Movies Matter

Hello, faithful LWM readers. Last week's election put me in a bit of a funk. When you feel like the world is wobbling on the edge of a precipice, it's daunting to question yourself and wonder what you can do to help stop the impending fall. I watch and write about movies. What good is that in the grand scheme of things? Did my enthusiastic viewing of Homicidal (1961) a couple weeks ago help stave off national insanity? Did my post on the scariest movies for Halloween make the world any less terrifying?

The answer (I first thought) is, no. Watching a movie is a healthy act of escapism that allows us to take a breather from the "news" in our lives. We come back to the "real" world grateful (or not so grateful- I'm talking to you Mother's Day (2016)) for the brief cinematic vacation- but our fears and disappointments are right where we left them when the lights come up. And as a film critic/historian, I can only hope to help others discover the movies I write about and pass on that momentary spiritual rest-stop. But that's all. Movies don't change the world.

Or do they?

There are movies that give voice to discontent. They depict important cultural issues without cloaking them in metaphor and dim lighting set-ups. They take a stand and sometimes, become part of the national discourse that eventually leads to change.

Here are my Top 5 Movies Matter Movies:


The Birth of a Nation (1915)

Now just because movies can be part of change, doesn't mean that change is good. Exhibit A is D. W. Griffith's racist classic, The Birth of a Nation. Many people will discuss the cinematic virtues of Griffith's first blockbuster film: the use of close-ups, fade-outs, color-tinting, and a customized musical score to be played at theaters that showed the film. But I was distracted by the blatant racist depiction of blacks during the Civil War and Reconstruction and the lionization of the Ku Klux Klan.

The scene where Congress convenes for the first time with black elected Congressmen is jaw-droppingly racist. Black Congressmen (many played by white actors in blackface) drinking hooch and eating porkchops; taking off their shoes and putting their sockless feet on the desks to air out; jumping up and down to pass a miscegenation law so they can finally sleep with white women. The "helpless white minority" looks on from the gallery in disgust.

The film is posited as a historical re-telling- but historical inaccuracies  and outright fabrications abound. The fact that it is based on a book called, The Clansman: An Historical Romance with the Ku Klux Klan is an indication that Griffiths is making a fairy tale. But this fairy tale has a bad ending. With Griffiths' heroic portrayal of the Klan rescuing sacred white women from hordes of ravaging Blacks, the real Ku Klux Klan was reinvigorated and race riots erupted in several large cities. President Woodrow Wilson watched the film in  the White House and declared, "It is like writing history with lightning, and my only regret is that it is all so terribly true." I wonder if the movie will be shown in the White House again soon...

Gentleman's Agreement (1947)

That old chestnut about Jews running Hollywood is rather amusing when you look at the absence of Jewish characters in popular movies before WWII. Because movies were made for a mainly Christian audience, depictions of Jews were either stereotypical characters meant for derision, or they were absent altogether. Not to mention Hollywood stars quickly changed Jewish sounding names like Emmanuel Goldenberg to more marquee friendly names like Edward G. Robinson.

So the antisemitism present in America at that time was a problem that Hollywood ignored in the theaters. That is until the Holocaust. The epic devastation that unfolded in Europe shined a spotlight on our own country's troubled relationship with Jewish citizens. When head of 20th Century Fox, Darryl F. Zanuck was denied membership to a country club because they mistakenly thought he was Jewish, Zanuck decided it was time to take on the problem on the silverscreen.

Directed by Elia Kazan, Gentleman tells the story of news reporter Phil Green (Gregory Peck) who takes an assignment on antisemitism and decides to get a Jew's-eye view by pretending to be Jewish. He finds out soon enough that the difference between Green and Greenberg is staggering.

Perfectly normal and upright citizens talk about how untrustworthy "that Race" is. Green's Jewish childhood friend Dave Goldman (the always watchable John Garfield) is denied housing. Green himself is denied a room in a hotel for his honeymoon because they have a no Jew policy. Even Green's young son (played by plucky kid actor and future Quantum Leaper Dean Stockwell) is dragged into the bigotry when he gets into a fight with some of his friends because they call him a "dirty Jew."

What makes this movie insightful is that it goes to the heart of antisemitism. The gas chambers and burning crosses are the obvious products of bigotry- but they aren't the genesis. The roots of hatred are much more subtle and much more ingrained in "civilized" culture than we think. Gentleman's 8 Oscar nominations and 3 wins including Best Picture and Best Director helped dig up those roots and expose them to an American audience that needed to take a hard look at itself.

Love with the Proper Stranger (1963)

When I first started watching Love with the Proper Stranger, I wondered if it was going to be another one of those Natalie Wood vehicles where young love goes horribly wrong and poor Natalie would wind-up in an insane asylum or hugging her shot-to-death boyfriend. I never expected it to be an abortion movie.

Wood plays Angie Rossini, a Macy's salesgirl who takes a shine to musician Rocky Papasano (Steve McQueen- or as I like to call him, Steve McSqueeeeen!) and after a couple drinks winds-up knockin' boots and tootin' his horn. When Angie realizes she has a bun in the oven, she tracks down Rocky only to discover he doesn't even remember her. It's a brutal scene- but not as brutal as the scene where Rocky does the proper thing and escorts Angie to the local backalley abortionist.

We hear stories of how bad it used to be to get an abortion, but Love brings all the horror to vivid life. Without being graphic, this one scene is an honest look at the filthy conditions, fear, and degradation that women were subjected to during the years before Roe v. Wade made abortion legal. The movie becomes a more traditional romantic comedy after that, but it is this scene that elevated the film to five Academy Award nominations including a Best Actress nom for Wood. It is a scene that sticks with you- as this issue has stuck with our culture. Coincidentally, you can watch Love tonight on Turner Classic Movies.

The Accused (1988)

Between a certain pussy-grabbing president, an actor whose big break turned into the unearthing of an old rape case, and that awful swim-team rape case where the rapist only got six months- it's clear that female rape is still a big problem in this country. Almost twenty years ago a movie came out that shocked the nation and put the issue on the front page.

Based on a true story, The Accused shows the brutal gang rape of Sarah Tobias (Jodie Foster) in a bar, surrounded by cheering patrons. After the rape, the perpetrators get a plea deal and are only convicted of reckless endangerment.

But Tobias decides enough is enough and since she can't go after the rapists, she enlists the help of Asst. District Attorney Kathryn Murphy (Kelly McGillis) to go after the cheerers for criminal solicitation. It's a tough case to hear- with "she wanted it" and questions about what she was wearing and her sexual activity used to shift blame to the victim. Foster's mixture of grit and vulnerability are perfect for the role and it won her an Oscar (even though I would have given the Best Actress statue that year to Glenn Close for Dangerous Liaisons.)

McGillis was originally offered the role of Tobias, but she felt the role was too close to her personal experience. McGillis was robbed and raped in her home in 1982, making this one of those times when real life and the movies are far too similar.


Philadelphia (1993)

Hot on the heels of his Oscar for Silence of the Lambs (1992), Jonathan Demme chose to direct a controversial, loosely-based-on-actual-events movie about a wrongful termination suit  brought against a law firm by a gay man who had contracted AIDS. In '93 a movie about a gay man was rare enough- but one about a gay man dying of AIDS? It just didn't happen. But Demme pulled off a bit of directorial inspiration, by casting two of the most popular straight stars in Hollywood to play the leads. Tom Hanks is Andrew Beckett, the gay man with AIDS who is suing his law firm, and Denzel Washington is Joe Miller, the initially homophobic lawyer who takes his case.

The film not only addresses AIDS- which was then still taboo- but it also addresses the reason it was the disease that shall not be named- because the popular conception was that it was a gay disease- and homophobia was still deeply entrenched in this culture.

Demme goes to great lengths to show Beckett as a "normal" guy- not a man you would assume is gay. Hanks' relatable screen persona seems as buttoned-up as the rest of the white collar lawyers at his firm, and even old fuddy-duddy lawfirm head Charles Wheeler (Jason Robards) considers him to be a future good ol' boy. But Beckett is different from that crowd.

Demme pivots to show Beckett's tender relationship with his partner Miguel Alvarez (Antonio Banderas in a sailor suit. All aboard!) Once the audience learns what Beckett has been hiding, it's too late. They already like him.  Audiences who were perhaps not empathetic enough to understand the suffering of this scourge could perhaps understand the plight of AIDS patients and gay men by seeing one of their favorite stars portray this man- and another of their favorite stars play a man who changes his mind about how he feels about him. Hanks would win his first Academy Award for that feat.

Demme doesn't sugarcoat the disease that ultimately outs Beckett. I can't remember the first time I'd seen Kaposi Sarcoma lesions- but the most vivid recollection I have is from this movie. When Beckett lifts up his shirt in court the image is heart-rending- and indelible.

All that being said, I find Philadelphia a little overwrought, but it was an admirable movie at the time to make the AIDS crisis part of the national discussion. For less Hollywood-ized- yet equally eye-opening views of that era, I recommend documentaries How to Survive a Plague (2012), We Were Here (2011), and Vito (2011).

So take some time and watch a movie that gets you energized about making a difference. Or catch one of the many MGM Musicals at BAM this weekend for some good old fashioned escapism.

Either way- Movies do matter.

Can You Handle the Scandal?

So this little movie you may have heard of called The Birth of a Nation (2016) is opening today. Back in January when it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, Birth was immediately pegged as the antidote to #Oscarssowhite. Nate Parker's telling of the Nat Turner slave revolt quickly swept the festival and had critics ooh'ing and ahh'ing into their columns.  Parker was praised for his directorial debut, the film was snatched up by Fox Searchlight for a Festival record $17.5 million, and Oscars were predicted.

Then the news  came to light that Parker had been involved in a rape case whose victim had committed suicide back in 2012- and all hell broke loose. Boycotts, accusations of Hollywood racism, and Twitter wars have made the story about Birth of a Nation less about the movie- and more about its director and star. The question now is not just whether this is a good movie- but if going to see it (and liking it) somehow is tacit support of Parker and his past.

This story is as old as the Hollywood Hills.

Here are my Top 5 famous filmmakers whose lives got in the way of their movies:

Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle 

You knows those times when you have a spectacular party in a hotel with lots of wine, women, and song and one of your drunk guests gets really sick and dies? Well, that's what happened to popular silent comedy star Fatty Arbuckle in 1921.

Arbuckle was relaxing with friends in the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco following a grueling shooting schedule when one of his groupies, Miss Virginia Rappe, became very ill. But the party was in high gear so the hotel doctor gave her some morphine and went on his way. Two days later Rappe went to the hospital where she died of peritonitis caused by a ruptured bladder.

This sad circumstance turned into a full-on media circus when wild rumors were told to police about Arbuckle raping Rappe with a Coke bottle- or the massive star bursting her inner organs by being on top during lovemaking. Press moguls like William Randolph Hearst had a field day playing up the "hedonistic Hollywood star" angle and Arbuckle was arrested for manslaughter and put on trial. It took three trials to finally gain Arbuckle's acquital- but the damage was done.

The image of the goofy fat guy morphed into a hulking sex-hungry rapist and the public turned on Arbuckle. His films were banned and in some cases burned. He became a Hollywood pariah who could only find work as a director- and only if he used a pseudonym (William Goodrich). Arbuckle became one of the poster boys for Hollywood excess and religious organizations whipped themselves into a frenzy decrying the movies and the people who made them- ultimately leading to the rise of Will H. Hayes, the author of the code that would shape movies for decades to come.

Arbuckle would die at age 46 never able to fully resurrect his film career. It's a shame. His early silent comedy shorts are classic and are sometimes spoken of in the same breath as Charlie Chaplin's. He also proved to be a deft director- one of my favorites being the The Red Mill (1927), starring Marion Davies (ironically, W.R. Hearst's mistress). But Fatty was never able to live down that infamous party.

Leni Riefenstahl

This Nazi propagandist/apologist didn't start off as a director. In fact, until she was approached by Hitler in 1933 to direct a documentary about the fifth Nuremberg rally, Riefenstahl was known more as an actress and had only directed one film, 1932's The Blue Light. But thanks to Hitler, Riefenstahl would direct two influential documentaries, and go down in history as the Third Reich's most famous director.

Triumph of the Will (1935), which documented the 1934 Nazi party rally in Nuremberg, was a huge success, and gained Riefenstahl international attention during a time when Hitler was still just that kooky, screaming European guy. When Germany hosted the 1936 Olympics, Hitler asked Riefenstahl to document the glory of athletics (hopefully German-dominated athletics) and her footage became Olympia (1938).

Riefenstahl came to America to promote Olympia in November of 1938, and things went well for her until a little thing called Kristallnacht happened. Once Hitler invaded Poland in 1939, Riefenstahl and her films were perosna non grata outside of Germany, and after the horrors of the Holocaust were exposed, Riefenstahl had, as they say. "a lotta splainin' to do." In four trials after the war, she denied being an active propagandist for the Nazis and was never formally convicted of anything. But one look at her work and it's difficult to make the argument that this fanatical perfectionist was unaware of what was going on. The Nazi cloud hung over her the rest of her life and Riefenstahl would make only two more films: Lowlands (1954) and the documentary Underwater Impressions (2002)- which critics seemed to like- perhaps because it was about fish and not German dictators.

I finally forced myself to watch Triumph and Olympia, and I have to say, they are visually stunning. Riefenstahl's grasp of the power of perspective and scope and early technologies like slow-motion filming and tracking shots is impressive. She turns the human body into a visual artwork, whether clothed or nude, singular or massed together- creating the image of the greatness of our human selves. The problem is, it's all Nazi propaganda. And that's a crime that should stick.

Elia Kazan

 Elia Kazan's list of stage and screen successes is awe-inspiring. With the premiere stagings of such classics as The Skin of Our Teeth (1942), A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), Death of a Salesman (1949), and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955), Kazan was revered on the Great White Way. Film successes like A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945), Gentlemen's Agreement (1947) (Best Director Oscar), A Streetcar Named Desire (1951), On the Waterfront (1954) (another Best Director Oscar), and East of Eden (1955) made him equally bankable on the West Coast.

But in 1952, Kazan was called in to testify in front of the House Committee on Un-American Activities- HUAC if you're nasty. The atmosphere in the theater community in New York and the film colony in Hollywood during the McCarthy Red-Hunting was thick with fear. Naming people you believed were Communists could sink the careers of fellow artists and friends, but not naming them could get you put in jail. Those who hoped not to make that awful Sophie's Choice just prayed that they wouldn't be called to testify.

But Kazan was too big a fish to avoid the pan, and once he was in it, he wound-up naming eight former members of the Group Theater including playwright Clifford Odets. His defense was that he didn't name anyone the Committee didn't already know about- but many saw his testimony as the worst kind of betrayal. It was a stigma that lasted as late as 1999 when Kazan accepted an Honorary Oscar- and some in the audience refused to stand or clap.

Kazan keenly felt the shade from many in the theatrical community after his testimony and in Waterfront, took the opportunity to address his critics. Marlon Brando's character Terry is tormented by the knowledge of how the crooked union-boss (the wonderfully belligerent Lee J. Cobb) has been using murder and manipulation to keep control of his dock turf. Terry has the opportunity to squeal to the authorities- both moral and legal, but should he do it? The film seems to say, yes squeal- but you are going to pay for it. Kazan's career didn't necessarily pay for his naming names, but it is an issue that haunts his work. I, for one, could never boycott Kazan's Streetcar, Waterfront or A Face in the Crowd (1957). They're just too damned good.

Roman Polanski

Roman Polanski can't not be fucked-up. The famous director survived the Krakow ghetto in WWII as a child and then, as an adult, lost his wife and unborn child to the vicious knives of Charlie Manson's murder gang. But even before the tragedy of the Manson killings, Polanski's films like Repulsion (1965) and Rosemary's Baby (1968) (Oscar-nommed for Best Director) reflected a dark sensibility- an acceptance of violence, deception, and delusion as a part of life.

Then in 1977, Polanski was arrested for having sex with a 13 year old girl. There is no question about guilt in the matter. He pled guilty to "unlawful sexual intercourse with a minor" as part of a plea bargain. But when Polanski got wind that the judge on the case was going to sentence him to fifty years in prison instead of psychiatric evaluation and probation, Polanski jumped on a plane to Europe and he's never come back. He currently lives in Paris and is fighting an ongoing extradition battle.

Polanski has made eleven films since his departure from the U.S. The Pianist (2002) won him a Best Director Oscar, but like Kazan, some in the audience did not stand to applaud. Conspicuous was old friend Jack Nicholson who remained seated. But in all honesty, his post-exile work can't hold a candle to his earlier films. It's hard to make Hollywood films when you can't set foot in the country I guess.

I know some people give me side-eye when I talk about how much I love Polanski's earlier films, but I can't help it. Repulsion, Rosemary, and Chinatown (1974) are brilliant- despite the fact they were made by a justice-dodging sex offender.

Woody Allen

Nothing can spoil a dinner/cocktail party faster than bringing up the personal life of Woody Allen. The two camps are pretty clear- and pretty righteous. Either you believe that Allen is a child molester or he's the victim of his vengeful ex. But no matter what camp you reside in, it doesn't change the fact that Allen is one of the best American film directors ever. Ever.

I could spend all day talking about my favorite Allen films: Annie Hall (1977), Manhattan (1979), Zelig (1983), Broadway Danny Rose (1984), The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985), Another Woman (1988), Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), Bullets Over Broadway (1994), and Midnight in Paris (2011). And those are just my favorites of the ones I've seen. I'm curious about whether I'll like Interiors (1978), Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993), Match Point (2005) and anything he's put out after Blue Jasmine (2013).

I would write a blog post about my Top 5 Woodys if it was possible for me to do so without having to either defend or condemn him. I don't intend to engage in that conversation- well at least not until I've had a couple glasses of chardonnay. Let's just say that in this case, I am separating the artist from his art. And if there's a room in Hell for me for doing that, I hope it's full of Arbuckle, Kazan, Polanski, and Allen movies.