Tag Archives: Drama

#73: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

11 Tuesday Nov 2014

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James Kirk’s now an admiral, doling out tests,
And rests in the comfort and peace he detests.
He’s told that he should not have taken promotions
That left him too high up to ply the space oceans.
 
Meanwhile, pal Chekhov is helping to seek
A dead planet needed for mankind to tweak.
The Genesis project could give it new life,
But he just finds Khan, who is mourning his wife.
 
The vengeful space criminal has one intent:
To murder Jim Kirk, who marooned him and went.
He brainwashes Chekhov and lures Enterprise,
But Kirk’s ingenuity staves off demise.
 
Kirk finds Carol Marcus and David (his son!),
The founders of Genesis and its dry run.
Though Khan believes he has entrapped his old foe,
Kirk’s one step ahead, as he was years ago.
 
Their final showdown in a nebula, blind,
Sees Kirk supersede Khan’s superior mind,
But desperate revenge is a dangerous threat,
And only Spock’s sacrifice saves, with regret.
 
The Genesis process creates a new sphere,
And Kirk sees his friend to the final frontier.
They bid him farewell to the Genesis planet.
The franchise can’t possibly carry on, can it?
_________________
 

Some people measure the success of a Star Trek film by how memorable the villain is (which doesn’t work for The Voyage Home, incidentally), but The Wrath of Khan is easily the best on that scale. Ricardo Montalban’s fusion of menace and intelligence is the highlight of the film, and not even Benedict Cumberbatch could quite match his vengeful charisma.

Revenge is one of the best motivators for a villain, but it’s difficult to pull off effectively. The setup that fuels the villain’s rage is typically either rushed through or else merely implied, but Star Trek’s status as a television series put its films in a unique position to revisit old adversaries already long-established. Like Kirk, audiences hadn’t seen Khan for fifteen years, and it was easy to imagine how his hatred for his forsaker must have grown over the years, especially with the death of his wife (I assume, Lieutenant McGivers from “Space Seed”). Though he and Kirk never actually meet face to face, their tense exchanges, calling each other “my old friend,” far surpass any other hero/villain relationship from the franchise.

Of course, the other game-changer that Wrath of Khan threw at audiences (other than the revelation of Kirk’s son) was the death of a main cast member, and not just any member, but Mr. Spock himself. Leonard Nimoy actually wanted his character to die, and though it seemed like it could have been the end of Star Trek, the filmmakers set up little clues that a sequel was certainly feasible. Luckily, the promise of the director’s chair lured Nimoy back to his pointy-eared persona, and so far he’s the only original cast member to still be playing his alter ego by appearing in J. J. Abrams’s reboot. (By the way, I had totally forgotten that the 2009 Star Trek’s inclusion of the Kobayashi Maru test and Kirk’s cheating was drawn straight from Wrath of Khan; now that’s how to please your fan base.)

True, the special effects aren’t all that impressive, even with a groundbreaking CGI sequence detailing the Genesis effect, but The Wrath of Khan was such a huge improvement over the dreadfully plodding first film that it effectively re-energized the entire Star Trek empire. If not for this film, there probably would have been no more films, no Next Generation, no Deep Space Nine, no Voyager! For Trek fans everywhere, Khan’s rancor served as a reminder of just how entertaining and indelible Star Trek could be.

Best line (which is echoed in his death scene): (Spock) “In any case, were I to invoke logic, logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
(Kirk) “Or the one.”
(Spock) “You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours.”
 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

#77: 1776 (1972)

07 Friday Nov 2014

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(Can be sung to “But, Mr. Adams,” minus the repetition)
 
In the summer of a year remembered,
As a turning point of history and rights,
Mr. Adams is imploring,
With controversies boring,
All the Congressmen to listen as he fights.
 
Independence, their independence,
Is a subject few are willing to discuss aloud,
Till Virginia’s Lee declares a resolution proud,
Which brings out the strong opinions of the noble crowd.
 
Since the foes to independence are mounting
And unanimous the final vote must be,
Mr. Adams stalls frustration:
They need a declaration
To announce the reasons why they must be free.
 
Mr. Adams tells Mr. Jefferson
That he must write the declaration they’re requiring.
Adams brings in Tom’s young wife to start inspiring,
And soon his aptitude for eloquence is firing.
 
Though the written declaration seems perfect,
Everybody finds a quibble or a flaw.
Words are altered or ejected;
Since slaves were interjected,
All the Southern states take issue and withdraw.
 
Mr. Adams, moved by Mrs. Adams,
Will not let his dream of independence meet an end.
He bites the needed bullets to convert each friend,
And the U.S.A. is born when signatures are penned.
_________________
 

Some of my favorite musicals are related to history, and, though the Second Continental Congress may not have been an obvious choice, 1776 brought this important time in history to life with the entertaining power of show tunes. I’m a big fan of putting the spotlight on minor players in history, people whose names are glossed over in history books. Giving them a name and voice and image only seems right, since unknowns can shape history just as much as presidents and kings. Though this film leaves out several members of the Congress in order to achieve a more manageable cast, it characterizes an amazing number of signers, including John Dickinson (Pennsylvania’s opponent to independence), James Wilson (a weak judge given a final choice), Samuel Chase (a rotund Marylander), Lewis Morris (an ever-abstaining New Yorker) Stephen Hopkins (a Rhode Island drunk), Richard Henry Lee (the Virginian resolution maker and relative of Robert E. Lee), Caesar Rodney (a Delaware patriot stricken by cancer), Dr. Lyman Hall (a Georgian physician), Colonel Thomas McKean (a Delaware Scotsman), and John Hancock (President of the Congress and first signer).

Of course, there are also the more obvious players as well. Though “obnoxious and disliked,” William Daniels as John Adams finds the same balance of likable and insufferable that he delivered as Dr. Mark Craig on St. Elsewhere. Howard da Silva is the spitting image of Benjamin Franklin and obviously enjoys spouting the wit for which Franklin was famous. Likewise, Ken Howard and Blythe Danner (aka Gwyneth Paltrow’s mother) are ideal as Thomas and Martha Jefferson, the former of whom struggles between patriotism and romance and chooses both, of course.

The film takes considerable liberties with its historical basis, including motivations (Dickinson himself posed some of the grievances put forward by Adams; his insulting Adams as a “lawyer” is ironic considering Dickinson was really a lawyer too) and dramatic details (Martha Jefferson never came to visit her husband in Philadelphia and had actually suffered a miscarriage around the time of the signing). While these aberrations can irritate history buffs, none are so glaring as to undermine the film as a whole. Indeed, 1776 depicts the tensions of the period with insight and humor. Small details, such as Franklin’s strained relationship with his son, are included as fascinating bits of trivia, while debates with the South foreshadow the objections that led to the Civil War. The dialogue, much of it derived from letters of the real people involved, carries a unique wit and intelligence of conversation that has been lost over time.

The film is also full of underrated musical gems, usually humorous, such as the opening “Sit Down, John,” the lighthearted “The Lees of Old Virginia,” and my personal favorite, the pen-passing “But, Mr. Adams.” The one song sung by defender of slavery Edward Rutledge, “Molasses to Rum,” goes a bit too far with its portrait of the slave trade, but most of the tunes are buoyant numbers, like Mrs. Jefferson’s “He Plays the Violin.” One brief scene also taps into contemporary Vietnam War sentiments about Congress blithely sending young men to war, ending with the poignant elegy “Mama, Look Sharp.”

1776 does occasionally drag with long stretches of dialogue that could bore those not actively interested in the debate, yet its music and recreation of history have always appealed to me. Though historians believe that the Declaration itself was not signed on July 4, 1776, the final scene that depicts this becomes more and more powerful as it continues, as if a window in time were opened allowing us to witness one of history’s pivotal moments.

Best line: (Congressional secretary Charles Thomson, calling for a vote) “Where’s Rhode Island?”
(McNair, the custodian) “Rhode Island’s out visiting the necessary.”
(Hancock) “Well, after what Rhode Island has consumed, I can’t say I’m surprised. We’ll come back to him, Mr. Thomson.”
(Thomson) “Rhode Island passes.” [everyone laughs]

 

Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

243 Followers and Counting

 

#78: The Color Purple (1985)

06 Thursday Nov 2014

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(Spoiler alert)
 
Two black girls in Georgia are never a bother,
But both are still coveted by their own father.
Young Celie’s delivered two children already,
And her only solace is dear sister Nettie.
 
When one Mr. Johnson comes seeking a wife,
It’s Celie he’s given, a servant for life.
He beats her, insults her, and treats her like dirt;
It’s Nettie he wants, and he’s eager to flirt.
 
When she still refuses, he sends her away,
But she swears to write, every night, every day.
The years pass in silence as Mister’s kids grow,
And some brash Sofia espouses Harpo.
 
She proves too high-strung to remain as his wife,
But he builds a juke joint for music and strife.
When Mister’s own prostitute stays for a while,
Shug bonds with Miss Celie and gets her to smile.
 
A word from the mayor’s wife quickly upsets
Sofia, who gives just as good as she gets.
This sends her to jail, crushing spirit and soul,
And twelve years locked up take a terrible toll.
 
When Shug visits them, Celie finds, when compelled,
The letters from Nettie that Mister withheld.
She stands up to him and insists she depart,
Which leaves him dumb-struck, and Sofia takes heart.
 
From then on, Miss Celie, though ugly and fraught,
Has luck on her side, whereas Mister does not.
As if God is trying to help them along,
Shug also makes up with her father in song.
 
At last, Mister sees all the pain he’s caused Celie
And sends her a gift given slyly and freely.
A tearful reunion, a long-hoped surprise
Fills Celie with joy that no pain can disguise.
___________________
 

The Color Purple, based on Alice Walker’s Pulitzer-winning novel, was a huge departure for Steven Spielberg, known for action and sci-fi blockbusters rather than emotional period dramas.  It proved how diversified his filmography could become and how skilled he is at coaxing powerful performances from his actors.

Whoopi Goldberg in particular, up to then strictly a comedienne, exhibits one of the most astounding transitions to drama imaginable, portraying Miss Celie in all her vulnerability and long-suffering shyness. Danny Glover as Mister delivers such a brutally despicable performance that it’s sometimes hard to imagine him as a good guy in films like Lethal Weapon and Silverado.  Margaret Avery plays Shug with both crudity and tenderness, and other up-and-coming African-American actors are well-cast, including Rae Dawn Chong and a young Laurence Fishburne (credited as Larry Fishburne).  However, the most moving performance for me comes from debuting Oprah Winfrey as Sofia, a woman forced to fight for her independence, who ends up fighting too hard.  I’m hardly a fan of Oprah, but she most certainly deserved the Best Supporting Actress Oscar (she lost to Angelica Huston for Prizzi’s Honor).

As inspiring as The Color Purple is in the end, it is also an unbearably sad portrait of cruelty and a downtrodden life.  Sad is the simplest way to describe all the pain in this film.  It’s sad that nearly every male character treats a woman as a thing to be ordered, beaten, and used.  It’s sad that Mister shamelessly prepares for his mistress in full view of and assisted by his own wife.  It’s sad that the bonds of marriage and parenthood mean nothing and that Celie has a dejectedly ignorant idea of what love is.  It’s sad that Shug’s moral choices alienate her preacher father and that one lapse in judgment ruins Sofia’s life.

Yet the final half hour is full of heartfelt reconciliations and reunions that make all the suffering bearable, if not worthwhile. I first viewed The Color Purple after I entered my current state of rarely if ever crying, but had I seen it when younger, I surely would have bawled multiple times with tears of both sorrow and joy.  My VC still chokes up at the end after multiple viewings.

Sad movies can be tricky. Some attempt social commentary that leaves me feeling manipulated and depressed (The Bicycle Thief, When the Wind Blows); others like The Color Purple balance the misery with moments of kindness and light that ultimately leave viewers satisfied. (Grave of the Fireflies may lean more to the former side, but there’s enough of the latter to win me over.  It’s still the only film that can get my lacrimal glands working.)

Though it failed to win any of its eleven Oscar nominations (being overshadowed by Sydney Pollack’s Out of Africa), The Color Purple is a masterpiece, one of those films that makes critics wax philosophical about the triumph of the human spirit.  Well done, Mr. Spielberg.

Best line: (Sofia) “Set in that jail, I set in that jail till I near about done rot to death. I know what it like, Miss Celie, wanna go somewhere and can’t. I know what it like to wanna sing… and have it beat out ‘ya. I want to thank you, Miss Celie, for everything you done for me. I ‘members that day, I’s in the store with Miss Millie; I’s feelin’ real down, I’s feelin’ mighty bad. And when I seed you…I knowed there is a God. I knowed there is a God. And one day I’s gonna get to come home.”

 
Rank: 55 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

241 Followers and Counting

 

#80: Miracle on 34th Street (1947)

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

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At Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade,
Their Santa impostor is drunk,
And Miss Doris Walker must see that he’s played,
Although she thinks Santa is bunk.
 
When kindly Kris Kringle is begged to fill in,
He does such a wonderful job,
He’s made the store Santa, the best there has been,
And garners a juvenile mob.
 
He has the consumers’ best interest at heart,
An idea so radically new
That Macy’s and Gimbel’s incredibly start
A goodwill campaign overdue.
 
Miss Walker’s young daughter named Susan is told
By Mother to be realistic,
But Kris is so Santa-ish, jolly and old,
That she cannot stay pessimistic.
 
Yet Kris makes an enemy with enough clout
To claim an annoyed accusation,
Which puts Kris’s sanity quickly in doubt
Right after a brief altercation.
 
When Doris’s lawyer friend Fred defends Kris,
A court battle breaks out and quick,
And Fred Gailey’s planning to somehow prove this:
That Kris is the famous Saint Nick.
 
Though Doris is frustrated by Fred’s endeavor,
Both Susan and she still concede.
Their trust leads to proof, unexpected and clever,
By which Kris is upheld and freed.
 
His gifts warm the hearts of his numerous friends
After he is released Christmas Eve.
Fred, Doris, and Susan see all he intends
And really can’t help but believe.
____________________
 

One of the quintessential Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street is as pure and sentimental as holiday entertainment can get without becoming saccharine. Edmund Gwenn won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of arguably the best on-screen Santa Claus, genial and honest, accommodating but willing to confront vice in the name of virtue. When younger, I was always told that the Santa at the end of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was the real Santa (as opposed to all his impersonating helpers out there in the malls and department stores and street corners), and this film cemented that belief.

Maureen O’Hara is both likable and frustratingly pragmatic as divorced mother Doris, whose growing relationship with the idealistic lawyer Fred Gailey (John Payne) is a cogent endorsement of the “lovely intangibles” that make life enjoyable. A young Natalie Wood gives a precocious performance as doubting Susan, who doesn’t know what to believe as the adults pull her in different intellectual directions.

Though there are some instances of Golden-Age-of-Hollywood overacting, its Oscar-winning screenplay succeeds at balancing humor, schmaltz, and intelligence. The courtroom scenes are particularly well-formulated, with an implausible claim being “proven” in a surprisingly persuasive way. Though we never see Kris Kringle in full Santa mode, delivering toys and such, he embodies and disseminates the goodwill, generosity, and “faith” of the secular side of Christmas. No remake can compare with the magic of the 1947 original (non-colorized, please).

Interestingly, despite its reputation as a holiday classic, the film was not advertised as a Christmas movie. Its trailers simply featured actors bestowing vague praise on some inspiring story called Miracle on 34th Street, and it was actually released in the United States in May. Even with its spring release, the film was recognized as a Christmas delight, one of those enduring bits of Americana that can be watched year after year.

Best line: (Fred) “Look, Doris, someday you’re going to find out that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn’t work. And when you do, don’t overlook those lovely intangibles. You’ll discover they’re the only things that are worthwhile.”
 
VC’s best line: (Mr. Shellhammer, on the phone with Doris) “Yes. Just a moment.  Mrs. Shellhammer wants to talk to you.  I made the martinis triple strength, and she feels wonderful!  Here, my pet.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, on the couch and snockered, holding the phone upside down) “Thank you. Hello?  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, switching phone around but still upside down) “No, no, no, no. No, dear.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, laughing) “Thank you, darling. [Loudly]  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, turning phone right-side up) “No, no, no, dear. There.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer) “Oh, darling. How silly of me. [Very loudly] Helloooo? [Laughs] Why, we’d love to have Santa Claus come and stay with us. Mm-hmm. I think it would be simp-ly charming!”
 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

239 Followers and Counting

 

#81: Gone with the Wind (1939)

03 Monday Nov 2014

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Young Scarlett O’Hara is pining away
For the weak Ashley Wilkes, every night, every day,
But treats him as if he committed a felony
When he intends to wed his cousin Melanie.
 
As Civil War nears, she is suddenly met
By dashing Rhett Butler, who makes her upset.
He claims that the South cannot win any war,
But men still depart to go fight by the score.
 
An inconsequential first marriage ends fast,
And soon in Atlanta the wives are aghast
When Scarlett’s out dancing with who else but Rhett,
Who’s now a blockade runner nursing regret.
 
As Scarlett and Melanie worry and fret
For Ashley, they care for each suffering vet.
Atlanta is falling one hot afternoon
When Melanie goes into labor too soon.
 
The baby delivered, they call on Rhett’s aid;
He brings them a wagon as Yankees invade.
Through fiery buildings, they flee from the city,
And Rhett leaves them there with a kiss and his pity.
 
Through war-ravaged fields, Scarlett makes it to Tara,
Where fever has overcome Mrs. O’Hara.
Her home now in shambles, Miss Scarlett declares
She’ll never be hungry, regardless of cares.
 
The long Reconstruction is hard on them all;
Her father’s soon claimed by an unbalanced fall.
As taxes pile up, she appeals to ol’ Rhett,
Who’s broke and in prison but not desperate yet.
 
She marries for money, is widowed again,
And keeps Ashley close as her favorite of men.
When Rhett then proposes, she swiftly agrees
And soon has a daughter they’re eager to please.
 
A rumor and distance make Rhett envious,
And he has his way with a passionate fuss.
But tragedy strikes (in fact, three in a row),
And Scarlett and Rhett are too mired in woe.
 
When Scarlett at last has the courage to state
She never loved Ashley, it’s simply too late.
Rhett bitterly leaves her, not giving a “damn,”
But she swears to win back her disgruntled man.
___________________
 

When I first compiled my list, I originally placed Gone with the Wind at #5 because I admire it as a milestone in cinema, the film that mostly topped its great 1939 competition. However, my VC pointed out that I’m rarely eager to watch it nor am I quite as enthralled by the epic romance as she is. Thus, I decided to drop it out of the top ten but still give it the praise it deserves.

Gone with the Wind is one of America’s most enduring icons. Who hasn’t heard deathless lines like “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again,” or “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies,” or “After all, tomorrow is another day”? Who hasn’t seen at least one parody of some element of this film? (Carol Burnett’s “Went with the Wind” skit is a favorite.) Between Margaret Mitchell’s classic (and interminable) novel and Sidney Howard’s Oscar-winning screenplay adaptation, the script is full of juicy quotes, yet even these are overshadowed by the perfectly cast leads and the scope of its best scenes.

While at times she indulges in unconvincing histrionics, Vivien Leigh is Scarlett O’Hara, just as the debonair Clark Gable is Rhett Butler. (Margaret Mitchell had him in mind.) Their amorous banter and volatile relationship are hallmarks of cinema romance, and Gable’s suave persona has left many a woman swooning in her seat, not least of all my VC. They also share one of the most passionate kisses ever filmed (after they leave Atlanta), which few movies can hope to top. Other characters are well-cast, though a tad one-dimensional. Olivia de Havilland (one of the only stars still alive) as Melanie is an ingratiating Mary Sue who is nonetheless kind and sympathetic, and while Leslie Howard is equally good as Ashley, his weak character is such a contrast from the allure of Rhett Butler that one cannot help but want to slap Scarlett silly for her misplaced infatuation. The black characters have drawn criticism for their adherence to racial stereotypes, but Hattie McDaniel’s role as Mammy won her the first Academy Award for an African-American (beating out de Havilland for Best Supporting Actress).

The film is at its best when its epic scope plays out, particularly during the War itself. Two scenes especially stand out: the long shot that pulls out to reveal a huge field strewn with Confederate soldiers, and the thrilling escape from burning Atlanta, with the characters’ silhouettes fleeing before a collapsing building (which had to be shot in one take). The film has spurts of cinema at its best, mainly in the first half, but its taxing length cannot keep up the spectacle. Perhaps due to its troubled production, many parts are simply boring and not completely necessary, a fault the films of my final top ten do not share.

Despite its bloated duration, Gone with the Wind is an epic romance set in a time long past, of billowing gowns and urbane gentlemen, a period clearly romanticized but no less legendary. It has ranked high among AFI’s greatest film lists, and, though I cannot quite include it in my personal top ten, it still deserves a place of honor among the all-time classics. May Hollywood never attempt a remake. (Please!)

Best line: (Scarlett, as Rhett is leaving at the end) “Rhett. If you go, where shall I go; what shall I do?”   (Rhett) “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

239 Followers and Counting

#83: Saints and Soldiers (2003)

01 Saturday Nov 2014

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At Malmedy, the prisoners
Were massacred among the firs.
Survivors fled, though only four,
Content to hide and nothing more
Behind the German lines adverse,
 
Until a Brit convinces all
To risk their lives through snowy pall,
More lives to save from waning war
In snowy squall.
 
Camaraderie begins to grow
Among the outfit, lying low.
Through losses testing faith and nerve,
They carry on, like all who serve,
And gain perspective on the foe
From those who fall.
_______________
 

Who knew that a war movie made by Mormons would become one of my favorites of the whole genre? I watched Saints and Soldiers with low, if any, expectations and was completely enthralled by its powerful story. Set around real-life events, like the Malmedy massacre and the Battle of the Bulge, the film incorporates several true anecdotes into its tale of five soldiers behind enemy lines.

Though none of the actors are well-known stars, the entire film centers on its character development and excels at it: faithful but traumatized Deacon, coolheaded Gunderson, cigarette-craving Kendrick, suspicious doctor Gould, and swaggering Brit Winley. Every exchange provides either insights into their characters or humorous incidents that endear them to the audience and to each other. The writers throw in deftly written dialogue cues about each character’s “secret” and backstory that work even better than flashbacks would. By the time some of them give “their last full measure of devotion,” we feel as if we know most of them and are shaken by the loss as much as their fellow soldiers. Many movies have attempted such emotional direction, but Saints and Soldiers succeeds, at least for me.

For a low-budget production, the film boasts surprisingly genuine performances; stunning winter cinematography; a stirring, patriotic score; and a number of period details, from military costumes to antique vehicles, which add to its overall authenticity. One well-handled aspect is its Christian message; yes, it features somewhat of an evangelistic subplot, but it is never preachy and could have indeed happened out on the battlefield. Deacon is written as a Mormon from Snowflake, Arizona (“Doesn’t drink. Doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t even like coffee.”), but the only explicit elements of his faith are his reading of a small book (probably a Bible) and a brief, interrupted prayer. His faith acts as a complement to the story rather than the main focus and in the end is affirmed in a satisfying and realistic way.

Of course, there are also the usual explosions and battle scenes necessary in a war movie, and though many die and it is certainly intense, the violence is brief and restrained. Modern war films too often delve into the overly gritty, gory details that make war hell, claiming truthfully that it is “realistic,” but Saints and Soldiers achieves the same impact and emotion without profanity and without depicting heads blown off and blood spurting.

A lesser-known classic, Saints and Soldiers is a powerful, character-driven fight for survival that doesn’t demonize the enemy nor idealize the heroes and ought to be a model for other war films.

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

237 Followers and Counting

 

#85: Shadowlands (1993)

30 Thursday Oct 2014

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C. S. Lewis is content to live as he has always done,
To teach and study, chat with colleagues, answer questions he presents.
He is happy to debate on arguments he knows he’s won.
Both he and Oxford rarely change, for they’ve got all the common sense.
 
Then in 1952, he meets Joy Gresham, who’s a fan,
A poet and American who leaves him speechless now and then.
Soul and intellect converge to make her special to this man,
Whose own experience with love is only in his reading den.
 
Fleeting visits with her son endear her to the author till
Divorce allows them to relocate to the London she admires.
By entreaty, Lewis marries Joy, a sign of their good will,
But even then he does not see the happiness that she inspires.
 
Sadly, Joy is cancer-stricken, and the promise of her loss
Convinces Lewis that he loves her deeply, though he knows not how.
He requests a holy marriage as he helps her bear her cross.
When she recovers for a time, they both are faithful to their vow.
 
Honeymooning is idyllic until Joy reminds instead
That as a part of happiness, they can’t ignore the coming grief.
Death arrives, and life goes on despite the tears her darlings shed.
Experience best helps us learn of truest love, however brief.
__________________
 

Shadowlands is one of the purest and most poignant of biographical romances. From the popular Narnia series to the insightful The Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis (Jack, to his friends) ranks among my favorite authors, and no one could bring him to life like Anthony Hopkins. Coming only two years after his star-making role in The Silence of the Lambs, there is no trace of the deranged serial killer here; instead, Hopkins embodies Lewis’s intelligence, wisdom, and genuine surprise at the advent of love. Oscar nominee Debra Winger may have seemed like an odd choice to portray his beloved Joy Gresham (pen name Joy Davidman), but their interactions have a warmth and reality that gradually morphs their professional respect into personal chemistry.

The late Richard Attenborough was a skilled director, but even his Oscar-winning Gandhi does not compare to Shadowlands. Instead of the sweeping view of a legendary life, he gives us a quiet, contemplative story of unexpected romance that, to me and my VC, is much more moving and intimate. The direction is understated but beautiful throughout, allowing emotions, reverence, and beauty to permeate every scene. On top of all that, the script is intelligent, being based on William Nicholson’s TV and stage productions.

Early monologues by Lewis establish his views on pain as “God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world,” but he has never experienced such pain since childhood. His attachment to and loss of Joy might have made him contradict his prior beliefs, but even when his and Douglas’s faith is shaken, it isn’t repudiated. Rather, the main intellectual conflict is the disparity between knowledge and experience, without either really negating the other. It’s a classic case of “easier said than done”; philosophizing is fine on one level, but experience challenges the detached serenity with which Lewis views the world as an Oxford professor. His prior lesson still applies, but the moral difficulty of pain becomes more real when it is endured firsthand. Even when we know the suffering yet to come, we love anyway, a mystery of being human that even Lewis could not fully explain.

At the beginning, the film claims that “This is a true story,” which is only mostly true. It does omit Joy’s other son David Gresham, only depicting the more well-known Douglas (played by young Joseph Mazzello, who was in Jurassic Park that same year). Also, the film focuses on Lewis’s academic and personal life without touching on his literary life: he published numerous books during the film’s events, including several Narnia installments. Even so, the story is undeniably powerful, though it is rather slow and best watched when one is fully awake, eating, or both. My VC, who “adores” Anthony Hopkins in this rare romantic leading role, would rank Shadowlands in her top 50 and just recently was able to view it without crying. Beautiful and heartbreaking, Shadowlands is Attenborough’s masterpiece.

Best line: (Harry, a friend) “Christopher can scoff, Jack, but I know how hard you’ve been praying, and now God is answering your prayers.”   (Lewis) “That’s not why I pray, Harry. I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God; it changes me.”

VC’s best line: (Lewis, to Joy) “Will you marry this foolish, frightened old man… who needs you more than he can bear to say… who loves you, even though he hardly knows how?”

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

235 Followers and Counting

 

#88: The Ten Commandments (1956)

27 Monday Oct 2014

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The land of Egypt built its wonders high
Upon the backs of Hebrew slaves of old,
Who prayed that God salvation would supply,
And so He did, His people to uphold.
A baby borne upon the Nile’s waves
To rescue him from edicts merciless
Proceeded from the desperate blood of slaves
But found a home in Pharaoh’s house to bless.
Though Moses prospered as a faithful prince,
He learned the truth, and crime forced banishment.
At last, with burning bush, God did convince
His chosen one to turn and represent.
Though Moses wielded power from the Lord,
His “brother” Rameses would not free his race.
The death of every firstborn by God’s sword
Allowed the Hebrews freedom from this place.
Through sundered sea and senseless sin, God led
His people with commandments all have read.
_________________
 

A TV favorite around Easter/Passover, Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments is undoubtedly dated but still retains the sense of grandeur that made it such an epic experience in 1956. While not his best role, Charlton Heston is a formidable Moses, exuding heroic dignity in every scene, even when he’s supposedly at the end of his rope. The eloquent voiceover narration and the jaw-dropping production values add to the overall grandiosity of the film.

Its biggest “flaw,” so to speak, is the overacting, with characters frequently looking off into the distance while spouting poetic dialogue about love, faith, or beauty. While this is at times unintentionally hammy, the melodramatic parlance has an archaic quality that is still somehow credible in the film’s antiquated setting. The story itself is well-formed, instituting simple yet complex character relationships among all the pomp and pageantry. The interplay among Moses, Rameses, and Nefretiri has a Shakespearean element that grounds the film in real, if exaggerated, emotion.

Anne Baxter as Nefretiri is the worst offender as far as magnified theatrics go, though her smug confidence about the power of her beauty adds to the interpersonal tension of the second act, even if Moses dismisses it. Likewise, Yul Brynner is stiffly arrogant at first, sharing with Baxter one of cinema’s truly awkward kisses, yet he grows into the role of Rameses until his lofty refusal to “let the people go” establishes him as a great Pharaoh in “de Nile.” (Get it?) The rest of the cast is large and adequate, with Edward G. Robinson as the standout naysayer Dathan, who’s the kind of guy everyone wants to punch now and then.

While The Ten Commandments is not completely accurate in the Biblical sense, it takes the source material seriously, applying it to an overall message of freedom and faith. It even transforms some Hollywood additions into clever speculations, such as a scorned lover causing the “hardening” of Pharaoh’s heart and his reversal after releasing the Hebrews. Above all, the film achieves scenes of visual vastness, from the labors of the slaves to their emancipation and immense leave-taking. The cast of thousands is stunning, and scenes like the parting of the Red Sea still hold an impressive power that can bring some, like my VC, to tears of awe. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, not this long nor this extravagant, but The Ten Commandments stands as DeMille’s most successful accomplishment.

P.S. I don’t hold out much hope for Ridley Scott’s upcoming redux version Exodus: Gods and Kings, but we’ll see.

Best Biblical line: (Joshua) “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

Best original line: (Moses) “There can be no freedom without the Law.”

 
Rank: 53 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

233 Followers and Counting

 

#89: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy (1999, 2002, 2005)

26 Sunday Oct 2014

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(Spoiler Alert)
 
The Trade Federation’s blockading Naboo,
So Jedi are sent to negotiate peace.
A battle with droids and evasion ensue
As Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fight for release.
 
Below on Naboo, Qui-Gon rescues a twit,
A Gungan outcast who is called Jar Jar Binks.
In gratitude, Jar Jar assists them, to wit
He leads them to where he is branded a jinx.
 
The Gungans live deep underwater, they learn,
But don’t wish to help anyone in the least.
One dark shortcut later, the Jedi knights turn
To Queen Amidala, whose fears have increased.
 
The Jedi and queen flee the threatened Naboo,
But their ship is damaged by enemy snares.
With help from a droid known as R2-D2,
They land on the sphere Tatooine for repairs.
 
While searching for parts, Qui-Gon locates a slave
Named Anakin Skywalker, only a boy.
This Anakin may be “the One” meant to save,
To bring the Force balance and peace to enjoy.
 
A bet and a pod race free Ani at last,
But he’s forced to leave his own mother behind.
They fight off Darth Maul, like a Sith from the past,
And head back to Coruscant with their new find.
 
The queen’s handmaid Padmé is rather friendly
With Ani, who’s introduced by Qui-Gon Jin.
The whole Jedi Council is loath to agree
With Qui-Gon’s assertions about Anakin.
 
Soon, everyone’s on their way back to Naboo
And seeks out the Gungans to help intervene.
At last, they agree to do battle anew,
When Padmé reveals she is really the queen.
 
As Jar Jar leads Gungans against battle droids,
The Jedi and Padmé sneak into the base.
Through luck, little Anakin somehow avoids
The fight on the ground for a battle in space.
 
Young Obi-Wan steps up to deal a death blow
To Darth Maul, who duels and dispatches Qui-Gon.
The droids are defeated, and peace seems to grow,
As Anakin’s trained under wise Obi-Wan.
_______________
 
When Padmé, now senator rather than queen,
Still serving Naboo with unflinching resolve,
Returns back to Coruscant, death unforeseen
Fuels fears that the peace may yet further devolve.
 
In light of the recent attempts on her life,
The Chancellor Palpatine bids her lie low.
The Jedi assign her two guards against strife,
With whom she’s familiar from ten years ago.
 
Young Ani has grown, and he clearly is smitten
With Padmé, though Obi-Wan bids him resist.
Soon after, they save her before she is bitten
And race to catch up with this antagonist.
 
Their target is nixed, so they go separate ways.
While Anakin takes Padmé back to Naboo,
His master does research and doubtfully pays
A visit to cloners deleted from view.
 
There, Obi-Wan learns that an order’s been met
For countless clone troops the Republic can claim.
He’s introduced to the clone-ee Jango Fett,
A cold bounty hunter, who flees to hide blame.
 
On Geonosis, Obi-Wan is detained
By evil Count Dooku, who chose the dark side.
Meanwhile, Skywalker is thoroughly pained
By dreams of his mother he cannot abide.
 
Returning to Tatooine, Padmé in tow,
He learns Tusken raiders abducted his mom.
He finds her in time for her final death throe
And yields to revenge as a coldhearted balm.
 
Both Padmé and he learn of Obi-Wan’s plight
And on Geonosis are captured as well.
Confessing their love, they are driven to fight
Three monsters in front of a large clientele.
 
The Jedi come calling with armies of clones,
And Jango and droids are no match for them all.
As Dooku retreats with some escorting drones,
Our heroes pursue for a lightsaber brawl.
 
Though Dooku defeats Obi-Wan and his ward,
When Yoda arrives, Count is nearly outmatched
And flees with some top-secret blueprints on board
To where his dark master has plans to be hatched.
 
Though Anakin lost his arm due to Dooku,
Because of the clones, this one battle was won.
As Padmé and Anakin wed on Naboo,
An unforeseen clone war has swiftly begun.
__________________
 
When General Grievous, who’s mostly a droid,
Abducts Palpatine in a militant raid,
Two Jedi and hundreds of clones are employed
To rescue the chancellor from this crusade.
 
With some difficulty, they breach the lead ship,
And Anakin finishes Dooku in rage.
They crash-land, and Grievous then gives them the slip
To find some more trouble in which to engage.
 
When Anakin learns that his wife is expecting,
He’s eager to end all the secrets they hide,
But more dreams of death make him doubt his protecting
Will save Padmé’s life since they will not subside.
 
As Chancellor Palpatine builds up his ego
And asks that Skywalker speak on his behalf,
The Jedi are doubtful about his amigo
And don’t wish the dark side to have the last laugh.
 
While Obi-Wan executes Grievous in flame,
His Padawan learns Palpatine is a Sith,
But Palpatine’s pledge to save Padmé by name
Convinces Skywalker to serve him forthwith.
 
His turn to the dark side at last is complete:
He massacres younglings as he is directed.
The order goes out to the clones in deceit
To kill all the Jedi that they have protected.
 
Though Yoda and Obi-Wan cheat death, the rest
Are caught by surprise and are exterminated.
When they learn of Anakin, both are distressed,
And Padmé refuses to trust what is stated.
 
When Anakin heads to a volcanic sphere
To wipe out the Separatist leaders at last,
His wife follows him, and his worry and fear
Are changed into anger when she is aghast.
 
He clashes with Obi-Wan furiously
As Palpatine barely bests Yoda as well.
Disturbed at the “Chosen One’s” deviancy,
Kenobi disarms and leaves him where he fell.
 
The Chancellor/Emperor’s now in control.
As Padmé gives birth to her predestined twins,
Darth Vader is painfully somewhat made whole
And ready for when the next chapter begins.
 
Though Padmé is lost and two Jedi alone,
The twins are divided and safely will stay.
Both Leia and Luke will have tales of their own
One day in that galaxy far, far away.
__________________
 

Many will probably disagree with my placement of George Lucas’s three-part return to the Star Wars universe. I have heard all the scorn for this trilogy: Jake Lloyd is the worst child actor of all time. What’s with all this Midi-chlorian crap? Hayden Christensen is so whiny and insipid as Anakin. The romantic dialogue is as corny as a popping machine and less entertaining. The politics drag, and the acting is mediocre. Nothing is as good as it should have been. These films are an embarrassment to the originals. Jar Jar Binks must die!

With all these criticisms, how then did the Star Wars prequels earn a place in my top 100? Quite simply, it’s because they’re far better than most people give them credit for. Do they compare with the first three as a whole? No. Are they flawed? Yes. But amid the minor annoyances that have garnered so much loathing, there are genuine moments of brilliance, with the visuals especially, that do make them worthy of the Star Wars name.

Episode I: The Phantom Menace is the weakest of the three because of its two most hated elements: Jar Jar Binks and the young Anakin Skywalker. Neither one ever bothered me much. There are much worse child actors than Jake Lloyd out there, and Jar Jar’s comic relief is not totally without charm, though it’s overplayed compared with the Ewoks of Return of the Jedi (again, I don’t mind the teddy bears). I agree that Lucas should not have tried to explain the Force with inscrutable talk of Midi-chlorians, but to me, these minor frustrations are overshadowed by the exciting, effects-laden sequences and the otherwise solid casting. Liam Neeson and Samuel L. Jackson (the first time I’d seen either of them) lend respectable sobriety, which is needed next to Jar Jar, and Ewan McGregor plays an up-and-coming Obi-Wan Kenobi who grew to become my favorite character in the next two films. Though his demise was a bit shocking at the time, Darth Maul also proves to be a formidable adversary. The pod race is far from pointless, as some detractors claim; it’s meant to buy Ani’s freedom and to be tense, impressive, and above all fun, and in my opinion, it succeeds, as do the battle scenes at the end. And let’s not forget John Williams’s magnificent score, which truly qualifies the film for its genre of space opera; no score could come closer to matching his musical achievement with the original Star Wars.

The first film was certainly closest to deserving its opprobrium, but Episode II: Attack of the Clones is as close to perfect entertainment as the prequels get. Perhaps I’m biased by the fact that it was the first Star Wars film I viewed in the theater, but it’s easily my favorite of the prequels. From the speeder chase on Coruscant to Obi-Wan’s rain-drenched duel with Jango Fett, Attack of the Clones offers the most exciting plot, as well as several explanations to burning questions, such as “What do all those stormtroopers look like?” While I think the first film’s obvious age difference between Anakin and Padmé was written away with the casting of Christensen, their relationship is sufficiently progressive to make it believable, even if the dialogue is indeed shallow. Plus, Anakin’s return to Tatooine is certainly a plausible prelude to his descent to the dark side. Episode II also possesses what is probably my favorite sequence of the entire saga: the Coliseum battle and its combination of giant monsters, droids, clones, bounty hunters, Jedi, a few pithy lines, and hopelessly romantic epicness, not to mention a subsequent peek at Yoda’s latent lightsaber prowess. I, for one, did not leave that theater disappointed.

I enjoyed watching Genndy Tartakovsky’s animated Star Wars: Clone Wars, which was released between the second and third films and set the stage for Episode III; thus, I was excited for Star Wars’ supposedly final installment. Revenge of the Sith is not an obvious favorite, not because it is bad (it actually received the best reception of the three), but because it is a tragedy, one that is surprisingly well-told. It essentially explains how Darth Vader came to be and how his children were separated. Anakin’s fear for Padmé’s life, foreshadowed by his premonitions about his mother in Episode II, is an effective catalyst for his moral plunge, though his embracing of murder is no less shocking or frustrating. The special effects of Episode III far surpass any other Star Wars film, and from droid commander General Grievous to Yoda’s showdown with the Emperor, from breathtaking beginning to tragic end, it is truly a feast for the eyes. (I love how the Yoda fight turned the long-established setting of the Senate chamber into an extravagant set piece.) The lava duel finale at last achieves the visual and emotional awe that words like saga and space opera imply; plus, the Emperor’s political intrigue provides timely, if occasionally ponderous, insights into the clandestine machinations of dictators. As splendid as Revenge can be, it’s depressing as heck and “ended” Lucas’s films on a disheartening note sorely in need of A New Hope.

Haters and critics can ridicule and underrate these films all they want, but George Lucas’s complete vision of the Star Wars saga is an absolute spectacle that earned him an AFI Lifetime Achievement Award after Revenge of the Sith was released. Yes, the dialogue is its weakest point, but the actors do their best with the sometimes clunky lines, such as Darth Vader’s lame climactic “Noooo.” Quiddities aside, the entire story of Anakin Skywalker deserved a full telling, and the Star Wars prequels supplied a fantastically realized narrative and some of the finest action sequences of the modern CGI era. I’ll be interested to see what J. J. Abrams has in store for the continuation of the franchise. Considering what he’s already done with Star Trek, I have high hopes for Episode VII.

Best line from The Phantom Menace: (Jar Jar Binks) “How wude!”
More serious best line for The Phantom Menace: (Yoda, to Anakin) “Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you.”
 
Best line from Attack of the Clones: (Anakin, as their coliseum execution begins) “What about Padmé?”  (Obi-Wan, as Padmé climbs onto a pillar) “She seems to be on top of things.”
More serious best line from Attack of the Clones: (Queen of Naboo) “We have to keep our faith in the Republic. The day we stop believing democracy can work is the day we lose it.”  (Padmé) “Let’s pray that day never comes.”
 
Best line from Revenge of the Sith: (Anakin, crash-landing Grievous’s ship) “We lost something.”   (Obi-Wan) “Not to worry. We’re still flying half a ship.”
More serious best line from Revenge of the Sith: (Padmé, as the Emperor takes over with full senatorial support) “So this is how liberty dies… with thunderous applause.”

 

Rank: 53 out of 60

 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

232 Followers and Counting

 

#91: October Sky (1999)

22 Wednesday Oct 2014

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In Coalwood, West Virginia,
Coal is undisputed king,
The mine the source of all the town can claim.
In 1957,
Sputnik I is orbiting
And elevates young Homer Hickham’s aim.
 
He takes a sudden interest
In the field of rocketry,
And three school friends assist his doubtful dream.
His father thinks it’s foolish,
And his brutal honesty
Discourages their unexampled dream.
 
As Homer’s group experiments
With rockets by the tens,
They finally achieve successful flight.
The town begins attending
Homer’s launches with his friends,
But Homer’s dad dismisses each invite.
 
A forest fire begins nearby,
A reckless rocket’s blamed,
And Homer’s forced to give up his pastime.
He goes into the coal mine
When his father’s nearly maimed,
Until he clears himself of any crime.
 
He wins the county science fair,
And nationals awaits.
Though his display is robbed to his chagrin,
His father still assists him,
Overcoming their debates,
So Homer and his Rocket Boys can win.
 
When scholarships are theirs,
They intend one final launch
In honor of their teacher, parents, friends.
John Hickham finally arrives,
The miner ever staunch,
To watch the rocket blaze as it ascends.
_______________
 

How many movies have we seen about a young upstart daring to follow his/her dreams, eliciting nothing but criticism from an autocratic parent? The Little Mermaid, How to Train Your Dragon, The Greatest Game Ever Played, and countless others have established this cliché as a favorite Hollywood source of familial tension. Why then is October Sky so fresh, so moving, so inspirational? Perhaps it’s the winsome appeal of Jake Gyllenhaal as Homer Hickham, exemplifying wide-eyed wonder long before his grittier, more adult roles of late. Perhaps it’s the complex relationship with his father (a stony Chris Cooper), which provides the tired tension with which we’re all familiar yet refuses to demonize him, even tempering his disparagement with intermittent heroism that depicts him as a misguided but admirable role model nonetheless. Perhaps it’s the film’s period soundtrack and soothing, hymn-like score or its Appalachian backdrop, at once comforting and oppressive, similar to “Butcher Holler” in Coal Miner’s Daughter. Perhaps it’s the inspiring accomplishment of “a bunch of hillbillies” through science rather than the usual sports or music, and the heartening support of the townsfolk and their schoolteacher (Laura Dern). Perhaps it’s all of the above.

Regardless, October Sky (an anagram of Rocket Boys) is a film that stands the test of time. I first viewed it as a kid before it fell off my radar, and when I saw it again years later, it was just as uplifting. Surely, many people like me can identify with Homer Hickham; I too have been galvanized by others’ works of creative genius to push myself to similar heights of ambition. Seeing such initiative rewarded is gratifying enough; seeing it win over even the harshest of critics qualifies October Sky as a personal favorite.

Best line: (Homer, to his dad, toward the end) “Look, I know you and me don’t exactly see eye to eye on certain things. I mean, yeah, we don’t see eye to eye on just about anything, but Dad, I come to believe that I got it in me to be somebody in this world. And it’s not because I’m so different from you either; it’s because I’m the same. I mean, I can be just as hard-headed and just as tough. I only hope I can be as good a man as you are. I mean, sure, Dr. von Braun is a great scientist, but he isn’t my hero.”

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

231 Followers and Counting