Indian woman (Tilly Losch), who angers him by fooling around with another man (Sidney Blackmer). Chavez kills both his wife and her lover and is hanged for it, so Pearl is sent to live with the McCanleses -- Laura Belle is Chavez's second cousin and old sweetheart -- on their Texas ranch. It's all pretentiously packaged by Selznick: not many other movies begin with both a "Prelude" and an "Overture," composed by Dimitri Tiomkin in the best overblown Hollywood style. It has Technicolor as lurid as its story, shot by three major cinematographers, Lee Garmes, Ray Rennahan, and Harold Rosson. But any attempt to generate real heat between Jones and Peck was quickly stifled by the Production Code, which even forced Selznick to introduce a voiceover at the beginning to explain that the character of the frontier preacher known as "The Sinkiller" (entertainingly played by Walter Huston) was not intended to be a representative clergyman. There are a few good moments, including an impressive tracking shot at the barbecue on the ranch in which various guests offer their opinions of Pearl, the McCanles brothers, and other things. Whether this scene can be credited to director King Vidor, who was certainly capable of it, is an open question, because Vidor found working with the obsessive Selznick so difficult that he quit the film. Selznick directed some scenes, as did Otto Brower, William Dieterle, Sidney Franklin, William Cameron Menzies, and Josef von Sternberg, all uncredited. The resulting melange is not unwatchable, thanks to a few good performances in secondary roles (Huston, Charles Bickford, Harry Carey), and perhaps also to some really terrible ones (Lionel Barrymore at his most florid and Butterfly McQueen repeating her fluttery air-headedness from GWTW).

[everydayesterday]

(My favourite films by decade are below the cut)

Tonight, I watched 'Safety Last!'—the slapstick silent comedy from 1923 with the indelible 20-minute clocktower scene—which means that I've now seen at least one film from every year since 1891, shortly after the invention of motion pictures (I've also seen the few recordings that came before that, such as the 12-slide ‘Horse in Motion,’ but there are gaps in the years, and we're talking about film segments that were roughly 2 seconds in length—films didn't even get to 3 minutes in length until 1898; the first hour-long movie was in 1906).  

I've got 916 movies on my list (it's probably more than that; my mind has no idea if it's ever seen a sequel).  I posted a while ago about only having 600 movies logged; to fill out the list I went through box office charts to identify what I'd likely seen in the 80s, 90s, 00s, etc. but had forgotten about.  

I was missing so many from the 90s, when we had our family movie nights.  On average, from 1989 to 2000, I saw 28 films per release year.  That dropped to 15 once I finished undergrad, and has remained pretty constant.  Going by the box office charts, I don't feel I've missed much of what I've wanted to see; there have been far too many sequels and metaverses, which simply don't interest me.  Over these COVID years, I've been watching more than just the newest releases, catching up on earlier decades; I've seen 173 that were released before I was born (most pre-1970 releases are from COVID onward).  

My favourite films by decade (because I like lists):  

1890-99: The Astronomer's Dream (1898).  Directed by Georges Méliès; the first film as real artistic production; multiple scenes and stages, special effects, 3 minutes.  

1900-09: The Great Train Robbery (1903).  The first epic action movie, at 13 minutes.  Fantastic production value; it's got better cinematography and editing than a lot of current movies.  

1910-19: I'm unsure.  ...perhaps The Conquest of the Pole (1912), another by Georges Méliès.  I need to see more films from this decade.  

1920-29: Wings (1928) and Metropolis (1927), take your pick.  One, the Oscars' first Best Picture winner and the benchmark for romantic drama (and with Clara Bow!), the other the most impressive film ever made.  

1930-39: My Man Godfrey (1936), my favourite Carole Lombard role (she's a fuckin' hoot!).  

1940-49: Citizen Kane (1941), Casablanca (1943) are both fine choices, but my choice would be His Girl Friday, because snappy dialogue is like a hit of cocaine.  

1950-59: Roman Holiday (1953).  Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck are both so charismatic; the chemistry here is palpable.  

1960-69: The Great Escape (1963) is an excellent pick, as is Ingmar Bergman's Persona (1966).  I'd take The Graduate (1967); it felt so unique, not your typical love story, and Anne Bancroft's vulnerable seductiveness turn felt so dangerous.  

1970-79: This was such a great decade (Harold and Maude, Chinatown, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Up in Smoke) ...but Apocalypse Now (1979) is my all-time top pick.  

1980-89: The Gods Must Be Crazy (1984).  Timeless.  Wholesome.  Simple and effective.  

1990-99: I'm trying to pick one film out of the 300 that I've seen from this timeframe, so maybe one [Ed. note: or more] per year?  Edward Scissorhands (1990), Point Break (1991), Wayne's World (1992), Jurassic Park/Schindler's List (1993), The Madness of King George/The Hudsucker Proxy/Quiz Show/Malcolm X (1994), Babe (1995; yes, the pig movie), The Young Poisoner's Handbook (1996), Life is Beautiful (1997; La vita è bella), ...not sure on 1998...maybe Waking Ned Devine/Pleasantville..., Office Space/Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels (1999).  

2000-09: Gladiator/Girl, Interrupted/American Psycho (2000), Amélie/Ali (2001), Super Troopers/Secretary (2002), Dogville (2004), No Country for Old Men (2007), There Will Be Blood (2008), Dead Snow (2009).  

2010-19: The Artist (2011), Argo (2012), Beasts of No Nation (2015), Rogue One (2016), Coco (2017), The Nightingale/Parasite/Knives Out (2019).  

2020-23: One Night in Miami... (2020), Nitram (2021).  

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for watching.  🎞️

[byneddiedingo]

Cast: Joel McCrea, Veronica Lake, Robert Warwick, William Demarest, Franklin Pangborn, Porter Hall, Byron Foulger, Margaret Hayes, Robert Greig, Eric Blore. Screenplay: Preston Sturges. Cinematography: John F. Seitz. Art direction: Hans Dreier, A. Earl Hedrick. Film editing: Stuart Gilmore. Music: Charles Bradshaw, Leo Shuken.

Let us now praise Joel McCrea, who never became an icon like Cooper or Gable or Grant or Stewart, but could always be relied on for a fine performance when the others weren’t available. He starred in two of Sturges’s best, the other one being The Palm Beach Story (1942), and gave solid and sometimes memorable performances for William Wyler (Dead End, 1937), Cecil B. DeMille (Union Pacific, 1939), Alfred Hitchcock (Foreign Correspondent, 1940), and George Stevens (The More the Merrier, 1943) before becoming a durable fixture in Westerns. His performance in the title role of Sullivan’s Travels is just what the movie needed: an actor who could do slapstick comedy but turn serious when necessary, a task that among major stars of the era perhaps only Cary Grant and Henry Fonda – the Fonda of Sturges’s own The Lady Eve (1941) – were also really good at. The genius of Sullivan’s Travels is that its serious parts jibe so well with its goofy ones. As Sturges has characters warn Sullivan at the beginning of his scheme to pose as a hobo to get material for his turn as a “serious” director: Poor people don’t like to be condescended to. The pivotal scene of the film is the one in which the convicts go to a Black church to watch a movie. It could have been an embarrassing display of the era’s racial stereotypes, but Sturges handles it with tact and sensitivity, so that it becomes emotionally effective and brings home the dual points about charity and the need for humor without excessive sentimentality and preachiness. Sturges’s usual gang of brilliant character players – including William Demarest, Franklin Pangborn, Porter Hall, Eric Blore, and Jimmy Conlin – are on hand. Sturges and McCrea are said to have found working with Veronica Lake a pain, but fortunately it doesn’t show.

Sullivan’s Travels (1941) dir. Preston Sturges

[illustraction]

DUEL IN THE SUN (1946) - GREGORY PECK MOVIE POSTERS (Part 1/10)

This 10 part Blog honors the legendary Hollywood actor, GREGORY PECK who during 58 movies shot between 1943 and 1998, embodied and portrayed US heroism and nobility. Peck was nominated for 4 Oscars and won in 1961 for his role as Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird. Yet it is his action movies (Western, War, thrillers) which defined him as one of the greatest actors of the Hollywood era.

The Blog focuses on those and we start with his best Western and one of the most visually amazing cinematography in the epic 1946 Western co-starring Jennifer Jones and Joseph Cotten.

Above are various rare original posters from Italy, Japan and Sweden (click on each poster for detail)

Director: J. Lee Thompson Actors: Gregory Peck, Stanley Baker, James Darren, David Niven, Irene Papas, Anthony Quinn

All our Gregory Peck posters are here

If you like this entry, check the other 9 parts of this week’s Blog as well as our Blog Archives

All our NEW POSTERS are here

All our ON SALE posters are here

The posters above courtesy of ILLUSTRACTION GALLERY

[aliveandfullofjoy]

So I was reading about the first Oscars ceremony, and it had a division between Outstanding Picture and Best Unique & Artistic Film, where Unique & Artistic was apparently meant to be an equal to Outstanding Picture but dedicated more for prestige artistic works. The next year, the two categories became one from then on, and Outstanding Picture was the only top prize. (If any of that is wrong, blame wikipedia.)

If the split had remained, and there was a more commercial-y movie top prize and a prestige art top prize, what are some notable movies that suddenly pick up wins?

okay wait........ this is a brilliant question and i am ashamed to say i’ve never really given it much thought until now.

idk if you’ve seen wings and sunrise but they’re both pretty great and they do represent wildly different kinds of filmmaking. while it’s safe to say Wings is the more commercial film, it has great craftsmanship behind it and it very clearly created the template for accessible, capital-i Important, and well-made best picture winners to come. 

and, full transparency, sunrise is one of my, like, top 15 favorite movies, so i’m hella biased, but that movie is a gorgeous and strange and thrilling piece of work. the title ��unique and artistic film” is impossibly vague, but watching sunrise makes it very, very clear that it fits that bill for that category. and while we’ll, of course, never know what might have happened if that category had continued, it’s tempting to think that all the winners in unique and artistic film would be of sunrise’s calibre, but knowing the oscars... that’s clearly a fantasy, lol. while sunrise is a wildly inventive and artistic film, it’s important to remember that it was fully on the academy’s radar -- janet gaynor won best actress in part for her performance in the film, and it also won best cinematography. so while it’s tempting to think the academy would always recognize a truly unique and artistic achievement every year, in all likelihood, they probably wouldn’t stray too far from the movies that were already on their radar. 

so for this thought experiment!!

it’s probably safe to assume every best picture winner has to go in one of the two categories. there are only a handful of winners that stick out as maybe missing out on the big win in this new system, but only a handful. 

so uh. this is way more than you asked but i got hooked. here’s what i think might have happened if the two best picture categories had stuck around. as i was working through the years, it became clear to me that, unfortunately, in a lot of years, the unique and artistic film would likely end up going to the more overtly “prestigious” films, such as the song of bernadette or the life of emile zola, while their far better and more commercially viable rivals (casablanca for bernadette, the awful truth for zola) would win outstanding picture. the actual best picture winners have an asterisk next to them. what’s also interesting to consider is the importance of the best director category: most of the time, a split in picture and director will tell you what’s clearly the runner-up. those years, usually, give you a good sense of how the two awards would shake out.

Outstanding Picture / Unique and Artistic Film

1929: The Broadway Melody*; The Divine Lady 

1930: The Big House; All Quiet on the Western Front* 

1931: Cimarron*; Morocco 

1932: Grand Hotel*; Bad Girl

1933: Little Women; Cavalcade*

1934: It Happened One Night*; One Night of Love 

1935: The Informer; A Midsummer Night’s Dream (** this is one of the few years i think the actual BP winner, Mutiny on the Bounty, would miss out; The Informer was clearly the runner-up for BP with wins in director, actor, and screenplay, while Midsummer was seen as THE artistic triumph of the year, and with its historic write-in cinematography win, there was clearly a lot of passion for it)

1936: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town; The Great Ziegfeld*

1937: The Awful Truth; The Life of Emile Zola*

1938: You Can’t Take It With You*; Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or Grand Illusion (** this one’s tough... Grand Illusion made history as the first non-english movie nominated for BP, and it clearly had a lot of support, but Snow White was such a monumental moment in Hollywood, and the academy clearly acknowledged that with its honorary award)

1939: Gone with the Wind*; The Wizard of Oz (** this is one of the first years with a clear runaway favorite for best picture, which makes guessing the way the other award would go very difficult! i’m leaning towards Oz purely because of its technical achievements, but i’m not confident about that choice at all.)

1940: Rebecca*; The Grapes of Wrath 

1941: How Green Was My Valley*; Citizen Kane

1942: Yankee Doodle Dandy; Mrs. Miniver*

1943: Casablanca*; The Song of Bernadette

1944: Going My Way*; Wilson

1945: The Bells of St. Mary’s; The Lost Weekend*

1946: The Best Years of Our Lives*; Henry V

1947: Gentleman’s Agreement*; A Double Life 

1948: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre; Hamlet*

1949: All the King’s Men*; The Heiress 

1950: All About Eve*; Sunset Boulevard

1951: A Place in the Sun; An American in Paris*

1952: The Greatest Show on Earth*; The Quiet Man 

1953: Roman Holiday; From Here to Eternity*

1954: The Country Girl; On the Waterfront*

1955: Marty*; Picnic

1956: Around the World in 80 Days*; Giant

1957: Peyton Place; The Bridge on the River Kwai

1958: The Defiant Ones; Gigi*

1959: The Diary of Anne Frank; Ben-Hur*

1960: Elmer Gantry; The Apartment*

1961: West Side Story*; Judgment at Nuremberg

1962: To Kill a Mockingbird; Lawrence of Arabia*

1963: Tom Jones*; 8½ 

1964: Mary Poppins; My Fair Lady*

1965: The Sound of Music*; Doctor Zhivago

1966: A Man for All Seasons*; Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

1967: In the Heat of the Night*; The Graduate

1968: Oliver!*; 2001: A Space Odyssey 

1969: Midnight Cowboy; Z 

1970: Airport; Patton*

1971: The French Connection*; The Last Picture Show

1972: The Godfather; Cabaret

1973: The Sting*; The Exorcist

1974: Chinatown; The Godfather, Part II

1975: Jaws; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest*

1976: Rocky*; Network

1977: Star Wars; Annie Hall*

1978: Coming Home; The Deer Hunter*

1979: Kramer vs. Kramer*; All That Jazz

1980: Ordinary People*; Raging Bull

1981: Chariots of Fire*; Reds

1982: E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial; Gandhi*

1983: Terms of Endearment*; Fanny and Alexander

1984: Amadeus*; The Killing Fields

1985: Out of Africa*; Ran

1986: Platoon*; Blue Velvet

1987: Moonstruck; The Last Emperor*

1988: Rain Man*; Who Framed Roger Rabbit

1989: Driving Miss Daisy*; Born on the Fourth of July

1990: Ghost; Dances with Wolves*

1991: The Silence of the Lambs*; JFK

1992: Unforgiven*; Howards End 

1993: Schindler’s List*; The Piano 

1994: Forrest Gump*; Three Colors: Red 

1995: Braveheart*; Toy Story 

1996: Jerry Maguire; The English Patient*

1997: Titanic*; L.A. Confidential

1998: Shakespeare in Love*; Saving Private Ryan

1999: The Cider House Rules; American Beauty*

2000: Traffic; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (** this is another year where i think the actual BP winner, Gladiator, might have missed out. it was a tight three-way race going into oscar night, and if there were two BP awards, i think this consensus might have settled, leaving Gladiator to go home with just actor and some tech awards.)

2001: A Beautiful Mind*; Mulholland Drive

2002: Chicago*; The Pianist

2003: Mystic River; The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King*

2004: Million Dollar Baby*; The Aviator

2005: Crash*; Brokeback Mountain

2006: The Departed*; Babel

2007: No Country for Old Men*; The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

2008: The Dark Knight; Slumdog Millionaire*

2009: The Hurt Locker*; Avatar

2010: The King’s Speech*; The Social Network

2011: The Artist*; The Tree of Life

2012: Argo*; Life of Pi

2013: 12 Years a Slave*; Gravity 

2014: Birdman*; Boyhood

2015: Spotlight*; The Revenant

2016: La La Land; Moonlight*

2017: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri; The Shape of Water*

2018: Black Panther; Roma (** again, i think Green Book gets bumped out in this scenario, i think Black Panther is precisely the kind of movie that benefits from an award that’s seemingly more ~populist~ while Roma easily snags the unique & artistic prize)

2019: 1917; Parasite*

2020: The Father; Nomadland*

but of course i have no idea at all, and most of these are just my gut reactions lol. what a fun question!

[nnnnoooooooooooo]

My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety.     After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah!     Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I’ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas.     Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled.     CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up.     Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic.      Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97.      Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me.     I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love.     My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg.     My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark.     The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way.     Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know?     While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child.     While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces.     The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome.     The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend.      No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying.     Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours.     Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin.     It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos.     Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away.     One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath.     This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled.     Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap.     I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life.     Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different.     We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since.     After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks.     I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team.     While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful.     As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I’m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once.     Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending.     Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease.     There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back.     It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left.     At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee.     At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling.     We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around.     After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary.     I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress.     I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength.    With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices.     Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries.    I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty.     Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time.     I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy.     It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood.     I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around.     Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started.     Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people     Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game.     Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21.     We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone!     That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing.     I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July.     For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic.     I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it.     As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity.     It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

[byneddiedingo]

It's a truism -- one that I've often echoed -- that silent movies and talkies constitute two distinct artistic media, and to judge the one by the standards of the other is an error. But it's almost impossible to watch films made by older directors, especially those who came of age when silent films were being made, without noticing the efforts they make to tell their stories without speech. It's true of John Ford, Alfred Hitchcock, and Howard Hawks, even though they, especially Hawks, became masters of dialogue in their films. And it's true of Akira Kurosawa, who although he didn't begin his career in films until 1936 and directed his first one in 1943, was born in 1910 and grew up with silent movies. I think it helped him learn the universals of storytelling that are independent of language, so that he became the most popular of all Japanese filmmakers. Others rank the work of Yasujiro Ozu or Kenji Mizoguchi more highly, but Kurosawa's films manage to transcend the limitations of subtitles more easily. Of none of his films is this more true than Seven Samurai, which is also generally regarded, even by those with reservations about Kurosawa's work, as his masterpiece. That's not a word I use lightly, but having sat enthralled through the uncut version, three hours and 27 minutes long, I'm willing to endorse it. It's an exhilarating film, with none of the longueurs that epics -- I'm thinking of Gone With the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939) and Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962) -- so easily fall into. I don't know of any action film with as many vividly drawn characters, and that's largely because Kurosawa takes the time to delineate each one. It's also a film about its milieu, 16th-century Japan, although as its American imitation, The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960), shows, there's a universality about the antagonism between fighters and farmers. Kurosawa captures this particularly well in the character of Kikuchiyo (Toshiro Mifune), the would-be samurai who reveals in mid-film that he was raised as a farmer and carried both a kind of self-hate for his class along with a hatred for the arrogant treatment of farmers by samurai. Mifune's show-off performance is terrific, but the film really belongs to Takashi Shimura, who radiates stillness and wisdom as Kambei Shimada, the leader of the seven. There are clichés to be found, such as the fated romance of the young samurai trainee Katsushiro (Isao Kimura) and the farmer's daughter Shino (Keiko Tsushima), but like the best clichés, they ring true. Seven Samurai earned two Oscar nominations, for So Matsuyama's art direction and Kohei Ezaki's costumes, but won neither. Overlooking Kurosawa's direction, Shimura's performance, and Asakazu Nakai's cinematography is unforgivable, if exactly what one expects from the Academy.

TOSHIRO MIFUNE in SEVEN SAMURAI Dir. Akira Kurosawa (1954)

[equatorjournal]

F. W. Murnau, Tabu: A Story of the South Seas, 1931. Tabu: A Story of the South Seas is a 1931 silent film directed by F. W. Murnau, a docufiction. The film is split into two chapters. The first, called "Paradise", depicts the lives of two lovers on a South Seas island until they are forced to escape the island when the girl is chosen as a holy maid to the gods. The second chapter, "Paradise Lost", depicts the couple's life on a colonised island and how they adapt to and are exploited by Western civilisation. The title of the film comes from the Polynesian concept of tapu (spelled tabu in Tongan before 1943), from which is derived the English word "taboo." The film's story was written by Robert J. Flaherty and F. W. Murnau; with the exception of the opening scene, the film was directed solely by Murnau. This was his last film; he died in the hospital after an automobile accident on March 11, 1931, a week before the film's premiere in New York City. Cinematographer Floyd Crosby won an Academy Award for Best Cinematography for his work on this film. In 1994, Tabu: A Story of the South Seas was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". https://www.instagram.com/p/CESEVQqAKqJ/?igshid=114qwhdo5rmaq

[screamscenepodcast]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN: THE SCREAM SCENE TOP TEN 2024

Good evening, Creatures of the Night! We hope you've been enjoying the new episodes in season 2 of Scream Scene. Our next will be with you on the night before Halloween! All Hallows' Eve Eve, if you will! But to keep you well entertained in the week ahead, here's our annual recap of the top ten films on our list! No changes since last year's list (for possibly obvious reasons), but I've updated some of the streaming information.

#10. I Walked With a Zombie (1943)

One of two Val Lewton produced films in the top ten, I Walked With a Zombie is perhaps best described as Jane Eyre in the Caribbean, but what is surprising is that the film is also a well researched depiction of Voodoo practices for 1943. The haunting imagery, sparse sound design, and dreamlike poeticism of this film might make it among the most unique zombie movies you’ve ever seen, made in a time with zombies were supernatural undead slaves, instead of reanimated undead cannibals. Do yourself a favour and check it out - it’s available to buy online in SD for $9.99 from Apple TV, and $14.99 on Amazon Video and YouTube. 1h 8m.

#9. The Old Dark House (1932)

James Whale’s definitive take on this traditional mystery thriller formula is a movie that will have you laughing right until the moment it has you screaming. In some ways, it’s a movie of clichés, with the protagonists seeking shelter in an old mansion during a rainstorm in the night and having to deal with the reclusive family they find within. But the dark, brooding cinematography, and truly shocking twists that rivet up the intensity over the running time, all contribute to make this a harrowing watch. It’s one part Rocky Horror Picture Show, one part The Addams Family, and one part The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. I’m not kidding. The Old Dark House is currently streaming on AMC+, Flix Fling, Kanopy, and Tubi. 1h 10m.

#8. Horror of Dracula (1958)

Hammer Films had been producing X-rated horror and sci-fi content for a while by the time they got around to producing an adaptation of Dracula, but everything they learned from the success of The Curse of Frankenstein they applied tenfold to Dracula. From the subversive opening act to the shockingly graphic (for the time) finale, this film is full of action and excitement, as well as a sexually feral Count played by Christopher Lee for the first time. A Halloween crowd pleaser! Horror of Dracula is available to rent for $4.99 on Amazon Video, Apple TV, Cineplex, Microsoft Store, and YouTube. 1h 22m.

#7. The Spiral Staircase (1946)

This RKO classic is another great take on the old dark house subgenre, from noir director Robert Siodmak. A masterpiece of suspense, featuring wonderful production design and dynamite performances from its cast, this movie will draw you in to the world of a mute servant named Helen trapped in a dark manor on a stormy night with a whole cast of lunatics! A forerunner of giallo (no, really!), this classic and classy thriller is not to be missed! The Spiral Staircase is currently streaming on Flix Fling. 1h 23m.

#6. The Fly (1958)

While the 1986 remake may be more well known today, the original rendition of this body horror classic still retains a punch with its central mystery, compelling drama, and traumatic ending. Excellent creature effects and memorable moments like a woman screaming seen through compound eyes cement this as one of the great sci-fi/horror films of its time! The Fly is currently available to rent for $4.99 on Apple TV, Amazon Video, Microsoft Store, and YouTube. 1h 34m.

#5. Peeping Tom (1960)

While it may come across as fairly tame by today's standards, in 1960 the seminal British horror film Peeping Tom was considered so offensive it single-handedly ended the career of its director, former national treasure Michael Powell. Today, the film still has the power to disturb through its exploration of the relationship between victims, voyeurs, and viewers. Peeping Tom is currently available to stream on Amazon Prime, Criterion Channel, Kanopy, and Tubi. 1h 41m.

#4. Gojira (1954)

Ishiro Honda’s classic giant monster movie, the progenitor of all kaiju and tokusatsu movies to come, is a masterpiece of ingenuity and imagination. But more than that, it’s a powerful statement about the horrors of nuclear war, an angry and relentless funeral dirge mourning for the Japanese lives lost and raging against the American foreign policy that continued to poison Japan with radiation even after the war. Godzilla is an apocalypse personified, the great revenge of the natural world against the hubris of man that has harmed it. But Gojira is also a film about the immense weight of personal and scientific responsibility weighed against the greater good, and its position on the use of weapons of mass destruction is perhaps more nuanced than you’d expect. Don’t let the campy reputation of Godzilla in the West fool you. Clear your mind of that and sit down to watch this powerful black & white epic. Gojira is streaming on Criterion Channel, Kanopy, and Tubi. 1h 38m.

The American adaptation Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1956) is also worth a watch, and is available on the Criterion Channel, Plex, and Tubi. 1h 20m.

#3. Cat People (1942)

Cat People is brilliant. The first of Val Lewton’s horror movies for RKO, it best exemplifies his shadow drenched, suggestive, adult, contemporary, and ambiguous brand of horror. Irena is convinced that if she experiences sexual excitement, she will turn into a black panther and kill the man she loves. Her husband is convinced it’s all in her head. What is the truth? Cat People gives the viewer plenty to chew on while being the first horror movie to understand that less is more, that the monster is scarier if you can’t see it, and also how to pull off a jump scare.You can find this absolute classic to stream on Amazon Prime, and to purchase for $9.99 on Apple TV and YouTube. 1h 10m.

#2. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)

Early on in the first Hollywood horror craze, Paramount Pictures managed to outdo their main competitor Universal with this masterpiece from director Rouben Mamoulian. With a use of sound, visuals, effects, script, and performance far beyond what most films were doing at the time, this adaptation reigns supreme among other versions of the same story. Fredric March utterly inhabits the dual title role, but it’s Miriam Hopkins’ performance that will stick with you in this superb examination of domestic abuse, alcoholism, and the beast that dwells within us. The film is available to rent on Apple TV, Microsoft Store, and YouTube for $4.99. 1h 38m.

#1. Psycho (1960)

Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho changed the horror genre for decades to come. A low budget thriller based around its two big twists, the film's power is a little muted now that those twists have been thoroughly disseminated through pop culture osmosis, Psycho is still a master class in pacing and tension through its first half, and contains an incredible performance from actor Anthony Perkins. You can rent Psycho on Amazon Video, Apple TV, Microsoft Store, and YouTube for $4.99. 1h 49m.

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Noel Coward: Renaissance Man of Stage and Screen By Susan King

Noel Coward was known simply in England as “The Master.” And for good reason. Coward (1899-1973) was a true Renaissance man. He was an actor, playwright, composer, songwriter, producer and director. (Lin-Manuel Miranda is our contemporary version of Coward.) He even headlined the Desert Inn in Las Vegas in 1955. He knew he was a genius. Coward once described himself as an “enormously talented man, and there’s no use pretending that I’m not.”

He wrote such classic plays as Private Lives, Design for Living, Blithe Spirit, Cavalcade, The Vortex and Present Laughter. And, he took the stiff-upper lip of his characters. His comedies were filled with extravagant characters firing off delicious bon mots. His dialogue was spare and contemporary. Kenneth Tynan once said, “Coward was the Turkish bath in which English comedy slimmed.”

Needless to say, acting styles changed with Coward and he ushered in a new style of theater. Performers were no longer trapped in the 19th-century style of more declamatory acting. As a composer, the flamboyant Coward wrote such beloved songs as “Mad Dogs and Englishmen” and “I’ll See You Again.” Hollywood soon took notice of Coward the playwright. One of Coward’s biggest West End hits was 1931’s Cavalcade, a sweeping dramatic epic spanning 30 years in an upper-class family. The cast featured a staggering 200 actors, 22 sets including revolving stages and hydraulic platforms. Brad Rosenstein of the Museum of Performance & Design in San Francisco told the L.A Times in 2010 about the stage production: “In the earlier sections, it’s very realistic, almost like a movie, but as the story moves further and further into the 20th century, it becomes more and more surreal.”

Fox bought the film rights, shooting the stage production to use as a blueprint for its lavish 1933 film production starring Diana Wyngard and Clive Brook. “Designer William Cameron Menzies translated his stage montages into movie terms and that became the language of movie montages for the next 30 years,” said Rosenstein. CAVALCADE earned three Oscars including best film and director for Frank Lloyd. But truth be told, the film just hasn’t held up as well as other best film Oscar winners from that era. It’s handsome and well-acted but is a bit of a slog that screams prestige.

MGM’s “Boy Wonder” producer Irving Thalberg, who happened to be married to the studio’s top star Norma Shearer, bought the film rights to Private Lives for his wife. Rounding out the film adaptation’s cast was Robert Montgomery, Reginald Denny and Una Merkel. The farce, released in 1931, whirls around Amanda (Shearer) and Elyot (Montgomery), divorcees who reunite on their honeymoon with their new spouses and run off together.

Coward initially wasn’t thrilled that Shearer, who was best known for her heavily dramatic roles, was cast as Amanda. He didn’t think she was up to the comedic task. Shearer was unruffled: “I don’t care what he thinks.” Reviews were strong and so was the audience response. But truth be told, in the #MeToo climate, it’s hard to watch a film in which the leads scream, yell and throw things at each other and state that certain women should be struck regularly like gongs. Eleven years later, Shearer returned to Coward’s world in WE WERE DANCING (‘42) based on two short plays from the Master’s 1936 play Tonight at 8:30 She hadn’t made a film since 1940, so there was hope this comedy would revive her career. It didn’t.

Movie audiences finally got to see Coward the actor on screen in 1935. Not in a film based on one of his plays but an extraordinary morality piece, THE SCOUNDREL penned and directed by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur. Coward is remarkable as the title character, a New York publisher surrounded by sycophants and ruthless and callous in his treatment of people especially a lovely young poet (Julie Haydon). Coward’s Anthony Mallare destroys everything he touches including the poet and her lover (Stanley Ridges). When she learns that Mallare is taking a flight, she tells him that not only does she hope the plane crashes, she desires that as he dies, he knows no one will shed a tear for him. And when the plane crashes, he returns to the earthly world for a month to find someone who will mourn for him.

Mordaunt Hall wrote in his New York Times review: “As a suavely mannered portrait of decadence, The Scoundrel is a remarkably interesting motion picture. Mr. Coward is so perfectly attuned to the part we cannot help suspecting that he contributed to the dialogue. He is a master at delivering the barbed epithet. You have to hear him reciting a line like ‘It reeks with morality-stressing the r’s so as to make it exquisitely funny-to know how good he can be.”

Hecht and MacArthur won an Oscar for their story. Coward won his own special Oscar in 1943 for his stirring World War II drama IN WHICH WE SERVE (‘42) for “outstanding production achievement.” IN WHICH WE SERVE is far more than a propaganda piece to keep British morale up and the home fires burning. The film was inspired by Coward’s friend Lord Louis Mountbatten, who in 1941, lost his ship when it was sunk in the Battle of Crete. Coward stars, produced, penned the music and co-directed with a former editor by the name of David Lean. The story is generally told in flashback about the survivors of a Royal Navy ship that had been destroyed by German torpedoes. While recalling moments in their lives, they hang on to a small lifeboat waiting to be rescued.

Besides Coward, the film also stars Celia Johnson, John Mills and Richard Attenborough, who though uncredited in his film debut, is a stand-out as a sailor. A young Daniel Massey, who was the child of Raymond Massey, plays Coward’s son. Daniel was also Coward’s godson, and 26 years after the release of IN WHICH WE SERVE, he earned a supporting actor Oscar nomination as Coward in the Gertrude Lawrence bio-pic STAR! (‘68). IN WHICH WE SERVE was also nominated for the best film and screenplay Oscars. 

Coward and Lean next collaborated in 1944 with the moving THIS HAPPY BREED, another sweeping epic. Based on Coward’s hit play of the same name, THIS HAPPY BREED revolves around a middle-class family who move into a rented house in 1919 and it follows their lives until the declaration of World War II in 1939. Lean directed this classic solo and he gets fabulous performances from the cast which includes Celia Johnson, Robert Newton, Stanley Holloway and John Mills. Ronald Neame provided the stunning Technicolor cinematography. It’s funny, moving and poignant and you’ll find yourself shedding a few tears along the way. 

The year 1945 was a prolific one for producer Coward and director Lean. The duo went the Technicolor route with gorgeous results for the hit film version of Coward’s popular comedy-fantasy BLITHE SPIRIT. Rex Harrison portrays a writer who finds his world is turned upside-down when an eccentric medium (a perfect Margaret Rutherford) accidentally conjures up his dead first wife (Kay Hammond) who is jealous of his current spouse (Constance Cummings). The film lacks the spark of the stage play, but it’s still fun and the then cutting-edge special effects won the Oscar. 

And what can one say about BRIEF ENCOUNTER (‘45)? One of the most romantic films of all time and stars the delicate Johnson and the handsome Trevor Howard as married people who meet at a small railway station café and fall in love. Everything comes together perfectly in this masterpiece that was released in the U.S. in 1946. Based on Coward’s play Still Life, BRIEF ENCOUNTER is beautifully directed by Lean who really came into his own with this film. The performances of Johnson and Howard are pitch perfect and poignant; Robert Krasker supplied the atmospheric black-and-white cinematography and the use of Rachminoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 just adds to the romance. 

Lean won the grand prize for his direction at the Cannes Film Festival in 1946 and earned his first Oscar nomination for Best Director in addition to sharing a screenplay nomination with Anthony Havelock-Allan and Neame. Johnson was nominated for best actress which she lost to Olivia de Havilland for TO EACH HIS OWN (’46), but Johnson did win the New York Film Critics honor.

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Gene Tierney and Vincent Price in Dragonwyck (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1946)

Cast: Gene Tierney, Vincent Price, Walter Huston, Glenn Langan, Anne Revere, Spring Byington, Connie Marshall, Harry Morgan, Jessica Tandy. Screenplay: Joseph L. Mankiewicz, based on a novel by Anya Seton. Cinematography: Arthur C. Miller. Art direction: J. Russell Spencer, Lyle R. Wheeler. Film editing: Dorothy Spencer. Music: Alfred Newman. 

Dragonwyck both courts and suffers from comparison to those other paradigmatic gloomy old house movies of the 1940s, Alfred Hitchcock's Rebecca (1941) and Robert Stevenson's Jane Eyre (1943). As the imperious master of the titular gloomy old house, Vincent Price can hardly compete with Laurence Olivier in the former or Orson Welles in the latter. Price had an aura of camp, present not only today after his many horror movies, but apparent even then, after playing Shelby Carpenter in Laura (Otto Preminger, 1944). Gene Tierney, on the other hand, holds up well in a comparison with Joan Fontaine, the heroine of both of the other two movies. There's also some distinguished supporting work from first-rate actors like Walter Huston, Anne Revere, and Jessica Tandy, and solid contributions by familiar character actors Spring Byington and Harry Morgan. So Dragonwyck isn't a total loss. Where it falls apart is in adapting Any Seton's hefty novel, which concentrates as much on history as on gothic romance. The historical element in both novel and film centers on the overthrow of the semi-feudal patroon system that was established in the Hudson River Valley by the Dutch in the 17th century and persisted through the mid-1840s. In adapting the novel, even the gifted screenwriter Joseph L. Mankiewicz can't do much to stuff the history into the confines of his movie, which was also his debut as a director. But I got the feeling that he was stymied by the demands of the characters as well: We get only an outline of the backstory of his heroine, Miranda Wells (Tierney), in an opening scene with her stern, puritanical father (Huston) and her more understanding mother (Revere), before she is carried off to Dragonwyck to serve as governess to Katrine Van Ryn (Connie Marshall) and companion to the invalid Mrs. Van Ryn (Vivienne Osborne). The mystery of how and why Miranda's distant cousin-by-marriage, Nicholas Van Ryn (Price), decided to hire Miranda is never explained. The faithful Van Ryn housekeeper (Byington) shows her the house and tells her its creepy history, and then warns her, "One day you'll wish with all your heart you'd never come to Dragonwyck." But there's also a handsome young doctor (the forgettable Glenn Langan) to suggest alternative possibilities. The spook factor consists of a portrait of an ill-fated ancestor and her harpsichord, whose ghost can be heard singing and playing at ominous moments, such as the death of Mrs. Van Ryn. Mankiewicz has some trouble putting all of these pieces into play: For example, little Katrine disappears from the story entirely in mid-film, even after Miranda nominally becomes Katrine's stepmother. The best way to watch a movie like Dragonwyck is to disengage all expectations of logical character development and plot structure and just go with the mood supplied by the sets and Arthur C. Miller's cinematography.