Four and a Half Stars

Singin’ in the Rain Review: Upon Further Consideration…

October 30, 2016 by JD Hansel

SPOILER ALERT

Anyone familiar with my “Upon Further Consideration…” series knows from the categorization of this article that I have already seen Singin’ in the Rain in the past. I think this most recent viewing was my third or fourth one, and I enjoyed each and every previous viewing. I’ve considered the film to be not only a must-see classic, but also one of my favorite films for many years, although in recent years I started to wonder how much of that might me my memory’s exaggeration based on my fondness for the classic musicals I watched with my family as a child. I remembered that some parts of the movie felt slow or irrelevant, like the scene that presents all of the models in bizarre dresses – which has nothing to do with the story and does not get a laugh. During this viewing, however, I was not only pleasantly surprised to see that my memories had not done the film justice, but also that this film is actually an outstanding work of absolute genius, with stunning talent and unbelievable near-perfection that frequently left me literally gaping.

Technically, this is not a perfect movie, but like most of the greats, its strength is in making the audience not care about its imperfections. The film is loaded with musical numbers that contribute little or nothing to the plot and could have been replaced by just about any other song. Fortunately, these musical numbers are, overall, so impressive and fun and entertaining as spectacles that no one could possibly complain that they interrupt the plot. I don’t even mind the needless number about the fashion too much. Even still, the plot doesn’t hold together perfectly. Towards the end, Lena essentially takes over the studio simply by lying to the press, making the studio head too concerned that their movie will bomb if one of its stars is found to be a phony. At the film’s closing, however, the studio head randomly decides that it’ll be perfectly okay to reveal Lena to be an untalented sham, which he obviously could have done sooner in a more professional manner. The trick that the film pulls here is simply a bit of misdirection – they pull the viewer’s attention to the romantic sub-plot, which has by and large taken over the movie and become the A-plot at this point, so that we do not care what the motives are for giving us the happy ending. I heard from a professor of mine that Terry Gilliam once said filmmakers could cut anything they wanted to from the last fifteen minutes of a film and not even the biggest fans of the movie would care so long as they got their happy ending, and while I’m not sure if the attribution is accurate, the principle is exemplified in Singin’ in the Rain.

There’s also a lot more cleverness to this film than I remembered. Heck, the opening shot of the film is a way of doing the credits that I haven’t seen done in any other film, and it’s one of the best beginnings a movie’s ever had. They also take great care in the film’s first act to save the reveal of Lena’s voice for just the right moment, which is all handled very “stealthily” in a way, in that they make sure the audience doesn’t suspect the whopper of a gag that the movie has planned with her. Cosmo’s dialogue is superb, and clearly set the tone for all the “comedic sidekick” characters to come. There are a few elements of the film that seem to borrow from, or perhaps pay homage to, Babes in Arms – particularly the scene showing the industry’s sudden transition from silent films to sound films. Parts of the movie are significantly more over-the-top and theatrical than I remembered, but the theatricality is at its peak during the “Broadway Melody” number, which just might be the most gorgeous scene in all of cinema – it’s sort of like expressionism on steroids. It all comes together to make for a delightful experience that no one should miss.

Paths of Glory Review

October 13, 2016 by JD Hansel

I don’t like war movies.

I have no interest in wars. It is an embarrassment to the species that we still have them. I generally have no interest in stories that attempt to glorify wars, even if they do balance it out to a degree by showing much bloodshed to display how horrible war can be. At the end of the day, war movies (and arguably anti-war movies) make their money by appealing to the disgusting, aggressive, barbaric element of the human soul that just wants to watch people beat the crap out of other people – an element of the soul that our culture has particularly nurtured and groomed in men.

I also don’t like Stanley Kubrick.

2001: A Space Odyssey was the first (and I think only) movie to literally bore me to tears. Kubrick’s obnoxious art style is frankly too “up in your face” for his work to feel mature enough for my tastes. His intense focus on what I consider “mindless mindfulness” for hours on end with his hypnotic visuals is about as pseudo-intellectual as it gets. I have given him a hard time before for being too boring, and even though I liked Dr. Strangelove, it too felt rather slow and boring at times (as did Killer’s Kiss). I think this is because Kubrick has a particular gift – and I do mean this sincerely – for making human characters as distant and inhuman as possible, which is honestly a challenge. Personally, however, I get bored too easily when a film doesn’t have any real “human” characters in it, and when I’m not being drawn in to a specific emotional experience because of the characters.

Enter Paths of Glory.

Here is a film that is extremely intense and intensely extreme, pulling the viewer into the deepest trenches of emotion and outrage. The hero (whom Kirk Douglas plays beautifully) is largely likable because he is the character who stands for that which is moral, but I would argue that the protagonist is not what makes the film so engaging. The emotional pull comes not from how much we like the protagonist, but how much we hate the people above him. He is surrounded by devils, and any notion the viewer may have had beforehand of the first World War being about “good guys vs. bad guys” is shattered – there are bad guys and worse guys. War is revealed to be a matter of politics, killing people to make a point and artificially form a narrative, making for an absolutely excellent anti-war movie.

Interestingly, I happened to follow my viewing of this film with the 1918 Charlie Chaplin comedy Shoulder Arms, which also takes place during World War I. It’s amazing to see how both a film that reduces the war to petty political games and a film that completely makes light of the war (both taking place in the French trenches specifically) could be very thoughtful, insightful, and entertaining films. It almost feels like practicing two separate religions, or supporting two opposing political candidates. What’s odd, however, is this: with how much of a comedy buff I am, I feel as though I ought to like the Chaplin comedy more – it is very, very clever, after all – but I am more drawn to Kubrick’s film.

What Kubrick captures here is not so much humanity as it is a different kind of inhumanity than I’m used to seeing from him: he offers us the chance to see the twisted monsters that lie in our souls, thus exposing how much of our humanity is actually made up of inhumanity. While Paths may have started off a little bit on the tedious side as I’d expected, I soon found myself on the edge of my seat as the cynic in me felt overwhelmed with orgasmic outrage and rapturous rage. I was far more invested in the political drama of this film than I get invested in most films in general, let alone dramas about war. I was sort of let down by the ending, but I eventually found that the ending was purposely underwhelming, giving the audience one final sting with the realization that no progress has been made, and everything will go on the same corrupt way until the war is over. It may not be a perfect film, but finally I see in Kubrick the cinematic master I’ve always heard he should be.

To Be or Not to Be (1942) Review

September 30, 2016 by JD Hansel

Many consider this to be one of the greatest comedy films of all time, and I am happy to say that I have joined the many in that opinion. I’m afraid I have very little to add here that hasn’t been said, so I will keep my comments brief and simply urge all readers to watch this film. While it may not be my favorite comedy, it is one that I greatly appreciate, and one that I intend to emulate. It perfectly established so many great tricks to make a film extra-funny, and these are techniques that can still be employed today without losing much strength. Much of its brilliance and beauty come from the fact that it’s a comedy about World War II that was made and released during World War II, and yet the really great thing about it is how well it plays with an audience of young people today (as I had the good fortune of witnessing myself). Because I saw the Brooks film some years before seeing the Lubitsch original, there were some parts of the movie that annoyed me simply because I was hoping this film would offer more of the great moments I was used to seeing in the way I was used to seeing them. That being said, this film takes everything a different direction – its own unique direction – that I think is worth a little analysis.

After reading an analysis of the film from a few decades ago by cultural theorist Mladen Dolar, and reading Ebert’s review of the Brooks/Johnson remake, I am fascinated by two elements of this film’s humor. The first is the way it manages to be over-the-top without being over-the-top. While watching this film, I was a little let down during the soliloquy sequences, because the remake made me expect Jack Benny to totally lose his cool on stage and follow the man in the audience to the edge of the stage. This film doesn’t do that, instead focusing on understatement of big problems. This is tied to my second note, which is how petty everyone is. I think films are can be found on a rectangular spectrum-like chart with a particular type of fictional world in each corner:

Type A: The audience and the protagonist are sane, normal, and relatively smart people, but some people are inhuman, evil monsters.
Type B: All humans are inhuman, evil monsters.
Type C: The audience and the protagonist are sane, normal, and relatively smart people, but some people are short-sighted, ignorant, silly fools.
Type D: All humans are short-sighted, ignorant, silly fools.

I sorted them in order of popularity, and maybe I’ll make up a graphic representation later, but for now we can call our imaginary chart “The Fictional Cynicism Diagram.” This film is noteworthy for being an early example (if not one of the only really good examples) of a film that belongs right in the last corner, Type D. Most stories are somewhere in the middle, but this sets a tone that wouldn’t become more common until mockumentary shows and Tina Fey productions became popular. For a film made during the second world war to have this approach to even the Nazis, refusing to let them be anything but flawed, foolish humans, just like our heroes, is amazing. That’s what makes this a landmark film, and why its one of my favorites.

Bowfinger Review

July 31, 2016 by JD Hansel

Frank is the best Frank that’s ever happened to me.

There are a few master craftsmen in the world of film direction that are rarely recognized as such, making for cranky rants from snobby movie buffs like me. Generally, if a filmmaker is good at getting good reviews, and has done some memorable work, people associate his or her name with his/her film-making. Frank Oz, on the other hand, has had quite the career as a director, and yet this is largely overshadowed by his time spent as a Muppet performer back in the day. Seeing as how I am one of the geeky “Hensonites” who just adores the various skills that Frank has, it is important to me that people appreciate both his work as a puppeteer and as a director. So, I’m adding his to my Missionary List – the list of movies I promise to spread the word about at any opportunity like a missionary shares the gospel – where it will join the ranks of other underrated triumphs like Phantom of the Paradise, The Twelve Chairs, Play It Again, Sam, and even the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup.

This is one of those movies that is done in such a careful way, with such remarkable precision, that the knowledgeable spectator will be constantly aware that he/she is watching a master at work. It’s special when a film carries an aura of craftsmanship that is always present, but never too disruptive of the feelings that the spectator is supposed to be experiencing. The jokes, overall, do work well, even though I think that the same screenplay – perhaps eve with the same cast – could have made for a mediocre movie. Heck, it would even be easy to hate the main character for being so sleazy. Frank seems to be the element that makes everything about the film work the way it’s meant to, from the pacing to the mood.

While it’s not necessarily the funniest film I’ve ever watched, it has a number of very strong comedic moments, and is pleasant and fun throughout. The performances from Steve Martin and Eddy Murphy are some of their best, and the story is written very cleverly with a smart resolution and satisfying ending. It also has the benefit of being both a good movie on first-viewing and a good “Hindsight Movie” – a film that becomes more enjoyable when thinking about it in retrospect, or when watching it again. I suspect this may not be uncommon for Oz films, since I really liked Little Shop of Horrors the first time I saw it, but over the years I have grown to obsess over it, and it has become a big part of who I am. I can’t say for sure that I’ll ever love Bowfinger on a level that’s very close to how much I love Little Shop, but I can say that this is a movie I’ll happily sit down and watch again with whoever would be willing to join me.

If anyone is ever in need of a fun comedy film for movie night, this is one of my top recommendations.

Phantom of the Paradise Review

May 23, 2016 by JD Hansel

Whoops. I only meant to watch the first few minutes of the movie before going to bed, so I wonder, how did I end up staying awake into the middle of the night to finish it? Oops. I meant to return it to the library after I watched it, and yet somehow it stayed in my computer with PowerDVD running different scenes from it everyday, which I accidentally kept watching. Oh, poopy – I had other music I meant to listen to, so why have I been listening to this soundtrack so much over the past month? Uh oh, it looks like a Blu-Ray copy of this movie somehow became a priority on my birthday wishlist, even though I had more important needs than another Blu-Ray for my collection. Crap! I wasn’t supposed to be happy that I actually got the Blu-Ray for my birthday instead of an external hard drive!

And to think, horror isn’t really a genre I go for, so I wasn’t even supposed to like this very much. Whoops-a-daisy. By gosh, it sure is amazing what mistakes can be made because of something nearly flawless.

But seriously folks, I can see the movie’s mistakes. I see the inconsistency in the camera quality, and the continuity errors with the Phantom’s makeup. I can tell that the editing isn’t always entirely professional, like when it accidentally indicates that Phoenix has noticed a gun, even though she hasn’t. Somehow, I find these little blemishes to make the movie a little more human, and to make it all the more fun. It is no surprise that this is a ’70s cult classic. It’s a movie I’ve been meaning to see for a while since Paul Williams is always talking about it, and I’m a big fan of his, but I just wish I’d realized that I needed to see it sooner so I could immediately start preaching the good new of Phantom of the Paradise to all the world. I can’t help but feel as though this ignorance was a big mistake on my part.

Whoops.

The Twelve Chairs Review

March 16, 2016 by JD Hansel

No, not Spaceballs. Not Blazing Saddles. Not even The Producers or Young Frankenstein. Mel Brooks insists that his best film is The Twelve Chairs. Not too many others seem to agree, but I can understand why he makes this claim. Is this my favorite Mel Brooks film? No, I still reserve that spot for High Anxiety. It is, however, a beautiful example of a wonderfully written and perfectly performed chase movie that captures the essence of fun.

My first exposure to this movie was the theme song. One day, I was trying to find a song that would perfectly express my daily anxiety, pessimism, and general expectation that everything in my life would go wrong, so I naturally sought the song “High Anxiety” from High Anxiety. When I purchased this song, I found it was actually cheaper to buy Mel Brooks’ whole greatest hits album, which happened to come with a song I’d never heard of – “Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst.” I naturally just had to hear this song, and it was just as satisfying as one would hope – it perfectly captured my feelings about living. I then realized just how crucial it was that I saw The Twelve Chairs. My hope was that the song would be part of a huge, extravagant, over-the-top musical number a la “The Spanish Inquisition,” but alas, this movie does not have such an extreme, flamboyant tone.

This film is sort of a change of pace for Brooks, in part because it’s one of his only G-rated films, but also because it’s not trying to parody anything – it’s just an adaptation of an old novel. However, this makes it a much safer choice to show the younger members of the family (although it is not completely clean), and it also means that the side of Mel Brooks that we see here sticks to a strong story led by likable characters, which happens to thrust the characters into very chaotic situations. In a way, it’s a little more down-to-earth and believable than a lot of his other works, but at the same time, it gets so, so wild and crazy that it makes Spaceballs seem tame. For someone expecting Men in Tights or Young Frankenstein, this may be a little disappointing, but I can completely see why Brooks considers it to be his best work.

Rather than trying to throw crazy, “cartoonish” jokes at the audience the whole time, and rather than trying to put a twist on things that have been parodied to death anyway, Brooks managed to get an enormous amount of comedy from a small cast and a simple premise, while keeping the story first instead of the jokes. One of the best moments in the film is surprisingly when we see some very dramatic tension between two of the main characters, and because it comes in the middle of such a silly movie, it’s actually one of the most powerful moments in all of cinematic drama. The ending, while not as climactic as I had hoped, has a lot of heart to it, and better yet, it handles the heart in a way that even I, the hater of all things sappy, can really, really enjoy. It just puts a smile on my face.

As is usual by the time that I have reached the last paragraph of a review, I am left with only a few miscellaneous thoughts about various aspects of the movie, which in this case might hopefully persuade readers to find a way to see this rare work of genius. There is not a single moment, at least to my memory, when this movie is boring, and there are very few movies that can get such praise out of me. The whole production is perfectly paced, the story is marvelously structured, and the performances are exactly what they ought to be. I would go so far as to say that Mel Brooks’ acting in this movie is funnier than his acting in any other (Muppet Movie-inclusive). I still wouldn’t say that this is my favorite Mel Brooks film, as it doesn’t quite have that special, unique distinction about it that a Young Frankenstein or a Spaceballs has (which is to say that the movie’s cast and setting lack a unique collective personality that sets the world of the film apart from ours). I must also reiterate the lack of satisfaction in the conclusion of they’re chase, because the story has a twist ending of sorts which I find devastatingly underwhelming. What I will say is that I can never argue with anyone who claims that this is Brooks’ best work; for it truly is a masterpiece.