As promised last time, this post is full of movies I've already seen: one that I'm intimately familiar with and two others that I know a little less thoroughly. It'll be obvious in the write-ups which is which. And now here we go—hold on to your butts.
First of all, how cool is that poster? There are plenty of sweet movie posters out there, but this one really takes the cake, especially when compared to the usually pretty but less dynamic posters from other movies of the era. Another thing about that poster: doesn't it kind of look like a propaganda piece? The evil unions are here to crush the American Individual with a red fist of Communism! Thankfully, the movie isn't like that at all, although it's notable for being one of the few politically conservative "message" movies that I think is legitimately great. A question that plagues me at least monthly: why are there so few talented artists who are politically conservative? Setting aside demographic quandaries for now, though, this movie is a triumph of moral storytelling, and a rousing thriller/character piece as well. Regardless of how you swing politically, this movie has a way of winning you over with its likable characters, who have a real Springsteen-esque desperation to them. Oh yeah, and I've read that Marlon Brando basically re-wrote the acting book with his method performance in this movie. I don't know enough about acting to confirm or deny, but dang, he sure is riveting here.
I have seen this movie so many freaking times. Like, at least once a year since I was around five, and during several of those years, the number of viewings far surpassed just once. And unlike Star Wars or Toy Story (the two distant runners up for most-seen film on this list), most of those viewings were forced upon me by my parents, who decided to make a tradition of rounding up the family every Christmas to watch a movie about a man whose life is so calculatedly against him that he considers committing suicide even though he's married to Donna Reed. So, needless to say, my relationship with this movie has been quite the tumultuous one. As of right now, though, I've pretty much come full-circle on my feelings regarding the films, from my adoration of it as a youngster, to my jaded, smarter-than-thou teenaged years of hating it (the money I would pay to go back in time and punch the past me in the face), to now, my early twenties, when I realize that hey, it's a pretty great movie after all. A lot of ink has been spilled analyzing the many, many strengths of It's a Wonderful Life, so rather than being comprehensive, I'm going to wax specific in what's left of this response. One strength I noticed for the first time in my most recent viewing of the film is just how natural and loose everything feels. Not really the story so much (I mean, we're dealing with talking galaxy angels here), but the acting and structure of the individual scenes feel so alive and uncalculated, in a way that seems so lively when compared to the relative staginess of most films of the era. Just look at any of the several scenes that takes place in a crowded environment: characters meander drunkenly in and out of the shot, actors have to yell at one another to be heard over the ambient noise, snippets of dialogue come from every which direction, overlap, not one of them aimed at the microphone. Capra allows the chaos of human interaction to slip into these scenes, and it's marvelous. The same goes for the acting, especially of Jimmy Stewart, who makes his role feel so lived-in by inhabiting perfectly the natural choreography of someone's interactions with people he knows very well. The most convincing argument for this life being wonderful comes not from the magical fable at the film's end but rather in the film's depiction of the beautiful, uncontrollable vibrancy of everyday human existence. It's sentiment done exactly right.
I've only seen Chinatown once, and I'm not sure that I got it. Like, don't get me wrong, I see exactly what everyone is talking about when they praise its screenplay and especially the acting and all that. Jack Nicholson has never been better, and the only other role I can think of in which Faye Dunaway's topped hers here is her Oscar-winning television mogul part in Network. The cinematography and direction are uniformly excellent, too, though I do prefer Polanski's tense, showier stuff like Repulsion or Rosemary's Baby. Nevertheless, it's a fantastically put-together movie, and I'm not here to contest that. When I say I didn't "get" Chinatown, I mean that I had a hard time following the plot, which is not only multi-layered but also understated. And there you have one of my most embarrassing characteristics as a movie-watcher (or book-reader or television-viewer): I'm often terrible at keeping up with plotting. I love a good story, but if there's not a certain amount of hand-holding, exposition, and/or a clear emotional through-line, you've lost me. Consequently, film noir and its modern offspring (which includes Chinatown) are often challenging viewing experiences for me. Given enough time and re-watches, I can usually sort everything out, but that's not a courtesy I've allowed Chinatown. So I'm left admiring the film a good deal without really connecting with or even understanding it. I'm ashamed.
Now I'm more than one fifth of the way through the list! Woot woot! Slightly less iconic films to come, though nothing too shocking. Feel free to let me know whatever thoughts you guys have so far. It's always great to hear from the readership. Until next time!
You can read the previous post in the series, #s 16-18, here.
Update: Read on to the next post, 22-24, here.
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