Eric Rohmer

1920-2010

When you finally dive into French New Wave, you eventually get to Eric Rohmer. You start with Godard or Truffaut. Which one? It's really circumstance. I started with Godard because Breathless was in a bargain bin at Best Buy during the height of my bulk DVD buying. DVD's were brand new, and for some reason, I had to have a lot of them. It could have easily been Truffaut instead. It's circumstance. Who recommends French New Wave to you, a Godard guy, or a Truffaut guy? Which DVD is in the bargain bin? What movie is IFC showing the night you give French New Wave a shot? Which movie is "watch now" on Netflix? You don't have time to wait for something to be delivered. It could be a lot of things. The thing is, your start is going to be one of the two. And then it's off to the other.

Rohmer comes some time after that. For me, it was after Melville too. Rohmer happened fourth. I suspect Rohmer comes fourth for a lot of people. And that's not a slight. It's just the natural order of things. Carl Perkins might be the best of Sun Records, but you're going to get to him after Elvis and Johnny Cash. That's just the way it goes. Rohmer's place in the French New Wave, is sort of like Carl Perkins. It's not the first name that's brought up, but it's still a very significant one. And since we all dig different things, for some, Rohmer is their guy, not the guys that routinely get mentioned before him.

Love in the Afternoon aka Chloe in the Afternoon (1972)

I always liked the American Chloe title better. For me, it's Chloe's movie, and I like to see her name in the title. You could also make the argument that it was never actually "love" in the afternoon. So there's that too. But most importantly, Chloe in the Afternoon just sounds better.

This was the first Rohmer flick I saw. I had no idea about his Six Moral Tales yet. I was just randomly picking a Rohmer movie to watch, and it happened to be this one. It was probably the title, now that I think about it. But I have to say, out of all of my first introductions to French New Wave directors, I responded the most to Chloe. Godard's Breathless left me a little flat after all it's hype, and while Truffaut's The 400 Blows and Melville's Le Samourai were movies I immediately loved, there was just something about Chloe.

I think it might have the Chloe character herself. In what I would later see as the norm in Rohmer's movies, because he took the time, a painful amount of time to some, to develop characters, a lot of times in lieu of worrying about plot, he was a master at creating characters we've never seen before. And Chloe was certainly that. It was this odd combination of sex goddess, and kid sister. She was constantly testing him. And being open about. "I know we're not friends. I was just testing you," she'd say. Chloe was unlike any character I had ever seen.
And I couldn't really tell you why. That was the beauty of Rohmer's characters. He was so involved in creating nuance and subtlety, that you recognize that something is different, but you can't really place your finger on what it is.

One thing that is interesting to me, a lot of people are going to experience an Eric Rohmer movie for the first time in the coming weeks. The news of his death, is probably the first time a lot of budding movie buffs have heard his name. They're going to be curious, they'll read In Memory's which praise his talents, and they're going to be renting, buying, streaming, Chloe in the Afternoon, and other Rohmer films like it. I'm sure his films will be just as polarizing as ever, and that's really exciting. Masters like Rohmer never really go away. Not even in death.

5 Overrated Movies of the Decade

Overrated is a strange word, because it's so subjective. In reality, these are just movies that a lot of people really dig, that I don't really share the same feelings with. The strangest part about it, the more praise, or overpraise by your estimation, that movie gets, the movie just gets exponentially worse. It becomes more of a reaction to how the movie is being talked about, then the movie itself.

There's two types of movies that make one's overrated list. Those that are okay, middle of the road, maybe even enjoyable, but they get overpraised, so the backlash begins. Then you start to see the flaws more than the things you may have enjoyed the first time. Little by little, you start to dislike the movie, maybe even hate it. It's not fair to the movie. It's actually really stupid. But that's just what happens.

Then, there's the other type of movie. And there's no mercy for these ones. There's no, "maybe I'm not being fair," thoughts. These movies suck. But they win awards, get hailed by critics, and you start to wonder what you're doing on this planet. You can not be the same species as these other people. It doesn't make sense. These movies enrage you.

Both types of movies make my list. This isn't a definitive list. That's why you won't find "most" in the title. Truth is, I thought of ten quickly, the first five I mustered up enough energy to write about struck me as some sort of editing by my unconscious. These must be the most overrated of the ten, because they're the ones I wanted to write about most. And that was that. The first four could be any order. The last is last for a reason. It makes me angry just thinking about it.

So here it is. 5 Overrated Movies of the Decade.



The Dark Knight (2008)

I imagine if you had no visuals, and you just listened to the sounds of this movie, like when you used to be able to listen to scrambled porn on your early 90's cable box, The Dark Knight would sound a lot like Tom Waits battling himself. Like some sort of schizophrenic meltdown, with great sound effects to bring his delusions to life. Ledger was obviously doing an impression of Tom's speaking voice. And you got Bale there, doing god knows what really, who's Batman was unintentionally sounding like Tom singing The Piano Has Been Drinking or some shit. It's complete madness.

Which brings me to something that I'm shocked I don't see written more often; Christian Bale is not a good actor. I don't know when the perception that he is took over the collective consciousness of movie goers. I missed that. But he's actually quite terrible, and I wish more people would admit this. His Batman, I'm going to be honest, I really have no idea what he's doing. Auditioning for a Norwegian death metal band maybe. I really don't know. But what's more troubling to me is his Bruce Wayne is just as unconvincing. When he walks into that party with a girl on each arm, it's cartoonish. I guess it's supposed to be. But you should believe that this is a part of Bruce Wayne's life. Rich bachelor, banging broads two at a time. That's what rich bachelors do. With Bale's Wayne, I don't believe that to be the case. Bale actually had me waxing nostalgic about Val Kilmer. Seriously, here me out on this one. Val was a terrible Batman. I know. But Val was a great Bruce Wayne. And here's why; You see Val Kilmer walk into a room with two girls, with that smug Val Kilmer smile, you're not going to doubt for a second that you're looking at some rich asshole who never had to work a day in his life. Because that's what Bruce Wayne is. A rich asshole, who never had to work a day in his life. And more importantly, you're not going to doubt for a second that Val will be having some sort of filthy sex with those two later that night. With Bale, I feel like he was trying harder for Harvey Dent's affection in that dinner scene in the restaurant.

Onto the movie as a whole. I liked it. Is it more than a goofy comic book movie, like some would have you believe? Absolutely not. And it can never be with Bale's performance. Batman is the centerpiece of this whole thing, and Batman is not very good. It's that simple. The sonar device thing, that's something Adam West would have been perfectly comfortable doing. It was completely ridiculous. It's a good comic book movie with one great performance in it. That's it. It didn't reinvent the genre. It didn't transcend the genre. And it is not a movie that should have been talked about like it's one of the greats of this early century. It currently is being talked about that way. That's why it makes this list. For people to think The Dark Knight is one of the great cinematic achievements of this century; a guy in a scuba suit, doing a Louie Armstrong impression, swinging off 757 planes that are in flight, one of the great films of the century? Never in a million years would I have ever guessed I would be so out of touch.



Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (2004)

I practically worshiped Tarantino in the 90's. He was that guy as I started to develop a love for movies. Not to get all Zach Braffesque, but Pulp Fiction was the closest thing a movie ever got to "changing my life," man. Now my life didn't actually change. It was only a movie. But the way I watched movies did change. Nothing was quite the same after that. Things I used to think were awesome, seemed stupid and childish. A lot of things even still seem childish and stupid (see Dark Knight) post Pulp. So I got love for QT. And I will defend his first three movies to any little shit in future generations that don't quite get the significance or the undeniable badassness of those 3 films. That's already happening, by the way. So with all that said, I must now reveal, I did not like Kill Bill: Vol. 2. Like the picture above, I thought it was mostly Tarantino sucking.

Like Tarantino, I'm going to go out of order and bring this back to Jackie Brown. Jackie Brown was not quite as good as Pulp, in my opinion. But it was more mature. It showed a considerable amount of growth in Tarantino as a filmmaker. It was progress. That was the thing about his first three films. There was a progression in him, where you saw him getting better each time. But each film was good enough on it's own, where any one of them could have been your favorite. You'd hear stuff like, "Pulp is better, but I still like R. Dogs more." It could even depend on what day it was. What mood. After Jackie Brown, Tarantino disappeared for five years. He apparently didn't do much, partied, smoked weed, watched cartoons, bascically lived like Lance in Pulp Fiction. I feel like Tarantino's natural evolution as an artist was lost between the seat cushions of some couch in those five years. He was just never quite the same after that.

Which brings me to Kill Bill: Vol 1. In a lot of ways, Vol. 1 is what Grindhouse should have been. All out action, one fun scene after another, a Sex and Fury type of thing. It wasn't as good a movie as Jackie Brown, but it wasn't trying to be. And that's why Vol. 1 succeeded for me. But at the same time, the film-to-film progress that we were seeing in the 90's, was gone.

Which brings me to Kill Bill: Vol. 2. Vol. 2, is the opposite of Vol. 1. It's trying to be a great movie. And it just isn't. A movie about a group of female Kung-Fu assassins, should not take itself as seriously as Vol. 2 does. The overlong training act is paint by numbers anyway. Bill, in his lush mansion, comes across like a bad 80's villain. Michael Parks' most interesting man in the world thing, another over the top 80's villain. And for as a nice sentiment and personal as the Bride/Daughter stuff might have been, it's still melodrama. "The lioness has her cub." Oh, why did you write that, Quentin? And why the fuck was this little girl so quick to accept this complete stranger as her mother? "Thank you, mighty Lioness, for killing the only person I ever knew as a parental figure. I love you."

Believe it or not, there's things I like about Vol. 2. It's Tarantino, so there's always great stuff in his movies, even when I think they fail as a whole. The buried alive sequence freaked me out more than any torture porn movie could ever hope to. And then there's Bill's Superman speech. Wow, the Superman speech. Having the benefit of retrospect now, to me, the Superman speech, is probably Tarantino's last gasp of greatness. They say that about fighters. A boxer who's finished, if he's great, will have one more great fight in him. Even when he's done. The Superman speech was Tarantino's last great fight. Because he certainly looked like a shot fighter in Death Proof and Inglorious Basterds.

Tarantino still gets the praise, however. And Kill Bill: Volume 2 got it's share. I feel like it's a movie who's reputation is based mostly on past laurel's and not necessarily the sum of it's own parts, though. It's like because Tarantino is guy that goes to Cannes and talks fondly of art house cinema, people treat his own films like they are the same thing. But Tarantino stopped making art house cinema in 1997. That was a long time ago. He makes B movie schlock now. There's actually nothing wrong with B movie schlock. Not as long as you don't treat it as anything more than it is. Critics and fans alike do just that, though. And for that reason, I find Tarantino's recent output, and specifically, Kill Bill: Volume 2, very overrated.


High Tension (2003)

Although made in 2003, it finally came to the States in 2005, and that's when I saw it. All the movie buffs, and cinefiles, and whatever other cute names people refer to themselves these days, loved this movie. And for 2/3's of it, I did too. Then they hit me with the fucking Tyler Durden ending. The Tyler Durden ending blows. And it blows for a couple reasons in this movie.

One, I'm not watching Fight Club. Note to hack filmmakers, just because something works in one movie, does not mean that it will work in your movie too. In fact, if your hack ass thought it was a good idea to rip off the ending of a recent movie, and not even an obscure one. It was a movie that literally everybody had seen, everybody had seen recently, most had liked, and everybody that did, discussed the fucking ending. So you can be damn sure, if you, the hack, thought this would be a good idea to steal that ending, there would be other hacks all over the world who would be thinking the same thing. Which means, by the time your piece of shit comes out, we will have seen this "twist" literally a dozen times, and by the time we see yours, "oh that's so clever," the reaction you were after, is not the reaction you're going to get. "Holy shit, not again," will me much more like it. And, "Holy shit, not again," was certainly mine.

And just to be clear, this is the Tyler Durden ending. Sure, movies have ended with a similar twist for years. Psycho being the most famous example. But these copy cat endings popped up everywhere directly after Fight Club. So while Fight Club does not necessarily own the ending, it's pretty clear it was Fight Club that was cloned. I mean, holy shit, filmmakers had 40 years to beat the Norman Bates ending into the ground, but they didn't. The, "They're the same person, OMFG!" ending, was only seen in abundance after 1999. So therefore, it's the Tyler Durden ending.

The second reason why the Tyler Durden ending blows, and really the most important criticism of this particular film, this wasn't even a good Tyler Durden ending. It didn't make sense. It rarely does, but this one was particularly bad. So there's only one person? Then why is there two cars in the woods? Did she fucking tow one? Did she take turns chasing herself? You watch a movie like Sixth Sense, which whether you dig it or not, was committed to it's ending. On a rewatch, it still works. Bruce Willis walks into a room, the door was already open. He sits on a chair, that chair doesn't fucking move. So here you got High Tension, and there's two cars, two fucking cars, in the woods, where a chase with one person has just taken place. That's not even trying. It's just so incredibly lazy. And you can't even forgive it's laziness, because after you saw that ending multiple times within the past year (The Machinest, Secret Window, Identity, Hide and Seek, just to name a few), it wasn't shocking enough anymore where you let it's lack of any logic whatsoever slide.

That's a movie ruiner. As much as I really dug the first 2/3's of the movie, I was so instantly furious when they hit me with that ending, that I immediately hated the entire thing. And I think the fact that I liked it so much at first, is why I have so much venom for this movie. It's like a piece of shit movie, is just a piece of shit movie. There's nothing it can do about itself. You can't be mad at it. This movie, it should have known better.


Garden Sate (2004)

I wish it was still 2004, so I could remember all the reasons why I hated this movie. Like a childhood molestation, I've blocked most of it out. I only remember vague snippets of it, like Zach Braff doing an impression of a 2x4. And there was a bunch of songs that sounded like they belonged in an iPod commercial playing in the background. I'm pretty sure they were supposed to change my life. I also remember an underlying self consciousness that made me ill, dialogue that only served as set-ups for the other person to say something incredibly unrealistic and quirky, and one of the better examples of TV spots showing too much of the film. You see that a lot these days. This might have been the worse. There was the final scene in the airport. A scene that supposed to have so much tension, but had none, because I had seen how that scene ended in every TV spot that was ever shown. Literally, every TV spot was built around the last shot of the film. So once they got to the airport, there was never any doubt that they would end up together. The film tries to build some doubt. But we fucking know; wide shot, they kiss, shit gets blurry, credits, more fun iPod music. We know.

Maggie Gyllenhaal's meat stick was in it too. That guy that sounds exactly like John Malkovich and has a name kind of like Stellan Skarsgård. He was searching for something with Zach and Natalie Portman in another unlikely series of quirky events. That vagueness is about all I remember for most of the movie. It just wasn't very memorable, even though it clearly was trying to be. And this shit made Zach Braff the indie darling for a year. He's done nothing of any importance since, showing what was really lying underneath Garden State. Absolutely nothing.


Crash (2004)

Some of these movies were maybe good, had some good things in them at least, but just not warranted of it's great hype. Crash is not one of these movies. Crash is a piece of shit. A legitimately terrible movie. I always assumed people loved it's intentions. Making a movie about how racism is bad certainly means well. But please treat that movie with critical eye you would treat any other one with less noble intentions.

I've already talked about the cliche that was the Tyler Durden ending. Well there was one more phenomenon this past decade that became an instant transparent attempt at trying to be "indy," and that was poor man's Altmanesque intertwining story. "It's all connected somehow, man." Oh, it was an epidemic. We probably have Paul Thomas Anderson to blame, who worshiped Altman, made Magnolia, it ruled, then every other writer/director wanting to be accepted by the art house crowd tried doing the same thing. Enter Paul Haggis.

Haggis's script was terrible. Besides it's entire narrative through line being what at the time was a trendy fad, as if that wasn't bad enough, he decided to insult our intelligence even more with shallow cartoon characters, with lifetime movie dialogue, and blanket opinions all in order to make some sort of social commentary on racism being bad. Thank you Paul, for going out on the limb with that one.

A movie that hates stereotypes so much, is full of stereotypes. Literally, every character is a stereotype. Haggis might be making a statement by doing that. Playing with stereotypes in order to finally break us free from them. But judging by his dialogue, and the lack of any subtlety whatsoever in getting his point across, I'm pretty convinced Haggis writes in stereotypes because he just isn't a very good writer. He doesn't know how to do anything else.

It's that kind of writing that insulted my intelligence almost immediately. I've honestly never had my intelligence insulted more in one movie. I've made the comparison to a Lifetime movie before, and that wasn't hyperbole. The over-the-top bad guy, literally a bad guy, doing something to terrorize Markie Post, or somebody that looks like her, but not at all in any sort of reality, in a heightened Lifetime movie kind of way; That's every character in Crash. Only instead of misogynists, they're racists. That's the only difference. They're just as ridiculous and the dialogue they speak is just as unrealistic. It's only purpose is to beat over your head, "THIS IS BAD," over and over again.

I've already stated my displeasure with the melodrama in Kill Bill: Volume 2 ("Mommy!"). Honestly, no hyperbole here, Kill Bill: Vol 2 seems as understated as Rohmer in comparison to Crash. "I hate your guts," would have been a subtle way of expressing feelings towards one another in the Paul Haggis universe, because Haggis himself would have wrote that phrase as, "I hate your guts...YOU FILTHY MEXICAN!"

To call these characters two dimensional, would be a compliment. They're cartoon characters, speaking in absolutes. Everything is black and white, and in more ways than one. Character arc, just as over-the-top as their original miserable existence. With heroic redemption for some, and subtle realizations for others like, my Mexican maid who I've treated like shit and berated non stop, because I'm evil and white, is actually my best friend. Come here Mexican lady, you're my best friend. "You're my best friend" is actually spoken. And when it was spoken, I groaned, out loud, by myself. While being mentally whipped having had my intelligence insulted non stop for close to two hours, I was now in physical pain. "You're my best friend." I hate to keep repeating myself, but once again, Lifetime movie quality.

Looking at my Netflix Rental Activity, I watched Crash on October 18th, 2005. So you could imagine my shock when a couple months later, Crash was nominated for an Oscar. I'm not a guy that takes the Oscar's very seriously. People get worked up about them every year, and for the most part, I don't really care. I'm usually amused when people are all outraged about them. But Crash was different. I was the guy that used to amuse me. I was that fucking guy. Following Crash's path to an Oscar win every step of the way. Shocked by the nomination, and when it won...there's certain times in life, and it's always stupid things, things that don't really matter, but they are the things that convince you, at least for a couple minutes, I am not part of the human species. There is no way. If my father got drunk, decided to fuck with and tell me he found me on what he thinks was intergalactic debris, in the fields of New Jersey, because Duran Duran's The Reflex went to number one, and that somehow summoned me to this planet, at the moment Crash won best picture, that would sound perfectly reasonable. That would make more sense. Ordinary People beats Raging Bull. Okay, you don't agree, I don't agree, but Ordinary People at it's worse, still has artistic merit, and at it's best, is a movie that you would have hoped won the year before, or the year after. Crash beating anything? I'm baffled. I really am.

One good thing has come from it. Any time I'm discussing movies with somebody, I can ask them what they think about Crash, and if they like it, I can instantly judge them like I'm a character from the movie.

Out of Touch: Avatar opens and I don't care

By now, I'm sure somebody has already told you how much their "mind has been blown" by the latest James Cameron flick. But I'm finding it difficult to muster up even a little bit of desire to see it myself. I don't know if, "You're not in Kansas anymore," a line from the trailer, in which the delivery sounds like it was taken directly from a late 90's video game, is what turned me off. Or maybe it's the really gigantic blue people, which is apparently "the realest CGI of all times!!11" Unfortunately, the look of them reminds me of video games too. And when you throw in that Rain Forrest, it's what I imagine a FernGully video game might look like. Perhaps, I'm not willing to live in the now, or something, but the best CGI to date, still looks like shit to me.

But besides all that, at it's core, Avatar just looks like an expensive Aliens rehash. A crew, on a mission, having to face a superior group of species, in a totally impossible mission. In one of the best examples of things going full circle, Michelle Rodriquez, whom every role she has ever had, reminded me of Vasquez from Aliens, seems to actually be playing Vasquez for Cameron in Avatar now. I'm actually wondering if Paul Reiser makes a cameo in Avatar, just to double cross this crew, and remind us all what an asshole he is.

Throw in what looks like a Dances with Wolves love story, and call this thing Dances with Aliens. And since this is the year of the colon in movie titles, Dances with Aliens:How I spent $250 mill during a recession to make an Aliens sequel with giant blue things fucking at FernGully. A little wordy, but I think The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford showed us, literal movie titles, literal to the point of absurdity, fucking rule.

Now I loved Aliens. So you may wonder why I'm bitching. Well, besides the rehash aspect of it, if Aliens came out today, and I'm looking at it's appeal for the first time as an adult, maybe I wouldn't have cared about that one either. Maybe the only reason I enjoyed Aliens, was I saw it as a kid, where I wasn't as judgmental. Sure, I still enjoy it when I catch it on cable, but maybe that's because it's working on some sort of nostalgic level for me. Or maybe, just maybe, Aliens really is awesome, it's just a better movie than Avatar, and something about that Avatar trailer revealed that to me immediately.

Then again, Avatar might be a movie worthy of it's hype. Maybe I'm just a miserable fuck, that got cynical and snobby along the way, and it's me that's the problem. Maybe it's nothing like Aliens, or Dances with Wolves, looks nothing like FernGully and I'm just projecting these things unfairly after seeing a two minute trailer and some TV spots. This is all very possible. I am all those things. But no matter who's fault it is, mine or James Cameron's, the fact of the matter still is, Avatar opens this weekend, and I don't care. I guess I'm out of touch.

Boorman & Marvin: Two is the Magic Number

The late 60's were very kind to Lee Marvin. After 15 years of playing supporting characters; usually some sort of a bad guy, Marvin was slowly starting to develop himself into a leading man. After a nice fat Oscar win for Cat Ballou (1965) in early 1966 that transformation was complete. Those small bit part days were long gone now. And, even large supporting roles seemed to be a thing of the past. Lee was a legitimate star now. After carrying really big studio pictures like The Professionals (1966) and The Dirty Dozen (1967), which was not too bad for a character actor, Lee met the man he was destined to make movies with, English filmmaker, John Boorman.

John and Lee met in England while Lee was filming The Dirty Dozen. They struck an immediate friendship and started developing a movie together. And for those of you toiling in dreams of being a filmmaker, this is sort of a fairy tale for you. Boorman was not a famous director at the time. In fact, he wasn't even a cult director. He had only made two movies up to this point, and neither one was very good. And here he was drinking and developing a movie with one of the biggest movie stars in the world during the height of his career.

I don't know exactly how they went from just talking about a movie, to having MGM financing it and actually doing it less than a year later, but I'm just going to imagine Lee Marvin held some slimy executive head out the window by his feet until he agreed.

MGM did agree, though. We know that for sure. They put it out. And as you could imagine, Lee Marvin, fresh off filming The Dirty Dozen, had quite a bit juice at the time. So when he told MGM he defers all of his approvals to John Boorman, that's just the way it was. That actually happened. So what you had, essentially, is an unknown director, doing his first studio picture, and having today's equivalent of final cut. Unheard of. And what a good thing that was, because Boorman got to make what ended up being a highly experimental, studio funded, $3 million dollar art film, with one of the biggest movie stars in the world as his star. That movie was Point Blank.


Point Blank (1967). If you want a rough idea of what a hot streak Lee Marvin was on, here it is. The Dirty Dozen came out June of '67. Point Blank came out August of '67. In one summer, Marvin was in two movies that are cool enough to be the one highlight of anybody elses entire career. Point Blank is a movie that's been discussed in depth by people much smarter than me. Martin Scorsese devoted a whole piece of his Personal Journey through American Movies to it. On the surface level, Walker (Lee Marvin) is pissed off. And, he really, really wants his fucking money. That's it. And truthfully, that's really all you need. I mean, he's roaming around San Francisco, looking like a million bucks, with a .44 Magnum, 5 years before Dirty Harry, by the way, and if you get into his way, he's crushing your testicles without thinking twice about it. All while being this angel of death figure, leading people to horrible, unnatural deaths. He even fucks up a '67 Imperial Crown. I didn't know that was possible.

Normally, I don't like to dissect a badass revenge flick, and look for deeper meanings in it. But Point Blank sort of demands you to do so. And I'm certainly not the first to do so. What first appears to be your run of the mill, revenge movie, albeit, a particularly good one, because it's Lee Marvin who wants revenge, you soon see that it's more than that. The story is ultimately about corporate America. The money Walker is after is in some sort of crime organization that has legitimate business ties too, and it then becomes a story about man versus corporation, and ultimately a scathing criticism of corporate America. To Walker, it may only be personal, but for the viewer, it represents something much bigger. And that's what sets this movie apart from most of it's genre. It works on the surface as just a cool revenge flick, but it has something to say as well. And I'll delve into the themes more in depth in a future article.

Point Blank, to me, is the ultimate Lee Marvin movie. I think the Walker character embodies what the Lee Marvin onscreen persona had been working it's way up to. It was all put together here, and Point Blank is the snapshot of what that persona was. It's the "badass with a code," basically. That character that we've seen so many times since. It's always been interesting to me that Le Samorai and Point Blank came out the same year. "Badass with a code," could really be the synopsis of both of those films. And while samurai movies had been made for years, the basis of the badass with a code, this wasn't anything new per se, but it was in that sort of samurai code in contemporary times that was. So to have these two really influential movies come out less than two months apart, I don't know what it means, but I find it interesting. It's a lot more interesting than say a Dante's Peak/Volcano type of parallel thinking.


Hell in the Pacific (1968). One year later, Boorman and Marvin team up again. This time, with not as much control (the original ending was changed by the studio's urging). They did join forces with Toshirô Mifune, though, a legend in Japan for his work with Kurosawa, and badass in his own right. Now, I can't explain why, but I've been obsessed with being deserted since I was a little boy. It doesn't matter if it's a beach, or a forest, the thought of being stranded anywhere was always exciting to me. I love an apocalypse movie for the same reason. Could be the only child in me. As a result, I was also always fixated on any kind of deserted island movie. Bad or good. Didn't matter. They'll be something about it that I connect with. But, if you want to go out of your way and make a good deserted island movie, I'll be extra happy. Hell in the Pacific is one of the good ones.

To call it a "deserted island" movie isn't totally fair. It's more than that. But, they are deserted on an island. They do have to learn how to live off the land. So, what else does one call it? In this particular one, two men are stuck on an island. One is an American soldier. The other is a Japanese soldier. World War II is happening as they both sit on this island. They don't particularly like each other for obvious reasons. Due to language barriers they can't really communicate these feelings verbally. So, they instead choose to grunt, chase each other with sticks, fight, and attempt to kill each other on a daily basis. Real caveman shit. A beautiful thing happens, though. The two learn to coexist. It's lonely on a deserted island after all. It's tough enough to survive even without some other guy trying to kill you. The other guy is an asset. So the two mostly put a stupid thing like war to the back burner, and reluctantly help each other out. This is survival. And, oh my god, you might even make a friend in the process.

Hell in the Pacific is only a cast of two; Marvin and Mifune. And, it's the coolest thing in the world to watch these two act together. There's no Japanese subtitles for Mifune's dialogue, which is great. Marvin's character doesn't understand what he's saying, so neither do we. Yet, somehow, even with the language barrier, we have a pretty goddamn good idea what Mifune is saying. The interaction between these two is some of my favorite interaction of all time.


Unlike Point Blank, where I have no criticisms, I have one for Hell in the Pacific, and that's the ending. As I've already stated, that's not completely Boorman's fault. The studio, or producer, I forget which, hated the original ending, and made Boorman change it. The current ending isn't awful, though. The more I think about it, I've learned to accept the actual ending. It's not as good as what Boorman wanted, but for an ending that came from people in suits, it's not too bad. It does come out of left field, though, and might leave you with your "what the fuck was that?' face. And you'll wonder, "That was the studio ending? That abrupt weirdness?" It was. And even if you do hate the ending, it's only the last minute of the movie, and shouldn't totally negate the enjoyment level you got from 99% of the rest of it. Even the build up to that last moment is great.

Hell in the Pacific is just a great movie. Nothing more, nothing less. It doesn't get the respect of Point Blank. It wasn't as influential. But it is a movie that is contrained to a very specific genre, makes up for it with an original premise, and delivers in everything it tries to do.

Boorman and Marvin never worked together again. I don't know the reasons why. It saddens me that they didn't make a flick together in the 70's. With the progression of film in that decade, some of it due to them with people like Scorsese loving Point Blank, it would have been interesting to see their take during that decade. But we only got two films, and that's okay. They were great films after all. Two guys, making two great films, in two years. I can live with that.

Written sometime in 2007.

John Frankenheimer's Seconds (1966)

I first saw Seconds about a year ago. It seems like every couple of days since then, I find myself thinking about it. I really think it's one of those movies that everybody can relate to, but don't like to. They just don't want to think that their life isn't fulfilling enough to the point where they'd contemplate making the same decision Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph) did. Whether they would ultimately make that decision or not isn't the point. The fact that they would even contemplate it, that's the scary part. Arthur Hamilton is most people. He's me. He's probably you. He has the life that really isn't all that bad. But, it really isn't all that good either. It's that middle ground that seems to slowly drive people insane. Those little things that drive you crazy. The things in your mind that take you away for a couple of moments, but make you come back down to Earth almost immediately because you know that's never going to actually happen. And, to further elaborate these great things in your mind would just be some sort of self mind-fuck torture. That's what this movie is about.

What made me respond so much to it is the way it's told. It's very subtle. A lot of other directors would have been scared to show Arthur Hamilton make the decision he does with his life being as good as it is. Because his life, really isn't all that bad. I think most other directors would have copped out and had some drastic event happen to drive Arthur Hamilton into his decision. Not this movie. And, that's what is so great about it. It wasn't something drastic at all. It was just the little things. Arthur Hamilton kisses his wife before going to bed. She kisses him back. Hey, it's a kiss! Some people don't even have that. But, there was nothing in this kiss. It was a ritual. It was a habit. It wasn't love, though. Now, did they love each other? Yes. But, it wasn't the same love that it once was. And, to kiss somebody you once loved more than anything in the world, and have that great act now be reduced to some sort of empty gesture that you do before going bed can't be something that feels good. And she feels the same nothingness. It isn't her fault. This is just what happens. This is one of those subtle things in life.

Almost every other movie would have some drastic thing happen that would drive their main character over the top into making the decision. He loses his job. He loses his wife. He loses his dog named Marley. He loses something. They need something obvious to help justify this decision. John Frankenheimer didn't need something obvious. And, the lack of obviousness is what makes this movie as great as it is. Because, it wasn't something drastic that drove Arthur Hamilton to do what he did. It was the lack of passion in a kiss that was part of it. Not all that Earth shattering when you think of it as one single event. But, it is a meaningful thing in one's life. And after a few years of that, your soul is going to be cracked.

More than anything, though, it was being ordinary that made Arthur Hamilton do what he did. And, lets face it. We're all ordinary. There is not a special one amongst us. David Bowie? Ordinary. And you know what makes him ordinary? David Bowie wakes up in the morning and goes, "Damn, I wish I was Bob Dylan." Bob Dylan? Who the fuck knows what's going on his mind. He wakes up every morning and wishes it was 1870 and he's was traveling on horseback as an outlaw, or something. I don't know. The point is, everybody wants something else. And, that common desire is what makes us all ordinary. And, knowing that, this why most people would at the very least contemplate the scenario brought up to Arthur Hamilton. Especially if they were asked on the right day. Or the wrong day depending on your views on life.

I need something to segway into the next thing.


First off, my knowledge of John Frankenheimer films are not very vast. I've probably only seen ten of his fifty plus credits. Eleven if you want to count the Tales From the Crypt episode I just caught on the Chiller Network a few weeks back. So, my new found love for this man really is solely based on Seconds. Sure, I enjoyed The Manchurian Candidate, and Birdman of Alcatraz. I even enjoyed his version of Iceman Cometh enough to watch it twice in two days. But, none of those movies affected me in the way Seconds did. From watching it from the first time standpoint, he never showed off more as a director than he did in Seconds. This one just oozes style. It has a very modern use of composition and camera moves. I mean, there was SnorriCam shot in the very first scene for crying out loud. SnorriCam seemed new and cutting edge in the late 90's, and here was John doing it in 1966. And, from a story telling standpoint, he has you sucked in right from the beginning. The train station setting, John Randolph being followed, and a little sheet of paper that could mean anything all takes place within the first five minutes, and you just have to know where this thing is going. You concede, "Okay, you hooked me in, John." Five minutes later Arthur Hamilton is talking to his "dead" friend. What a first act. This is like a Twilight Zone episode. Only, it would be by far the greatest Twilight Zone episode of all time. So, while Frankenheimer masterfully starts this movie up, he then takes a step back and makes it "The John Randolph Show."

John Randolph at this point of his career, was a character actor in the midst of a fifteen year hiatus from Hollywood due to his being blacklisted for his "commie views." John Randolph never became more than a character actor. His age, and looks would never allow him to be. But, for the first half of Seconds, this is a John Randolph movie. And boy, does he shine. Randolph is one of the perfect castings of all time. Nobody else could of played Arthur Hamilton. Randolph didn't have to say anything to convince you he was him. All you had to do was look in his eyes. And, you could see he was Arthur Hamilton. He had this amazing talent to sit in stillness and completely act with his eyes. Now, I say "sit in stillness" and you might picture this Bill Murray, stoic kind of thing. But, that's not what I'm talking about. Because, Randolph could sit in stillness and not be stoic at all. He could be outright animated, in fact. So, Arthur Hamilton is in the office being pitched the proposition, and Frankenheimer does a really brave thing by just completely stopping the movie. It reminds me of the peep show booth scene in Paris, Texas in that way. The camera stops moving. The room is dead silent. There is no soundtrack to speak of. It's just people talking. And, we're all going to listen. Far too many directors are terrified of lack of action and especially silence these days. Silence is a forgotten tool. Frankenheimer embraces it. So, Arthur Hamilton listens to the pitch, and he takes it. Sure, he may have been blackmailed into doing so. But, look at that face above. Does that look like the face of a man that is going to say "no" to a new life? That's a "where do I sign up" kind of face.


Arthur Hamilton accepts. Of course he does. Exit John Randolph. Enter Rock Hudson. Now, I stated I didn't know much about John Frankenheimer's career and then said I've seen ten of his films in the very next sentence. Well, I will say I don't know much about Rock Hudson's career, and actually not know anything about Rock Hudson's career. Like anybody that enjoys movies, I've asked people to recommend stuff to me. Nobody has recommended a Rock Hudson movie to me yet. Not one person. I always assumed that meant he went the safe Hollywood route. And, had a paint by numbers type path to his career. Nothing wrong with that at all. But, that would explain me never seeing a Rock Hudson movie until Seconds. The safe, popcorn movies of it's day aren't usually the movies that get passed down generation to generation. Seconds is obviously not a safe, popcorn movie, however. Now, I called John Randolph one of the great castings of all time. Well, give John Frankenheimer and whoever helped him cast credit, because they snagged another great castings of all time. And, in the very same movie, no less. Now, knowing what we know now about Hudson's sexuality now, it is heartbreaking to watch Hudson play a character that painfully explains how he "had to live his life according to rules set by others." It really is painful. I would have believed him back then not knowing anything. And, I certainly believe him now. It's just a great performance, and while I won't claim to know for sure, I will bravely assume that it's by far Rock Hudson's top performance. Now, the only flaw I could find in this amazing movie is I feel like Hudson's character rejects his new life a little too quickly. I think he would have enjoyed it for a little while before the rejection inevitably happened. It's not nearly a big enough flaw to ruin this great movie, though. As I realize the point Frankenheimer was trying to convey by making him reject it so quickly. Plus, the quicker he rejects it, the sooner we get a really great ending to a movie.


This is an amazing movie. That's all there is to it. I will go as far to say that it is somewhat forgotten, as well. It was nominated for an Oscar which will never make it completely forgotten. People will find it that way. But, I've never heard a contemporary director mention this movie. Ever. I would think there would be one director mentioning it from time to time. Especially considering there are plenty who's style resemble this movie. But, no dice. I won't harp on that thought too long, though. Because, for no logical reason whatsoever, something that is really cool that is also obscure somehow becomes even cooler. So, Seconds is my little cool movie that only a select group of other cool people know.

This was written some time in 2007.