There are many great montages, and many poor ones. The following are three examples of good ones...
The Getaway (1972)
Sam Pekinpah in a several minutes credit sequence conveys both the claustrophobia of being imprisoned and massive amounts of character develop for Doc McCoy (Steve McQueen). Giving us McCoy's motivation for accepting the bank robbery job to come. (Which everyone of us, and even McCoy himself it seems, knows is going to go wrong.) He does this with the monotonous noises of manual labor combined with snippets of sheer boredom during incarceration and quick flashbacks to scene's of McCoy's former freedom.
The Watchmen (2009)
For the first ten minutes (set to Bob Dylan's The Times They Are a Changing) we see a summary of the history of the Watchmen. Not only do we quickly learn just about everything we need to know about them during the montage, we also feel an emotional connection with them after these few minutes. Not to mention the fact that it's set to Bob Dylan.
Up (2009)
During about the first five minutes of Up were Carl's life story (or so it seems). What's unique about this montage is that not only does it have such a powerful emotional impact, but it sets us in the spirit for a twilight/encore archetype story. Which is both the thesis and the antithesis of the film itself. The montage here not only sets up the movie, but points directly to and even states the films central theme and conflict... Without distracting us.
The montage is a very dangerous device. It's so easy to create a poor one. HOWEVER, they are most often done in lieu of utilizing flashbacks throughout a film. And flashbacks are even worse...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Villains of Film, Part 2: No Country For Old Men (2007)
The most central of villains are the type where the villain represents or completely encompasses the central theme of the film.
In the Dark Knight the Joker encompasses the films theme; chaos. He both enacts it and proclaims it, and it is his and only his character's theme. In No Country For Old Men the trick of the film is that at first it appears Chigurh (our villain) encompasses the theme of the film (death), but it's later revealed he merely enacts it.
During the course of the film he is the haunting inescapable death the looms over all the characters heads, until the very end of the film when it's revealed that he's merely our film's enactor of death. He's simply death's pawn, and we learn death looms over his head just like it looms over all others.
At the end of the film (primarily through dialogue) it's revealed that the theme isn't death... But the act of trying to escape it or even worse, retaliate against it.
From both the stories told and through the plot itself, we can see that the characters who came to the worst end were those who couldn't resign themselves to the fact that death would arrive(either immediately or in the future) and attempted to respond to it; to retaliate and interact with death.
The message of the film is that the only escape from death (for the time being) is to simply leave well enough alone: to stay out of death and its business.
Our hero is Tommy Lee Jones's sheriff. He lives because his primary concern is staying out of death's way, avoiding its path, and not interfering. He continually tries to remain as disinterested in the works of Chigurh (or death) as possible.
This is also the conflict of the film: is he correct in doing so? Isn't it his job to take interest in such matters?
The film leads us to believe the answer is yes and no. It is his job to protect the citizen as best as he can from certain forms of evil as a law man, but only so far as he is capable and has any sort of ability to control the form of evil at hand. Otherwise his duty as a human being is to leave such matters alone.
This is actually a fairly common theme and conflict in a great many stories/films. (A good film of the same theme I can think of off hand is a western starring Robert Mitchum titled The Track of The Cat.)
No Country For Old Men is a new and fresh re-envisioning of this theme primarily because it has a subtle yet direct sense of contrast.
Contrast is not only the primary way a film builds tension but also the primary tool to focus attention on the subject matter.
It is when the evil of our villain appears in the presence of something innocent and good that we feel the greatest sense of dread and tension. (In the Dark Knight the primary example is when he holds our female lead at knife-point and in No Country it is when Chigurh sits down with Lewellyn's wife.)
The contrast also highlights the theme of the film. If the Joker was not posed against other very non-chaotic characters, he would not appear so chaotic. And if Chigurh was not placed beside characters who were innocent and unconcerned with death, we wouldn't see so clearly how he has become death.
At the end of the film it is revealed Chigurh is not death itself, but rather a human. His proposed escape from death is to control it by becoming death itself, but he remains subject to the laws and forms of death like all other human beings.
Postlude: Beyond this the film is a beautifully choreographed slice of modern cinema. It's not stating anything new or unusual, it's simply stating it in a much better fashion than it has been before. Which is in reality the only value in storytelling; to re-tell.
Now if I could just stop buying so many DVDs I could make a decent go of things... I have such bad feelings about the opening of District 9... I want everyone to know I think it's going to suck...
In the Dark Knight the Joker encompasses the films theme; chaos. He both enacts it and proclaims it, and it is his and only his character's theme. In No Country For Old Men the trick of the film is that at first it appears Chigurh (our villain) encompasses the theme of the film (death), but it's later revealed he merely enacts it.
During the course of the film he is the haunting inescapable death the looms over all the characters heads, until the very end of the film when it's revealed that he's merely our film's enactor of death. He's simply death's pawn, and we learn death looms over his head just like it looms over all others.
At the end of the film (primarily through dialogue) it's revealed that the theme isn't death... But the act of trying to escape it or even worse, retaliate against it.
From both the stories told and through the plot itself, we can see that the characters who came to the worst end were those who couldn't resign themselves to the fact that death would arrive(either immediately or in the future) and attempted to respond to it; to retaliate and interact with death.
The message of the film is that the only escape from death (for the time being) is to simply leave well enough alone: to stay out of death and its business.
Our hero is Tommy Lee Jones's sheriff. He lives because his primary concern is staying out of death's way, avoiding its path, and not interfering. He continually tries to remain as disinterested in the works of Chigurh (or death) as possible.
This is also the conflict of the film: is he correct in doing so? Isn't it his job to take interest in such matters?
The film leads us to believe the answer is yes and no. It is his job to protect the citizen as best as he can from certain forms of evil as a law man, but only so far as he is capable and has any sort of ability to control the form of evil at hand. Otherwise his duty as a human being is to leave such matters alone.
This is actually a fairly common theme and conflict in a great many stories/films. (A good film of the same theme I can think of off hand is a western starring Robert Mitchum titled The Track of The Cat.)
No Country For Old Men is a new and fresh re-envisioning of this theme primarily because it has a subtle yet direct sense of contrast.
Contrast is not only the primary way a film builds tension but also the primary tool to focus attention on the subject matter.
It is when the evil of our villain appears in the presence of something innocent and good that we feel the greatest sense of dread and tension. (In the Dark Knight the primary example is when he holds our female lead at knife-point and in No Country it is when Chigurh sits down with Lewellyn's wife.)
The contrast also highlights the theme of the film. If the Joker was not posed against other very non-chaotic characters, he would not appear so chaotic. And if Chigurh was not placed beside characters who were innocent and unconcerned with death, we wouldn't see so clearly how he has become death.
At the end of the film it is revealed Chigurh is not death itself, but rather a human. His proposed escape from death is to control it by becoming death itself, but he remains subject to the laws and forms of death like all other human beings.
Postlude: Beyond this the film is a beautifully choreographed slice of modern cinema. It's not stating anything new or unusual, it's simply stating it in a much better fashion than it has been before. Which is in reality the only value in storytelling; to re-tell.
Now if I could just stop buying so many DVDs I could make a decent go of things... I have such bad feelings about the opening of District 9... I want everyone to know I think it's going to suck...
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Villains of Film, Part 1: The Dark Knight (2008)
I've seen very few effective villains.
Some examples of good central villains I recall are Bruno from Strangers on a Train, the old man played by John Huston in Chinatown, possibly the son in Psycho... (I would include the shark from Jaws... An argument could also be made for HAL from 2001.)
Another type is the many/multiple villains type; Birds or Jurassic Park.
Most often the villain is simply life itself and all it's workings... Think of all the films you really love and you'll be hard pressed to find that they include much of (if any at all) a villain character.
Writers talk about about how much fun it is to write a villain. Well evidently most of them are having a blast and doing a poor job of it. A villain is often an excuse to create a somewhat interesting character with extreme personality traits; a character who does things outside the norm, a foil, a backdrop to set other characters against. (The latter being one of the better lesser reasons to create a villain.)
1) A good villain has significant well crafted traits of his/her own including a philosophy, idiosyncrasies, a purpose and motivation.
The Joker here has a personality with quirks, motivation, surprise motivations, and even a sense of realistic sarcasm. His character comes through in specific moments (one of my favourites is after Batman slides his bike down on the pavement and as the Joker is trying to open Batman's mask... Gordon sneaks up behind him at gunpoint and the Joker states dryly, "Can you just give me a couple minutes?")
2) A villain has an effective and believable influence over characters and the viewer.
Here, thanks in very large part to Ledger brilliant execution, we have an enigmatic villain... He's so intriguingly executed I couldn't wait for Batman to leave the screen and the Joker's re-entrance. He's creepy, yet beautiful and attractive. I can buy into the fact he's doing the very things he's doing on screen and influencing the people he's influencing.
Postlude:
I'm not a real fan of the film for the same reason I disliked Batman Begins. They were both so thick and required a good deal of investment (with little return) that it felt like a chore to watch them. (It feels this way with a great deal of DC Comics films.)
I'd say The Dark Knight is a long way from the best comic film, but it put it in for having one of Hollywood's best villains.
Some examples of good central villains I recall are Bruno from Strangers on a Train, the old man played by John Huston in Chinatown, possibly the son in Psycho... (I would include the shark from Jaws... An argument could also be made for HAL from 2001.)
Another type is the many/multiple villains type; Birds or Jurassic Park.
Most often the villain is simply life itself and all it's workings... Think of all the films you really love and you'll be hard pressed to find that they include much of (if any at all) a villain character.
Writers talk about about how much fun it is to write a villain. Well evidently most of them are having a blast and doing a poor job of it. A villain is often an excuse to create a somewhat interesting character with extreme personality traits; a character who does things outside the norm, a foil, a backdrop to set other characters against. (The latter being one of the better lesser reasons to create a villain.)
1) A good villain has significant well crafted traits of his/her own including a philosophy, idiosyncrasies, a purpose and motivation.
The Joker here has a personality with quirks, motivation, surprise motivations, and even a sense of realistic sarcasm. His character comes through in specific moments (one of my favourites is after Batman slides his bike down on the pavement and as the Joker is trying to open Batman's mask... Gordon sneaks up behind him at gunpoint and the Joker states dryly, "Can you just give me a couple minutes?")
2) A villain has an effective and believable influence over characters and the viewer.
Here, thanks in very large part to Ledger brilliant execution, we have an enigmatic villain... He's so intriguingly executed I couldn't wait for Batman to leave the screen and the Joker's re-entrance. He's creepy, yet beautiful and attractive. I can buy into the fact he's doing the very things he's doing on screen and influencing the people he's influencing.
Postlude:
I'm not a real fan of the film for the same reason I disliked Batman Begins. They were both so thick and required a good deal of investment (with little return) that it felt like a chore to watch them. (It feels this way with a great deal of DC Comics films.)
I'd say The Dark Knight is a long way from the best comic film, but it put it in for having one of Hollywood's best villains.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
3 Modern Action Films, Part 3: Star Trek (2009)
Here we have a film that's a great example of a modern action film.
The suspense is driven by the physical peril. (Action)
It's relevant to today's culture. (Modern)
In this case it's accomplished through a distinctly retro medium. This works primarily because Star Trek was, in its time, a distinctly modern medium. Consider the issues the original series addressed; racial issues, peacekeeping, etc. During the original Star Trek's era those were the current issues
Secondarily it's accomplished through some subtle and not so subtle means.
A) The "shakey cam" is used. The shakey cam is a rather prominent feature of our decade's filmworks. Note that it's used most prominently in the opening battle sequence of the film; this serves as a kind of introduction announcing: "Hey, we're a modern film."
(Please note that I strongly dislike shakey cam work, but I accept it as an appropriate artistic tool when used to update the medium, as in Star Trek... Also it's used during situations of battle and peril... Instead of constantly utilizing it to approximate a general sense of breathing. [Which is what I suppose many cinematographers are doing: shakey cam for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.])
B) This film rewrites the whole Star Trek series in a way that highlights more modern concerns; the search for identity, the irresponsibility and delinquency of adults in their 20s, and fatherless homes. It manages to rewrite it without breaking or destroying any of the original characterizations or timelines.
C) It injects 2 modern songs amongst the orchestration. And yes, all your fears shall be allayed, the first is a Beastie Boys song. This not only serves to once again state, "This is a modern film." It also says, "This is an American film."
Let this be a lesson in how to ensure a film is a modern statement (as opposed to Quantum of Solace's methodology).
It is not a great film; it is a cool modern action film.
Postlude:
Spock is the awesomeness here. I don't really look forward to the sequel. Live long and prosper. Now I must shower for my part-time job at Wawa.
The suspense is driven by the physical peril. (Action)
It's relevant to today's culture. (Modern)
In this case it's accomplished through a distinctly retro medium. This works primarily because Star Trek was, in its time, a distinctly modern medium. Consider the issues the original series addressed; racial issues, peacekeeping, etc. During the original Star Trek's era those were the current issues
Secondarily it's accomplished through some subtle and not so subtle means.
A) The "shakey cam" is used. The shakey cam is a rather prominent feature of our decade's filmworks. Note that it's used most prominently in the opening battle sequence of the film; this serves as a kind of introduction announcing: "Hey, we're a modern film."
(Please note that I strongly dislike shakey cam work, but I accept it as an appropriate artistic tool when used to update the medium, as in Star Trek... Also it's used during situations of battle and peril... Instead of constantly utilizing it to approximate a general sense of breathing. [Which is what I suppose many cinematographers are doing: shakey cam for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.])
B) This film rewrites the whole Star Trek series in a way that highlights more modern concerns; the search for identity, the irresponsibility and delinquency of adults in their 20s, and fatherless homes. It manages to rewrite it without breaking or destroying any of the original characterizations or timelines.
C) It injects 2 modern songs amongst the orchestration. And yes, all your fears shall be allayed, the first is a Beastie Boys song. This not only serves to once again state, "This is a modern film." It also says, "This is an American film."
Let this be a lesson in how to ensure a film is a modern statement (as opposed to Quantum of Solace's methodology).
It is not a great film; it is a cool modern action film.
Postlude:
Spock is the awesomeness here. I don't really look forward to the sequel. Live long and prosper. Now I must shower for my part-time job at Wawa.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
3 Modern Action Films, Part 2: Quantum of Solace (2008)
My favourite part of a saga is not the birth of the character; it's the maturation of the character. The second film of a trilogy appeals to me the most (consider The Empire Strikes Back). Or films that are set long after the character's birth(see Chinatown).
I want to see what a character is "made of", not how they were made.
I anticipated great things for Quantum Of Solace.
In my opinion Casino Royale was a solid effort and revitalized a very tired series, but was a traditional action story. Casino Royale was about the struggle of learning to kill: a struggle I cannot identify with at all. Quantum of Solace about the struggle against succumbing to nihilism and vengeance: a struggle I often identify with. Quantum of Solace's content was original, contemplative, and considerably more nuanced than Casino Royale. However...
I want to see what a character is "made of", not how they were made.
I anticipated great things for Quantum Of Solace.
In my opinion Casino Royale was a solid effort and revitalized a very tired series, but was a traditional action story. Casino Royale was about the struggle of learning to kill: a struggle I cannot identify with at all. Quantum of Solace about the struggle against succumbing to nihilism and vengeance: a struggle I often identify with. Quantum of Solace's content was original, contemplative, and considerably more nuanced than Casino Royale. However...
I submit to the readers the following:
AN ACTION FILM MUST HOLD MY ATTENTION THROUGH CHARACTER INTEREST, THE NATURE OF THE PLOT ITSELF, OR (AT THE VERY LEAST) THE SHEER COOLNESS OF THE ACTION.
The film has some of the best frames I've seen. (Craig in the car chase sequence at the beginning of the film shown shifting gears and concentrating on corners. Also later in the film, the way Craig's motorbike is held in position on frame while tracking the motion almost perfectly.) But these great looking frames are never on screen long enough for us to appreciate the action. We never get more than a quarter second peek at Craig's face. THE CHARACTER INTEREST IN AN ACTION FILM IS ALWAYS DRIVEN BY THE FACE OF THE ACTOR HIMSELF. We never have this. The one time I got a decent look at Craig's face it was quite late in the film... And he had sunglasses on!
BY NOT EVEN BEING ABLE TO LOOK AT THE LEAD, WE ARE NEVER GIVEN A CHANCE TO DEVELOP INTEREST IN HIS CHARACTER.
I think we were supposed to develop a deeper interest in M's character. One of their fellow agents calls her "mother" (I think, but it's so hard to hear) at the beginning of the film... Perhaps her agents hold a matriarchal view of her befitting her code name? I think she was supposed to be smoking in that other scene? But how could I tell? The whole scene was maybe 3 seconds long... These would have been some great details had we actually seen them.
I've never seen such a rushed film. From the constant jump cuts (Bond walking down a hallway 40 ft from the corner cuts to him already on the other side. Or when he dresses himself after killing his assailant with split second cuts: cleaning his bloody nose/cut/putting half an arm through shirt/cut/buttoning one button/cut/walks out door.), to the air being taken out of the dialogue on scale with "Ask A Ninja".
THE PACE IS SO HECTIC WE CAN'T EVEN DIGEST THE PLOT.
The sheer speed everything happens at never lets us even begin to understand what's going on. Hell, not only can we not figure out why somebody did something (the plot)... We couldn't even tell what it was they did! (the action) Sure, you could figure all this out by watching it three times... But who'd want to?
ACTION IS NOT EQUAL TO COOLNESS HERE, BECAUSE YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL WHAT JUST HAPPENED.
Therefore, the film fails to generate character interest, plot interest, and even sheer coolness. As a member of the action genre, it fails.
I'm not saying that this is an illegitimate way to cut a film. As a post-modern action film, this may be a very legitimate statement: action in reality is so complex, confusing and quick that you really may have no idea what is going on and only instinct will allow survival. (Anyone who's been in a situation of peril will note that this is probably a true statement.) If this was the director/editor's philosophy in the creation of this film, I applaud their chutzpah. If it wasn't, I have even more contempt for this film than I already do.
BUT, even if you were trying to make such a statement, this is still the wrong film to do it in. There is no way around the tradition of a Bond film (and the audience's expectations because of that tradition). Nobody comes to this film for those sorts artistic musings. Nobody is prepared to interpret this film in that way. A James Bond film is not post-modern; it's barely just become a modern action medium.
As a film it was a very artistic effort, maybe... But surely a complete artistic failure.
Postlude:
I actually enjoy the content of Quantum of Solace enough that I prefer it to Casino Royale... But I also admit it's a far inferior film.
If only Public Enemies would hurry to theatre...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
3 Modern Action Films, Part 1: Fast & Furious (2009)
I went to see this film in the theatre the other day and, like I usually do when I've enjoyed a film, I'm trying to figure out why.
A massive percentage of action films are pointless. By pointless I mean: they have no moral message or personal lesson. I credit Casino Royale, Transformers, and The Bourne Series as being some of the better films of this type.
Basically, I stop and ask myself, "Why are people in general (including myself) attracted to these films?"
1) The plot, style, and editting aren't so inferior that you have no idea what you just saw.
Note failures like Quantum of Solace or Bangkok Dangerous. In a good action film these typical failures are either not present, or there are too few to distract you from the film.
2) The film allows/brings out the animal instinct in us. Survival, revenge, power/strength, adrenaline.
BECAUSE LET'S FACE IT: We like action, we just don't like it when the movie sucked so hard we couldn't enjoy it.
Beyond those bare factors of an action film, there is another:
3) The existence of a theme for the film. Is the film's theme strong? At the forefront? Relevant? Not split up into too many themes that we can't focus?
Some action films that have succeeded in the continuity and strength of theme are films like The Searchers, The Wild Bunch, Collateral and, I believe, Fast & Furious.
Fast & Furious caries the theme of walking not above the law, but outside it. The power of knowing that out of sheer masculinity you can walk into a room and own it. Power and control. Having the magic touch of being better than luck itself. KNOWING you're just that good at it. Riding like the gods, if you will. The theme is strong, relevant, and continuous.
And the film succeeds on the first two points. The action is good and the plot and characters are conceivable and intact. Apparently the editor was NOT on crack. And the adrenaline is pure when it's supposed to be.
I submit it's an unusually good action flick on those three accounts and if the theme appeals to you personally, you should see it.
NOTE: There is also another type of action film that succeeds at 1, 2, 3, AND has a message. Bullit and The First Deadly Sin are the only two ones that I can think of at the moment.
Postlude:
Fast & Furious has one of the best endings I've seen in quite a time. Perhaps THE best ending for an action flick that I can recall. (Casino Royale would be in the competition.)
Vin Diesel just put himself in the company of the Jason Statham and Daniel Craig.
The film was directed by Justin Lin who also did a superb job directing the original cautionary tale titled, Better Luck Tomorrow... I should rewatch that and review it at a later date...
A massive percentage of action films are pointless. By pointless I mean: they have no moral message or personal lesson. I credit Casino Royale, Transformers, and The Bourne Series as being some of the better films of this type.
Basically, I stop and ask myself, "Why are people in general (including myself) attracted to these films?"
1) The plot, style, and editting aren't so inferior that you have no idea what you just saw.
Note failures like Quantum of Solace or Bangkok Dangerous. In a good action film these typical failures are either not present, or there are too few to distract you from the film.
2) The film allows/brings out the animal instinct in us. Survival, revenge, power/strength, adrenaline.
BECAUSE LET'S FACE IT: We like action, we just don't like it when the movie sucked so hard we couldn't enjoy it.
Beyond those bare factors of an action film, there is another:
3) The existence of a theme for the film. Is the film's theme strong? At the forefront? Relevant? Not split up into too many themes that we can't focus?
Some action films that have succeeded in the continuity and strength of theme are films like The Searchers, The Wild Bunch, Collateral and, I believe, Fast & Furious.
Fast & Furious caries the theme of walking not above the law, but outside it. The power of knowing that out of sheer masculinity you can walk into a room and own it. Power and control. Having the magic touch of being better than luck itself. KNOWING you're just that good at it. Riding like the gods, if you will. The theme is strong, relevant, and continuous.
And the film succeeds on the first two points. The action is good and the plot and characters are conceivable and intact. Apparently the editor was NOT on crack. And the adrenaline is pure when it's supposed to be.
I submit it's an unusually good action flick on those three accounts and if the theme appeals to you personally, you should see it.
NOTE: There is also another type of action film that succeeds at 1, 2, 3, AND has a message. Bullit and The First Deadly Sin are the only two ones that I can think of at the moment.
Postlude:
Fast & Furious has one of the best endings I've seen in quite a time. Perhaps THE best ending for an action flick that I can recall. (Casino Royale would be in the competition.)
Vin Diesel just put himself in the company of the Jason Statham and Daniel Craig.
The film was directed by Justin Lin who also did a superb job directing the original cautionary tale titled, Better Luck Tomorrow... I should rewatch that and review it at a later date...
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
On The Waterfront ('54)
I enjoy Elia Kazan's other works (especially East of Eden), but Kazan always relied heavily on his lead actors. Kazan painted his films in very broad encompassing strokes, and left it up to the lead actor/actress to bring the story down to an empathetic level. I chose this film not because of the film, but because of Marlon Brando.
Brando was one of the few great sensual young actors. Others that come to mind are Paul Newman and Steve McQueen. But those actors still pale in comparison; Paul Newman didn't turn out a truely good performance until Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid ('69) and Steve McQueen until The Cincinnati Kid ('65) (or more probably Bullitt in 1968). Both of these actors had been through most of their "hits" already.
But in '54 Brando had just begun; with several previous successes in '51 and '53. In On The Waterfront he creates a diverse sense of empathy for his character. He connects with the audience by specific physical and audiological idiosyncrasies that directly contrast with his imposing physical appearance and tough guy persona. He highlights the internal conflict of toughness/composure vs. vulnerability and empathy for the plight of those surrounding him. It's done with a masterful stroke right on the razor's edge between not enough and over the top.
I don't mind stating that he gives one of the finest performances I've seen on screen here. He handles everything nearly without flaw. And several times rescues scenes from their own ham-handed writing; turning them gem-like. I can honestly say he is at moments (to borrow an over-worn cliche) electrifying.
Also, this film contains what is for me, one of the most gut wrenching scenes in film history. It's a scene that presents both a direct brotherly betrayal and the redemption of that brother through great sacrifice. I won't go into too many details about the plot but when dialogue like this appears on film it just tears me to pieces;
************************
Charlie: "Look, kid, I - how much you weigh, son? When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, and that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast. "
Terry: "It wasn't him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, 'Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson.' You remember that? 'This ain't your night'! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money. "
Charlie: "Oh I had some bets down for you. You saw some money. "
Terry: "You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley. "
********************
Personally, it's a very terrifying scene and brings me to tears. It's a scene about brotherly failure and eventually redemption.
All that being said; the film ends up resolving into a story of sociopolitical redemption and I find it quite difficult to identify with. I always end up feeling that it short cuts past personal redemption.
I also despise the film's score. I think it's the reason Bernstein only did one film score: he sucked profoundly at it. The score literally covers up the dialogue and action to the point that it's hard to focus in some places. (Though this was fairly typical of a great many films from the 50s.)
The sets are sometimes lacking in both form and fuction and can hinder the believability; you just don't feel the situation sometimes. This is forgivable, but not as much when the director relies so heavily on the situational conflict as Kazan does in this film.
In short; I dislike it as a movie.
Postlude:
Brando had an unusual career. It seems after the Godfather he became so eccentric and quirky that he lost most of his ability to identify with the general public, including me. I recommend his works up to and including that point with very few reservations.
Kudos also go to both Rod Steiger as Brando's brother and Karl Malden as the priest.
Now if the library will finally get my copy of A Streetcar Named Desire in... Wait, they're calling now...
Brando was one of the few great sensual young actors. Others that come to mind are Paul Newman and Steve McQueen. But those actors still pale in comparison; Paul Newman didn't turn out a truely good performance until Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid ('69) and Steve McQueen until The Cincinnati Kid ('65) (or more probably Bullitt in 1968). Both of these actors had been through most of their "hits" already.
But in '54 Brando had just begun; with several previous successes in '51 and '53. In On The Waterfront he creates a diverse sense of empathy for his character. He connects with the audience by specific physical and audiological idiosyncrasies that directly contrast with his imposing physical appearance and tough guy persona. He highlights the internal conflict of toughness/composure vs. vulnerability and empathy for the plight of those surrounding him. It's done with a masterful stroke right on the razor's edge between not enough and over the top.
I don't mind stating that he gives one of the finest performances I've seen on screen here. He handles everything nearly without flaw. And several times rescues scenes from their own ham-handed writing; turning them gem-like. I can honestly say he is at moments (to borrow an over-worn cliche) electrifying.
Also, this film contains what is for me, one of the most gut wrenching scenes in film history. It's a scene that presents both a direct brotherly betrayal and the redemption of that brother through great sacrifice. I won't go into too many details about the plot but when dialogue like this appears on film it just tears me to pieces;
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Charlie: "Look, kid, I - how much you weigh, son? When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, and that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast. "
Terry: "It wasn't him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, 'Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson.' You remember that? 'This ain't your night'! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money. "
Charlie: "Oh I had some bets down for you. You saw some money. "
Terry: "You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you, Charley. "
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Personally, it's a very terrifying scene and brings me to tears. It's a scene about brotherly failure and eventually redemption.
All that being said; the film ends up resolving into a story of sociopolitical redemption and I find it quite difficult to identify with. I always end up feeling that it short cuts past personal redemption.
I also despise the film's score. I think it's the reason Bernstein only did one film score: he sucked profoundly at it. The score literally covers up the dialogue and action to the point that it's hard to focus in some places. (Though this was fairly typical of a great many films from the 50s.)
The sets are sometimes lacking in both form and fuction and can hinder the believability; you just don't feel the situation sometimes. This is forgivable, but not as much when the director relies so heavily on the situational conflict as Kazan does in this film.
In short; I dislike it as a movie.
Postlude:
Brando had an unusual career. It seems after the Godfather he became so eccentric and quirky that he lost most of his ability to identify with the general public, including me. I recommend his works up to and including that point with very few reservations.
Kudos also go to both Rod Steiger as Brando's brother and Karl Malden as the priest.
Now if the library will finally get my copy of A Streetcar Named Desire in... Wait, they're calling now...
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