Thursday, July 27, 2017

Singin' in the Rain (Kelly & Donen, 1952)



Singin' in the Rain was never intended to be as popular as it is today; MGM merely wanted another musical to join the popular lineup of that time. In fact, hardly anything was original about Singin'- almost all of the songs were recycled from other, earlier MGM pictures. However, ask anyone today, and they'll tell you "Make 'em Laugh" and "Good Morning" were from Singin' in the Rain, and not The Pirate (1948) or Babes in Arms (1939). Why do you think the movie holds up so well as the greatest musical of all time, despite lacking any original numbers? And how did you like the way songs were used in the film?

Though the story is indeed fictional, the studio's problems with transferring from silent pictures to "talkies" actually existed. Adapting to this new form of entertainment is hilariously captured in Singin' in the Rain, and argues that (like the message in The Philadelphia Story) the fun people can sing and dance, and those who cannot must therefore be villains. Lina Lamont grows more reptilian with each viewing, and film professionals love to hate her. She causes problems just to keep her fame- much like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard and Margo Channing in All About Eve. She's consistently rated as the best character in the movie, with actress Jean Hagen nominated for an Oscar and also selected as a finalist for the AFI's greatest film villains of all time. Who was your favorite character? What about them stood out to you- were they relatable or naturalistic in any way? Consider them in conjunction to Bicycle Thieves' characters- how do they compare in terms of characterization and story arcs?






The musical remains a very blissful genre, an optimistic view of the world where everyone beats under the same drum and sings the same tune. Originally adapted for cinema as an escapist form of entertainment away from World Wars and the Great Depression, the musical quickly became one of the prominent genres of the 1930s-1950s. Each major studio had its own unique stars and directorial styles for musical productions, with some emphasizing dance, and others focusing on songs. As inspired as it was by the vaudeville theater, musical films differentiated themselves by incorporating the music into the narrative, with each song progressing the story further. What's your view on musicals? They're a love them or hate them type of genre, and everyone seems to have their own opinions about the musicals of yesterday and today.


Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly remain two of the most successful film musical duos in history. Gene Kelly was a highly respected dancer and choreographer when he met Donen in a chorus line on Broadway. He went to Hollywood in the early '40's with little success, but when he and Donen teamed up to make On the Town in 1949, his career was set. Both worked for MGM with commercial acclaim, and even made this truly impressive and flawless animation-and-dance spectacle in 1944. In 1952, they were selected to direct Singin' in the Rain- their greatest achievement. When their relationship fell apart in in the mid '50s, Kelly continued to make musicals on the stage, while Donen switched to comedies. Kelly is the more well-known of the pair, but without Donen, Singin' in the Rain could not have happened. Something to consider about Donen/Kelly is that they're the only co-directors on the syllabus. The "director" is usually a singular entity, with an individual vision; how do directorial pairs change that dynamic? Is there something about musicals that filmmakers prefer to team up then go at it alone?  


Also, say hello to color! That's right, technicolor started to take off around the time of Singin' in the Rain's release. Some academics have even pointed out that the conflict between silence and sound in the movie is metaphorical for the conflict between black-and-white and color filmmaking.
The musical numbers are choreographed in a way movies today cannot replicate. Gene Kelly is a master at the top of his form here, and his "Singin' in the Rain" was shot in nearly one take, in the pouring rain... all while he had a fever of 103 degrees. Impressive in any time period (though rumors that this story has been highly exaggerated over the years have sprung up as of late). Also, consider this: Debbie Reynolds was not a dancer or an actress when she was cast in this movie. Kelly, known for his perfectionist nature, pushed Reynolds hard during the production. She would later go on to say, "Singin' in the Rain and childbirth were the two hardest things I ever had to do in my life."




The only point of tension with critics and historians remains the infamous "Broadway Melody" sequence. Lasting over ten minutes, the exaggerated dance scene does nothing for the story, and only exists to promote the film in trailers. Cyd Charisse, the woman with the cigarette, was a famous dancer who appeared to help sell the film in the marketing. Did you like this part, or were you annoyed by it?


Singin' in the Rain took the #1 spot in AFI's Greatest American Film Musicals, and landed at #5 for the greatest movies ever made. It's been alluded to in such hits as A Clockwork Orange and The Artist. An intriguing look at Hollywood, this film remains a highly popular masterpiece.


Monday, July 24, 2017

Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)


Known as "The Master of Suspense", Alfred Hitchcock crafted a pantheon of thrillers, romances, and mysteries with a skill and eye for detail that has never been repeated. He's consistently rated as the greatest director in the history of film, and he was incredibly popular in his heyday (unlike many directors who only receive acclaim decades after their death). Hitchcock, along with his wife Alma, crafted some of the best films of their era, and continue to inspire countless directors with their unique perfectionist styles, and attention to the nuanced aspects that make suspense work so well. Every decision he made was carefully planned, and no one knew how to craft a masterpiece quite like him. It's natural for every academic film course to feature at least one movie from this prolific director.

Why do you think Professor Ratekin chose Vertigo as the definitive Hitchcock to view? Sure, it's received much critical acclaim in recent years. But out of all of the Master's films, why Vertigo? Psycho, Rear Window, or North by Northwest are arguably better, and more popular, choices. Even the lesser known films like Marnie, Notorious, Rope, and Strangers on a Train demonstrate Hitchcock's signature style better than Vertigo.


But, maybe this is what Ratekin intended. The movie is so much different than other Hitchcock pictures, as the mystery is solved in the middle and the romance does not work out in the end. It's a thought-provoking, almost dream-like movie in it's lucid qualities and bizarre twists of fate. Whether you liked it or not, Vertigo is a movie you'll grow to love the more and more you learn about it. What was your initial reaction to Vertigo?

The score is a haunting rendition by Bernard Hermann, who next to John Williams is the best film composer of all time. You'll have that song stuck in your head for weeks, and it makes you feel as obsessed as Scottie. The music is absolutely genius, and Martin Scorsese sums it up beautifully. Did the music stand out to you? Was it familiar or different from other musical scores you've listened to before?


The opening credits, designed by Saul Bass, are regularly cited as some of the best ever done. From the woman (not actually Novak), to the spinning circles of desires, it is a haunting opening that sets the tone for the rest of the picture. In addition, the use of color in the film is fascinating; in particular, the green hue is striking when Judy walks out for the first time as Madeline, in the grey suit with the crafted hair.






The casting is infamous for the debacle of who would play Judy/Madeline, with Vera Miles initially attached but becoming pregnant right before production. Alfred Hitchcock ultimately cast Kim Novak, which, according to legend, was to spite Miles for choosing family over fame. Many people believe Novak was also chosen because she was such a bad actress, and that Hitchcock did this on purpose to show her character as a little off. Was Novak more believable as Judy, or Madeline? Why? Watching Novak in Vertigo seems to be a work of dramatic genius, but as her later career shows, this was by and large her one-hit-wonder.



Jimmy Stewart is much different here than we're used to seeing him; he's not the nice guy best friend (The Philadelphia Story), nor is he the good all around guy (It's a Wonderful Life). Instead, he's a sexist, obsessive old man who falls in love with a picture. We're not used to seeing Stewart damaged (or in color, for that matter), so his casting seems bizarre when we first watch the movie. Stewart, despite being a Hitchcock regular, never worked with the director again after Vertigo, as the director credited Stewart's old age and lack of familiarity in color to the film's financial failure. Did you like Jimmy Stewart's character? Or, for that matter, did you think Jimmy Stewart was good in the picture?




Despite recent academic discussion, Vertigo was considered a bomb when first released. Alfred Hitchcock believed it to be his masterpiece, the one work which will send him to artistic fame. However, the film was a bomb at the box office, barely breaking even, and saved solely by Hitchcock's name. Critics had mixed feelings about it, citing it's overly long narrative and excruciating slowness as the biggest complaints. Why do you think people originally felt this way? Does it "feel" like a Hitchcock movie?


But after Hitchcock's death in 1980, French academics began revisiting his works to judge him artistically rather than popularly. They found Vertigo to be the greatest of his films, with so many symbols and cinematic innovations that were overlooked in 1958.

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Bicycle Thieves (De Sica, 1948)



After watching the very deliberate theatrics of The Philadelphia Story, Citizen Kane, and Double Indemnity, the style of Bicycle Thieves might seem almost too real. Vittorio De Sica blurs the line between banal and profound seamlessly in the defining film of the Italian Neorealism genre. This film is one of my personal favorites because of its realistic nature.


How realistic is Bicycle Thieves? Should all movies be like this?




Unlike most movies, this Italian Neorealism motion picture ignores the blissful utopia common in Hollywood. Instead, it opts for a more pessimistic outlook towards life. As average filmgoers, most people expect Antonio and Bruno Ricci to find the bike. In fact, most of you probably expected that the bicycle would be found. However, the truth of reality is this - in a city as large as Rome, it remains virtually impossible to find something as normal as a bike ever again. Did you expect him to find the bike? Was it an interesting way to end the movie, going against the tide by having the hero lose in the end?
While the finale does leave the viewer unsatisfied, I find the part where Antonio takes Bruno to the restaurant even more disturbing. He tries to lighten the mood for his son, and make it seem like everything will be alright. But next to the rich family, not even Bruno can shake the feeling of hopelessness. It's a sad state of affairs that they find themselves in. What part stuck out to you the most?


Vittorio De Sica is one of Italy's most celebrated filmmakers. He began as an actor in the 1920's before moving to directing on the onset of World War II. He created comedies during the early '40's, and many critics applauded his unique direction of actors, especially children. After the war ended, De Sica switched to dramas in an effort to expose the torn-down nature of his beloved country. He aptly depicted poverty with Bicycle Thieves and Shoeshine, and was subsequently chosen as the recipient of a special Academy Award for his work in Italian Neorealism (before the Best Foreign Language Picture existed). Despite his later failures, the Academy, generally not known for their acknowledgement of other countries, gave De Sica several more nominations and special awards during his career.
What does that say about American audiences? Why do you think they responded so well to De Sica's work?

De Sica did not build a Rome set for Bicycle Thieves. Everything in the film really exists in the city. Nothing was filmed on a studio lot, and none of the actors were professionals. Most of them were complete novices, and Enzo Staiola (who played Bruno) was a young boy who was just helping his father sell flowers when he caught De Sica's eye. How do you feel about this style of filmmaking? Is it a movie, or is it something more akin to a fictional documentary?

The picture is also very humble - Antonio is a very relatable character in terms of everyday struggles, and he spends the duration of the film attempting to find something he desperately needs. All Antonio wants is to have a job, something most of us take for granted. Antonio needs income to provide for his family, and is willing to do anything to achieve his goals, even selling the sheets off his bed to make a few bucks.


Bicycle Thieves is a horribly sad motion picture. It foregoes the hopefulness and utopian promises of the film industry, and instead incorporates a bleak outlook on life. For this reason, the film did not do well in Italy in 1948. Many citizens of the country found the film to be stereotypically negative of Italians, and many were upset with the lack of escapism in the picture. However, elsewhere in the world, the movie was universally acclaimed for its neorealism and human emotion. Upon further evaluation in Italy, the movie was praised, and became a huge success.


Despite Bicycle Thieves' depressing nature, this movie is consistently ranked among the greatest of all time, mostly on foreign film lists. In fact, it landed on the Vatican's list of Best Films, for portraying "strong human values." Why does it stand the test of time, through all economic booms and hardships?

Lastly, it is important to return to the most fundamental question about the movie industry: should we continue making escapist entertainment in such a harsh world, or is there something to be said about creating realistic pictures? Should all movies be like Bicycle Thieves? (Interestingly enough, we get a glimpse of the other side of the coin with next week's picture, Singin' in the Rain).

Monday, July 17, 2017

Double Indemnity (Wilder, 1944)



Double Indemnity is the noir all others look to for inspiration. The shady murders, the fast-paced dialogue, the dark alleyways, the femme fatale, the venetian blinds, the sexually charged plot, the brisk writing - all of these make it the model for other film noirs. It has characters more complex and conniving than some of today’s main protagonists, and the stellar production design makes it very easy to escape into their crazy world. Why do you believe Double Indemnity is considered the "quintessential" noir?



The plot of Double Indemnity is actually kind of ridiculous, and the movie frequently slips into absurd actions, plot devices, and dialogue like "For him a set-up like that would be just like a slice of rare roast beef." At first glance, it tells viewers how to commit the perfect murder. However, the closer we watch, the more we realize that the perfect murder relies on the perfect world- an impossible situation. Did you notice all the flaws in their so-called “perfect murder”? Could it have been a perfect murder if their egos didn't get int the way?


However, Double Indemnity’s pretty standard noir plot greatly benefits from a marvelous script. Billy Wilder, the director and screenwriter, was an artist who relied on words: each Wilder movie (which also includes Sunset Boulevard and Some Like it Hot) is remembered for having highly quotable screenplays. Lines like “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille” and “Well, nobody’s perfect” have ended up in numerous Best Movie Quotes lists, and his writing talents are evident in Double Indemnity. What parts of the script stood out for you? Did you enjoy the fast-paced talking, or did you prefer the movie's more subtle, quieter moments? Keep in mind that the film is based on a novel - how does this influence the script?


Something interesting about Double Indemnity is that it got away with so much, even though it was made in the midst of the Hays Code (an attempt to censor Hollywood during the conservatism and paranoia of the Cold War era). Any film that was deemed "inappropriate" for general audiences was banned, and even those that were approved were highly regulated by the U.S. government. As such, many movies were not allowed to express their full artistic potential because of their controversial nature.


Billy Wilder's sharp direction tip-toed a fine line around the Code; obviously, a movie that relies so heavily on a murder and the sexually-based appetites of its leading characters would not easily slip past the censors. In fact, he had to change the ending from a double suicide (which wasn't allowed under the Code) to a murder-death. But watch carefully the way Wilder handles the other controversial material in Double Indemnity - the murder itself is offscreen in the car, and the one time Walter and Phyliss actually have sex is represented through the smoking of cigarettes. What else did you notice took place offscreen, or with a sly reference rather than a full scene?


The actors chew the scenery and dialogue like masters of their craft, but none stand out as much as Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Dietrichson. She’s a true femme fatale, a witch of a woman who we can never really figure out. The scene of her driving the car while Walter Neff murders her husband is unnerving, and just watching her barely smile sends shivers down the viewer's spine. Aside from the atrocious blonde wig, which has interesting qualities in and of itself, she is considered one of the best cinematic villains of all time. How did you feel about her character? How villainous did she seem to you?


Double Indemnity was nominated for seven Academy Awards, losing all seven, but has subsequently shown up on several best-of lists in the decades since its release. Unlike many of the films on the syllabus, it was very well received from the time of its release, and its popularity led to the drastic growth of the noir movement. And even seventy years afters its heyday, film noir is still popular and incredibly influential. Scores of films draw inspiration from noir, ones you didn't even realize like Mulholland Drive, Fargo and The Dark Knight. Noir remains an interesting genre to explore, and Double Indemnity is probably the best one to see first. Ignore some of the obvious absurdities, and watch the streets of Los Angeles shine under a new dark shade.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941)



Every film studied in Critical Approach is in the cinematic ‘canon,' meaning it is generally accepted as one of the most influential pieces of work in the medium of film. But no film on the syllabus better exemplifies film as a medium than Citizen Kane.


Only a handful of movies have been called the greatest film of all time on a repeated basis; some films that usually make the cut include The Godfather, Gone With the Wind, and Casablanca. Citizen Kane is different. It always makes the list. And most of the time, it stands at #1. Martin Scorsese even said Citizen Kane is the film that made him understand what it meant to be a director.  Why do you think this is?


Most people's first encounter with Citizen Kane involves a combination of disillusionment and boredom. How could a movie this long and this uninteresting possibly be considered the greatest work of cinema in the history of the medium? A lot of things just don't make sense - if he died alone, who actually knew that "Rosebud" was his last word? (Welles' editor reportedly asked him about this discrepancy, to which the director replied, "You must tell no one of this"). However, Citizen Kane, like many of the films on this syllabus, actually gets significantly better the more you watch it.


Orson Welles was only 24 when he directed, wrote, shot, and starred in Citizen Kane. Plus, he was granted his choice of actors, and, most significant of all, final cut privileges. This was unheard of at the time, especially for a first-time director at such a young age. Why would the studios allow this? Well, Welles produced a War of the Worlds radio program that was ingeniously styled as a Breaking News program. Millions of listeners were convinced that Martians were invading the planet, After a public apology, RKO Radio Pictures hired the young man to make a movie without limits, convinced of his supernatural talents.


If you ever want a good glimpse into Welles' personal life after Citizen Kane, check out Ed Wood, a small-budget Tim Burton movie that stars Johnny Depp. During one scene, Orson Welles, played by Vincent D'Onofrio, talks to Ed Wood about the making of Citizen Kane. He says that that movie was the one thing he ever did for Hollywood in which he had complete creative control. No studio input, no other naysayers to stop him. No matter how much it was based on newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst, and no matter how much the man tried to stop the director, the film was still true to its original screenplay. Citizen Kane was Orson Welles', and his alone. He then states he hasn't had that creative freedom since, and because Citizen Kane failed financially amidst a brutal war with Hearst, he was stifled as an artist for the rest of his career. Besides a few good shots, and a few solid acting gigs, Welles' career was never the same after Citizen Kane. One of the industry's brightest stars was lost after only one film.


In terms of this course, examine how precisely constructed Citizen Kane is: the first ten minutes alone explain the entire story in a nutshell. The malevolent animals haunting Xanadu, Kane's death and final utterance, and the fake newsreel all explain what Citizen Kane is trying to say. Note the use of non-linear, different points of view that tell Kane's story - this was a completely new concept at the time of release. Even the actors other than Welles worked great together (mostly because they were all from the same theater troupe, the Mercury Players). The people never really mattered to Charles Foster Kane, though. Did he ever love the women he married? Or did he ever really care about his friends? Was anyone important to him?


Orson Welles shot the movie largely using innovative camera techniques that were unheard of at the time. As for my personal favorite, what do you notice is so unique about the dining room table of Kane and his first wife? (Hint: how does the size of the object change?) The opening sequence at Xanadu is still fantastic to this day, and the opera scenes are large and magnificent.


Citizen Kane has a great message: no matter how much money you make, and no matter how much stuff you own, no happiness can come from the material. "Rosebud", it turns out, is a child's sled - used by Charles when he was a young boy playing in the snow. It was the one moment of his entire life in which he was truly happy. What did you think about this twist ending? What did you think "Rosebud" meant?


One of the most important elements of Citizen Kane is understanding how badly the film was challenged upon its production. It was forced to run under a closed set, and newspapers had little to no prior knowledge of the movie before it was seen. Because of the film's not-so-subtle allegories to William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper tycoon heavily protested the film's release. He had his journalists libel Welles, and tried to bribe RKO into burning all the film's negatives. There were even rumors that Hearst tried to frame Welles with a naked prostitute in his hotel suite the night of the film's premiere.


Though the film is now considered a classic, at the time of its release it received poor box office receipts. It was nominated for nine Oscars, but lost all but Best Original Screenplay, bested in the Best Picture race by How Green Was My Valley?. Subsequently, the film faded from memory for decades, only to be revived in 1956 by several French critics who hailed it as a masterpiece and a cornerstone of the film industry.


The American Film Institute listed Citizen Kane as the #1 film of all time. Sight & Sound magazine, a decennial list of the best from noted critics, historians, and filmmakers, had the movie on top for five decades, before moving to #2 in 2012 (we will watch the movie that bumped it later this semester... any guesses?). And filmmakers are still trying to translate the magic and innovation of Kane, but none have seemed to master it. Not even Orson Welles, who besides his three-and-a-half minute opening shot of Touch of Evil, ever managed to make a movie nearly as good as Citizen Kane.

With all of this in mind... Do you think Citizen Kane deserves to be recognized as the greatest film of all time?