Three very different movies in this post. And... that's all I have to say about that.
Look, everyone, unlike a lot of contemporary critics, I don't hate Forrest Gump (in fact, I even like it), and that whole "Forrest Gump vs. Pulp Fiction at the Oscars" is pretty dumb because, come on, I think we all know that the right position in that debate is actually The Shawshank Redemption. But I've never understood the huge, huge cultural cachet the film has with contemporary audiences. I mean, it's a pleasant movie that, somewhat amusingly, plays lip service to Baby Boomer culture while also positing that said culture is basically the accidental offspring of a mentally challenged man from Georgia. There are some truly groundbreaking effects used throughout, too, and consequently, the film has a winsomely, even at times anarchically, playful streak with history (e.g. Forrest mooning LBJ), which makes the whole affair a little less self-aggrandizing and more punk than the movie's detractors give it credit for. Oh, and the acting is uniformly excellent, too. So no, I'm not immune to the movie's charms. But a generation-defining movie? A great movie? One of the greatest movies movies of all time? I don't see it. Of course, people are allowed to have their own opinions, and I wouldn't dream of telling people they're wrong (or dumb or evil or whatever) to love this movie. But to those who do love Forrest Gump, I have a few questions I sincerely want answers to: 1) What exactly is profound about having Forrest experience or orchestrate so many of the late 20th century's cultural touchstones? It's funny, but what does it mean? 2) How is Forrest anything other than a blank slate of a character, and how does this make him a compelling protagonist? 3) What is the film doing with Jenny other than creating a love interest for Forrest? What's the point in transforming her from a character with personal tragedies (abusive father, etc.) into one who shoulders Society's tragedies (post-hippie fallout, etc.)? It seems like the movie really, really wants her to represent something about the Boomer generation, but what? 4) Why is "Run, Forrest, run!" one of this movie's go-to quotes? It's not funny, deep, clever, poignant, or anything. I mean, Forrest has to run away from kids pelting him with rocks (and pretty big rocks, too!); that's a dark context for a quote shouted willy-nilly at runners everywhere, isn't it?
You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit over-the-moon about this one. See, when it's done well, the based-on-a-true-story thriller (e.g. Zero Dark Thirty), particularly in its more political shades (Charlie Wilson's War, Lincoln), is one of my favorite movie genres ever, and it's an even greater favorite when that genre mixes in a healthy excitement for journalistic rigor (Zodiac). Ladies and gentlemen of the blogosphere, All the President's Men is just such a thriller, and a masterpiece of one, too. It's definitely one of the best movies I've watched for the first time for this 100 Years...100 Movies project, and by golly, there's a really good chance that it will go on to become a new favorite of all time for me. It's funny, tense, insightful, and genuinely exciting, impressive characteristics in their own right made all the more impressive by the fact that this film achieves them almost entirely through dialogue. I mean, think about this: All the President's Men is a movie with no chase scenes and no killings (and that alone says volumes about what a cinematic feat this thriller is), a movie whose biggest setpiece is the buzzing office of the Washington Post newspaper, a movie with few (if any) dynamic characters, a movie in which the solution to its major mystery is one of the most well-known events in American history. This is not the typical blueprint for an "exciting" movie, and yet All the President's Men is unquestionably one (to me at least). I'm tempted to attribute that excitement to Dustin Hoffman's glorious, glorious hair (just look at those flowing locks!), but honestly, it's the partnership between the dialogue and the wholly unpretentious cinematography. Every line moves the film forward, and every shot frames that line's delivery in the most informative way possible. The film takes to heart the journalistic ideals of clarity and efficiency, which is only fitting for a movie whose centerpiece is a crackerjack bit of journalism. To that effect, All the President's Men is one of the great successes in translating journalism to film and a fantastic bit of proof for the theory that when you've got a good story, the best way to tell it is often to step back and let it tell itself.
Of all the Chaplin movies I've seen, Modern Times is by far the most caustic, preachy, and socially conscious (though, to be honest, I haven't seen any of his later films, such as The Great Dictator, that have a reputation for actually being preachy, etc.). This is a movie all about the oppression of the working poor by the machinations of management and, of course, the System as a whole, and while these themes are present in plenty of Chaplin's work, Chaplin really goes whole hog into them in Modern Times. This is definitely a Populist work (like, in the political sense), so if you have an aversion to that, I might suggest steering clear. Only... no, I'm not going to suggest that, because Modern Times is an awesome movie, regardless of its (or our) politics. In another movie, all that preachiness might have made the whole enterprise a leaden bore, but the good news about Modern Times is that in addition to being one of Chaplin's preachiest, it's also one of his funniest, and humor covers a multitude of polemics. More so than a lot of Chaplin, Modern Times (particularly in its famous factory scenes) is built around elaborate sets and special-effects-driven sequences; the Tramp's tussles with the huge machinery in these sequences of course serve as metaphors of society's exploitation of the lower class, but they are also hilarious, perfectly timed comedy routines. Futility is a concept that shows the intersection of comedy and tragedy perhaps better than any other, and it's a concept on full display here. Entire swatches of humanity are trapped in a cycle that makes their actions and desires futile, and that's tragic. But seeing Chaplin live out that futility? Comedic gold. I should note that, as with most of Chaplin's work, the human genius of Modern Times is that we are laughing with the Tramp, not at him, as Chaplin's trademark empathy gives him a sort of heroism that avoids making him the butt of the joke. I should also note that, while I've spent most of my time talking about the factory and related aspects of the movie, there's an awful lot more to this film that just that. For example, did you know that there is a subplot at one point, the Tramp does cocaine? Yeah, that one was a shocker when I first saw the movie, too.
Insert perfunctory sign-off/don't forget to let me know what you think. Until next time!
If you fancy, you can read the previous post, #s 73-75, here.
Update: The next post, #s 79-81, is up here.
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