Gladiator (2000)

 

Gladiator begins with an epic, brutal battle sequence that lasts about twelve minutes, and it’s a brilliant strategy to start with something so physical and action-packed. Director Ridley Scott has always been good at directing action movies, and while this might have easily been a throwback to those earlier, rather corny gladiator movies from the 1950s and 1960s, Scott’s film is filled with great sequences, many of them taking place in various arenas and featuring intense encounters between some of the biggest gladiators imaginable.

The film follows the story of the Roman General Maximus Decimus Meridius (played with more stoicism than probably necessary by Russell Crowe), who leads the Roman army to victory over the forces in Germania in the opening sequence. So beloved and revered and successful is Maximus that the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris, who departs the move far too quickly), favors him over the presumptive heir to the throne, his son Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix, channeling evil personified). Commodus is not a good person and not a promising leader, and Phoenix lets us see the jealousy and hatred that have rotted him to the core of his being.

Marcus Aurelius dislikes his son so much that he plans to make Rome into a republic again rather than have Commodus succeed him, and he wants Maximus to be the leader under the new republic. Do you even have to guess how Commodus responds to this? In short order, he kills his own father, has Maximus’ wife and son murdered, and tries to have Maximus himself killed. Commodus assumes the title of Caesar and gives the people what he thinks they want or need: a seemingly endless supply of distractions like gladiator battles and bread. It keeps them pacified, but he seems to think that it will make them love him. Why are there so many movies about men who turn into awful humans because they think they didn’t get the love they deserved from their fathers? It must be because there are too many men in real life who turned out that way.

After being captured by slave traders while trying to recover from his wounds, Crowe’s Maximus starts developing a real talent for killing others in the battle arenas as a gladiator, and the series of scenes featuring those battles are among the best in the film. They’re particularly well shot. He acquires the nickname of “the Spaniard,” for reasons that were never fully clear to me. However, he becomes quite proficient at using his anger and hatred and pain to kill gladiators who would be expected to overpower him. By the time he delivers the famous “Are you not entertained?” line in the film, we have to agree that, yes, we are being very entertained, especially if we like watching grown men beat each up and blood flowing all over the ground of the arena.

Just as an aside, the fight scenes are so spectacular that The Boyfriend kept saying to me while we were watching the film again in preparation for Gladiator II that these battles were the Romans’ form of entertainment since they didn’t have movies or television. He’s not wrong, and I guess it’s pretty clear to anyone who watches the film that these “entertainments” were clearly used as a means to keep the people in check while their government engages in horrible acts. Thankfully, no one does any such actions these days. Right? Right?

Maximus’ goal, of course, is to get his revenge against Commodus, not necessarily to be a free man again, so as he keeps learning new and bloodier ways to kill someone, we acknowledge that he’s really in training to kill Commodus. He even tells the emperor this to his face after Commodus meets him in the middle of a large arena and asks Maximus to remove his mask. This, naturally, does not sit well with Commodus, so he starts scheming to have the gladiator killed. One of the most astonishing sequences has Maximus facing off against a gigantic guy from Gaul while chained tigers try to attack them if they ventures too closely to the large, hungry beasts. I don’t know how historically accurate such an approach might be, but it certainly does keep your attention.

The role of Maximus is a physically demanding role, and Crowe seems fully committed to the hard work of being an efficient killing machine in the arena. By the time he faces Commodus in the ring face-to-face, he’s clearly destined to kill the emperor, but you know that someone like the emperor is never going to play fair. He hasn’t been fair at any point during the film, so why should he start now? The ending of the film is a bit too, um, comfortable for my tastes, but after seeing flashbacks of his wife and son throughout the film, it’s no surprise that Maximus would want to “reunite” with them. There is often some sort of spiritual dimension to Scott’s film, and sometimes it’s more plausible or acceptable than at other times.

Gladiator features a strong supporting cast. I’ve already mentioned Harris, who has only a few moments on screen at the beginning. Djimon Hounsou plays a fellow gladiator, and the great Oliver Reed, in his final film role, plays Proximo, the “owner” and trainer of a band of gladiators. Derek Jacobi is Gracchus, a key member of the senate who faces reprisals from Commodus after the emperor learns that Gracchus and his own sister and others have been plotting against him – as you would if you were being ruled by a tyrant. The sister, Lucilla, is played by the talented Connie Nielsen. Her scenes with Crowe give more than a few hints that the two were former lovers, and they seem to have had a child together as well. How else can you have a sequel? The child in question is played by Spencer Treat Clark, whose face is very expressive.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention the production design for the film. It’s very evocative of the era that it depicts, and the recreation of the Colosseum is spectacular. The locations of the emperor’s residence and of the senate meetings and even Gracchus’s house, which is seen only for a few seconds, get a great deal of attention. The production design was nominated for an Oscar, and the costume design deservedly won in its category. The various costumes demonstrate the kind of stratification of Roman society, and the smallest details on someone’s robes, for example, are visible and perfect. Scott’s films that cover historical periods are always very attuned to displaying what would have been common at the time. It’s just another element in a film that strives to be entertaining, and isn’t that what Maximus wanted for us, after all?

Oscar Wins: Best Picture, Best Actor (Russell Crowe), Best Sound, Best Costume Design, and Best Visual Effects

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Director (Ridley Scott), Best Supporting Actor (Joaquin Phoenix), Best Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen/Original Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, and Best Film Editing

Sound of Metal (2020)

 

I don’t normally start a discussion of a film with an examination of the sound design, but Sound of Metal does such an amazing job that, even though it’s odd to point it out, you can’t really experience this film without acknowledging it. The central character learns that he’s suffering from severe hearing loss, and we as viewers and listeners get to experience what he’s going through. The film features subtitles throughout – although it does withhold telling us what’s going on at a couple of key moments – and the difficulties that we have in hearing replicates for us what Ruben (played with great physicality by Riz Ahmed) experiences. When he cannot hear anything but distorted voices, that’s what we hear. When the sounds for him almost disappear, they do the same for us. It’s a spectacular aspect of the film, and it truly helps to make the impact even greater for us as an audience.

We may not realize it when the film starts, but we’re already in Ruben’s auditory world. We see him on stage with his girlfriend. It’s a loud blast of music, which contrasts to the many moments of absolute silence we get later in the film. They’re a heavy metal act – or punk metal or something like that – and much of her singing is rather inaudible. We might think at first that it’s the quality of the singing or the music more generally, but we’re already getting a sense of how much difficulty Ruben is having. When he cannot hear at all on a subsequent night, he realizes (as do we) that he is suffering from hearing loss. A doctor’s appointment arranged by a pharmacist reveals that he only has 24-28 percent of his hearing capacity. The film really only takes about ten minutes or so at the beginning to convey how much Ruben’s life is going to change.

Ruben is also a former addict, and he wants a solution quickly so that he can resume his life on the road. He would need $40,000-$80,000 for cochlear implants, money that they don’t have as struggling musicians. Lou (Olivia Cooke) is worried about him, though, and they contact Ruben’s sponsor, who finds him a spot in a deaf community in a rural area. She has to leave him there because the community is only for those who are deaf or hard of hearing; those who are not hearing impaired would be a distraction, according to the rules of the community leader, Joe (played with great stoicism by Paul Raci). It’s tough for her to leave him, and it’s tough for him to let her go. Their separation is painful to watch.

Ruben doesn’t immediately fit in, of course, and we also get to be a part of feeling his alienation. The others in the community mostly use American Sign Language, but he doesn’t know how to sign yet. He senses they’re talking about him sometimes, but he cannot respond. Only those who can lipread can understand what he’s saying, and he feels rather isolated at first. However, Joe is committed to getting Ruben to become more integrated into the community. Ruben goes to classes for ASL with children and slowly begins to bond with them. He even brings in music and drumming to their classroom so that they can get a sense of what his life was like. The moments with the kids are really some of the more delightful ones in the film.

His comfort in the rural community – which is beautifully photographed, by the way – is short-lived, though. He becomes impatient when he sees online that Lou has gone to France to live with her father and is now singing a very different style of music. His career as a rock drummer might be coming to an end, and he wants to return to that life if he can. He sells almost everything he owns: the music equipment, their RV they used to tour, whatever he can. Of course, he also is impatient for the implants to work immediately after surgery, but what he hears first is really distorted and painful to listen to. He’s warned by the audiologist to give it time, but Ruben leaves almost immediately for France to meet with Lou. He seems to think that if they just get back to their music, he’ll regain some sense of what he considers “normalcy.” The film has repeatedly questioned what “normal” is, but Ruben isn’t quite to the point of accepting his new life as normal just yet.

The pacing of the film is rather interesting. Very intense moments are followed at times by very slow passages. We even see how Ruben’s reactions can mirror the film’s pacing or vice versa. He’s often very quiet or still, but then he will have an explosion of emotions. He holds in his feelings at times when you know he’s not as happy or accepting as he claims to be. It’s a thrilling performance in many ways, and you can sense how very committed Ahmed was to learning how to play the drums and how to use ASL to communicate. The film editing was honored with an Oscar, as was the sound design, so you do have a sense that the voters really appreciated what the filmmakers were doing.

Even when he’s in France, we get to experience what Ruben is hearing. The distortion returns at times, and he has to adjust the implants to accommodate the volume at other times. When Lou and her father duet in French at a party, we don’t get subtitles telling us what they’re singing. If you know French, it’s probably a charming song. However, Ruben apparently doesn’t understand French, so we aren’t allowed to experience a moment differently than he does if we also don’t understand French. It can be distancing or alienating at times, certainly, but once you’ve caught on as to what’s happening with the sound, you can’t really help but appreciate the commitment of the filmmakers to let us into the world of someone experiencing the loss of their sense of hearing.

Sound of Metal also teaches us a bit about the technology available to the deaf or hearing impaired. We witness the use of sign language and lipreading and speech-to-text programs, all of which help us to see what someone just learning how to live with hearing loss might experience. The deaf community of the film is a rather insular one, but the movie takes some time to introduce us to the controversy surrounding cochlear implants. Some fear there’s nothing to be fixed in someone who cannot hear, so they oppose the use of implants. That’s why Ruben has to leave after he gets them. He no longer fits into the community like he did before when he was learning to accept himself as someone without full hearing.

I’ve mentioned the cinematography already, but it’s exceptional and was overlooked by the Academy. The rural landscape would likely be what many would notice, but watch the camerawork as Ruben and Lou are traveling in the RV from gig to gig, or look at how beautiful Paris looks as he walks to her father’s place. The wind in the trees, the wheat moving gracefully, the kinds of moments that those of us with full hearing take for granted are presented here as the marvels that they are. You may be able to hear that wind blowing, but the subtitles on the screen remind you that not everyone experiences it the same way. Our immersion into Ruben’s experience is likely not to be replicated easily after the stellar achievements of this film.

Oscar Win: Best Sound and Best Achievement in Film Editing

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Motion Picture of the Year, Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role (Riz Ahmed), Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role (Paul Raci), and Best Original Screenplay

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

 

Rosemary’s Baby tells what could have been a very heartwarming story of a young couple (played by Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes) who move into an old New York apartment building with lots of history and some very gregarious neighbors. Of course, what the two new tenants don’t realize yet – and what we as viewers quickly start to suspect – is that these neighbors are quite strange. A couple of them, the Castavets (played to perfection by Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer), are really quite nosy and pushy. Gordon’s Minnie, in particular, likes to insinuate herself into Rosemary’s everyday life as much as possible, and Cassavetes’ Guy Woodhouse actually befriends Blackmer’s Roman Castavet almost immediately. I suppose if you rent an apartment that is now available because the previous tenant died (thankfully, not in the apartment, which is quickly established to the relief of the Woodhouses) and you also know that a young dancer who lived in the building fell to her death – unless, perhaps, it wasn’t a fall – then you might find comfort knowing that some older, seemingly kind people are looking out for you. Oh, if only it were that simple. What’s really going on starts to become clear when Farrow’s Rosemary has either a dream or a vision (or is it neither one?) of being raped by a demon while others watch. When she becomes pregnant, everyone starts making a fuss over her and tries to get her to drink some strange smoothies and go to a particular doctor and… it just never seems to end. Minnie shows up almost every day to check on Rosemary, who starts to look especially sick. No one, including her neighbor-endorsed doctor, wants her to worry, but Rosemary starts to think something might be wrong with the baby. Farrow’s thinness and famous (or infamous, as the case may be) short hairdo help to convey the potential illness perfectly. This may be the only film that includes a testimonial for the work of Vidal Sassoon. She gets little support in her concerns from her husband, who seems especially distant after she reveals she’s pregnant, and it’s only in the company of her friends from outside the building that she seems to get any sympathy. I suppose, though, that when you confess that you think you might have been impregnated after some sort of bizarre ritual performed by a coven of Satan-worshipping witches, your friends need to comfort you. Yes, that’s right. The building is filled with witches, and they’ve chosen Rosemary to carry the devil’s child so that they will then have someone evil to take over and cleanse the world. Well, “cleanse” might be the wrong word for what they have in mind, but you get the picture. We have several occasions when we have to wonder if Rosemary might be delusional or if she is right about the witches. When she notices that Roman has pierced ears – which is supposed to be a sign of a male witch, I guess – it only takes a book from a former landlord to convince her. I suppose it’s a good thing she didn’t go to a dockyard or the Village; all those pierced ears would have really freaked her out. Rosemary’s Baby is considered a horror classic, and it certainly builds in suspense as we learn more and more about the neighbors and their plans. I’m not sure I fully appreciate the enigmatic ending, though, since it’s unclear exactly what Rosemary might do with respect to her devil baby, but such endings were becoming more common at the time. The film raises some interesting questions about the bodily autonomy of women, and Rosemary is almost treated as little more than an incubator by so many people in the building. It also forces us to consider what we know about others in our lives and what kind of influence they might be having over us. Some aspects of the film are, naturally, dated, and we certainly have seen far more horrifying tales on the screen, but Rosemary’s Baby serves as quite a strong origin point for what many modern films do with female characters, in particular. I’m certain that’s not really a good thing, but I suppose you can never imagine just where or how a film’s impact might spread.

Oscar Win: Best Supporting Actress (Ruth Gordon)

Other Oscar Nomination: Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium

Napoleon and Samantha (1972)

 

Napoleon and Samantha is a children’s movie released by the Walt Disney company, but it has one of the weirdest plots imaginable for a film aimed at children. Johnny Whitaker plays Napoleon, who’s living in the woods with his grandfather (Will Geer, right about the same time he started playing the grandfather on The Waltons). They run across a circus clown one night who has a lion with bad teeth who only drinks milk. The clown, who’s been looking for a way to retire, unloads the lion on the youngster and his grandpa, who decide to keep it in their chicken coop. Apparently, the chickens are safe since the lion can’t eat meat. When Grandpa dies, Napoleon has to hire an out-of-work grad student named Danny (played by Michael Douglas, of all people) to help bury the old man. Napoleon lies to Danny about an uncle who’s going to come take care of him because he doesn’t want to get caught living alone and face being sent to an orphanage. Danny, who herds sheep when he’s not in grad school because that’s something that lots of people do while studying for an advanced degree, lives in isolated cabin (is there any other kind?) several mountains away. You know where this is headed, right? Napoleon decides to take his lion across miles of wilderness so that he can live with Danny—without having asked Danny if he could move in with a large feline. Jodie Foster plays Napoleon’s good friend Samantha, who naturally wants to make the journey with him despite his objections that there won’t be enough food for them both. They face some danger along the way, some of it nature itself such as a stream they have to cross or cliffs that one of them almost falls off. They also face natural predators like the cougar that tries to eat Samantha’s pet chicken that she’s brought along because… you can’t leave a chicken along with your guardian if you just received it as a gift the day before? Said guardian, Gertrude, is played by Ellen Corby, who played the grandmother on The Waltons, but she and Geer are never in a scene together, robbing us of a big-screen pairing to rival the small-screen one. There’s also a bear attack, but the lion always seems to scare off whatever comes near, which is surprising considering that it only seems to want to lie down all the time and rest. Surely, this is one of the most lethargic lions ever filmed. When they finally arrive at Danny’s cabin, he rightfully suggests that someone tell the people in town where they are, so he leaves the kids with this guy who just recently showed up out of nowhere, Mark, who’s wearing the trademark serial killer glasses that all filmmakers use for shorthand. Danny goes back to town, promptly gets arrested for child abduction, sees a Wanted poster with Mark’s face on it, and escapes on a motorcycle that leads to a remarkable chase up mountain roads that seem to have an awful lot of construction going on for such a small town. It’s a Disney film, so you know there’s going to be a happy ending after all, and there’s little suspense that things will turn out otherwise. Whitaker and Foster were both very good child actors, and Foster has had a long and distinguished career. This was her first major film role, and you can see why she kept getting hired for movies. There’s a natural charm and looseness to her performance. Whitaker would continue to make movies and TV shows, but I still know him best from Sigmund and the Sea Monsters. Hey, people have different career paths; some win two Oscars and others act next to someone in a costume that resembles a pile of leaves. Napoleon and Samantha also features lovely outdoor cinematography, which is not surprising when you consider that the producer was the great Winston Hibler, who was responsible for so many of the great Disney documentaries about the wilderness.

Oscar Nomination: Best Original Dramatic Score

Beetlejuice (1988)

 

If you’ve not seen the original Beetlejuice in a while – and I hadn’t seen it in decades until it was time to refresh my memory for the release of the sequel – you might have forgotten that Michael Keaton’s title character actually isn’t as much of a focus as you might think. A lot of the first half of the movie really involves the somewhat mundane lives of Adam (Alec Baldwin) and Barbara (Geena Davis) Maitland, a yuppie couple who are restoring a lovely but old-fashioned house in Connecticut until they die in an automobile accident and find themselves stuck in a sort of afterlife limbo. The Deetz family moves into the house, and Delia (the great Catherine O’Hara) decides to make it into the most postmodern nightmare of a house you could imagine. With the help of her clearly gay-coded “designer” Otho (Glenn Shadix, oozing with that bitchy gay demeanor for much of the film), she offends the aesthetic tastes of even the dead couple, who decide they need to find a way to rid their home of the Deetzes. They have just one issue: proto-goth child Lydia (Winona Ryder), who has the ability to see the couple even though they’re dead. Keaton takes over the plot about halfway through the film after his Betegeuse is hired (well, sorta?) by the couple to drive away the Deetz family. He’s a sort of “bio-exorcist,” someone who allegedly can frighten people in the real world away from a place like the Maitlands’ house, but really, he’s just a scam artist who wants to marry Lydia so that he will have the power to wreak havoc in the real world. Keaton brings such a crazy, insane, manic energy to the proceedings, a sharp contrast to the slower paced first half, that it’s probably good that we remember his character as having a bigger role than it actually does. He really does bring a level of spectacle that had been missing earlier in the movie. The film won an Academy Award for its makeup, and Keaton’s title character has to be a major part of that win. The edges of his face are masterfully done. However, it wasn’t nominated for its production design even though that too is spectacular. The house becomes such a focal point, which is appropriate since it’s the epicenter of so much of the film’s action, and the twists and turns in the bureaucratic halls of the afterlife are mesmerizing in their detail. The legendary Sylvia Sidney shines in a tiny part as the couple’s world-weary or afterworld-weary caseworker; that husky voice of hers is on full display in this film. Who knew the afterlife was so much like an overburdened social services administration? The original film is funnier than I initially remembered, and the running gag over trying to say (or not to say, as the case may be) the offensive demon’s name plays for solid laughs throughout the story. And any movie that puts the music of the great Harry Belafonte to this much effective use has to be applauded. You may never listen to “Day-O” or “Jump in the Line (Shake Senora)” the same again, and that’s a good thing.

Oscar Win: Best Makeup

The Zone of Interest (2023)

 

The Zone of Interest raises some very intriguing questions, such as how we can live so close (in the movie’s case, literally) to horrible atrocities but maintain some semblance of normalcy. Wouldn’t the awfulness of what we are close to begin to affect us? Wouldn’t we start to behave differently if we were constantly so close to terrible events and activities? What if we are complicit in the atrocities that are happening? Doesn’t that alter who we are and what we do? The film shows us what kind of effect living next door to a site of such evil might have, but it does so gradually. The Zone of Interest moves at a very leisurely pace, in some respects, but it grows increasing more tense as the film progresses.

The Hoss family lives next door to the concentration camp at Auschwitz. The father, Rudolf (played by Christian Friedel), serves as the commandant at the camp whose idea it is to exterminate the Jewish prisoners around the clock. He even oversees the installation of a new crematorium at Auschwitz that blazes throughout the night.  He seems rather cold and methodical at first, and he’s so efficient at his horrific occupation that he’s transferred to take command of all of the camps under Nazi control. He also demonstrates the more mundane aspects of life, such as turning off the lights and closing all the doors before going to bed at night. Those moments are often filmed at a rather astonishingly leisurely pace.

His wife, Hedwig (the great Sandra Huller, who had a great year in 2023 with this film and Anatomy of a Fall), keeps the household running efficiently, but she likes a comfortable life and doesn’t want to move away even though she and her children (two young boys, three young girls, including a baby girl) live next door to a concentration camp. She gets other benefits from being so close to the camp besides a nice house, though. Her husband sends her all kinds of clothing and other items taken from the Jewish prisoners. She keeps a fur coat (and a lipstick from its pocket) and gives other items to her servants. She’s rather distant and methodical about all of this herself, particularly when she’s overseeing the various upgrades to the house. She knows what’s on the other side of her garden wall, but she doesn’t acknowledge what is going on at the camp. In fact, she’s rather indifferent to his news about a promotion or his prowess at murdering other human beings.

Interestingly, we as viewers never see any of the camp or its activities. We can hear the screams and gunshots, but we aren’t witness to the killings themselves. Fires burn all the time, and we know what that means, but again, the filmmakers have chosen not to depict the atrocities on screen. The gunshots and furnaces are very disconcerting, as is the musical score, which is really very disorienting. It makes sense, though, for the music to bother us since we at least need to feel some of the anxiety that the characters should be feeling. Otherwise, we might think that this is a rather idyllic depiction of life in the country. The family goes swimming in the nearby river, they acquire a new canoe, and Hedwig even grows beautiful flowers and lots of vegetables in her garden. The garden happens to be on the other side of a wall from a concentration camp, but that doesn’t seem to bother the family members. We see just a few moments, such as when ashes start to flow down the river where Rudolph is fishing and his children are playing in the water, where the activities of the camp enter into their lives.

People in the family start to be affected by their proximity to the concentration camp. Again, how could you live next door and not be affected? Hedwig’s mother arrives for a visit, and she seems blasé about the prisoners next door, even wondering at one point if the woman she used to clean for might be one of them. (She missed out on purchasing the woman’s curtains in an auction of stolen property.) She begins coughing a lot almost immediately, perhaps from all the smoke in the air. At night, the sky is red from the fires, and it becomes too much for her. The fire and the smoke and the gunshots lead to her departing in the middle of the night; she leaves a note for her daughter and just disappears. The older son becomes much crueler as the film progresses, as if he has been given license by the awfulness of what’s happening at the camp. At one point, he locks his younger brother in the greenhouse and laughs at the boy’s predicament.

Rudolph, however, might be affected the most. Despite his claims during a medical examination that he’s well, he starts to dry heave after a party attended by Nazis and others. He tells his wife over the phone that he’s been calculating (or fantasizing) about how might be able to kill entire room full of people. It’s a chilling moment, and then he gets sick to his stomach. I don’t think this makes him sympathetic. It’s just another puzzling moment for us as viewers to ponder. Is his body trying to tell him something? He doesn’t seem to be listening to it or learning.

The film is based on a novel about real people and events. We all know about the horrors of the Holocaust, but this may be the first film to depict those horrors without showing them on the screen. You don’t get to see what actually happens in the camps, but do you need to at this point? That’s another one of those questions that are raised by the film. Is it awful enough that we witness Hedwig talking to her husband about what they’re going to do when the war ends? She’s obviously under the impression that the Germans are going to win, and she has plans for further renovations and improvements at her home.

I will readily admit that I don’t understand everything that occurs in the film. For instance, the movie features a couple of scenes where a young girl leaves apples for workers in the fields outside the concentration camp. It’s shot in what appears to be night vision, and it’s never entirely clear to me who she is or why she’s leaving the food. She always seems to appear in the movie when Rudolph is reading a fairy tale to one of his children. We also watch several women cleaning a Holocaust museum in the present day, presumably the camp at Auschwitz. We’ve seen some of the displays before, such as the massive number of shoes taken from the prisoners, so this sequence’s purpose in the overall film is unclear. The dog, Dilla, also steals the movie at times, probably because we need some relief from the intensity of everything else that’s happening on the screen. Perhaps the dog is meant to show someone or something innocent since it doesn’t know what’s going on and just wants to follow people around. Even that idea, though, comes with some questions about who could be truly innocent in circumstances like these.

The film starts (and ends) with a black screen and very disturbing music. We have no legend to tell us as viewers when or where we are as the film starts, and we have to figure out as details emerge that we’re actually witnessing Nazi atrocities. We also pause in the middle of the film and have a red screen accompanied by discordant music. Such moments don’t really allow you much of an opportunity to process how you’re feeling about what you’ve seen and heard. The music just puts you off any sort of quiet reflection.

Oscar Wins: Best International Feature Film and Best Sound

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Motion Picture of the Year, Best Achievement in Directing (Jonathan Glazer), and Best Adapted Screenplay

The Ten Commandments (1956)

 

Since it’s become an Easter tradition to show The Ten Commandments on network television, I probably don’t have to explain that it’s the story of the life of Moses, who led the Hebrews to their freedom from Egyptian rule. So many people have seen this film on television over the years, but I still don’t understand what it has to do with Easter. It’s a film that is truly spectacular in every sense of the word. You won’t see production design and costume design and scale of production at this level nowadays without a great deal of assistance from computer-generated imagery. In those days, they actually had to have lots of people and actual sets for much of what we see on the screen.

The film’s director, Cecil B. De Mille, serves as the narrator for The Ten Commandments, and he even does an introduction to the film that explains that it’s historically accurate, and he has the big books in front of him to prove it. I’m not sure that anyone needs a movie to teach them accurate history, but it’s probably more important that it gets the details right for the viewers who have spent time with their Bibles and know what happened to Moses there. Does the film truly follow the Biblical story of Moses? I don’t know; it seems to take a few liberties here and there for the sake of the visuals. Does it truly matter? Probably to some people, probably not to most. The hyperbolic voiceover narration frequently glosses over any sort of questions a viewer might have, so in the midst of the narrative, you’re just going to have to accept what happens.

The film begins with the prophecy that a man will be born who will deliver the Hebrews from bondage, so the pharaoh orders that all newborn Hebrew males be killed. Moses’ mother places him in a basket and sets him adrift in a river. He’s found, of course, by the daughter of the pharaoh, who raises him as her own child and as a prince of Egypt. Should that be Prince of Egypt? I’m not sure of the appropriate grammar for a film like this one. Charlton Heston plays Moses as an adult, and he’s just as stoic and wooden here as in Ben-Hur or, really, almost any movie that he starred in. I suspect he’s trying to treat the religious material with a great deal of seriousness, but it really does come across almost as camp. It’s not easy to feel a great deal of emotion for someone who comes across as so stolid all the time.

 

Yul Brynner plays Ramses, the actual son of the pharaoh and Moses’ rival for the throne and for the attentions of Anne Baxter’s Nefretiri. Brynner can really strut when he walks, and when you look as good in a skirt and a cape (and only a skirt and a cape) as he does, you’ve probably earned the right to strut. Heston shows up in roughly the same outfit at one point in the film, and sadly, he just can’t compete with Rameses’ hotness. Having the two of them side by side to compare, it’s all the more confusing that Nefretiri has the hots for Moses instead. Rameses certainly lets her know – more than once – that he’s very much interested in her, but her rebuffs make him all the more upset at the attention that Moses gets. It probably was the same for Brynner, wondering why Heston was always considered such a sex symbol. I hope his Oscar for Best Actor for The King and I this same year served as some consolation.

The Ten Commandments features lots of stars in smaller roles. It’s really a cast of thousands, and we get a few moments with some of these famous actors. The great Dame Judith Anderson is a servant who finds out the truth about Moses’ background and tries to use that information to stop Nefretiri from chasing after him. Baxter, though, didn’t play women who were too gentle, and Nefretiri has Memnet killed so that she can continue to pursue Moses. Vincent Price plays a master builder who spends a great deal of time talking about this amazing city that Moses is in charge of building for the Pharaoh Sethi (Sir Cedric Hardwick, imperious as he can possibly be). Most inexplicably, Edward G. Robinson plays Dathan, a Hebrew overseer who is consistently trying to undermine Moses and prevent him from fulfilling the prophecy of freeing the Hebrew people. I do like Robinson as an actor, and I think he was underappreciated by the Academy for several of the roles he played in films over the years, but his accent is so out of place in this film.

The film also features a subplot involving John Derek’s Joshua and Debra Paget’s Lilia as young lovers who keep getting separated from each other. Lilia actually winds up being enslaved by Dathan, and Derek keeps trying to rescue her. He often does so while shirtless, and he gives Brynner a serious challenger for who looks best wearing as few clothes as possible. These two characters are also responsible for Moses rescuing an older woman who’s almost crushed by a large stone that the Hebrew slaves are being forced to move in order to make this city for the pharaoh. Of course, Moses does the right thing, and he also order that food and water be given to the slaves. Little does he realize that he’s also Hebrew (and that the older woman is actually his mother).

Baxter’s Nefretiri tells Moses about his background, but she doesn’t care. She thinks they should continue to keep his secret, but he decides instead to join his people and starts working in the mud to make bricks. He wants to find his family, his heritage, so that he can understand himself better, I suppose, but of course, this just gets the attention of Sethi and Ramses. Sethi has always treated Moses as a sort of adopted son, and he certainly seems to like Moses much more than he does Ramses.

The film clocks in at almost four hours running time, so we have plenty of time for Moses to wander through the desert after Sehti banishes him from Egypt. He finds his wife Sephora (yes, that’s how it’s spelled in the film) among the seven daughters of a Bedouin sheik named Jethro. He becomes a shepherd, but he winds up seeing the Burning Bush while wandering around Mt. Sinai. By this point, Joshua has shown up in the desert to convince Moses that he’s the deliverer of the Hebrew people who was prophesied many years earlier. After hearing the voice of God in the Burning Bush say pretty much the same thing, Moses agrees to return to Egypt, where he tells Ramses, who is now the pharaoh and married to Nefretiri, to “let my people go.” Even after all these years, and despite the fact that Moses has married another woman and has grown some wild hair and a beard, Nefretiri still comes on to him. She’s still hot for him despite being married to Ramses and having a child with the pharaoh.

As proof that Ramses must release the Hebrews, Moses does a few parlor tricks like turning his wooden staff into a cobra and turning water into blood. The plagues show up, and he even notes that the first born son of every Egypt will die. That includes the pharaoh’s son, and after the boy’s passing, Ramses relents. The scenes where the Hebrews leave Egypt demonstrate the remarkable scale of moviemaking involved. Hundreds of people, plus sheep and cattle and other livestock, depart the city and make their way into the wilderness.

Of course, the sequence that is most famous (and the one that captured the film’s only Oscar, for special effects) is the parting of the Red Sea, and it’s certainly an amazing moment in the film. Ramses and his men are chasing after the Hebrew people in chariots, only to be stopped by a pillar of fire. That gives Moses time to call forth a storm and split the sea into two parts so that everyone can make their way between two walls of water. It’s still a moment that dazzles even with all of the advancements in filmmaking since its release. The only sequence that comes close to its grandeur is the carving of the titular document by fire. The wording is not in English, so I’ll accept that the commandments written on the stone tablet say what they are supposed to say. Of course, this is happening while there’s that weird, almost orgy-like creation of the Golden Calf (again, thanks to Robinson’s Dathan and his meddling) that Moses has to halt, but that’s what you get when you go to see a De Mille film.

It’s not that much of a stretch to consider this film a plea for greater acceptance of people of different backgrounds. It was released during the Civil Rights Era in the United States, and it talks a great deal about the mistreatment of Hebrews, which is clearly a form of racism, and there’s a lot of talk about why people should be able to live their own lives without being enslaved. The dehumanization of the Hebrew people is depicted in ways that show the parallels to the dehumanization that other categories of people have experienced throughout the centuries. If it accomplishes nothing else, if The Ten Commandments made some people a bit more tolerant, then it was worth all the money spent to recreate the events it depicts.

Oscar Win: Best Special Effects

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Picture, Best Color Cinematography, Best Color Art Direction, Best Color Costume Design, Best Sound Recording, and Best Film Editing