Punting on Pigskin Pictures

Sorry, but Knute Rockne All American isn't exactly Breaking Away.

Earlier this evening, I charged myself with thinking of great football-themed films that, if viewed prior to tonight's Super Bowl, would provide an excellent context to the Big Game while encapsulating the beauty of the sport itself.

Strangely, the only movie I could think of that best represents the gridiron was a Marx Brothers send-up, the hoary but still hilarious Horse Feathers.

Something's wrong with this motion picture, right?

Perhaps not. Football, for some reason, doesn't translate to the big screen like baseball does--in part, I believe, because the Heroes of Winter haven't dug their cleats into the lexicon of American lore as much as the Boys of Summer. Yet I think there's another factor: a strange inability of the game itself to register as much with viewers in terms of suspense as other sports.

Football fans, please feel free to swear at me in protest. I realize movies like North Dallas Forty and The Longest Yard, to a certain extent, inform our perspective of the game. But I don't think they're an inextricable part of our cinematic fabric the way The Pride of the Yankees is. Heck, I was a lot more concerned about the results of the tennis match in Strangers on a Train than I was during any scene in Robert Aldrich's Yard.

It may be just a coincidence that football hasn't spurred a cinematic masterpiece the way baseball has. I'm wondering, though, whether there's something on the green diamond that trumps the snowy gridiron innately on the silver screen. Or maybe it's the idea of "outs" rather than a clock that makes things more cinematic--that a limited number of lives is somehow more critical than a limited amount of time.

I don't think they're the same thing. On film, there's a difference. It's odd in a way, because to many a casual viewer, baseball can be static, while football is almost constantly in motion. One would think football would leave baseball in cinematic stardust.

As evidenced by films such as The Natural, however, there are a lot more sparks in the ninth inning than the fourth quarter.

Swordfish.

The Power of Throwaways Compels You

To borrow (and then wreck) a line from Wallace Stevens, I don't know which to prefer, the beauty of a primary plot device or a throwaway line.

I've started to mull this minor musing after revisiting John Huston's The Treasure of the Sierra Madre last night, which I watched specifically for a few scenes in which Humphrey Bogart's no-goodnik bum asks a well-to-do gentleman on no less than three separate occasions for money. For some reason, I find these exchanges hilarious, as it points to the knee-jerk freeloader quality of Bogie's character...but it also doesn't seem to drive the narrative. Instead, it's just an aside--a bit of texture that helps make the film.

I guess I'm in love with these little throwaway moments.

Oftentimes, I mark the finesse of a movie by the inclusion of such character development. Some other examples:

• North by Northwest: Cary Grant's Roger O. Thornhill has an incredibly natural exchange with his mother over the phone after his arrest by a policeman. When Thornhill tells his mother the sergeant's name, Emile, there's a slight pause, and then the amused ad executive says, "No, I don't believe it, either." No further explanation...but none needed. Just funny.
• WarGames: Two techies in a computer lab are reviewing some information Matthew Broderick's hacker character, David Lightman, passes along for opinions. One of the techies, played by expert character actor Maury Chaykin, chastises the other with these immortal words when the fellow gets out of line: "Remember you told me to tell you when you were acting rudely and insensitively? Remember that? You're doing it right now." Where did this come from? It doesn't matter; it adds tang to the script...and suggests a history that these two have. Brilliant.
• The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance: Ken Murray's usually intoxicated Doc Willoughby is summoned to determine whether Lee Marvin's cruel Liberty Valance is really dead. "Whiskey, quick," the good doctor says, receiving it. But instead of giving it to Liberty, he takes a swig. Then he kicks Valance. "Dead," he says casually. Just wonderful--a bit of comedy that suggests the morality of the doctor's character...as well as the disdain he has for Valance.
• Time Bandits: "Mm?" queries the musician, as he is given unfamiliar sheet music by Charles McKeown's beleaguered theater manager, who is being pressured to provide adequate entertainment for Napoleon. The musician then proceeds to play--dreadfully--"Me and My Shadow." Probably the tersest throwaway moment in this list, but one of the most hilarious.
• Kagemusha: After witnessing the massacre of his clan's army, commanded by the rash Takeda family heir Katsuyori, Nobukado Takeda, portrayed superbly by Tsutomu Yamazaki, observes his defeat in a quick, short frame. The dismay and waste are conveyed so totally in this snapshot that we don't need any words. Yet another great moment from a great director, Akira Kurosawa.
  

Hobbit 'Journey' Bound to Be Good as Expected

Thank goodness we don't have to call Ralph Bakshi's 1978 Lord of the Rings "definitive" anymore.

We live in a golden age. We've got Peter Jackson to give us endless LOTR installments. And now, this December, we're getting Part I of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey.

I saw the trailer. Holy Gollum, this looks good.

Too bad we can't get the entire adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's book in one fell swoop. I'd like to see how Jackson & Co. bring the dragon Smaug to life.

But I'll have to wait. With this kind of quality forthcoming, I don't mind at all.

Please! Just Stay in Front of the Camera!

I wouldn't mind looking like George Clooney. But I'd mind directing like him.

Take The Ides of March. Well, actually, don't take it, because I wouldn't.

I'm not sure why so many actors insist on helming movies. It's like they want to reinvent themselves, when their own, well-honed personas are good enough. Clint Eastwood's another I'd mention. Laurence Olivier, too.

At least "Larry" had a vision for his interpretations of the Bard. In reviewing Eastwood's work, I'm not sure his is so defined.

I know all professionals want to do what interests them, and many don't want to be pigeonholed into certain roles. But we know Eastwood's capable of turning in a good performance. Same with Clooney.

Is being recognized as a good actor not enough? Or does one have to be an auteur to be respectable?

I think you can be respected for what you do well and, to paraphrase Robert Frost, that can make all the difference.

The Sacred Space of the Originals

I often think I like a movie better if it follows its source material faithfully.

But I might be looking through silver-colored glasses. In revisiting The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King last night on TV, I noticed that I still enjoy this film immensely, despite the tweaks to much of the dialogue found in J.R.R. Tolkien's book. There's at least one precedent: I also love David Lean's brilliant Great Expectations, though the movie's end, in which Pip tears away the curtains hiding Estella from the world, is nothing like the novel's finale.

So why am I fine with the changes in these adaptations...yet horrified by the ones in Garth Jennings' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?

I know--I'm comparing two masterpieces to a misfire. It's not fair. But I'm trying to find a pattern, and the only one I can see is a significant difference in quality, resulting from better direction, scripts, editing, and other elements.

Could that be it, then? Could I like something that, theoretically, could be completely different from its source material if it's just done well?

I'm not going to discount that. I'll have to mull it for a while. Maybe I'm not the purist I think I am. Or maybe I'm a purist just with movies.

I know that if it's good, I'll like it. Maybe I'll just go by that.

Yes, Let's By All Means Admit Impediments

Are we sure no one else but Meryl Streep would've fit the bill as Margaret Thatcher?

I'm a little befuddled by these casting choices--though I recognize the need for star power.

But Meryl Streep? What's next, Dustin Hoffman as Charles de Gaulle?

It might be another Oscar this year for Streep, considered by many to be one of America's greatest actresses...though I often find her performances forced and mannered. I'm wondering, though, whether this kind of portrayal also takes the spotlight away from less well-known, though more deserving actresses, such as Rooney Mara and Viola Davis. Streep seems to be specializing these days in historical impersonations, which sometimes appear to be judged on how close they are to the real thing rather than how much they work within the context of the films.

I'd like to see someone else get recognized for a less showy role. Maybe this year's Academy Awards will accommodate. I'll be cautiously optimistic.

Go Gently into that Good Night, Will You Please?

It's high time a number of film franchises were retired.

Transformers, head to the hills. Chipmunks, get outta Dodge.

And Final Destination, let this be your last slaughterfield.

This void should not be filled, because, as Woody Allen remarks in Love and Death, it's an "empty void."

What needs to arise is a spate of quality sci-fi and fantasy pictures.

Sorry, Conan, you don't fit the bill--not until your script's as strong as your biceps. But I'd like to see some escapism in a similar vein, from great source material.

A smattering of Isaac Asimov. A dose of Ray Bradbury. Slices of Theodore Sturgeon.

There's a surplus of content out there. Why aren't we seeing more of it...and I'm not talking about travesties such as I, Robot? Faithful adaptations that trust the viewer. Where are they?

We can update these stories so they're even more relevant, without losing their "heart." And we've got all the CGI we need to lure eyeballs.

Let's lure the brains, too. We're primates, not chipmunks.

Bridging the Cinematic Divide

I'm at a loss. Trudi and I like different movies.

OK, we're of one mind on some films--mostly those directed by Billy Wilder. And we're in agreement on the Marx Brothers, though she doesn't care for The Cocoanuts. (Consternation! Uproar!)

But almost anything else released after 1929...pffft.

I admire Trudi's taste. It's impeccable. But I wonder why I was so enthralled with The Damned and she wasn't. Or why I can't convince her that Throne of Blood is one of the best interpretations of Shakespeare on the silver screen. Or why, for that matter, any flick featuring a battle scene lasting more than 10 minutes isn't something to avoid.

Or why I struggle through the Jennifer Aniston oeuvre and she embraces it.

I've decided this can't be chalked up to purportedly innate differences in taste between the sexes. I like some "chick flicks." Really. For example: Stolen Kisses.

I provide crummy examples.

Fine, so I prefer a great epic. A drawn-out drama. That's not for all viewers, though Trudi at one point admitted to me that it's hard for her to watch the Lord of the Rings movies, as she needs to absorb each in its entirety rather than piecemeal, as I tend to watch things on TV.

So my feeling is, she probably has an inner jidai-geki.

Perhaps we're destined never to cross this divide. I've tried, though--I've watched Mad Men. I've sat through Ryan Reynolds comedies. And to her credit, Trudi has tried, too. She sat through most of Kwaidan. I give her many props for that.

I just think now that taste...I can't believe I'm writing this...may be subjective.

What an admission.

An Unexamined Battle Scene Is not Worth Viewing

The biggest problem with cinematic battle scenes today is that they don't have a perspective.

Gladiator is the film that most comes to mind. Also Braveheart, and the abysmal Troy and Alexander. In these movies, the primary purpose of the staged conflicts seems to be a Peckinpah-esque revelry in blood and guts, as well as an "isn't it cool how that guy killed the other guy" sensibility catering to the Grand Guignol set.

In other words, a lot of posing and yelling, but little substance. That contrasts greatly with the best cinematic battle scenes, which always have something to say.

Mind you, such commentary doesn't have to be anti-war. In fact, oftentimes, it isn't. Alexander Nevsky's frozen fight is exhilarating. So is The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King's massive (and beautifully directed) orc-a-thon, which incites viewers to cheer against the forces of evil. And Kwaidan's otherworldly boat contest in which the Heike clan meets its doom is like some gorgeous scene from a Kuniyoshi print.

All of these movie battles provide superb direction, varying camera angles and beautiful cinematography. That's not to say that they encourage viewers to enjoy the splattering of blood; instead, they make you care, involving you in the decisions and the developments leading up to them.

Here is my list of the greatest battle scenes in film, in no particular order:

Alexander Nevsky: Still the top, owing to a combination of logistics and sheer cinematic skill
Ran: perhaps the greatest anti-war battle scenes ever depicted on film; confusing, sad and powerful
Chimes at Midnight: brutal, anti-war banging of maces in the mud--terrific Wellesian comment
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King: CGI used in the best possible way
Kwaidan: like a painting, both gorgeous and disturbing
Kagemusha: you don't really see the fighting in the climactic battle, but you do see the results. Brilliantly anti-war; an assault on the waste of life
Red Cliff: nicely handled direction of a popular tale, with a bit of preternatural powers thrown in to support the good-versus-evil thrust

Do I Have to Watch the Oscars This Year?

I still have nightmares about that dreadful "dance" number en hommage to The Adventures of Baron Munchausen on the Academy Awards so many years ago.

Did we really need to see people in fancy dress fall all over themselves--literally--for the sake of "comedy"? And the movie wasn't that broad, was it?

It's the prospect of viewing travesties such as this that makes me wary of turning on the Oscars later this month. Another factor is the thought of seeing great films not get the attention they deserve. (That's right: I still haven't gotten over why Pan's Labyrinth didn't win Best Picture.)

Sure, there are delights to be noshed on, such as Akira Kurosawa's speech after winning an honorary Oscar more than 20 years ago. But I'm not sure it's worth getting through the dross to find the diamonds.

Heck, I liked The King's Speech a lot, but is it really a Best Picture-type of movie?

Then again, is Braveheart?

I'm just hoping there's no pseudo-period "dancing."