The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

 

Paul: We wrote about The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp a few years ago. More recently, I found myself considering that film in relation to John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Both are ambitious national statements, attempting to get at the heart of what Britain and America, respectively, are all about. Both, also, filter these civilizational questions through quietly heartbreaking love triangles. Their tarnished heroes begin each film in old age, reflecting on the past. Obviously, no single story can encompass an entire country’s identity, and the similarities in perspective between these two films should give us pause. Still, I respond to that ambition, and I think the ambivalent conclusions these films reach are valuable. John Ford’s authority on the subject of the American West is still largely respected, and Liberty Valance is one reason why.

 

Macro questions aside, this movie is also a finely tuned drama, a series of collisions between archetypal personalities. At the very least, we get to enjoy the clash of two radically different incarnations of American masculinity in the forms of John Wayne and James Stewart — with Lee Marvin thrown in as a bonus. Tough question, perhaps, but who would you say is your favorite of those three?

 

Daniel: This was one of those times that I was violently reminded that there are some fantastic films and performances out of the primary spotlight of pop-culture. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance has always been within my peripheral. Obviously John Ford has created some pillars in not only the Western genre, but in American Cinema history as a whole. Add to that being related to a number of John Wayne fans and a grandfather who I primarily remember watching exclusively westerns all the time, this was one I should have watched years ago. All the performances in this film were strong and believable and funny and sad. But between the shared heroes of Tom Doniphon (John Wayne) and Ransom Stoddard (Stewart) I’d be leaning ever so slightly in favor of Stoddard. While my stereotypical-masculine-admiring upbringing has me absolutely loving John Wayne’s swagger, and no-nonsense approach to a problem, I find myself nowadays relating more to Stewart’s by the book conscience driven passion. I love that Stewart is given ample opportunity to explore emotional peaks and valleys. There’s really nothing quite like when he gets riled up in front of an audience.

 

That being said, I also really appreciated and didn’t quite expect the vulnerability displayed in the character of Tom Doniphon. He has a rough and tough surface, something we come to expect with Wayne’s portrayal of masculinity. But rather than a minor softening towards a given situation where he largely stays the same, when he loses “his gal” we see him utterly crushed. He destroys his life’s work in a fit of drunken passion. Seeing his walls tumble like that was heartbreaking and powerful, especially in consideration of his ultimate reasoning for the good deed he had just done. I haven’t touched on Lee Marvin’s titular character yet I guess. But that’s not to say there isn’t a ton to say there. I hated him in the best way possible. My strongest recollection of the actor’s work is the drunken gun-fighter in Cat Ballou in which he played a largely comedic role. He is such a good ruthless, hateable villain in this, making the anger and hatred spewing from Ransom all the more believable.

 

Paul: In terms of classic male types, there are plenty of great examples in the supporting cast as well: the comical fat guy (Andy Devine), the comical drunk (Edmond O’Brien), and the sad bartender-or-in-this-case-restaurant-owner (John Qualen). Even the sidekicks are great, from the quietly noble Woody Strode to the one-two punch of Silent Henchman Lee Van Cleef and Crazed Henchman Strother Martin. It’s a phenomenal cast, in short.

 

Back to the central conflict, though. I’ve always considered myself more of a Stewart man, too. So it’s interesting to me that the character and performance are allowed to be so unlikable, at least on occasion. Stoddard isn’t disturbed like some of Stewart’s characters in Hitchcock films. He’s an uncomplicated good guy who just happens to be a little smug sometimes, and the movie humiliates him accordingly. Clearly, Ford had more sympathy for Wayne, correctly viewing Doniphon as the more romantic and tragic character. Stoddard is the outsider, the lawyer from the east who wants to bring the unnamed territory of the story up to speed with civilization. Doniphon and Stoddard are on the same page when it comes to the ruthless Liberty Valance, but Doniphon doesn’t think much of Stoddard’s chances in a West still governed by brute force. So the conflict takes the form of the kind of glass-breaking power plays that Ford favored. Valance trips Stoddard while the latter is doing the “effeminate” work of waiting on tables. Doniphon steps in, and it becomes a contest of who can be made to pick the steak up off the floor. I love these macho battles, even as I agree with Stoddard that they’re pretty silly. Doniphon, like a few other Wayne characters in Ford’s films, becomes a Moses-like figure, crucial in paving the way for the West to join America, but not permitted to enter the Promised Land himself. This is the first movie I’d want to show anyone who doubts that John Wayne could act. Then again, he does say “pilgrim” an awful lot in this, which might be distracting to anyone who doesn’t already know how to look more closely.

 

Daniel: It’s almost obscene how many times Wayne uses the word pilgrim. It’s like John Wayne doing a parody of John Wayne. Or rather, all parodies of John Wayne are just a little too accurate. In any case I love the analogy of Doniphon (and a good number of Wayne’s characters for that matter) being a Moses character in that he’s not allowed to enter the land he helps find. It’s an especially poignant analogy when contrasted with the scene where he confronts the fact that everything he’s worked for, a wife and family a home, won’t happen. He’s first denied entrance into the promised land, and then sees another man live his legacy. He doesn’t complain, he doesn’t tell anyone because that’s not the type of man he is. He is far more entertaining than Ransom. It’s interesting to see a genre so marked by violent masculinity give the spotlight to someone so opposed and disgusted by that very violence. Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven is hailed as a western that puts the brutal violence of the western genre under the scrutiny that it deserves, and yet here we see Ransom almost throw away his entire career because of the guilt he felt at killing a man that deserved to die. Sure, Doniphon had no qualms about it, and to be fair I didn’t feel at all bad for  Liberty and his deserved fate. If anything I think the audience is supposed to feel Ransom is being unreasonable in his guilt. Be that as it may it feels like a far more accurate depiction that a man might feel after committing an act they consider to be so repulsive. By believing that he killed liberty, Ransom’s entire being, his values all the morals he held dear were thrown away in a moment of rage. And that immorality is what propelled him towards the type of greatness he initially wanted.

 

And of course it’s well worth talking about Hallie Stoddard (Vera Miles). She’s placed squarely between the two male heroes of the film, the catalyst for most of the tension between them. Ransom and Doniphon are polar opposites and she finds herself somewhere in between. The progression of the story from her viewpoint shows her that the west is far more brutal than Ransom can handle and the future is too tame for Doniphon to stomach. When one man ultimately wins her affection it seals how the fate of both other parties.

 

Paul: Hallie might be a little underserved by the script. As an object of desire, she certainly is crucial to linking the two heroes in a common cause. Stoddard, at least, would probably have given up without her enthusiasm for his educational goals. But the huge personalities of the men in this movie block her out somewhat, so that I have some difficulty remembering much about her as an independent person. There’s some shouty Fordian humor, but I think there could have been more to the character. You’re absolutely right that she can see the virtues in both Stoddard and Doniphon, so she’s a kind of weathervane for the audience in that way.

 

Now we get to the showdown of the movie’s title. You touch on some of the moral queasiness of the event and its consequences. As the famous line near the end of the movie makes clear, this story is a comment on the whole American mythology of “the West.” Stoddard quietly accepts a myth about himself as a necessary evil. The idealized version of him is essentially the Wyatt Earp archetype, the upright lawman who will always win the gun fight. Right makes might makes right. Ford knew that Hollywood had always cleaned up some of the messier truths about life on the frontier. But he also knew that you can’t bemoan those fictions without also acknowledging the power of the mythmaking. Stoddard learns the limitations of his ideals, and he has to do so at the expense of another man’s life (two men, counting Valance). But in the end he gets to hear Hallie’s great, mythmaking line, “It was once a wilderness; now it’s a garden.” This line is pretty clearly about the forging of America as a whole. So there’s a lot we can read into this, about the necessity of violence in building America, and the necessity of lying about it. Wayne, meanwhile, never played Earp. His characters tend to be morally conflicted, even when they’re technically on the right side of the law. Doniphon saves Stoddard’s life, but what he does is also morally murky, hiding in the dark as a kind of sniper. When Valance’s henchmen later whine about the “murder” of their boss, they have a better case than even they know. Wayne doesn’t get the heroic moment, staring down his nemesis. Valance never knew what hit him. I am a big fan of the complexities there, which as you point out come way before the “revisionist” era of the genre.

 

John Ford isn’t quite my favorite classic Hollywood filmmaker, but the good news is that there are still dozens of his movies that I haven’t seen yet. What I’ve seen of his sensibility is pretty special, even when it doesn’t quite work for me. He was a rough-and-tumble masculine director, but with a strong sentimental streak, an Irish longing for home. This movie arguably supplies the best image to sum up that personality: the rose on a cactus.

 

Daniel: Every time I find myself watching a Western for the first time in a long time I allow myself to be opened for a surprise. I know the genre has plenty to offer, but I unfairly assume, shortly after turning the screen off, that it’s not really my cup of tea in terms of what I’m looking for in a movie. I find myself getting far too caught up in more modern cinema, desperately trying to catch up on the hits from the last few years. Westerns aren’t in. They haven’t been for a while, so they largely fall to the wayside. I’m glad we picked this movie to take a look at because it was a Ford movie that I had long since heard about but had never taken the chance to watch. It was enthralling, entertaining and thought provoking with strong performances from a number of actors that I really enjoy. As it stands this is one of the better film viewing choices I’ve made in recent months, reminding me again that the past is an enormously vast catalogue of cinematic offerings. Not since re-watching The Thin Man series a few years back has the reminder been so strong. It’s not just the The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance was good for the time it came out, it’s held in high regard today for very good reason.   

 

Inside Out

 

Paul: It was a very funny meme. Back when Pixar’s Inside Out first arrived in theaters, someone came up with a good way of framing the animation studio’s creative development. It involved plugging words into the same basic question: “What if (blank) had feelings?” Almost all of Pixar’s previous movies fit this formula perfectly, and the blank could be filled with “toys,” “bugs,” “monsters,” “cars,” and so forth. Inside Out provided the punchline: “What if feelings had feelings?” Viewed this way, the movie looks like a culmination for the studio, the definitive challenge and mission statement. Inside Out was an ambitious exploration of consciousness and memory, visualized as a tiny civilization inside a little girl’s mind. There was the control center, where memories were formed and anthropomorphic emotions controlled the girl’s will; Disneyland-esque themed islands of personality; a vast storage unit of old memories next to a chasm where the forgettable ones were dumped; a movie studio where the girl’s dreams were produced; and a colorful village for her active imagination. Intellectually, this is a study of a child’s mental development, but as that meme would suggest, the main attraction is those emotion characters. Representing contradictory urges, their mission is to join forces to give their child, Riley, her best possible life. The story kicks off with a crisis that severely complicates that mission: Riley’s family is moving.

 

What stood out for me when I first saw Inside Out two years ago, even more than Pixar’s trademark pathos, was how funny it was. The humor has softened for me on subsequent viewings, which helps me see more clearly how the storytelling functions. We both put this movie on our Top 5 lists for 2015, so I know we both like it. But has your reaction to it changed at all since it first came out?

 

Daniel: If anything I think I’ve enjoyed it more on subsequent viewings. Repeats has allowed me to pick up bits I may have missed and really appreciate the phenomenal casting choices made for each emotion. I’ve recently been binge watching Parks and Recreation on my lunch breaks as well, so Poehler’s personality kind of oozed over into this for me, but in a distinctly more likeable character for me. She really was the best possible choice to voice the character of Joy. The movie is funny, and not just with spurts of humor ala Wall-E. It has a more comedic feel than arguably most of the other Pixar films, yet it still maintains the strong emotional backbone I’ve come to expect. And on top of all of that I was relieved that my expectations were not let down. I really do dislike Cars, and while Brave was enjoyable it was the a turning point for me in realizing that Disney Animation can, and was, making more enjoyable movies that Pixar. Inside Out was a bold idea that could have failed horribly, but it didn’t. It managed to connect on a different level than other animated films, we’re literally watching emotions work together, abstracted, of course, in the form of cute little cartoons. But these cartoons were accurate physical manifestations of what I also feel without giving it any thought. The simplest and most effective display of that in this film was when that gum commercial jingle keeps getting sent up to HQ.

 

Paul: I actually think humor has been one of Pixar’s greatest strengths over the years, though the emphasis on it varies from film to film. The Toy Story series is still probably the funniest work the studio has done. Inside Out does lean on jokes more than some, but part of my initial reaction was tied up in an especially electric crowd at the theater. Watching the movie by myself, I don’t laugh as hard, except at the moment of dismemberment during the dream scene. (Is this something I should be admitting?) When the movie literalizes common terms like “brain freeze” and “train of thought,” I feel it’s less inspired. Also, here at the beginning of 2018, it seems like we’ve long since run the idea of a “scary clown” into the ground, but that’s not this movie’s fault! Anyway, everybody’s favorite joke comes at the end, when we take a look inside the heads of various people and animals. Those short vignettes contain some sharp observational humor, but when I’m less distracted by laughing, I can notice more of the incredible details that went into them, such as which emotion is the “leader” in each head.

 

I completely agree about the voice cast. They’re perfectly matched to the character designs. Those designs lean on certain stereotypes — you don’t have to envision joy as a pixie, and you don’t have to envision sadness as a lethargic lump — but within those parameters, Amy Poehler and Phyllis Smith are absolutely the way to go.

 

Daniel: I remember seeing this in the theater and absolutely loving it. My wife, on the other hand, just didn’t seem to get it. And while the idea works really well and Pixar manages to get abstract ideas into easily digestible caricatures, I’ve talked to more than one person that couldn’t get into it. The abstract was just too far for them. I love that Pixar is still willing to take the chances like this. We’re certainly going to see far more Cars merchandise, but this was clearly the better movie to me. And it’s better for the risks it takes. Sure, some of the jokes are easy as you alluded to, but then there’s Bing Bong, a character that really annoyed me… for about 15 seconds, then he slowly became more and more endearing. By the time he *spoiler(?)* sacrifices himself so that Riley can have Joy again, I was in tears. Every time I watch it. I’m reduced to such heightened emotion by an imaginary friend named Bing Bong. Very few films can come close to something like that for me. However, he also presents one of the flaws in the film for me.

 

What exactly was Bing Bong doing stealing long term memory? I want to think he was just hanging onto the memories he shared with Riley. When we first see him though, he’s just grabbing the memories willy nilly. I get that we’re supposed to see him as a harmless vagabond, but… I don’t know that whole bit felt almost ominous, but was quickly glanced over and never addressed again. It’s a really small piece to a larger picture, but one that stands out as Bing Bong is obviously one of the deciding factors in Riley’s mind, regardless of if she knows it or not. He affects massive events going on within her. It isn’t solely the result of the emotions, but wider cast.

 

Paul: Bing Bong is a little too functional as a character, I think. He’s in the story to help Joy learn some lessons. And although the ultimate tragedy of Bing Bong gets at some important truths about growing up, I think that specific example of those truths is too calculated. Not to poke a hole in that big emotional moment or anything, but you know who might still remember things from my childhood that I forgot? My parents. I’d be surprised if Riley’s parents didn’t remember Bing Bong. Someday, in casual conversation, they’ll mention him, and he’ll be reborn! (This is me putting an idea for Inside Out 2 onto the internet. Ack!)

 

I can see how someone might wrestle with how the world of the film works. There’s a lot of headlong rushing in the story, so even though there are plenty of verbal explanations, it’s possible to get lost. But I’m with you on Pixar taking chances. The trip into the vault of abstract thought was immensely enjoyable. Animation can play tricks like that at any time, but it almost never does in the post-Looney Tunes era. If anything, the approach this film takes could be called too mechanical. I’m no expert on memory, but I’m pretty sure it’s a little more complicated than “We’ve run out of space on this aisle. Time to forget some things to make room.” Anyway, those details aren’t as important as the bigger ideas, which I found both amusing and meaningful.

 

In my intro, I was careful to use the phrase “best possible life” instead of “happiest possible life.” As far as Joy is concerned, those are synonymous, but the message of the movie is that they’re not. When this movie first came out, a lot was made of the emphasis on sadness as an important emotion. What do you think of the Joy/Sadness character conflict?

 

Daniel: It really rang true for me. I’m personally easily trapped into that idea that good=happy. Fulfilling=happy. And I know that isn’t true, it’s just such an easy and comfortable mentality to ease in to. I, like Joy, found no real value in the character of Sadness at the start of the film. She was a funny reversal of the more useful and important main character. Someone to slow them down that could potentially be changed for the better. Obviously in terms of storytelling I knew that was going to be a cheap cop-out that Pixar probably wouldn’t sink to, but it was my knee-jerk reaction to the characters. I wouldn’t say that I was surprised that Joy was the one that learned the lesson in the end, but I was certainly happy with how it came about. There is so much more to life than the pursuit of happyness, something that’s so valued at almost any cost. Some of the most defining and strengthening moments of my life have come from times of grief or disappointment. They aren’t times that I seek out or long for, but they are just as important as times of laughter and joy. I don’t think this is a new concept, not in the least, but it bears repeating and Inside Out does it particularly well. The imagery of first seeing all the emotions as one single color to sharing that spectrum was a great visual representation of slightly more complex emotions.

 

Paul: It’s a really admirable message, and I see it as a helpful gateway to appreciating art and storytelling in general. (We don’t need to limit ourselves to things that are happy or pleasant; in fact, that kind of self-indulgence is a dead end.) It’s also just helpful encouragement for kids. Inside Out lets them know they don’t have to feel messed up because their emotions change over time. Life is rough, but there’s hope. The way the movie cuts between the interior and exterior worlds is powerful. Something that seems (literally) earth-shattering to a young mind is just an everyday occurrence. The stand-out example is when the control panel in Riley’s mind freezes up, closing off access to all her emotions and leaving her numb. From the imagery, you might think she’s transformed into a sci-fi robot, but no. It truly is just a phase. Running away from home is a thought that’s occurred to a lot of children. The emotions will one day be able to handle things without going into emergency mode all the time (I assume).

 

I need to mention Lewis Black as Anger, Mindy Kaling as Disgust and Bill Hader as Fear, because they’re all great as well. I especially like the dinner table scene, when Joy has disappeared and those three all try to mimic her. It feels just right when those impersonations come out as impatience, sarcasm and uncertainty, respectively. The way Riley, voiced by Kaitlyn Dias, expresses those things is entirely natural and normal, too, as are her parents’ responses. The storytelling construction is really elegant, in addition to its honesty and humor. Pretty good, in other words.

 

Daniel: The strength of this story comes from the strength of the individual elements. The writing and story was interesting and unique, a strong start for sure. Add in a near perfect voice cast that really just “get” the characters their meant to portray and it all just worked together really well. And you’re right, I hadn’t even really noticed anything spectacular about Kaitlyn Dias’ performance, and I think that’s primarily because of just how natural it came off. The over the top characters embodying her raw emotions were muted and translated to a far more mundane, but honest look at what they might manifest as when being acted out by an actual human. What a different movie this would have been had the Riley simply mimicked the emotion that had control of her at any given moment. Thankfully there was more than enough sense to realize what a terrible idea that would have been, however it’s not a decision I would put past other animation studios. I appreciated that this was a kids movie that still maintained a level of poignancy. It’s also a reminder that Pixar is more than capable of doling out the magic that it’s become famous for.  

Our Favorite Movies of 2016

Daniel: The Academy Awards are quickly approaching, a time when Hollywood congratulates itself on another year in the can and looks back at the finest works of cinematic art that were offered up to the masses. As is the tradition Paul and I take a look at the movies we’ve seen from the previous year and compile a small list of our favorite films. While we may not have seen every film from 2016 (or very many at all, in my case unfortunately) we always enjoy the nostalgic look back at which films were enjoyed the most. So, without further ado, here are our top five movies released in 2016.

#5

Daniel: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, directed by Gareth Edwards

The Star Wars franchise is just a big cash cow. Gone are the early days of using miniatures and low budget movie magic to transport viewers into another galaxy. However, what we’re seeing is not a watering down of what we love but an expansion. Obviously the prequel trilogy is hotly debated, but as much as I really do dislike the films in general, they expand upon a fairly narrow storyline. I’m speaking cinematically, of course. The thousands of instances of comic books, cartoons and novels has led fans to be able to explore much deeper than the average moviegoer. Thankfully, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story expands in a way that is both enlightening and NOT painful to watch. It has its faults, but the caliber of science fiction that we get is seen so rarely and so widely accepted that I am all the more excited about The Last Jedi.

Paul: Silence, directed by Martin Scorsese

Looking back on our previous lists, I see that there were a couple times when I saw a movie during the following January that found its way into my top five. This year, I have three of them. It was a good month! First off is Scorsese’s intense Christian epic, a challenging and disconcerting work. In every way, it seems like the kind of movie that no one else could or would make anymore. The content is rich, adapting Shusaku Endo’s novel to ask important questions about faith and culture. And the form is masterful, with ravishing, bleak, fog-drenched compositions. As a quest into the heart of darkness, this story of Jesuit priests defying Japan’s shogunate to find their allegedly apostate mentor is a more introspective version of Apocalypse Now.

#4

Daniel: 10 Cloverfield Lane, directed by Dan Trachtenberg

Like its quasi-predecessor, I went into 10 Cloverfield Lane for a cheap scare. I did not get that. I got scares, sure, but I also got unease and claustrophobia and witnessed one of John Goodman’s strongest performances in recent memory. This was a movie that relied heavily on suspense rather than any sort of giant set piece. Mary Elizabeth Winstead and John Gallagher Jr. give solid performances as well. They’re the perfect pair to play off of Goodman’s paranoid neurotic tendencies. Everything from the location to the sheer size difference between the characters stresses that the audience is watching someone either struggle to keep people against their will, or struggle to save them. I really enjoyed how I found myself guessing throughout this whole movie.

Paul: Everybody Wants Some!!, directed by Richard Linklater

A sublime hang-out movie, loose and deceptively aimless, Linklater’s film about the first weekend of college was the most delightful thing I saw last year. Each moment feels true and insightful, with a brilliant ensemble cast bouncing witty dialogue around for the two-hour running time. The film has a lot of fun with its 1980 setting, exploring the contours of various musical styles from the period. This is also destined to remain one of my favorite sports movies, because by only showing the baseball team’s first practice, it avoids trite narratives about adversity and triumph. It’s all about the physical joys of baseball, and the camaraderie, rivalries and hazing that come with being on a team. Blake Jenner emerged last year (in this and The Edge of Seventeen — also excellent) as my favorite Normal Guy in the movies right now.

#3

Daniel: Zootopia, directed by Byron Howard and Rich Moore

I love going into a movie with low expectations only to be blown away. This was the case with Zootopia. I had almost no desire to watch it based on the trailers. That being said, a number of friends (and the majority of film critics) said that it was a pretty good movie. So, I gave it a shot. There was very little to not like. The writing was smart and funny with witty dialogue, solid spoofs and a ton of visual gags that all landed. The story is sweet and at times emotional, but not in a cheap way. In an industry of quick cash-grabs and reboots, Zootopia managed to be something unique and refreshing with visually stunning animation and a story that complemented its visual style. Even without its strong storytelling, the way they dealt with animals from every ecosystem was really interesting to see. It’s the kind of story that demands a high level of creativity to be made well, and that’s accomplished. The filmmakers were rewarded for a job well done and the audience was given something that was one of the best films of the year.

Paul: Cameraperson, directed by Kirsten Johnson

Pieced together from previously unused footage that Johnson shot while working on documentaries for the last couple decades, Cameraperson is a distinctive kind of personal nonfiction film. Better critics have spoken to the ways it makes the camera operator present in the moments she shoots, but mostly I was floored by how much smaller this movie makes the world feel. A single cut ties together wind-whipped fields in Wyoming and Bosnia. A baby clings to life in Uganda, and the director’s mother quietly sinks into the last stages of Alzheimer’s. To accommodate interviewees who wished to remain anonymous, the camera focuses on their hands with startling tenderness. These details, plus the lack of a single story, left me feeling like I didn’t want this movie to end.

#2

Daniel: Moana, directed by Ron Clements and John Musker

I am an absolute sucker for a well done Disney Princess movie. I ranked 2013’s Frozen at number 4 for the year and I’m giving the next Princess movie, Moana, the number 2 spot this year. This is Disney’s magical bread and butter. Sometimes it feels stale and called in, but with Moana that isn’t the case. First of all the animation is beautiful, even more so than usual. Water isn’t an easy element to show, and in this movie it practically takes on a character of its own. Oh man, is this a pretty movie. The culture that it focuses on as well is interesting and fresh to their animation lineup. The songs are all very catchy, entertaining and invaluable additions to the story. Then the story itself is a quest. This isn’t the story focused on a young woman being saved or finding herself, it’s the story of a young woman embarking on a dangerous quest to save the world. It takes the viewer to interesting locations to fight interesting creatures (some of whom sing really toe-tappingly catchy songs). Moana embodies the elements that make Disney such a strong animation studio, it has all the magic and effort of one of the classic features from the golden age, but updated with modern animation and storytelling techniques.

Paul: Lemonade, directed by Kahlil Joseph and Beyoncé Knowles-Carter

I went back and forth for a long time on whether or not I should include this, which is probably going to sound dumb in another ten years or so when all boundaries between visual media have been nullified. At any rate, whether you think of Beyoncé’s “visual album” as a movie or as a jumbo music video, it’s an amazing accomplishment. A mélange of styles — both visual (the shifts in aspect ratio alone are dizzying) and musical — comes together in perpetually exciting ways. Water and fire, two elemental forces that the camera always loves, compete to symbolize destruction and purification. The unifying story is a blistering marital exorcism laced with personal and communal histories. There’s a great specificity to the presentation, as well, with urban and rural spaces juxtaposed, bare parking garages and drooping willow trees on the Louisiana bayou. As a response to the unblinking public eye on the Knowles-Carter family, Beyoncé and her collaborators transformed that gaze into something beautiful and defiant. It isn’t entirely inward-focused, either. If I may be so bold, I think Lemonade may very well hold up as the definitive art work of the Black Lives Matter era.

#1

Daniel: Silence, directed by Martin Scorsese

Martin Scorsese’s Silence was the best movie that I saw to come out in 2016. It was also one of the most difficult movies to watch. Following the story of two Jesuit priests in the 1600s that go to Japan to find their mentor, Silence shows the brutality of persecuted individuals and religion, but it also shows the hopelessness that can be felt in those times. Growing up in a Christian household, the stories of the martyrs were devastating, but also inspirational. I could take some level of comfort in the unwavering faith of those that died for our faith. Silence, as the title suggests, is about those suffering persecution who feel alone, feel helpless, hopeless and doubtful. It is a truly devastating look at a very heart-breaking issue. Never does the film mock religion, but it also doesn’t shy away from asking difficult hypothetical questions both in terms of “what-would-you-do” situations and genuine theological questions. Difficult questions shouldn’t be shied away from, and Scorsese doesn’t. The film is a work of art visually, story-wise and audibly. The use of the titular word “silence” in the soundtrack is sometimes deafening. Any score to the film is sparse and blended well with the scenes. But it’s the scenes that are the most emotional, the ones I most expect music to manipulate me to some degree, that I don’t find it. Death, torture, horror done with no swell of music. Only Silence.

Paul: Cemetery of Splendor, directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul

This movie premiered at film festivals around the world in 2015, received a limited theatrical release in the U.S. last spring, and found its way in front of my eyes through a streaming rental just last month (along with Silence and Cameraperson, this completes my last-minute additions to the list…for now). So it’s debatable whether I should call it a 2016 movie, but most critics go by the domestic theatrical runs, and for good reason. Cemetery of Splendor comes from Thailand, and depending on your familiarity with “slow cinema,” it may be just as foreboding as its director’s name. But I got sucked into the rhythms of this film, and I had a fantastic time with it. A group of soldiers has fallen into a mysterious “sleeping sickness,” and the story follows the nurses who care for them in stasis. What Apichatpong is getting at with this setup is the mystical layering of the past and the present on a particular place, with the soldiers being held hostage to ancient kings still waging war in the afterlife. That’s the kind of premise that could yield a crazy effects-heavy action film, but here it’s conveyed with the director’s trademark deadpan supernaturalism and quiet amusement. Silence is an outsider’s view of Buddhism, and this is an insider’s view. The use of color saturation is awe-inspiring, and the movie arrives at an ending that feels perfect in a way that’s difficult to describe. For the moment at least, this is my favorite movie of 2015, 2016, and 2017 while I’m at it.

Millennium Actress

Paul: This movie’s title evokes a certain grandeur, an awe at the passage of time. Presented with nothing but the title and the knowledge that Millennium Actress is an animated film from Japan, I might have guessed that the story had supernatural elements. Having now seen it, I understand that, in the simplest terms, the title doesn’t have anything up its sleeve: this is the story of an actress, Chiyoko Fujiwara, who lives until the turn of the millennium. But the viewer’s sense of reality will be endlessly played with over the course of the film. The structure is multilayered. Millennium Actress is a faux-documentary, a biopic, a twentieth-century chronicle, and a film history collage. Not only does the director, Satoshi Kon, combine these disparate genres into a unified whole, he even makes them feel inseparable.

What fascinates me is that this film stumbles into a couple of the most irritating tropes I know — repeatedly commenting on itself and trading in on-the-nose symbolism (A. Literal. Key.) — but emerges as an invigorating and complex experience regardless. Millennium Actress is the kind of animated film that’s almost unheard of in America, clearly intended for adults but not inappropriate for children. Beautifully and naturalistically drawn, the film frequently made me think that a live action version of the same story would be entirely feasible. My first question is this: how important is the animation itself to your enjoyment of this film? Or maybe that’s the wrong question. We could just as easily say that any number of live action films would work just as well in animation. Am I presupposing the stereotype that “animation equals Disney equals fantasy”?

Daniel: You’re right, out of the plethora of animated pieces that could be turned into live action adaptations, this would be, perhaps, one of the most feasible. However, I believe it would be to the detriment of the source material. For one, the animation is not only beautiful, but is pivotal to the cohesiveness of the story. Despite jumping eras and genres, the film’s aesthetics remain consistent throughout. Had this been made as a live action film first, I might be inclined to disagree, but it would have been an ambitious project to pitch, let alone create. That being said, I would love to see that ambition show itself more often.

I really like this movie. You mention the cliche tropes present throughout, and you’re right that it oddly works. This is a movie about movies and rather than shy away from the things that generally make us cringe, it embraces it full tilt while also wowing the audience with an ever changing setting. Despite the jarring scene changes however, we’re left with a relatively simple story that is told in a very rich way. It’s easy to follow and doesn’t outstay its welcome with a conservative runtime for something with such a grand execution.

Paul: Ninety minutes would seem to be a little skimpy for such a sweeping story, but the movie never rushes over anything. It even repeats and ties together imagery in some brilliantly put-together montages. I think what comes through is the story’s single-mindedness. Plenty of historical background gets touched on, but the story is always about Chiyoko and always focuses on only one or two aspects of her life: primarily, her search for a man she met once, and secondarily, her career decisions in defiance of traditional gender roles. As scenes from her movies blend in with scenes from her life, it quickly becomes apparent that the “fictional” moments are included specifically to advance the “real” narrative. That might be the most joyful aspect of Millennium Actress: seeing art reflect life, and vice versa.

One more point on the live action/animation question: some of this movie’s techniques for tying together its time periods have been used in live action. For example, a dissolve that links younger Chiyoko with her current self. Oddly, that effect might work better here than in something like Saving Private Ryan, where it comes across as a little gaudy.

Daniel: The montage at the end of the film is high on my non-existent list of favorite montages. Everything from the theme, pace and setting is nearly perfect. Stressing, again, the impressive uses of transitions. Satoshi Kon would go on to create Paprika a few years later and continue his surreal art of transitions. In Paprika the director/writer takes on the idea of agents descending into the dreaming subconscious of individuals to protect and/or get information. Yes, it was essentially Inception but a cartoon and released years before. However, like in Millennium Actress, the way the story is told is both jarring and fascinating. Where Inception used dreams as segments for standard action sequences with a little flavor, Paprika goes the far more realistic (to dreams, not reality) route by throwing you into a world where absolutely anything can (and does) happen, including parades of refrigerators dancing by in the midst of an action sequence. I need to see more from Kon, because out of the two I’ve seen I’ve been blown away, both times going in with little expectations and seeing something I’ve never seen before.

It’s this kind of creativeness that translates so well in animation. While I don’t doubt, especially this day and age, that live action can accomplish the story visually, I find when things are done correctly with animation it’s less jarring and I’m able to suspend my view of reality far more than I would be able to otherwise. I think Kon knows that he’s got more leeway in that regard and he just runs with it.

Paul: I caught up with Paprika recently as well. What the two films have in common is an interest in various film genres. In this film, Chiyoko enjoys a wide-ranging career that basically tracks along with the best-known Japanese films, from historical samurai epics to Atomic Age kaiju films. Her very last film, appropriately enough, sends her into space. There’s an infectious excitement to all this, even when the film pops the balloon intermittently by putting the documentary filmmaker into the movie scenes in a humorous way. This filmmaker character, Genya Tachibana, is clearly a big fan of Chiyoko’s, and Millennium Actress gradually reveals how deep his appreciation for her goes. He exhibits the kind of boisterousness I’ve long associated with anime, and he’s certainly a comical character. But Kon appears to share his reverence. This is a movie that opens with a film studio getting demolished. In its long and loving look back at classic movies, we can feel an uncertainty toward the future that is still a matter of concern in film circles. A single lifespan easily circumscribes most of film history, which makes any prophecy about the art form’s imminent demise feel premature. Then again, Paprika came around just five years later, and its conception of our virtual-reality future doesn’t seem that far away. In any case, this movie is more excited about old-fashioned star power than in the specific qualities of film. Images of Chiyoko are lovingly rendered whether they’re on the screen or her many magazine covers.

Daniel: Tachibana is absolutely the most stereotypical anime trope in this movie. His over-the-top reactions show an almost unstable amount of emotional range. This is reflected in the animation by his face turning violent shades of red at times and him responding to disparaging comments towards his idol with violence. It’s the thing that would carry over to live action terribly. Where I can forgive, and even laugh at the animated nature of the character here, I would probably bemoan something so “cartoony” from a physical human being. I’m trying to come up with aspects about this movie that I didn’t like, and I think we’ve touched on them mostly, but also forgiven many of them. As you stated, the standard move cliches and imagery works because we’re watching a loving tribute to the genre. Some of the antics and sequences that would otherwise jar me from my suspension of belief can be overlooked because of the animation. This really is a movie that can be appreciated by a pretty broad audience, and yet most times that I recommend it to people it isn’t even considered when I mention that it’s 1) not in English and 2) it’s anime. I understand people’s reluctance to watch a film with subtitles (despite vehemently disagreeing with their stubbornness). A good chunk of the population associates entertainment with the switching off of your brain. Reading is “work” and comprehending the visual aspects of a foreign language film while keeping up with subtitles is not appealing to everyone. As far as the anime aspect of the film, I think it’s a medium that’s just been given a bad reputation, often viewed as being enjoyed only by the socially questionable crowd. It’s a real shame, because the offerings are so vast and often relatable, as was the case here.

Paul: It’s also a film that’s a little hard to get a hold of, although used copies on Amazon aren’t too outrageous. YouTube had it streaming for free on its Paramount Vault channel, which is where I watched it, but it seems to have disappeared already. So it’s going to remain underseen, but I think it belongs up there with the best of Studio Ghibli. The ambiguity of the plot had a real effect on me. I made fun of the key earlier, but it’s important to note that the movie never shows us the lock that it opens. We don’t learn the man’s name. He’s apparently part of a resistance movement against the Japanese government’s aggression in World War II, and it’s great to see attention given to a cause like that. But Chiyoko’s decision to help him is purely instinctive. She doesn’t know why he’s running when they first meet, and I get the feeling that the politics never matter to her as much as the unspoken connection between them. There’s tragedy in the unending search for the man, but also a real catharsis in the fact that Chiyoko is happy just with the search itself. The open-endedness holds true through the closing moments. I think my list of favorite movies will back me up when I say that I enjoy a bit of cosmic allegory every now and then.

Daniel: I remember you mentioning it was on YouTube, and I never gave it much thought. It’s too bad the availability is limited. I was able to request it from my local library with little wait time, so that’s how I ended up watching it. When it comes to recommending animated movies, this is one of the first ones I offer. While I adore most of Studio Ghibli’s films, to those leery of Japanese folklore and animation, it’s only going to turn them off from an otherwise rich array of art. Millennium Actress is surreal, but it’s also enthralling and told in such a way that the jarring scene changes start making sense. Almost like riding a bike, it’s worrisome and confusing at first, but once you start you’re soon going with your hands off the handlebars. The audience is pandered to very little and they’re entrusted with the responsibility of following along as the story unfolds in an unconventional way. Because of this we’re given a glimpse into a branch of filmmaking that allows the wonder and fantasy to mingle effortlessly with strong realistic emotions. I love that you mentioned this as a film for adults that’s not inappropriate for children. It’s a great example that the two are not mutually exclusive.

North by Northwest

Daniel: Few directors have established the prestige and intrigue that Alfred Hitchcock has. His films are cinematically ground breaking, with Vertigo replacing Citizen Kane on Sight & Sound’s Greatest Films of All Time list. And yet, his is a cinematic legacy that I have yet to even come close to exhausting. I’ve seen a good number of his more popular releases, yet for some reason our topic of conversation today had never crossed my path. Admittedly, it was my own fault, as North by Northwest is firmly rooted in popular culture. North by Northwest, for the other two of you that haven’t seen it, is a story of mistaken identity. Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) is mistaken for a government agent and ends up being hunted by a group of international criminals.

I’ve really done myself a disservice by not watching this movie sooner. It’s honestly been a few years since I’ve seen any of Hitchcock’s works, and this was so thoroughly marked by his direction. However the first few minutes (after the opening credits) were very jarring as it began to feel like the beginning of a Cary Grant romantic comedy, which was fun. It was something different for me to see an actor like Cary Grant thrust into a Hitchcock film. I guess I should watch the other three he stars in next.

Paul: North by Northwest has the reputation of being the “fun one” sandwiched in between Hitchcock’s more serious and disturbing masterworks. That’s pretty accurate, and I’ve had a tendency to underrate this movie for that reason. What struck me on this viewing is that there is some continuity between this and Vertigo. In general terms, they’re both about a man who gets angry with a woman for not being who she says she is. There’s even the eerie shared image of the back of the mystery woman’s head. So Hitchcock was still working through some of the same personal issues. But in the place of Vertigo’s anguish he constructed a breezy adventure this time. North by Northwest ends up being a Cold War movie, but I always forget that. The usual dread and paranoia are nicely absent. It makes sense that the man who coined the term “MacGuffin” would create such a perfect example here. All the spy stuff hangs on that elusive microfilm, but the contents don’t matter a bit compared to Roger Thornhill’s problems. I love that this man is just a random bystander who keeps finding ways to survive. I imagine a modern retelling of this story might feel the need to give him some secret espionage backstory. Nope, he’s just an ordinary guy who slowly figures things out. Grant is terrific in this. I feel like he gets younger as the movie goes along, somehow. By the end, he’s having the time of his life.

Were there other details you noticed that felt distinctively Hitchcockian to you?

Daniel: Hitchcock was an expert at projecting his vision onto the screen. Every director strives to get their vision fully realized on an audience, but here it’s done just so well. It’s subtle things like the bumps that Thornhill exaggeratedly experiences while driving the car intoxicated as well as the interesting shots like when he runs out of the UN building from an extremely panned out shot. It’s simply an interesting film to watch that moves with the apparent ease that he commands the actors, camera and framing. Despite it being “the fun one” it didn’t lack for suspense. And while I often associate Hitchcock with the macabre (thanks to The Birds and Psycho more or less being my introduction to him) this was light when it needed to be and suspenseful when it meant to be. It displayed a balance between the two that was almost uncharacteristic of the director. Not to say his films were entirely devoid of humor, but I found this one enjoyable in a different sense. I’m curious to know where this film ranks among his other works for you personally.

Paul: Well, it’s definitely in my top ten, and I can say that there’s hardly a Hitchcock film I’ve seen that I didn’t like at least a little. But I had been hoping that, on revisiting it, the film might jump in my estimation, and I don’t think it budged. My reservations all seem to relate to Eve Kendall, the Eva Marie Saint character. This is blasphemous, but I’ve always been more invested in the relationship between Grant and Audrey Hepburn in Charade, the Hitchcock knockoff, than I am in Roger and Eve’s relationship. I’m fully on board with North by Northwest as long as Roger’s motivation is to find out who and where George Kaplan is. If somebody just tried to kill me, I’d want to clear up the confusion, too. But then he has a fling on a train, and when the woman arranges a rendezvous between him and a crop duster, his objective is now to punish her. This says some things about Roger as a character, I suppose, but I find it a little jarring. Saint is perfectly fine as an icy blonde, but compared to Kim Novak or Janet Leigh, she fades into the background somewhat.

Daniel: Roger and Eve’s relationship was the driving force behind our protagonist’s actions. Sure, he needed to stop the spies and save his own skin, but it boiled down to Thornhill caring enough about Eve to risk his life even more to save her from the clutches of the evil Vandamm (James Mason). Which is a pity, because I certainly agree with you to the extent that I didn’t much care for that relationship. Kendall’s ice cold persona that bordered femme fatale was a stark contrast to Grant’s charming and humorously dry wit, but not in a complementary way. Throw him in with Hepburn, however, and you’re absolutely right, they’ll charm the scales off a snake. I admit it was fun to see Cary Grant in this kind of role, but by and large this isn’t a favorite of mine. The movie was intense and entertaining and all around good, but Hitchcock and Cary Grant have both done better films separately.

The story was fantastic. I was just as eager as Thornhill was to find out the identity of the man he was mistaken for. The suspense was there, the humor was there, and yet it was like being jarred back and forth. I think the ending of the movie was a good representation of my feelings toward it. Within seconds I’m wondering if a character is going to die and then happy that they’re on their way to married bliss. I feel I’m being harsher than I anticipated, the truth is I did really enjoy this movie and there were a lot of really fantastic elements, but it was flawed in ways I didn’t anticipate.

Paul: That closing transition is a bit of a stunner, isn’t it? But in a good way, I’d say. Generally, I don’t find the tonal shifts to be all that crazy. This movie has been described as a comedy, but I’d describe the experience as one of good-natured suavity rather than big laughs. Any time you put Cary Grant and James Mason in the same room, the Suave-o-Meter is going to be maxing out. But there’s some great banter. I think the funniest moment for me happens late in the film, when Vandamm and his minion, Leonard (Martin Landau), suddenly come to blows over whether Eve is a double agent or not. Hitchcock employs his favored technique of a punch directly toward the camera to show Vandamm knocking Leonard into a reclining position in a chair. Hearing the commotion, Eve looks down from a balcony. Quickly but smoothly, Leonard fixes his hair as if to say, “Nothing to see here. Just chilling.” The other great moment involving the layout of Vandamm’s lair is when Roger tosses his matchbook (“ROT”) down to Eve as a secret message that only she would notice. Leonard spots it before she does, and it’s a wonderfully tense moment. So there is a mix of tones, but I think they mostly complement one another. This is a very geometrically-minded film. Hitchcock is great at visualizing conflicts according to the positioning of characters in a room. There are a number of standoffs with characters on opposite ends of the frame. Which leads me to the most famous scene. You were probably a little familiar with the iconic crop duster attack, but was it effective on your first official viewing?

Daniel: It was exciting and tense, but not nearly so tense as I had expected. I’m really in an odd position here as I am very familiar with the scene, or rather, a few frames of the scene. It has remained firmly seated in my pop-culture consciousness for me to have had a false idea on how the scene would play out. Most likely thanks to seeing movie posters and montages, I assumed there would be intense music to keep me on the edge of my seat. There was none. The whole scene was devoid of any musical assistance. I appreciated the fact to an extent, but having such a strong idea on what to expect, I was more taken out of it than anything. This, I acknowledge, is my fault. When this scene (which I also subconsciously assumed would be the climax of the film) happened sooner than I expected and the movie was funnier than I was prepared for it again removed me from the intensity of the scene. I really did myself and the film a disservice by waiting so long to see it in its entirety. Objectively, there is very little wrong with the film and as I write this I’m realizing more that the majority of the issues I had were thanks primarily due to my false expectations. I did like this movie, I liked it a great deal, but I can’t help but think that had I not categorized my mind to see “Cary Grant: Comedic Actor” and “Alfred Hitchcock: Suspense Director” to such an extent, I might have enjoyed it all the more.

You mentioned that your main issue with the film was with the relationship between Roger and Eve, but was there anything else in particular that didn’t sit well with you?

Paul: Not really. This is more a case where the intensity of my connection with other films outshines a movie that is merely a brilliantly executed piece of entertainment. (Writers have made the case that there are dark undercurrents here, but I confess they still don’t make much of an impression with me.) I can definitely relate to the problem of expectations. This sounds like busywork, but it can be necessary to watch a film once just to clear away misguided expectations, so we can return to it on its own terms later. It sounds like you wouldn’t mind revisiting North by Northwest someday, though.

I’m so glad you mentioned the silence in the crop duster scene, because it’s a masterstroke. I don’t know if you saw a video that came out a little while ago that combined the scene with the Star Wars universe. It sounded like a fun mash-up but ended up being a total waste of time. The intergalactic frippery was remarkably beside the point, detracting from the perfect brown landscape in the middle of nowhere. Arguably worse, however, is that the editor drenched the scene with music from the very beginning. This choice ignores Hitchcock’s discipline. Bernard Herrmann was turning in some of his most thrilling music for this film (which is saying something), but the director knew when to withhold it for the sake of uncertainty. Anyway, I think the scene as Hitchcock directed it is a pretty flawless example of location photography and dramatic irony. It’s always rewarding to see that an iconic scene is iconic for a reason.

Shaolin Soccer

Paul: I don’t know all that much about soccer, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t usually look like this. No, you can’t fool me. Hong Kong director Stephen Chow’s Shaolin Soccer follows the basic structure of a sports movie, with the ragtag underdogs going up against a superpower for the championship. But he tells the story in a heightened slapstick style, built on the ingenious concept of combining soccer with martial arts. The main character, Sing, played by Chow himself, sees many practical uses for kung fu. Not only can it allow anyone, no matter their physical attributes, to excel at sports, but it can also assist with such activities as cooking and parallel parking. Most apropos to this film, however, is that it makes a person really good at kicking. Thus Sing decides to rescue some of his fellow martial artists from their unsatisfying jobs by putting a team together, coached by the fallen soccer legend “Golden Leg” Fung (Ng Man-tat).

Culturally speaking, I wasn’t very familiar with most of what goes on in this movie. I haven’t seen much kung fu cinema, and I might not even have recognized the Bruce Lee homages if it weren’t for Kill Bill. Stephen Chow is a name I might not have recognized before this year, either, but he’s gotten quite a bit of attention since his latest film, The Mermaid, broke the all-time box office record in China. He knows how to make a crowd-pleasing spectacle, and Shaolin Soccer certainly had the potential to be both rousing and irreverent. For myself, on the other hand, it also had the potential to fall flat. There aren’t very many sports movies that excite me, and I don’t always respond to exaggerated physical comedy. Before I get into what I thought of this film, though, I’ll ask for your thoughts. What’s your history with this movie, and what did you think of it this time?

 

Daniel: I love this movie. I loved it the first time I watched it and I loved it the following few times up to the most recent viewing. It hits so many gleefully ridiculous notes that ring true for either genre, sports or martial arts. Now, I was a huge sucker for sports movies growing up, and I had a real soft spot for anything martial arts (primarily 3 Ninjas and Surf Ninjas, neither of which was a pinnacle of the sub-genre) so there is absolutely a nostalgia factor for me going into something like this. Regardless of that, however, I consider this one of the better parody comedies in the last few decades. Everything from the ridiculous premise to the emotional levels fluctuating from deadpan to death threats made me laugh. Stephen Chow pieces together something that makes me go “that’s cool” and has me cackling till my side hurts simultaneously. The story is such a simple and perfect mashup of genres. Of course Shao Lin and Soccer are a perfect match, especially when we’re talking about the type of martial arts that only takes place on film. This was made in a  time when movies like The Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon were fairly popular. And Chinese cinema in general was primarily known in the States for the elaborately choreographed fight scenes. (Thanks, Jackie Chan… seriously, Drunken Master was awesome.) I’ll be the first to admit, there are certain scenes and actions that get lost in translation, but overall this is a movie that I thoroughly enjoy watching and watching with people because it leaves me with such a sensation of glee. It’s not high art, it’s not true sports drama, but it is an excellent spoof of both.

 

Paul: There’s something refreshing about genre parody. It takes the shortcomings of well-worn formulas and makes them even more pronounced. That’s always a gamble, because there’s a fine line between making us laugh and making us groan even harder. But I think this movie nails a couple aspects of sports and sports movies. Sports and cinema have grown up together and have certain affinities that reinforce each other. First and foremost is the idea of good guys and bad guys. Sometimes it isn’t enough to root for your team; there have to be reasons to root against the other team. Sports movies tend to suggest, coyly, that the other team plays dirty, or the coach treats his players like pawns instead of human beings. (Maybe I’m mostly thinking of the Mighty Ducks movies here.) Shaolin Soccer doesn’t try to hide this fundamentally unfair approach to sports, instead leaning into the mustache-twirling with vigor. The antagonists are literally called Team Evil. The coach, played by Patrick Tse, humiliates his rival in public and vocally advocates for winning the championship by injuring enough opposing players that the other team has to forfeit. There’s also the Rocky IV bit — the good guys training with heart and hard work, the bad guys with sophisticated high-tech gadgets. Many aspects of this film could be labeled “cartoonish,” for better or worse, but this might be the best. Team Evil is gloriously ridiculous.

I’m glad you mentioned the cool factor, because while there are straightforward action moments, the other thing that impressed me was a tendency to lampoon some of the “cool” poses we expect from athletes. The stand-out shot is of Team Evil’s goalie (Cao Hua), having blocked a magical kick from Sing with one hand, his other hand relaxing in his pocket. Sing self-consciously strikes a pose of his own in response. It’s self-effacing in the best way.

 

Daniel: They really do run away with the reasons to root for the other team in this. Even in a movie like Cool Runnings, you’re basically informed that the Swiss are jerks, so it is here that Team Evil is given a ridiculously on-the-nose name and are shown having drugs injected into them. We know exactly who to hate and there are no qualms about it.

One of the more interesting plot lines from the film was with Mui (played by Zhao Wei). Her arc is the strongest in the film. Going from a self-conscious baker with incredible ability, then, in an attempt to please “Steel Leg” Sing changes her look to something that could have come out of a bad 80s fashion magazine. Only after having her looks and new attitude ridiculed does she finally kind of give up on caring about her looks entirely and allows herself to shine through. But that transformation isn’t a complete 180, as is evident when she walks out onto the soccer field for the final match. It isn’t a perfect storyline, but in a film fueled by jokes and pratfalls it resonated with me as a sweet aspect that was more moving to me than perhaps that final match was. Perhaps that’s the biggest overall disappointment for me. While the movie, to me, is uproariously funny, I find myself waiting for the next joke rather than on the edge of my seat rooting for the team.

 

Paul: I had a little trouble with Mui. On the one hand, it’s undeniably impressive to watch a person go through three different looks in one movie that are so distinct, the character almost could have been played by different people. On the other hand, I’m not entirely enamored with Mui’s function in the story. The hyperbolic mood swings of her scenes reminded me of some of the anime I’ve seen, which may very well have been intentional. But the derision toward her appearance, in all three phases, didn’t sit altogether well with me. Along with some of the fat guy jokes (the potato chips, the raw eggs), I felt this kind of stuff went a little too over-the-top, if that makes sense. Then again, there are great moments in that final match. Her entrance is fantastic. With the team on the very brink of forfeiting, the camera pans to the left and there she is. Immediately after that, the movie offers a reminder, as in the earlier training sequence, that being a kung fu superhero is one thing, but these martial artists still have to learn how to play the game. I love how gently Team Evil’s goalie (who might just be my favorite character, the more I think about it) informs Mui that she’s standing in the wrong net. She gets her moment to shine soon after, but there really is a touching attitude throughout the film toward common everyday clumsiness and awkwardness.

 

Daniel: You may be on to something. I have a real soft spot for certain anime films and TV shows. Shaolin Soccer is about two steps from being a cartoon itself. When I first saw the live adaptation of Speed Racer I really hated it, but the next (few) times I watched it, it grew on me because I watched not with the mindset that this was a live action film that had to play by the rules associated with the medium (few, though they are) but with the thought that this is just the animated show with real people instead of animated ones.

Despite my love for this movie I’m more than willing to admit its flaws. I think one of the big draws for me is just how different of a “sports” movie it is. Sure, it has all the familiar tropes and plot lines of, well just about any other in its genre, but seeing it from a different point of view with such a vastly different cultural backdrop and brand of humor was and remains refreshing for me. It takes some cheap shots and succumbs to lowbrow humor at times, but overall I’m alright with that. Maybe it’s due to my complete aversion to soccer. It is a sport that I will never fully understand or love, and yet here I am, touting my devotion to a “soccer” movie. Then again, it’s a lot like the Super Nintendo classic Mega Man Soccer where the players also have superpowers, which is something I enjoy.

Contact

Daniel: Extraterrestrial life is practically Hollywood’s bread and butter. Since narrative film began there has hardly been a break in the topic of life on other planets. It’s the great unknown. Humans are limited in our knowledge of the universe, and so we wonder what else might be out there. It’s more common than not to make these questions confrontational in film. It’s flashier, it’s louder, it sells more tickets. And yet, the questions that could arise from the discovery of intelligent life would, in reality, extend far beyond “are they hostile” and “how can we fight them.” 1997 debuted Contact, a film that wasn’t the first to ask philosophical questions surrounding the possibility of intelligence beyond humans, but it was certainly one with a bit of a cultural impact.

Jodie Foster plays Dr. Ellie Arroway, a woman obsessed with communication, specifically with the furthest areas of the universe that technology can reach. When a radio signal is received that appears to be instructions for a giant machine, she and the rest of the world must figure out how next to proceed. A myriad of characters appear to challenge her beliefs and to squelch her hopes in as many practical applications of “life isn’t fair” moments as can be fit into 150 minutes. I had not seen this movie since it was first released on home video, and admittedly almost all of it went over my head. All I knew at the time was that it was an alien movie, and boy was I disappointed when there wasn’t a fight. Subsequently, I enjoyed it far more this time around.

 

Paul: I have to agree that if I had seen this movie soon after seeing Independence Day, I too would have been disappointed that not only are these aliens not attacking us, they don’t even send the Mothership into Earth’s orbit. Contact is clearly designed as a more realistic scenario than Hollywood normally produces. And as a matter of fact, I just saw it for the first time. I suggested it for our blog because it seemed complex enough that a discussion could go many different directions. Having seen it, I think I was right. This movie came up in a science class I took in college because of the story’s religious angle: Matthew McConaughey’s character, Palmer Joss, diligently tries to get Ellie, the rational scientist, to consider theism. There’s plenty more to say about these characters’ relationship, but I found the theological arguments to be respectful and smart. As a cautiously pro-religion film made with skill and compassion, Contact renders something like God’s Not Dead totally superfluous. Even so, no matter what god director Robert Zemeckis may or may not believe in, he reserves most of his energy and excitement for the praise of technology. There might not be another filmmaker as dedicated to the pursuit of cutting-edge special effects for their own sake. (This is the guy who made Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Forrest Gump, and a trio of increasingly sophisticated motion-capture animated films in the 2000s.) The first shot in the movie is pretty terrific, pulling us back from our own planet to, eventually, the whole universe in just a few minutes. The accompanying science lesson about how long it takes radio signals to reach the edge of the solar system is a quick and entertaining way of setting the plot in motion.

 

Daniel: Yes, I really liked how the opening shot laid the groundwork for the basis of the rest of the story. The way that it tied into the plot points of the first signals being received by the “others” relaying back to us helped gauge the aspect of time in relation to space travel. And it’s interesting that you called this a pro-religion film. While I don’t necessarily disagree with you, growing up in a highly conservative Christian background myself, this movie was discussed (in the few times it was discussed) as a more atheistic or agnostic film. Which on this viewing I found I disagreed. Still, reactions to articles that ask pointed questions at one’s viewpoint can certainly influence the way it’s perceived. Like you, I think the subject was handled respectfully, albeit perhaps not all theologically correct in the instance of Palmer Joss. My frustration has to be one shared with just about any religion that is wrongly represented by characters in film, but at least he wasn’t as bad as the token characters in every Stephen King film adaptation. Still, it handled some very weighty subject material in a way that didn’t seem “preachy” or convoluted. More impressively it managed that and was still entertaining from a purely enjoyment level standpoint. Being a Christian I have seen my fair share of “Christian Films” that have messages that I completely agree with, and yet I detest. Contact managed to tackle its philosophical conversations while keeping the drama and character interaction interesting and at times infuriating.

 

Paul: There’s certainly not much that’s distinctly Christian about Palmer, it’s true. And I guess I can see how someone could argue that the ending of the movie has a postmodern tint, that faith is only subjective experience. But I would disagree with that reading. Film communicates truth visually, and we see everything Ellie sees. It’s pro-religion, also, in the sense that the movie comes very close to arguing that Ellie is an atheist only because she lost her father. On the other hand, Contact warns about the dangers of fringe cults, and there’s a conservative Christian spokesman (Rob Lowe) who’s just around to be offended by everything. This leads to my primary criticism of the film, its reliance on easy villains. James Woods, who was admittedly well cast thanks to his wonderful, cold eyes, plays a national security advisor with a single-minded conviction that the aliens are going to kill us all. That’s not an unreasonable viewpoint, but the movie never gives it much credence. Worst of all is David Drumlin (Tom Skerritt), who spends the first part of the movie trying to shutter the SETI project (again, an understandable position), but as soon as contact is established pivots into hogging the spotlight. These characterizations are manipulative, and they expose the superficiality of the film’s politics. Again, I think Zemeckis was most interested in the technical challenge of integrating real news footage of President Clinton into fiction. The use of TV monitors was effective, though. The swastika in the first video signal from the aliens was the most startling image I’ve seen in a while.

 

Daniel: Although the quasi-antagonists of the film were a little caricature-esque, I still was able to find them believable in the scope of the film, especially with our current trend of polarization in American politics. I found Drumlin infuriating, but believable as someone that sought credibility and recognition above all. Ellie’s mission was laughable. To this day I have people close to me that scoff at any sort of space program, let alone listening for extraterrestrial life. It’s not the most credible line of science, I’m sure, in the minds of most people. So, when in the film it quickly changes from a mockery to a reality, I can absolutely understand someone like Drumlin instantly flipping sides. The most compelling and infuriating scene for me was when Ellie was asked if she believed in God in front of the council that would decide who would go on the mission. Not because Ellie was honest, but because Drumlin said exactly what everyone wanted to hear. It’s very reminiscent of our current presidential election process.

The swastika being used as the first distinguishable message by the aliens was absolutely startling, but it was worked into the fabric of the story so well. It really raises the question as to, if there is intelligent life outside earth, what message would they receive from us first, intended or not. Or the other way around if we received a message. It’s the type of serious question that Galaxy Quest lampoons when our television series become considered historical archives. The amount of information we’re blasting out there is staggering.

 

Paul: The premise of the film, and Carl Sagan’s original novel, makes a lot of sense, at least to a layman like myself. Diffuse radio signals probably stand a much better chance of getting noticed by intelligent life than a directed message like, say, the Voyager probes. Science is always finding better answers to “how does such-and-such work” questions, but Contact hasn’t become seriously outdated as far as I can tell. More importantly, the script manages to make complex scientific ideas accessible. Closer investigation might clarify how James Hart and Michael Goldenberg did it, but my first impression was that, while I might not understand every other word, the words I did understand guided my thinking to the right places. Physical action goes a long way, too. It’s not trivial that the scene in which Ellie first notices an intelligent pattern in an extra-terrestrial signal leads to her racing in her car to get back to headquarters. Even if we have no idea how important this discovery is, we can feel the intensity.

For all the science and theology, though, at its heart this story is a Hollywood romance. Palmer may balk at Ellie’s atheism, but the subtext is always clear: he wants her to stay in our solar system because he loves her. The presence of McConaughey, of course, makes me think of Interstellar. Of all the parallels between the two films, the one I wasn’t expecting was the shared concept that human beings’ ability to love someone who’s dead and gone might be proof of something beyond materialism. It’s sentimental, but I like that idea a lot.

 

Daniel: I had forgotten McConaughey was in this, and the similarities between this and Interstellar started popping up in my mind almost immediately as well. A film about cosmic travel/communication with a heavy underlying theme of love being transcendent. While I agree with you that the film was able to dumb down a lot of the science to be understandable, I did get the feeling that they on occasion went a bit too far in holding the audience’s hand. Nothing too extreme, but some of the dialogue came off as a little too “let’s explain this to anyone listening in.” It’s a small complaint overall, and you’re right, this film holds up really well despite its age. That and William Fichtner. Not that he was terrible, but I genuinely didn’t realize he was blind until the scene where they escort him into the control room and he had a walking stick. The reliance on the technology of the time isn’t jarring, if anything it adds a level of credibility. That coupled with the fact that the aliens are receiving messages from antiquated signals further affirms the “credibility” of the movie’s premise. Ultimately we’re left with a movie that’s well written, acted and shot that uses technology as a main plot device, yet holds up extremely well despite the amount of time it’s been around. Contact kind of jumped back onto my radar as one of the better science fiction films I’ve seen and enjoyed.

 

Paul: Fichtner gives the most “hey look, I’m acting” performance for sure, but I enjoyed it. The rest of the cast is rock solid, with David Morse and Angela Bassett standing out to me.

I enjoyed this film too. It takes a well-worn concept that could be used to inspire either fear or wonder and elects to be reassuring. The lessons about humanity are mild, and the main characters aren’t forced into irrevocable decisions. For this reason, Contact isn’t as challenging as the classic science fiction films in its DNA, from Close Encounters of the Third Kind back to Solaris and 2001: A Space Odyssey. But it’s also consistently engaging even as it explores complicated and controversial material. Zemeckis is a show-off, doing stuff like digitally moving the camera through a windowpane just because he can, but he also knows how to entertain. There aren’t enough mainstream movies like this one.

Our Favorite Movies of 2015

  
Paul: It’s time again for the Gaffer MacGuffin Top Fives. For the fourth year in a row, Daniel and I will put down our personal favorites. Our friend Erigena Sallaku wasn’t able to participate this year. We hope she’ll be back next time. 2015 was a good year. I watched more new movies than I ever had before, so naturally I was thrilled to wake up the morning of the Oscar nominations and learn that I’d seen only three out of eight Best Picture contenders. Still, at least half the movies I saw were good, and more than half were interesting on some level. There’s always more to discover, and I look forward to hearing your picks, Daniel.

Daniel: It’s been an interesting year both personally and for the cinematic scene. With the arrival of my first child came a drastic stall in my movie watching. That being said, I was able to scrounge up an adequate list and see most of my “most anticipated” movies, as well as a few I had been meaning to see. It’s really a shame I didn’t see Nightcrawler in 2014 because it would have made my top five then for sure. I’ve seen two of the Best Picture nominees this year, and *spoiler* they both made my list. This list was a fun one to make.

5.

Paul: The Forbidden Room, directed by Guy Maddin & Evan Johnson

An extended tribute to lost films from the silent era onward, The Forbidden Room is a whirlpool of nested narratives and dream logic. The viewer quickly loses hope that each loose end will get tied up, and yet the rollicking finale somehow encapsulates the spirit of the whole thing. Still, some of the vignettes are so bizarre that every time the film returns to its primary quest narrative feels like a gasp for air (which is ironic on a couple levels). That such a wide-ranging production should still feel like such a bald exploration of Guy Maddin’s psyche is a sort of miracle. This movie isn’t not for everyone, by any means, but I think its enthusiasm for old cinema makes an effort like Rodriguez and Tarantino’s Grindhouse look half-hearted. Visually scorching, and funny to boot, it couldn’t have been made by anyone else.

Daniel: The Martian, directed by Ridley Scott

I watched this one shortly before sitting down to write this list. It instantly bumped Ant-Man out of the #5 spot for me. Bad news for Paul Rudd, no change for Michael Peña. I’ve seen a wide variety of survival films, and it certainly can be an exciting genre. That being said, it’s kind of a one trick pony. The change of scenery from your normal survival plot was a nice change, but the talent both in front of and behind the camera allowed this to stand out as one of my favorites of the year. Scott, no stranger to alien landscapes, brings the harsh environment of Mars to life (or lack thereof). The balance between the impossibility of the situation with the plausibility presented by NASA to rescue Watney makes it that good kind of tense that grips you after the credits roll. Also, the cast. I don’t have enough time to praise the variety of talent and how well they were all used. 

4.

Paul: Bridge of Spies, directed by Steven Spielberg

There didn’t seem like much to recommend this one for me, frankly. It looked like the kind of movie I should see with my dad, that’s all. Only the name Spielberg (and Hanks, to a lesser extent) gave me hope, and I figured this would be a minor project for the director, something he could ease into after the passion project Lincoln. It ended up being his second-best film of this decade so far. The quietly confident filmmaking is supported by very strong performances, including the Oscar-nominated work of Mark Rylance, who exudes such a familiar presence I was legitimately shocked to learn I’d never seen him in anything before. As a tribute to American ideals from a filmmaker who really believes in them, Bridge of Spies acted like a tonic during this remarkably hideous election cycle.

Daniel: Inside Out, directed by Pete Docter & Ronnie Del Carmen

My valuation of Pixar films in recent years has dwindled. They’re still one of the best animation studios on the face of the planet, but it’s almost as if their sudden realization that they could make more money easier by compromising on quality, started to get the better of them. Thankfully Inside Out was good. Really good. The complexity of the theme was presented in a humorous and entertaining way that appeals to pretty much everyone. The story carried the weight and emotions of the situation tonally and visually so perfectly that it was so incredibly easy to get caught up in. The pacing was perfect, the film was visually vibrant and the cast was dead on in their roles. Delicate and difficult subjects are presented in ways that are easy to understand, but not watered down at all.

3.

Paul: Experimenter, directed by Michael Almereyda

There wasn’t another movie this year that eased me into its world with such cold precision. This is the story of Stanley Milgram, the social psychologist famous for his controversial experiments in the 1960s. The film explores all the ethical ins and outs while confronting the audience with the same questions. Peter Sarsgaard plays Milgram with charismatic nonchalance and icy composure, directly addressing the camera throughout. Many other deliberately artificial techniques are employed, including rear projection and the literalization of a certain metaphor. It all contributed to the eerie sensation that I was being tested, too. Experimenter is thought-provoking, informative, and emotionally true. These are all-too-rare qualities in biopics. As an exploration of the dark side of human nature, the film performs the same valuable service as the experiments themselves.

Daniel: Crimson Peak, directed by Guillermo del Toro

Advertised as a horror movie, in that respect it fell short. However, as a Gothic romance movie it hit the nail on the head… or in the head, if you prefer. Del Toro’s at his finest in what is arguably his most gorgeous film to date. Every frame of Crimson Peak is filled to the brim with contrasting colors impregnated with tension and mystery. It absolutely has horror elements, but it relies heavily on the brooding slow burning, gut wrenching crawling terror rather than the hack-and-slash that’s all too prevalent. Visually, this was like the “dark Cinderella” (another movie that almost made this list). However, rather than optimism an impending sense of dread lurks around the corner waiting to pop out with every ghost. Even when the movie is at its low points there is something to look at and wonder about. At its worst it’s beautiful, at its best it’s beautiful and completely gripping.

2.

Paul: Mad Max: Fury Road, directed by George Miller

I was actually on the fence about this one the first time I saw it, but I knew I wanted to see it again before the end of the year. With a second look, this movie now feels undeniable. George Miller’s big-budget cult film, the fourth of his sand-and-fire epics, is an absolutely marvelous action movie. Both the hand-to-hand combat and the vehicular spectacle are meticulously choreographed and vibrant. The sheer momentum of the thing is awe-inspiring. On top of that, Miller shrewdly sketches in character details, sometimes with only brief snatches of dialogue, bringing a whole society to life without needing to cut away from the action. The second viewing also clarified that the movie never repeats itself. This is a brilliant piece of entertainment that dares to argue for a better world.

Daniel: Star Wars: Episode VII-The Force Awakens, directed by J.J. Abrams

Arguably, this is on the list due entirely to nostalgia. That was, at least my thinking walking into the theater. I hadn’t had these feelings for a movie since 1999 with The Phantom Menace. In the middle of the film though, I realized there wasn’t anything even close to this caliber of storytelling and visual bravado in the sci-fi genre. The rich history of the Star Wars franchise could have allowed this to either go the way of Cars 2 or to be great. J.J. Abrams directed this film back into the level of filmmaking that Star Wars was originally known for. It continues the stories of the characters we’ve known for decades while giving us awesome new heroes to root for. 

1.

Paul: Inside Out, directed by Pete Docter & Ronnie Del Carmen

To be quite honest, I was hoping this wouldn’t be my #1 movie of the year. I think there are several Pixar films that are much better (although, compared to the studio’s output after Toy Story 3, it certainly stands out). No movie I’ve seen since was able to challenge it, although there are still a few from 2015 that I have my eye on. Anyway, this is an endlessly amusing, perfectly designed film that defines growing up as learning to process complex emotions. As a visual representation of the inner machinery of the heart, mind, and soul, the concept is right up my alley to a scary degree. Like The Forbidden Room, Inside Out takes a fresh look at the relationship between movies and dreams (the two films have nothing else in common, I assure you). The voice cast is impeccable, the score is lovely, and the ideas are placed in service of personal storytelling. There are more sequels on the way from Pixar, but I think they have their mojo back.

Daniel: Mad Max: Fury Road, directed by George Miller

I don’t think anyone was expecting this. I’m one of the people complaining about remakes and sequels to decades-old movies. Good grief did the trailer to this get me excited. But I’ve been burned by trailers before so I reserved excitement. Not only did this movie deliver on what it promised, but it’s now winning awards? It’s nominated for best picture? This is essentially a post-apocalyptic car chase movie across a desert. But man is it fun. George Miller gives us the flavor and absolutely insane world of Max but with better pacing and the level of action and stunts that he had only dreamed of. That passion for the weird and dangerous universe translates to screen and viewer flawlessly the most exciting and visually breathtaking movie of the year. I hadn’t smiled that big in theaters since Pacific Rim.

Shall We Dance?

Daniel: My introduction to non-American cinema was directly thanks to my mother. There were two films in particular that would frequently grace our home screen. First was Cyrano de Bergerac, the French tragic love story about a man with a beautiful soul trapped in an ugly body who lives through another. The second is Shall We Dance?, a Japanese film in which a stringent, married businessman becomes infatuated with a ballroom dance instructor. In his effort to get to know her, he finds fulfillment from his traditional life not in his infatuation, but rather in western style ballroom dancing. My mother loves this film and has passed that admiration for it down to me. While I don’t hold it in quite as high regard, I do thoroughly enjoy this film. The character arcs are delightful to watch. Seeing shy, traditional people come out of their shells and embrace something so out of the ordinary from their everyday life is far from a new concept in film circa 1996, however this is done so well, and in the context of Japanese culture it adds a level of gravity that acts as a catalyst for all dramatic interaction in the movie. What were your initial thoughts?

 

Paul: Dancing is fun. Any movie that takes an enthusiastic approach to the subject of dancing has a pretty good chance of being fun, too. Shall We Dance? takes the perspective of a middle-aged beginner who slowly learns to express himself in a new way. Shohei Sugiyama (Koji Yakusho) is a quiet, pensive sort, and when you also factor in the general Japanese discomfort with public dancing, it makes perfect sense that he would keep his newfound interest to himself. The secrecy has another motivation, though. Shohei first discovers dancing lessons when he stares out the window of a train at a woman staring out the window of a building. In some unspoken way, he becomes fascinated with this woman, Mai Kishikawa (Tamiyo Kusakari), a competitive dancer-turned-instructor. The tension is immediately apparent: will he have an affair or otherwise tarnish his reputation? The movie gracefully sidesteps that question — Mai isn’t interested. But there’s something transgressive even about the chaste pursuit of a new skill. I found it interesting that the movie’s title is rendered partly in English and partly in Japanese. I’m not sure if this is because the phrase, taken from the Rodgers and Hammerstein song in The King and I, doesn’t have a direct translation in Japanese. Maybe it’s just a nod to the culture clash. Either way, the sparse population of Shohei’s group lessons and some snickering in his office later in the film are the only real indicators that dancing isn’t very popular there.

 

Daniel: I think the snickering and the size of the class are decent indicators of the unpopularity of the pastime, but the real red flag is the sheer level of embarrassment some of the men have towards it. Shohei may have ulterior reasons for hiding his dance lessons, but it’s completely apparent that he is very uncomfortable with it at first. Then his co-worker, Tomio Aoki, wears a wig and becomes a completely different person when he shows up to lessons and competition. Regardless, I find the cultural setting of the film a very interesting back-drop to a well told, albeit borderline formulaic story. It was, as you alluded, a fun movie. While dancing is fun, it runs the risk of being boring if it’s not well done. If for no other reason than making me feel good while watching it, I really like Shall We Dance? Now, it made me feel good, but as an artifact of film, I thought it was well made. The acting, in particular Koji Yakusho was believable, and almost painfully awkward at times to watch. The cinematography, while not overly flashy, was simple and straightforward, it allowed the dances to be brought to life as the music guided the actors gracefully across the screen. Most “dance movies” that are popular, are so because of their flash, their big, show stopping numbers. Here, however, it was much more about the individuals encapsulated within this cultural oddity. It isn’t uncommon for Japanese businessmen to work long hours at high stress jobs. We’re shown this as a starting point for the story. As the protagonist heads home on his commute he decides to change a routine that he’s most likely stuck to hundreds upon hundreds of times before. He’s hollow inside, and he finds a joy through something that’s uncomfortable and frightening and exciting.

 

Paul: Part of what makes this a “feel-good” type of movie is its consistent sense of humor. Mr. Aoki is a great example. The movie got two big laughs out of me on account of that wig. Often the humor takes place in the background of shots, whether it’s a character’s reaction or just the amusing sight of a man dancing with himself. This exposes my main issue with the film, which is that the supporting characters (especially Aoki and the outspoken dancer Toyoko Takahashi [Eriko Watanabe]) are more interesting than the leads. I’m not saying I needed Shohei or Mai to have some crazy tic, like Aoki’s ninety-degree turns in the office. It’s okay that the main characters are more introspective, defined by unspoken longing. But by the time they explain themselves toward the end, nothing is revealed that I couldn’t basically guess already: he was having a mild mid-life crisis, she hated losing so much she forgot to have fun. The movie painted itself into a corner, because there’s no way these characters remain sympathetic if they actually have an affair. But in lieu of that, they can only teach each other pretty obvious lessons. The character I really wish I had seen more of is Shohei’s wife Masako (Hideko Hara). There’s a nice visual rhyme between Shohei’s first trip to the dance studio and Masako’s trip to the private detectives. Each of them hesitates and then unintentionally blocks the doorway for someone else. It was enough to make me wish the movie had more about their relationship. As it is, the natural solution to their problem (“Dance with your wife!”) is only discovered at the very end. Even just one scene between them in which she knew what he was doing, but he didn’t know she knew, might have been very interesting.

 

Daniel: If the movie left me wanting more, it was in the underlying relationship between the husband and the wife. I mean, he’s originally driven away from his wife, only to find solace in an activity rather than another woman. And I love when their daughter makes the two dance together, it’s probably my favorite scene in the movie, but there wasn’t much more to it. It was, honestly, the victory that I was wanting the entire time. It was Shohei not only embracing his new passion, but sharing it with the person that truly loved him and was willing to put herself out there to show it. The theme of “embarrassment” is pretty prevalent throughout. True, the movie does seem tame at times, in the sense that the only real consequences are slight social ridicule. But it’s perhaps a consequence that’s highly lost on a western audience. The subtleties of the movie and the lead characters lend itself to appear meek and at times predictable, but it largely detracted nothing from my enjoyment. Then again, I’ll admit that I’m highly susceptible to nostalgia, and this very well could be a blind spot for me.

 

Paul: I don’t mind the subtlety of the conflicts, and it’s nice to see a character embarking on a personal journey without realizing how important it will be to him until much later. I also see your point about social embarrassment being the driving force of the drama. At the big crisis moment during the dance competition, when Shohei sees his wife and daughter in the audience, he’s humiliated to an extent that does feel a little foreign. I wanted him to give just a little smile and/or wave to his family, but then again, he did bring the whole room to a standstill. Since dance functions as a sport in this film (training montages and all), it was refreshing to see the hero fall short of victory in the “big game,” and, even more than that, to see the competitive spirit treated as less than ideal to begin with. Mai’s lonely elitism and Toyoko’s self-destructive tenacity (she’s hospitalized at one point due to exhaustion) both get balanced out by Shohei’s naive enjoyment. What did you think of the build-up to the competition, and maybe some of the other supporting characters involved in it?

 

Daniel: While the excitement as the competition approaches is definitely there, pressure and all, I agree with your idea that it’s refreshing to see a “sports movie” where the competition wasn’t the end goal. Sure, a lot of movies will portray a character-driven story that’s supposed to have you more involved in the life of the athlete than in the competition itself. Just look at Rocky, it’s a fantastic movie, and he doesn’t even win, but the edge-of-your-seat climax is absolutely the fight between Rocky and Creed. Here it’s less so. It truly pushes the subtle dramatic moments into the light by alleviating the audience’s craving for competition. At least in my case. The supporting cast was fun, and as you pointed out, often more animated than the leads. I particularly enjoyed the character that’s overweight and how he overcomes his struggles both physically and mentally. There really is a wide variety of personalities that clash, and yet they’re all there voluntarily, because they’ve found something that they deem worth being embarrassed about. Perhaps it’s the socially anxious side of me, but I found that aspect of the film comforting.

 

Paul: Getting past social anxiety is, I think, one of the biggest attractions of dancing. If you’re really enjoying it, you lose all self-consciousness; you don’t think about people watching you, you just move in a way that feels good. That’s why the most embarrassing moments in the movie are when characters are forced to think about how they look, even more than when they make any other kind of mistake. It’s a form of acting, and sometimes it’s the quietest, most reserved people who are the best at it, letting that hidden side of themselves take over for a while.

I liked this movie. It didn’t throw any surprises my way, but it didn’t fall apart either. Shohei could have been more complex, and Mai never delivered on the mystery of her first appearance, looking out that window. When the protagonist is really just an observer of a strange new world, I look around for characters who are more active. Luckily, this movie has plenty of them. Shall We Dance? is about Japan, but I think the typical football-loving American will recognize the embarrassment about dancing, and hopefully the joy of it too.

Cyrano de Bergerac

Daniel: The utterances of a well-educated individual who is quick-witted and a master of his own language can be far more devastating than the cold steel of a rapier. Words are weapons, they cut deep and influence the masses. Words are waves, both forceful and soothing when used in the correct context. At least, this is what the titular Hercule-Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac would have you believe. Cyrano de Bergerac is a film that centers on the exchanging of both insults and passion. Our hero is a fiery poet and warrior who only lacks confidence in his appearance. While engaging in arguments and battle he is ruthless, able to dispatch enemies verbally and physically. His one love, Roxane, never knows his true feelings, as he considers his oversized nose too hideous for her to even consider him. So when Roxane confides in him as a friend that she has fallen in love with a young man by the name of Christian, Cyrano soon learns that, although handsome, Christian lacks the ability to eloquently express his affection for the beautiful Roxane. Throughout the film, Christian uses Cyrano’s words in the form of letters and recitations. Roxane begins to fall hopelessly in love with the words that Christian writes and speaks, all the while being wooed by borrowed words and passion.

This was a movie that I remember from my childhood as being very boring. My mom was absolutely in love with this film, and I dreaded the idea of having to sit through a subtitled love story. Having re-visited it for the first time in over a decade, I now see why she so fell in love with it. The amount of wit in the writing and the dedicated performances by the entire cast was far worth the run-time. Paul, I’m curious to hear your initial reaction to the movie.

Paul: “They’re kissing again,” you groaned as your grandfather, Peter Falk, read you the story. I can certainly understand that reaction. This movie is every stereotype about the French put into a single story, isn’t it? They’re just sitting around eating pastries and writing love sonnets all day — when they aren’t having swordfights while wearing capes, that is. I was first introduced to Cyrano in high school. I don’t remember if we read the whole play, or just portions of it, but I know at some point I watched both this film and the 1950 version with José Ferrer, which I’d say is more overtly comic. I really like this story. Cyrano is a hero of mine — both a lover and a fighter, not to mention the most romanticized version of a critic you can imagine. The story has a real integrity to it. The other characters aren’t particularly complex, but they fit together in such a way that the conflicts are never black and white. Christian is a decent fellow who honestly loves Roxane. I think it’s essential that Cyrano is the one with the idea that the two of them should join forces to create the perfect man. Instead of making Christian out to be a bully, the plan actually works in Cyrano’s favor. But the closer he gets to Roxane with his words, the more damage he feels like he’s causing, ever quelling his desire to reveal his secret. This is a classic dramatic scenario, one that’s popped up in numerous movies and shows since. Just last week, I saw a variation on it in an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. We can talk about how this particular version holds together, but I just think it’s hard to go wrong with this story. What are your thoughts on the writing and performances?

Daniel: Having been so long removed from the last time I watched the film I have to admit that the first few minutes were off-putting. You aren’t kidding when you say every “French stereotype” in the book is present. I was annoyed at everything from the guy stealing the pastry at the entrance to the theater to Cyrano himself berating the actor from the balcony…. and then that fop insulted Cyrano’s nose and the gloves came off. Gérard Depardieu shines as the titular warrior in both word and sword. His total commitment to the character is just as evident in the delivery of his lines as it is in his mannerisms. The gravity of Cyrano’s catch-22 situation is visible in every aspect of Depardieu’s demeanor. The more he expresses his love to Roxane, the more she falls in love with his words, and the further from him her heart wanders. As you said, it’s not an entirely novel concept today, but when it’s executed well it can really work. With the wit and word-smithing displayed in Cyrano de Bergerac it surpasses just working and excels. It’s a really good mix of action and dialogue that did it for me, not to mention Jean-Claud Petit’s score which at one point had me questioning if Danny Elfman had anything to do with it.

Anne Brochet portrays the spirited and beautiful Roxane. She lends a bit of humor to the film in her reactions to the letters sent by Cyrano and Christian, and shows real spirit and bravery in her willingness to risk everything for the man she thinks she loves. While not the biggest tragedy in the film, I couldn’t help but feel absolutely awful for the poor baker.

Paul: Yes, the baker’s wife has to be the practical one. That’s how it goes sometimes. One thing I appreciated about the opening scene was how we’re introduced to everything from the little boy’s perspective. The whole society looks so strange and interesting to a kid. The glimpse of the magic lantern show was an especially nice touch.

Petit’s music is lush and romantic, not only transporting us back to the nineteenth century, but also hearkening back to an earlier era of orchestral film scores. I noticed the Elfman connection as well. During Cyrano’s fight with the “hundred” assassins, the music seems to come straight out of Batman — which, unfortunately, dates the movie a little bit, since it came out only a year after the Tim Burton film. On the other hand, Cyrano is a nocturnal avenger in a cape, so it fits. That scene reminded me of a children’s book I remember checking out from the library once and never finding again. It was a Batman story, and I remember an illustration that showed Batman crossing swords with the Joker on a pirate ship. Comic book heroes are, at least sometimes, the next generation of swashbucklers, so it’s easy to connect with Cyrano in that way. But this story is more of a romance than an adventure, when we get right down to it. The war in which Cyrano and Christian fight is basically set dressing, as well as an opportunity for the villain, the Comte de Guiche, to be villainous some more. Roxane’s handling of him is one of the comedic highpoints of the film. He gives us someone to root against when the love triangle proves unsolvable.

Daniel: Therein lies the dilemma, who do we root for? As much as I wanted to stand behind Cyrano the entire time, I found myself liking Christian as well. He stood up to Cyrano, he had a brain (though he often found it difficult to use when interacting with Roxane), and above all, Roxane chose him at the get-go. It wasn’t until after Cyrano started penning his love letters that Roxane’s affections shifted from the good-looking man to the passion-filled soul that revealed itself through words. The story is rife with dramatic consequences and opportunities at every turn. I even found myself somewhat disdainful of Cyrano during the war due to the simple fact that he continued to profess his love to a married woman. Christian obviously felt the same once he, after far too long a time remaining oblivious, realized what was going on. I was most surprised at how well the movie holds up after nearly 25 years. I mean, we’re talking about a French period piece about a poet who has a large nose. Granted, the play is well over 100 years old, but I have never had the opportunity to observe it.

The English subtitles for this movie helped showcase the writing. For the majority of this film to practically be poetry, very little of it was lost in translation. I enjoyed the sound of the French language while at the same time being able to revel in the charm of the clever use of those words is a rare opportunity. I’ve seen my fair share of Foreign Language films, but few surpass Cyrano in this way.

Paul: The subtitles, translated by Anthony Burgess, really aid the theatricality of the whole thing. I agree, translating them into rhyming verse was no mean feat. In addition to being poetic, the dialogue forces us to look for something other than realism in the film. The premise — “I have a comical nose and therefore I will never find love, even though the rest of me looks like Gérard Depardieu and my writing literally makes women faint” — is something I simply choose to accept. Other versions of this story can find more compelling reasons for the Cyrano type to be unlucky in love, but the nose is an adequate symbol, and both Cyrano and Christian have a lot of fun with it. The scene in which Christian mocks the nose is amusing and also teaches an important, humbling lesson: insults are probably the lowest form of wit. Anyone with a little courage can find a reasonably clever way to make fun of someone else. Expressing adoration, however, is something else entirely.

To some extent, I’m tempted to ignore the nose altogether when thinking about the love triangle. Really, Roxane? That nose is enough to make the face “ugly”? What’s really happening is that these are two old friends, and one of them is content to stay that way. It might not even occur to her to go further than that, at least until it’s too late. And so we have Cyrano’s long, dramatic death scene, which I like to think of as “chivalry porn” (I use the term affectionately). It’s a great closing speech, and Depardieu absolutely nails it.

Daniel: To Cyrano’s fault, his abnormally large nose was an enemy mostly to himself, as you’ve alluded. He would get occasional remarks on its appearance, but no one mentioned it more than himself. As is oft the case, we find a way to mask our fears in something we can easily understand. The fear of rejection and from unrequited love is a truly terrifying force. In many ways I found Cyrano brave, however it was not he that took the risk in the letters he wrote to Roxane, rather it was the courageous, albeit somewhat dull, Christian. Had Cyrano’s letters been rejected, it would have hurt only his pride as a writer. That pride was incredibly immense, however he never took the risk of letting the object of his affection know the truth.

Ultimately, when the film ended and the credits rolled, I came away with the notion that I would watch this movie again. It’s a revelation I don’t have with every movie, as there are so many out there that do not merit even a second viewing. Cyrano de Bergerac was everything we’ve mentioned throughout this post, and it’s something worth sharing and discussing. Bordering the lands of drama, adventure and comedy is a precarious existence, one that Cyrano thrives on.

Paul: This film is a briskly paced, lovely adaptation of a classic story. Not quite as daring with its style as the title character is with his words, perhaps, but the director, Jean-Paul Rappeneau, never gets in the way either. It’s a theatrical endeavor, in the fullest and best sense of the word — a showcase for flamboyant acting and bold gestures, an enclosed world where passions roam free. The tributes to Shakespeare extend from a balcony scene to the multiple tragedies of the finale. Even in this world, pure love is an impossible ideal, and the expression of love is always compromised by circumstances. Sometimes, as you said, we get in our own way. But Cyrano lives on just like all poets do, with beautifully expressed ideas that can inspire and enlighten down through the ages. His reputation precedes him even more than that prodigious snout of his.