My Fair Lady

My Fair Lady (released December 25, 1964)
Director: George Cukor
Starring: Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harrison, Stanley Holloway, Gladys Cooper
Produced by: Jack Warner
Written by: Alan Jay Lerner, George Bernard Shaw
Music by: Frederick Loewe (music), Alan Jay Lerner (lyrics)
Cinematography by: Harry Stradling, Sr.
Distributed by: Warner Bros.

Lady Fair

Really? Another musical to review? We just got finished writing about The Sound of Music didn’t we…? Okay, maybe that was a while back, but I was still slightly astounded to discover this film being pulled from the box on the heels of the Von Trapp adventures in Austria. I must admit that for someone who is not a big movie musical fan, I have caught myself humming tunes from My Fair Lady from time to time throughout my life. I will even admit to crooning some verses along with the CD player in an old friend’s rebuilt Camaro as we sped across miles and miles of open searing desert in the American Southwest while on a road trip a few years back. Richard happily possesses a fine voice, and I can only imagine the astonishment of the Navajo people and Gila monsters on the sides of the road as we raced by and they caught snatches of “The Rain in Spain”.

It fell to Warner Bros. and director George Cukor to bring this iconic stage musical to the big screen. In general, the look of the film was stagy; no doubt this due to its production on the Warner soundstages in Burbank, and because of this, in my opinion it really didn’t have the right “Edwardian English” look and feel to it. I believe it would have helped deflect bit of the disappointment many people felt in not seeing the original Eliza Doolittle of the stage version (Julie Andrews) in the title role instead of Audrey Hepburn. However at the time, Audrey had earned her chops before the cameras and Julie had not, and upon such fine points of cinematic etiquette film classics blossom and flourish or wither and die.

Erm, the street where you live looks like a sound stage...

I suppose we can’t find much to carp about Miss Hepburn’s lip-synching when in the same production we have Mr. Rex Harrison’s half-spoken, half-sung renditions, but then again he never claimed he could sing and indeed, his delivery managed with such bravado, comes across as quite natural. This, one imagines, is how the puritanical Henry Higgins would sing if forced to do so. At any rate, it certainly worked for him on the stage in London for those oft-repeated performances… 

This singing gig is a breeze!

And speaking of singing, it still startles me a bit to see the late and venerable Jeremy Brett warbling “On the Street Where You Live” as the rather foppish suitor for Eliza’s hand, Freddy Eynsford-Hill. Sherlock Holmes would never chase after a woman like that would he? 

Freddy never used his powers of deduction
to discover he was a git.

And yet despite these admittedly trivial cavils (which however added together leave one with a less-than-enthusiastic overall feel for the film) I did enjoy watching this version of what has been termed “the perfect musical”. The story in whatever guise one approaches it; ancient Greek myth, 19^th Century play, or 20^th Century musical has all the charm, freshness and sophistication of a classically good story.

I have sometimes mused upon what an indescribable rush of perfect joy Lerner & Loewe must have experienced when they originally came up with the pairing of words to music, being the only two in the world at that moment to know that they had just created something of true magnificence. 

--kak

My Unfairly Treated Lady

Audrey... practically
perfect in every way.

I love Audrey Hepburn. I want to look like her – lithe, graceful, with a swan’s neck, and huge eyes fringed in dark lashes. The few men I’ve told this to don’t get it. They tell me she’s got a big nose, no tits, and is too skinny. But I don’t care… there is something about her smile and voice that convinces me that she’s never been anything but happy. 

It’s nice little fantasy.

I was excited to watch My Fair Lady. It isn’t one I’d seen as a kid – we seemed to be a Rodgers and Hammerstein household and not a Lerner and Loewe one.  I figured I’d be in for a treat. It has Audrey Hepburn, gorgeous clothes, and some great music. What’s not to love?

Have you got an hour?

Let’s start by comparing and contrasting it with The Sound of Music. Both originated as stage plays, and while the movie version of SOM is visually gorgeous (how can it not be filmed in Salzburg?), I felt MFL was still very much a stage play. All outdoor scenes were obviously filmed on a soundstage. Maybe that was the look the director was going for, I don’t know. I do know that it seemed less authentic to me.

The music was great. Lerner and Loewe are no slouches when it comes to writing catchy songs that could crawl into your ear and burrow into your brain. (But in a good way.) My husband can do all of Henry Higgins’ parts from memory. I have to admit that’s awfully cute.

A prisoner of the gutter

Now let’s talk about the story. Henry Higgins is an English gentleman (and that’s figuratively, not literally) who says the only thing separating the classes is a lack of education and proper speech. (I suppose he'd consider it crass to mention something as inelegant as MONEY.) He picks Eliza Doolittle, a lowly flower seller and bets with his buddy Colonel Pickering, that he could pass her off as a lady with a bit of training up. He plucks her from the mud of Covent Garden and installs her in his townhouse. Surely a stroke of luck for poor, dirty, ignorant, uneducated Eliza, right?

All right, here’s the poop: this plot makes me itch. It makes me fume, steam, and rage. I am completely disgusted with the character of Henry Higgins, who sees Eliza Doolittle not even as a human being. He takes all the credit for her hard work, and never once considers Eliza has feelings, intelligence, or even a pulse. I find Eliza Doolittle to be delightful – funny, sharp, and full of spirit. After Henry has won his bet, he doesn’t see he has ruined her: she’s not really a lady and can’t ever belong in high society, and she can't return to her former life because she'd be resented for trying to rise above her station. She is a human being trapped in the ether without a place in the world.

In short, Henry Higgins is a worm.

G.B. Shaw: satirist or worm?

My problem stems from the source of this musical: George Bernard Shaw. He wrote Pygmalion, the play upon which My Fair Lady was based. I don’t know enough about him to understand if he intended this as a piece of satire. Or was Henry Higgins’ world view his own? Either option is a bad one. If he wrote it as a biting piece of satire, what would possess a person to set it to jaunty music? The theme and style of the film are at extreme odds with each other. I feel like I’m chewing aluminum foil while watching it. But on the verso, if Shaw was just as much of a worm as Henry Higgins, why do people find this a charming story? It has been venerated as “the perfect musical.” But how can you call it that when it is full of despicable characters, classism and misogyny? It makes me want to scream. And I am. Right now. In my head.

And the ending? If they were still alive, I’d hunt down the parties responsible and smack them with Henry’s slippers for that kind of ambiguous crap. But that’s just me. 

~Anna

Up next: 1949's All the King’s Men

Gladiator

Gladiator (Released May 5, 2000)

Director: Ridley Scott

Starring: Russell Crowe, Joaquin Phoenix, Connie Nielsen, Oliver Reed, Derek Jacobi, Djimon Honsou, Richard Harris

Produced by: Douglas Wick, David Franzoni, Branko Lustig

Written by: David Franzoni, John Logan, William Nicholson, story by David Franzoni

Music by: Hans Zimmer, Lisa Gerrard

Cinematography by: John Mathieson

Distributed by: DreamWorks  

Aren't You Glad It's Gladiator?

Ahem.

I realize it has been a rather long hiatus for us here at Oscar Boot Camp. I won't make excuses, or bore you with the details. I am truly sorry that life got away from us at Chez Karras, but we are back, and ready to rumble. Or watch movies. Whatever comes first.

We did watch Gladiator last November. I'd seen it before and liked it, but never gave much thought to what made the movie so good. (And let me qualify this statement by saying that I thought it was a good movie, though not a great one.) Let's see what we have:

1. Russell Crowe in a short skirt.

Hello, salty goodness...

Well the short skirt was hot, but it wasn't just Crowe's sex appeal that made him well-suited to the role of Maximus Decimus Meridius. Crowe does well in roles of manly fortitude (Master and Commander, Cinderella Man, etc.) where physical prowess is a necessity. This movie was no exception. He fought on the battlefield, he fought in the ring, he fought the Roman Emperor, for crying out loud. (And I'm sorry, but the name Maximus? Why not just call him Biggus Dickus and be done with it?)

2. Joaquin Phoenix as the Emperor Commodus.

This guy is one hell of an actor. And he did such a subtle creepy good job of this role. Commodus certainly had some family issues, one of which was lusting after his sister. Even his physical appearance for this film was spot on. He looked bloated, ill, and nuts. (But maybe that's just him.)

A right sick, twisted bastard.

3. Gorgeous cinematography

The golden glow of the sunlight in the Mediterranean notwithstanding, this film was a jewel to look at.

4. Music by Hans Zimmer

Zimmer always does a good job of sweeping epic music. And he has such a unique signature to his sound. The music gets the blood up, it makes you feel like sword fighting yourself.

These and other elements such as the beautiful Connie Nielsen as Lucilla, and Richard Harris as Marcus Aurelius are definite attributes. And then there is Maximus' line, "What we do in life echoes in eternity." Pretty good sound bite. Maybe a little melodramatic, but I can say I wish I wrote it.

When Kosta and I watched this together for the first time, he pointed out a few bloopers in the film. For instance, in the scene where Maximus battles the Amazon warriors, a chariot spills over revealing some kind of tank that is obviously not supposed to be seen. I went to www.imdb.com to see what else they list, and I was shocked at how long the list of bloopers and continuity errors there were. What gives?

I liked this film, but I can't say I thought it was outstanding, and worthy of Best Picture of 2000. I felt that perhaps there was lots of action, but not a lot of depth to the characters.


~Anna

Hail, Big Budget Epics!

Ridley Scott's Gladiator (2000) proved that there is still success to be found and money to be made in the making of big-budget historical epics. In fact, the trends for filming ancient narratives continues to this day, a decade later, in large part due to the influence of this motion picture. While not all of the films have enjoyed the popularity of Gladiator, there apparently exists an interest in the movie-going public for pictures set in ancient Greece and Rome.

No, not a cast of thousands, but clever CGI.

As one can expect from a Ridley Scott film, there is much to take in visually. His scenes, both on the small and large scale are artfully composed and with a "little help" from the boys in front of the CGI (computer generated imagery), computers, he transports us to Rome and the ancient world, circa AD 180 with all the pomp as well as the mud and dust.

For historically astute movie-watchers the story line of the fictionalized general-turned-gladiator Maximus, and the sociopathic emperor Commodus, scheming their way through the picture do tend to make one squirm in one's seat. The professional historians  hired on the project to make sure the film makers stay somewhat true to what facts are generally known about the period must have been squirming themselves -- one thinks of the movie: Troy (2004) and shudders...

Nevertheless, being historically accurate does not necessarily fill seats in a movie house and Scott and the screenwriters fall back on the old but tried-and-true story gimmick that works to perfection time and again; that of revenge.

The cast fits snuggly in their individual roles, with Joaquin Phoenix giving a bravado performance as the truly creepy emperor, Commodus. In one very brief shot during the scene where he looms over his young sleeping nephew, Lucius Verus, Scott brings Commodus' face into frame from a deeply out-of-focus shot and for an instant while blurred, the face resembles a human skull. Given the character's evil persona, it turns out to be a most appropriate visual. Russell Crowe's solid portrayal brings strength to the morally strong character of Maximus and is indeed a solid foundation upon which this long movie rests.

There will be blood...

There is one interesting note in this Academy Award winner that I find rather fascinating. It is the subtle, yet telling dissimilarity between what the dying emperor Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris) believes Rome is and what we are shown Rome is upon the bloody sand of the Coliseum. Aurelius, one of the more intellectual emperors, believes Rome to be the one light in an ancient world filled with darkness. This is fine as far as noble speeches go, but one wonders if the luckless victims of the gladitorial games would have agreed with him. After all, in the center of the "civilized" capital city of the ancient world there were The Games, dedicated to fulfilling the entertainment need of the masses with the lives of its unfortunate participants. Plato, for one, would have blanched at the thought.

Still and all, Gladiator remains one of the more enjoyable and entertaining Hollywood romps into the Classical World and is evidence that there are still little golden statues awaiting the makers of good solid story telling, no matter if the characters dress in shirts and ties or tunics and armor.

--kak

Up next: My Fair Lady (1964)

The Sound of Music

The Sound of Music (released March 2, 1965)

Directed by: Robert Wise

Starring: Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer,

Produced by: Robert Wise

Written by: Ernest Lehmen, Based on the libretto by Howard Lindsay and the autobiography by Maria von Trapp

Music by: Richard Rodgers (music/lyrics), Oscar Hammerstein II (lyrics), Irwin Kostal (musical score)

Cinematography by: Ted D. McCord

Distributed by: 20th Century Fox

Ten Things about The Sound of Music

When you have such an intimate relationship with a movie as I have with The Sound of Music, you would find it impossible to remove yourself enough to write a critical essay about it. So I won’t even attempt it. Here are 10 things about the movie that I can relate to you that have occurred to me over the years.

The Von Trapp children in their straight jackets

1. I first saw this movie on the television in my grandmother’s room. She lived with us when I was a kid, and it was on TV one Saturday evening. I remember it being hyped as a big event. This was in the days before cable really had a grip on America, and movies weren’t cycled through the American psyche like fabric softener. I remember being enchanted with the movie immediately. I was probably 6 at the time. Naturally, I wanted to be Marta. (Gretl was younger than me at the time, and I thought Marta was prettier anyway.) The thing I remember though, was that same night my father was watching Caddyshack in the living room. We had just gotten Showtime (our one cable station!) and I was forbidden to go in there while he was watching it. I remember hearing him howl with laughter. And even though I was totally engrossed with The Sound of Music, there was a tiny little part of the back of brain that wondered what verboten things I was missing. I found out later: not much.

My favorite dress of Liesl's.

2. I love the color and texture of fabrics used in this movie, and not just in the costumes. Of course, the costumes were wonderful – very subtle pastels were used for Maria and the children. Lovely plums, charcoals and moss greens for Captain vonTrapp, and brighter, more vibrant colors for Baroness Schrader. And there is a lot of softness to the fabrics of the clothing – velvets, satins, and chiffon are used quite a bit. For instance, in the scene where all the children are scared of the thunderstorm, I remember wishing I could dive into the softness of Maria’s comforters – spiders be damned. I also love the dress Liesl wears in the scene whereshe sings “Edelweiss” with her father. A lovely spring green with eyelet sleeves and collar and beautiful periwinkle flowers embroidered on it.

3. When I was a kid, I though Rolfe was super cute. I suppose he still is. I’ve always liked the blondies. Too bad about the Nazi thing.

My taste was eclectic even as a six-year-old.

4. When I had my first record player, my mother let me listen to her original soundtrack on vinyl. And I did. Over and over. I used to alternate between that and Disney’s Mickey Mouse Disco. (Anyone remember “Macho Duck?”) I have heard of these singalongs they have at the Hollywood Bowl. If I could fully embrace my geekdom I would be all over it.

5. In the scene where Maria and Captain von Trapp finally get together, I always giggle. It was a slow moving part of the movie for me when I was a kid, and my brain wandered. There is a part when the two are standing in the gazebo, singing “Something Good,” and they are standing together in a silhouette. At the very end of the song, Captain von Trapp kisses Maria, and in the shadows his profile looks like a gorilla. You’ll have to watch it yourself to see. But there he is: Gorilla von Trapp. Kosta positively howled with glee when I paused the DVD to point that out.

6. I remember being in college and brining up a reference to the movie in a conversation with a guy and he made fun of me for liking the movie. I was stunned. Not for being made fun of, but because there were people out there who didn’t love this movie. It never occurred to me that it wasn’t a natural, intrinsic part of every American kid’s childhood like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and The Wizard of Oz.

She's smiling now, but watch the fists, sisters.

7. I always thought it was really mean that the nuns sang, “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?” at Maria and Georg’s wedding. Seriously, if someone called me a flibbertigibbet and a clown on my wedding day, I’d slap them silly. I don’t care if you are a nun.

8. I noticed something new when I watched it this time: when Maria returns to the Von Trapp family after the Reverend Mother tells her to “Climb Every Mountain,” she is wearing the outfit that the new postulant is wearing in the scene before. I never thought about that before. Earlier in the film when Maria first comes to the Von Trapp household, Captain Von Trapp tells her she must have some new dresses because the one she has one won’t do. She explains that when they enter the convent, they give all their clothes and worldly possessions to the poor. And he asks about the dress she has on, and she says, “… the poor didn’t want this one.” So you see, they keep the continuity by putting the newly donated green dress of the postulant right back on Maria to return to the Von Trapps’ in style. Forgive me, I notice stupid little things like that.

Maria returns from the abbey in a recycled dress
that fits awfully well.

9. For most of my life, I have watched this movie when it was on television. In fact, that was the way I saw it for the first time. And they edited it for TV, you know. So when I see the movie in its uncut entirety it is like a present – there are all these little bonus scenes put in, and most of them are funny! Like the one where Maria tells the Reverend Mother that Sister Bertha always makes her kiss the floor when they have a disagreement, so she has taken to kissing the floor when she sees her coming just to save time. Also, there are several scenes that I thought were important to setting the political mood of the movie. There is an earlier scene between Max and Captain Von Trapp that is cut out where the Captain gives Max a good tongue lashing for not being strong enough in his convictions against the Anschluss. I think cutting scenes like these makes the movie lose some of its tension. (And let’s face it, there isn’t much to begin with!)

that.

Not bad for the fruition of one's work, eh?

10. Today I was struck by how the writers (of the screenplay and the music) must have felt to watch this movie for the first time. What an amazing set of goose bumps they must have gotten hearing Julie Andrews belt out that opening song. Good Lord, what a set of pipes that woman has. My husband and I have been working with a partner to write for a potential kids cooking show, and there has been some interest. And I don’t want to jinx it, so that’s all I’m going to say about it save this: I too, think about what it would be like to see my words said by actors on a screen, no matter what size. Just to know that the creative work that came out of your brain is actually entertaining people is a big part of what keeps me working at it.

~Anna

Achtung - You vill like this movie!

My wife’s eyes glittered with delight after she reached her hand the box which contains all the movie titles on little slips that we select once-a-week. From her enchanted expression I could only surmise she had randomly picked something close to her heart.

She did.

The Sound of Music remains one of her “favorite things” and so she was overjoyed to share the picture with me again. I had actually watched it for the first time in my life after her repeated insistence that we do so last year some time. I must admit it was not as odious a chore I initially thought it would be. Rogers & Hammerstein’s music needed to grow on me a little more, and happily it has.

You wouldn't know it, but there's a 70 piece
orchestra hiding under the bed.

I must first confess that I do not go running to the theater to catch every musical produced. There is something inherently weird about characters in film breaking out into song with an accompanied 70-piece orchestra hiding somewhere behind the hay bales or china cabinet, but I guess to truly enjoy such things one must be willing to suspend one’s reality just enough to understand (if done right) the music flows naturally from the story line and helps develop the characters. So much for my humble take on matters I know little about.

While waiting to warm up to the music, I certainly had no problem feasting my eyes on the landscape.Austria and the Alps being Austria and the Alps, this was not a very difficult thing to establish on film – a visualmedia. And in adroitly marrying the breathtaking scenery with Julie Andrews’ opening number, the creators made it a sure bet that they had a winning picture on their hands. I believe this movie attains its status in no small part because the lush backgrounds are so perfectly in sync with the music.

Rolfe: the Nazi menace.

While taking several liberties about the von Trapp family story, The Sound of Music did convey a fin de siècle sense of the Austrian Empire, though in truth it had ended well before the events portrayed in the movie. The oncoming Nazi menace was also handled well, hovering as it did in the background (for instance, in guise of the character, Rolfe) and waiting to strike.

The von Trapp children come across at times as a little too cutesy for my taste, but then this is considered a family movie and it was planned and written and in the earlier part of the sixties, before that decade went culturally out-of-control.

The music, as I said, is beginning to grow on me and I can certainly hear some of the tunes in my head now as I type this. I am not wowed by all the songs and that is probably a sacrilegious thing to say to SOM fans, but there you go.

I did enjoy the background scenery at the beginning of the “Do-Re-Mi” number as it was shot across the Salzach Valley with the Castle Hohenwerfen prominently displayed. Three years later, that same castle would end up in a much more sinister guise. It would become the Schloss Adler, the central set-piece for the war picture, Where Eagles Dare.

If I had to pick a song in the show that stayed with me it would have to be “Edelweiss”. Simple and charming, its lingering effects on one’s musical memory are natural. But I guess that’s what makes classical musicals so classic. Sadly, another tune runs through my head unaccountably from time to time, and seemingly out of nowhere, the lyrics: “High on a hill was a lonely goatherd….” will make its uncomfortable presence felt. Damn you, The Sound of Music!

Oh-da-lay-hee-hoo!

--kak

Up Next: Gladiator (2000)

The French Connection

The French Connection (released October 9, 1971)

Directed by: William Friedkin

Starring: Gene Hackman, Fernando Rey, Roy Scheider, Tony Lo Bianco

Produced by: Philip D'Antoni

Written by: Robin Moore (novel), Ernest Tidyman

Music by: Don Ellis

Cinematography by: Owen Roizman

Distributed by: 20th Century Fox

The French Connection didn’t connect with me

I understand a film in search of realism can be an exciting and rewarding thing to watch if handled with the utmost care. After all, most of us pay good money to enter theaters and be entertained by stories and characters  somewhat  removed from reality. William Friedkin’s, The French Connection sustains a gritty reality to it for 104 minutes, but I wassurprised to discover that after a while, I was less and less entertained.

Ah, look at all the ugly people...

I think it was a combination of things, really. I could have possibly forgiven the filmmakers for their lack of proper lighting, proper makeup for the actors, some less than stellar editing, or even the screeching, discordant soundtrack that was supposed to reflect some sort of edgy jazz theme as trademarks of a daring, edgy director, but all those things taken together just made the film look and sound really less than polished and professional. Yes, I understand that this film was not supposed to look slick, -- but wow! -- I don’t think I’ve ever seen an uglier looking movie. And after a while, I began to find the vulgarity rather tedious.

I think I know now where Martin Scorsese got the overall look for the hoods in his film, Goodfellas. Just check out the scene in the nightclub where Detectives Popeye Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy Russo (Roy Scheider) are watching the drug kingpins at play with their “womenfolk”. Now that’s a pretty scary looking collection of people. The big hair and the dresses on the ladies still have the power to shock and horrify!

Buddy Russo: a kinder, gentler cop.

Don’t look for much redeeming character traits in the hero of the piece either. Hackman plays tough-guy Doyle without any noticeable concessions to humanity. Even though his aim is to take down the drug lords, one finds his methods odious and his character extremely hard to root for. It’s saying something when Roy Scheider is cast as the kinder, gentler cop.

The justly-famous (for its time) car-chase sequence with the elevated train through the crowded Brooklyn streets has lost a bit of its sting simply because car-chases nowadays are practically a raison d'être to current action directors, and let’s be honest – we’ve all seen a million of them by now. 

Crash!

All these ponderous observations don’t leave me much to applaud when it is all said and done. And I am left with the personal estimation that William Friedkin as a director is over-rated.

As far as naming The French Connection the best picture for 1971, I am left wondering: were things that awful in 1971?

--kak

I’ve Been Called Worse

The French Connection won five academy awards. It gets glowing reviews from every source.  I looked up reviews online and people wax poetic about its dark gritty nature, its exceptional editing, and its amazing writing. Everyone thinks it is the pinnacle of what an American crime film should be. The crème de la crème.

I thought it was skunk brains on a Triscuit.

I know that this essay (which is now indexed by Google!) might make some people angry out there, because I am about to rip this movie a new one. Say what you want, I’ve been called worse.  This is different from The Greatest Show on Earth, because there was a reason (the Red Scare) that such a movie won. The French Connection seemed to have won on its own merit. And it beat out such movies as Fiddler on the Roof, A Clockwork Orange, and The Last Picture Show.

It was almost funny... almost.

I want you to know that when I sat down to watch this movie, I hardly knew anything about it. I hadn’t read anything about it online. I only knew what I had read on the back of the DVD case. I knew I liked Gene Hackman.  (Anyone who can play a blind monk in Young Frankenstein and Lex Luthor is all right in my book.) I knew I liked France. What could be so bad?

The French Connection is the story of two detectives (Doyle and Russo) who stumble upon a huge shipment of drugs coming into the country from France, and they want to nail the bastards who are in on it. I can get behind that.  Nailing crooks is always a fun movie past time. But there was so much wrong with this movie that the basic plot was all that was really right.

Doyle freezes his nuts off.

First off, there was no character development. I felt no connection to “Popeye” Doyle or Buddy Russo. They were two-dimensional. When the movie opens, we know they are cops.  When the movie ends, we know they are cops, and that Doyle is more of a badass than his partner.  I know that they both did a lot of stakeouts in cars, and froze their nuts off hanging around outside hotels, but that’s it. That’s all we know. I don’t know anything about their thoughts, their motivations, or their personalities.  And that made the movie feel flat to me – very Super Mario Brothers.  Strike one.

And Lord, was this picture ugly. Well, the 70’s in general were pretty bad, weren’t they? They started with a big bang, and hideously bled to death for a decade. Clothes, hairstyles, décor, cars, it was all one big, avocado, shaggy mess.  And this movie was no different.  When it first started playing, I believe I said, “Geez, this is a crappy transfer.” But apparently it was made to be that way – stark, grainy, and ugly…just like the streets of New York and the cops that defend them. (*snort*) Even the portions of the film shot in Marseilles, (in France, people) were not pretty. They made the French Riviera ugly too!  Strike two.

Even Marseilles was ugly.

Apparently they were trying to make a statement here. I have a theory as to what that statement is, too. If you think about it, the world was just coming out of the 60’s which was the decade of the musical. West Side Story, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, and Oliver all won best picture in the 60’s, and there were many more that came out as well. I wonder if The French Connection and the 1969 winner, Midnight Cowboy weren’t a direct backlash to the colorful almost carnival-like spectacle that a musical often produces. Come one, even West Side Story has gang members doing grand jetés in the streets.  Not exactly gritty.

I felt the writing was confusing. Not only did the script run like a police report, (“We followed them here, then we waited outside for 2 hours, then we followed them there. They ate lunch. We stood across the street and froze. Then we followed them back to the hotel.”) but there was a lot of stuff that I didn’t understand. In the opening scenes of the movie, Doyle and Russo shake down a hood who has been dealing drugs in a bar. Doyle keeps asking him weird questions like, “Did you pick your feet in Poughkeepsie?” I found out later from reading about the movie that he was just doing that to throw the guy off guard with crazy questions.  How the hell was I supposed to know that? Was I just supposed to intuitively figure that out?

Strike three: the movie made me feel dumb. And it was full of stupid lines like this:

DOYLE

Apparently these guys talk like this.

Whatta you say we wait and give him

a tail?

RUSSO

Give who a tail?

DOYLE

The greaser with the blonde.

RUSSO

What for -- you wanna play Hide the

Salami with his old lady?

Who talks like this? Do people really talk like this? Please tell me people don’t talk like this.

It's hard to look tough in a LeMans.

There was a badass car chase, although probably not as much fun as Steve McQueen’s in Bullitt. A car chase is made cooler by the car you do it in. McQueen had a Mustang.  (Heh. James Bond had a damn tank in Goldeneye.) Poor old Doyle had a crappy ugly brown Pontiac. However, that the car chase was one of the highlights of the film, and I did gasp in a few places, and dig my nails into my palm – especially when the lady with the baby carriage pops up in front of him.

So the movie gets three strikes from me. In baseball, that means you’re out. I don’t know what that means in the movies. It probably isn’t good though.

All right, I’ve said my piece. You are welcome to 5 minutes of rebuttal. And….begin!

~Anna

Up next: The Sound of Music (1965)