1964

In my last review, I was bothered by how the 2016 Jungle Book film had little to add to the original Disney classic, and how it did not hold up as well in comparison. Fortunately, not every remake is a bad one, and I’d like to briefly use a film I saw recently called The Outrage as and example of that. It wasn’t too long ago that I posted my review of Rashomon on this website, and shortly after that, I wrote a paper that compared that film to other movies using similar techniques. When I found out that there was an American remake of Rashomon that had notable actors in it (including a young William Shatner) I knew I had to see it. This remake of Rashomon is, of course, The Outrage, and it’s a very impressive film.

The Outrage must have been difficult to make because it had the difficult task of remaking a great film in such a way that new elements are added to interest the American market, but the elements that made the original film remain in tact. In my opinion, this movie really succeeded at that. I’ve never been one for Westerns, as I’ve explained before in previous reviews, but next to Blazing Saddles, I think this is the most I’ve liked a Western in my whole life. The change of genre didn’t hurt the story in the slightest, and even with scenes that seemed like they couldn’t be adapted to the Western genre successfully (such as the channeling of the dead husband through a medium), The Outrage manages to convert it to a Western equivalent smoothly. While the original film had some cool stylistic elements that the remake unfortunately did not keep in tact, like the way we never see or hear the judge in Kurosawa’s court scenes, the visual style of Outrage overall is just as good if not better, and some minor changes to the characters and story actually improved the film overall – particularly with the way the colonel dies. All in all, The Outrage is a great example of how to adapt without subtracting, and without letting the audience get bored with material they’ve seen before, which is why I would recommend watching both of these movies to anyone who enjoys comparing films even a fraction of as much as I do.

For October, I decided I would review only scary movies, or at least films with monstrous or otherwise Halloween-related themes. The problem is that I didn’t think of this until I’d already watched Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, a film that isn’t really about Dr. Strangelove, and that never explains how anyone learned to love any bombs. In a way, this is still fitting for a time focused on scary themes since the threat of being nuked was arguably the biggest scare of the twentieth century. For me, however, the most frightening element of the movie was knowing who directed it . . . Stanley Kubrick.

Kubrick and I have a history. Many years ago (actually it was about a year and a half ago, but that doesn’t sound as dramatic), I was taking a history of film class, when all of the sudden . . . Kubrick.

Evil Kubrick Devil — This image has been stolen from the good people at Channel Awesome, who used this graphic in this excellent video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZAzHbUw5W8

When I expected a thoughtful science fiction film that would make me re-think life, humanity, and the universe, what I received was a headache. I expect it’s only a matter of time before I put together some sort of video, article, or other presentation on what it is about 2001: A Space Odyssey that I find terrible, but I’ll try to express it briefly here: if a work of media tries to talk about ideas for the audience to consider, it should use complete sentences. In other words, it should explicate the ideas thoughtfully rather than gesturing towards potential ideas and interpretations that an audience member might project onto the work. After all, if an artist’s work is ambiguous enough, it’ll have all the depth that the individual viewer chooses to see in it, but if the work is detailed enough, its depth will be undeniable. While 2001 is certainly visually detailed, its story is deliberately vague in all of the areas where it should be most expository, making the “storytelling” resemble interpretive dance more than it does narrative. My brain was desperately trying to find meaning throughout where there was none, and since I am not the type to put my own thoughts into the storyteller’s mouth, I found myself bored to tears (not figuratively – literally) and forever terrified of the Dumbfounding Devil.

Then, on one fateful night not so long ago, I dared to watch another of Kubrick’s films – this time the famous comedy Dr. Strangelove – and to my shock I found . . . it was okay. Strangelove is certainly no Python or Brooks film, but it has its moments that really do delight. I was a bit disappointed that there are no noticeable jokes (not in any conventional sense, that is) for the first 35 minutes, but the movie can get away with it because it keeps the audience in suspense concerning what’s going to happen with the bomb. I could still see the Dumbfounding Devil up to his usual tricks again though, including a tedious story, ignorance of the audience’s investment (or lack thereof) in the characters, and a somewhat ambiguous, unsatisfying ending. This isn’t even mentioning that the movie is centered around a fear that is largely intangible to viewers who did not experience the cold war, or the politics of the 1960s, which limits the film’s appeal severely by keeping it from being timeless.

As much as all that bothers me, I think I had a generally good experience watching Dr. Strangelove, and because of a few good laughs and some strong performances by Peter Sellers, I’ll concede that this movie is good. However, I must remain alert, because while Krubrick and I may have had peace this time, we’ll meet again . . . don’t know where, don’t know when. *Maniacal laugh.*

The Outrage Review

Dr. Strangelove Review