Well, folks, I'm on vacation this week, but never let it be said that leisure prevented me from blogging about movies. Plus, these are three movies I've already seen, so it's not like it required all that much effort on my part.
When I first saw The Maltese Falcon (I was maybe eight or nine at the time, and, unless I'm forgetting something, I've only seen it once since then), I thought the ending made the movie a kind of moral fable. Spoilers follow, obviously: that the falcon in question is revealed to be a fake signified to me that the whole movie (and, I guess, the novel it's based on—I haven't read it) was meant to show the futility of greed. That big, fat bow of a twist was telling me, "See how much trouble all those folks went through, and it was just for some fake treasure? [personified plot twist somehow begins to channel J. Walter Weatherman] That's why... ya don't throw your life away for money." But now that I've thought about this movie for a decade and change, I'm not so sure I can get completely behind that reading anymore. That moral is there in some form, but stating it as cleanly as I just did makes it seem just a little off, in the same way that Marge Gunderson's speech ("There's more to life than a little money, ya know") at the end of Fargo feels more like someone reaching toward a meaning rather than firmly grasping one. When I think about that final twist in the movie now, it feels a little bit distressing and existential to me; what these characters have been so focused on this entire film isn't real. Their life's purpose (at least, within the confines of the story told here) is one of futility, a futility not just caused by their lust for wealth but by the essential unpredictability of the universe. And it's a little upsetting. Then again, it also hasn't escaped me that most of the characters in this movie are villains on some level, so aren't they getting what they deserve? I'd have to see the movie again to answer that question. It's been a while. Regardless, existential or moral fable, it's still one heck of an entertaining movie.
I prefer the first Godfather. The Godfather Part II is great and all, but it's also a lot more difficult to follow, considerably bleaker, and overall less fun to watch. Basically, I'm just a little too lazy to love Part II as much as I love Part I. There's also the issue that whereas The Godfather feels like a New Hollywood update of a particularly Old Hollywood cinematic and philosophic sensibility, Part II is very much a 1970s movie, with all the brown color palettes, "fucks," grit, and cynicism that come with that decade, and without any of the old-school lushness that graced the first film. But, my series preference notwithstanding, The Godfather Part II is still a great movie and an absolutely ripsnorting sequel. It's got that great quality that only a few sequels (Before Midnight comes to mind as a recent example) manage to have, which is that it's in such deep conversation with the themes and motifs of its predecessor that it practically renders the first movie's insights obsolete, or at least incomplete. The rise of Michael Corleone into a ruthless mob boss is such a vicious takedown of the mafia romanticism of the first film that it's hard to go back and watch the original without at least a little of that griminess coloring the viewing experience. Al Pacino gives one of the all-time great performances as Michael, and the transformation he undergoes from the beginning of Part I to the end of Part II has all the enormity of the very best of tragedies. The flashback immigrant storyline is compelling as well, getting down to the roots of organized crime and turning the whole series (as all mafia-related works of art must be, apparently) into an investigation into the American Dream. Surprise: it's a myth. Welcome to '70s American cinema.
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a good movie. A very good movie, even. The problem is, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a great book, and great this movie is not. I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry; after my Grapes of Wrath writeup, I promised myself I wasn't going to focus so much on the book end of the book-to-movie adaptation process. But my feelings on this movie are too tied up in my disappointment with it after reading (and loving—like, loving it enough to write multiple papers on it) the Ken Kesey novel. It's an old criticism, but the major misstep the film makes (as far as adapting is concerned) is the perspective switch from the Chief's to McMurphy's, which makes a gigantic difference on the trajectory of the plot in the film, despite following the major events almost to a tee. Randle P. McMurphy is a great character, but he's no protagonist like Chief Bromden is. For one, McMurphy has no arc. He's a rebel and a libertarian and a hero the whole time, and while there are different nuances to those characteristics in different moments, he doesn't exactly grow. At least, not compared to the Chief, whose interior, psychological journey is beautiful and heartbreaking. The weight of McMurphy's actions is directly tied to the effect those actions have on the Chief, and by taking us out of the Chief's POV, the movie only gives the barest hint of that effect, at least until the final moments. For two, McMurphy is an archetype, which makes the film a lot less interesting than it could be. The sidelining of the Chief and the protagonistizing (a term I just now coined) make the film adhere a lot closer to the specifically '60s/'70s counter-culture type than the book does. You don't have to go too far to find cinematic precedents to the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in films like Cool Hand Luke and Bonnie and Clyde, which makes the proceedings feel just a little less special than in the novel (whose publication predates both those films). But enough of that. Credit where credit is due: this movie is undeniably powerful, and there's a cleanliness to the cinematography that's crisp and engaging and that probably wouldn't have been possible if Bromden had been the focus. Also, the acting is phenomenal across the board; I'm hard-pressed to find a cast better suited to their roles than the one in this film. So yeah, it's a good 'un. Just be sure to pick up the book, too.
If you round off the .3 repeating, I'm officially one third of the way through this list. Woot woot!
If you'd like, you can read the previous entry, #s 28-30, here.
Update: The next post, #s 34-36, is up here.
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