Mississippi Burning (1988)

Mississippi Burning, nominated for Best Picture of 1988, was filmed in part in Mississippi and fictionalizes a key historical moment in my home state's recent past. Ostensibly, it's about the investigations surrounding the disappearance of three civil rights workers in 1964. However, the filmmakers are not (apparently) attempting to represent what happened with historical accuracy. Instead, this film examines the culture of Mississippi that led to the three men being killed during Freedom Summer.

Can I admit to having never particularly liked this film? Of course, I can admire some aspects of it. The performances by Gene Hackman and Willem Defoe and Frances McDormand and even Brad Dourif are all strong. The visuals are pretty spectacular as well; it is a beautifully shot film, even when it depicts some of the uglier aspects of people's behavior at the time. Yet I still cannot watch the film without feeling as if the filmmakers are trying to ridicule all of the people of Mississippi, trying to depict everyone in the state (with one notable exception) as being racist and/or violent.

All you have to do is watch Defoe's character, a Northern FBI agent, tell Hackman's character about what is wrong with the people of the state to get a sense of what I mean. Hackman's Rupert Anderson is a native of the state, so he understands its people differently than Defoe's Alan Ward. This is a source of constant conflict between the two men, resulting at one point in Ward pointing a gun at Anderson's head in order to get him to submit to his more Northern way of thinking. (Apparently, there are no racists in the North or anywhere else but the South.) I suppose I could applaud the filmmakers for having these two men present a complex and varied understanding of what needs to be done in the state, but frankly, the story is too lopsided to support that sense of complexity.

The exception I mentioned above is, of course, McDormand's housewife. Married to the deputy sheriff who is involved in the murders of the three civil rights workers, her Mrs. Pell gets to deliver a speech about hatred of other races being a learned behavior rather than one that is genetic. She delivers it well, certainly, because McDormand is an enormously talented actor, but it is a rather condescending speech overall. And then she gets beaten up when it becomes clear that she has been helping the investigation. So in the state of Mississippi, any good white person, anyone who reaches out to support or help the black community, is going to be punished?

I particularly disliked the "interviews" with "real" residents that are used to simulate news broadcasts of the time. Almost everyone of the people who appears on camera during these moments says appalling things about blacks. And the director, Alan Parker, was rather infamous for having said that he wanted people who looked like "real Mississippians" for these moments. The fact that they all look like rednecks must have pleased him a great deal. And the words the screenplay puts in their mouths? Repulsive. (He did also say, upon leaving the state after filming, that he felt things hadn't really changed all that much in the intervening 24 years. Apparently, he left thinking that white Mississippi has not progressed much, and that attitude is rather evident in the final film.)

Look, I'm not defending white people or Mississippians. They don't need it and they don't really deserve it. This film covers an awful period in the state's past, and it's certainly accurate in many ways about the racism that was so widespread at the time. Evil things were done at the time, and those who committed these kinds of crimes deserved more severe punishment than they usually received. It just makes me cringe when the only good white people in the film seem to be from the North, except for one woman in an entire town and she has to be brutalized to show just how deep the racism is. Only the outsiders seem to know how to behave properly. Isn't that a bit heavy-handed? I know some will point to the portrayal of Hackman's Anderson as proof that someone from the state has a better understanding of the situation and is, therefore, more effective, but he only seems to be successful when he too uses brutality to achieve his goals. That's hardly a ringing endorsement for his approach.

I could also fault the film for its cowardice in not being more historically accurate. The true story of what happened to Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner, the three young men whose bodies were found in an earthen dam, is still worthy of being told. However, this film does an injustice to them and their colleagues in the struggle for civil rights by exaggerating events surrounding the investigation and concentrating much of the time on the struggles between various white characters. As another blogger, also from Mississippi, put it, the real story is both far worse and far better than this movie attempts to show. I've actually never quite understood the admiration that people hold for this film, and after watching it again recently, my previous assessment of it was only reinforced. Someday, perhaps, these three young men will have the movie about them that both they and we deserve.

Network (1976)

Nominated for Best Picture of 1976, Network is perhaps most famous now for Howard Beale's cry, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore." But this film is better described as a pretty scathing indictment of the mentality of network television executives, particularly those with some influence over the news departments. There's sharp dialogue in the screenplay by Paddy Chayevsky (who was always known for his dialogue) and exceptional performances from all of the cast. I hadn't seen this film in at least two decades, but it seems just as fresh and insightful now as it did then. Actually, it's perhaps even more insightful now. Then, with only three major television networks, Network would have been seen as a satire on how television news might change. Now it's pretty accurate as to how the news has changed.

The great Peter Finch plays Howard Beale, the anchor for the UBS network, which is stuck in fourth place. He has what amounts to a nervous breakdown and announces on air that he will commit suicide in two weeks. Naturally, given the nature of the viewing public, that only increases his ratings. Suddenly, his show becomes the most talked-about newscast, and the network executives try their best to capitalize on his newfound popularity. They even change the name of the newscast to The Howard Beale Show and hire co-stars, including a psychic, to up the entertainment value. Faye Dunaway and William Holden, heads of the entertainment and news divisions, respectively, simultaneously begin an affair and an argument over the direction of the news programming. Their decisions have some severe repercussions for Howard, now tagged the "mad prophet of the airwaves," complete with blackouts after he delivers his prophecies each night. (Oddly enough, his most famous line doesn't even appear until almost halfway through the film, but it's the one everyone remembers.)

Finch and Dunaway both won Oscars for their performances, and it is Finch's Beale that you remember the most from the movie. He's amazing in the role, able to demonstrate quite the range of emotions for a man who has been a success for many years as a "serious journalist" but is now forced to become an object of public interest and/or ridicule. Holden is also stellar in his role as Max Schumacher, who tries valiantly to maintain some integrity in the news division and then decides to let go and allow whatever happens to occur. The opening scene with the two of them having a drunken conversation is hilarious. Dunaway is also fantastic here, all repressed emotions and obvious ambition; she fairly shakes with the prospect of her success at boosting ratings. In fact, she only seems to be able to achieve an orgasm when she is simultaneously talking about the amount of money that the network could make from her ideas. In a smaller role, Robert Duvall is mighty slick as the "new guy" at the network who has the weight of the company's success on his shoulders.

I'd like to mention two other performances, those by Beatrice Straight and Ned Beatty. Straight won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, even though she's only in the movie for two scenes, mere minutes really. The second scene is her showpiece. She gets to demonstrate the fury of the jilted wife to Holden's Max, and the depth of her anger is on full display here. She's really quite spectacular. Beatty was also nominated, and his part is, if you can believe it, even briefer than Straight's. He only speaks a few lines in the film, but they are certainly memorable. I only mention these performances because they do seem truly to demonstrate "supporting" parts, not key or main roles in the film which have been relegated to supporting status in order to win an award.

What is most remarkable about this film now is how much foresight the creators had. As just one example, I'd give Dunaway's staff meetings, where she wants shows created around the subject of terrorism or other "hot button" issues. She even has meetings with the Ecumenical Liberation Army, a proto-communist rebel organization, with the hopes of creating a weekly series around their exploits. (The scenes where the members of the Army and the network representatives and the attorneys for both sides try to iron out a contract are hilarious, by the way.) Is it really that much of a stretch to imagine someone at the networks making a similar pitch today? Look at the proliferation of so-called reality shows, and you'll have the answer.

Two moments in this film will always stand out for me. One is, of course, the scene of all of those people opening their windows and walking out onto their fire escapes in New York City to yell along with Beale: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore." The sequence of images is breathtaking as the camera continues to pile on more and more people joining in the chorus. It makes a powerful statement on the influence of the media. The other is the beginning of the film (which is echoed at the end) of the four network news anchors side-by-side giving the evening's events. I used to watch John Chancellor on NBC, and no one was perhaps more famous that Walter Cronkite on CBS. I believe the ABC anchor at the time was Harry Reasoner. Beale joins them onscreen, and you are (or should be) quite astonished at how a few people (all men, all white) were the sole conduits for information on television then. It was, after all, B.C. (before cable) for most of us. How far we've come, indeed, and yet one must wonder if we've made all that much progress.

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1991, The Silence of the Lambs is one of the few movies to sweep the major awards. It also won that year for Best Director, Actress, Actor, and Adapted Screenplay, and it arguably deserved them all. I can't say that I particularly enjoyed watching this film again because it always gives me the creeps. However, I do admire the skill with which it is made.

Jodie Foster plays Clarice Starling, an FBI agent-in-training, who is recruited to talk to convicted killer Hannibal Lecter, played by Anthony Hopkins. Lecter, infamous for cannibalizing his victims, may be able to provide assistance in the case of a serial killer who has been kidnapping women and removing their skin. Starling and Lector have a series of encounters, culminating in her deducing the location of Buffalo Bill, who (it turns out) has been attempting to make himself over as a woman by creating a "body suit" out of the skins of the women he has kidnapped.

I realize that some will think that I have just revealed a key plot point. However, knowing the motive behind what Bill is doing in no ways lessens the suspense of the film. And I need to talk about the way that Bill is represented in the film. To do that, you have to address whether or not the film is homophobic (or, perhaps, more accurately, transphobic) in its depictions of him. There were many protests at the time of this film's release about that very issue. It isn't difficult to see where such ideas arise. Bill is certainly meant to be "diseased" or "ill" or "dangerous." Yet I think the film's story is a bit more complex than that. Bill is obviously unhappy with himself, unable to accept himself as he is. His actions, gruesome as they are, reveal some sort of mental illness, certainly. Whether or not it is a result of repressed homosexuality, as some felt the film suggests, I cannot definitively say.

Speaking of repressed homosexuality... is there a more gay-identified character than Hannibal Lecter? What with his fastidiousness and his love of gossip and his affection for classical music and art, Hannibal seems almost as repressed as Bill. And then there's the whole cannibal thing, which I will try not to make into too much of a metaphor. I would only point out that most of his victims seem to be men; at least, the ones shown in the movie are all men. He even quotes show tunes to Clarice upon one of her arrivals: "People will say we're in love." And notice that he keeps a copy of Bon Appetit magazine in one of his cells--that's a rather perverse touch. Perhaps it's this equation of homosexuality or gay-identified behavior with serial killers that set off the protests?

Hopkins gets the flashier role here, and he certainly seems to relish playing it. He's quite the object of fascination for a moviegoer. Foster is almost his equal, what with her tightly coiled personality and flashes of emotion. Her eyes reveal a great deal of what's going on inside Clarice's head. It's a remarkably mature performance from Foster, a clear sign that she had the talent to make the transition from child star to adult actress and sure evidence that The Accused, which had won her an Oscar only a few years earlier, was no fluke.

The suspenseful nature of the film is enhanced not only by the performances but by the use of close-ups throughout the story. I remember watching The Silence of the Lambs for the first time and feeling very uneasy. It later dawned on me that it was, at least in part, because of the intensity of Hopkins' stare during the interrogation scenes. Both he and Foster are often shown in close-up during those scenes, and Hopkins continues to be seen in close-up all the way through his portions of the film. It's a pretty intense way to keep an audience riveted, and it is used quite effectively here.

Best Picture of 2007

The Winner: No Country for Old Men.

The Other Nominees: Atonement, Juno, Michael Clayton, and There Will Be Blood.

My Choice: For me, this race comes down to two movies: Atonement and No Country for Old Men. I'm inclined to agree with the Academy on this one. The Coen Brothers have made a brilliant film on the nature of violence, and I enjoyed (if that's the right word) watching it even more a second time. This is a very rich film. However, if there is a movie that I expect to keep returning to time after time, it will probably be Atonement. I don't know that it is a greater achievement in filmmaking, but Atonement had much more emotional resonance for me.

Michael Clayton (2007)

George Clooney plays the title character of Michael Clayton, a nominee for Best Picture of 2007. However, despite the amount of screen time that Clooney gets and despite the fact that his character is obviously central to the plot, the strength of this film is in the ensemble cast. Some of the best actors working these days make Michael Clayton an interesting movie to watch. Think of the names Tom Wilkinson, Tilda Swinton, and the late Sydney Pollack (and Clooney too), and you'll know what I mean.

The plot is a bit too labyrinthine for most people's tastes, I'd imagine. Clooney plays the "fixer" of a prestigious law firm; he's the one you call in when you have a mess that needs to be cleaned up or taken care of quietly. He's asked to help with a case that has led to a nervous breakdown by one of the firm's partners, Arthur Edens (Wilkinson). Arthur has spent years representing a major agribusiness corporation that is charged with knowingly poisoning people with one of its weedkillers. The multi-billion-dollar case is handled from the company's side by Karen Crowder (Swinton), a very deliberate and calculating attorney who is still relatively new to the job and does not want to lose so much money for her firm. She does seem, after all, to have ambitions.

Soon after Clooney starts working on the case, though, his car is blown up and he begins to realize that Arthur is also in danger. He has to begin piecing together what Arthur has been doing since the older attorney has gone missing and refuses to answer his phone. Karen, meanwhile, is planning for a way to ensure that the truth behind the case (as outlined in a memo that admits the agribusiness company's complicity) never gets revealed.

I may have made that sound relatively simple to follow, but the movie doesn't follow the plot quite that directly. It actually starts with a sequence of events before Clayton's car explodes and then goes back in time to show us earlier events. There are some other flashbacks within flashbacks, which might account for why this film never seemed to catch on with the public. I have to admit that watching it a second time recently helped me to clarity the sequence of events a great deal more than I expected.

The plot, however, is not the best part of the movie. It's the acting. Clooney has taken on a series of challenging roles in recent years, and I think this is one of his best. He's excellent in the part, a truly complex man who has so many dreams that just keep failing to materialize. Wilkinson has a rather showy role, particularly in a couple of scenes where he gets to "demonstrate" the depths of his nervous breakdown. Swinton won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress this year, and I think many people watching this film for the first time might not understand why. But if you watch it more than once, you'll begin to see just how controlling and controlled her Karen Crowder is. She's quiet, certainly, but there's a great deal of malice beneath the surface here. She makes for a tremendous villain.

I have to mention Sydney Pollack briefly, at least. He's the head of the law firm that employs Clayton and Edens, and he's great as always. This was one of Pollack's last acting roles, and it will remind you just how good an actor he was. No doubt his understanding of the skill of acting made him a better director. It's a very bittersweet feeling I have watching this movie now.

I'm not certain that I would have picked Michael Clayton as one of the five best movies of last year. (No, I don't have an alternative list for you.) In many ways, it's a very old fashioned suspense thriller. The only difference between it and a similar movie made in, say, the 1970s is the jumbling of the sequence of events in the plot. It works better, it seems to me, as a showcase for some fine acting by several talented performers instead.

The Apartment (1960)

The Apartment, winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1960, is a funny movie not because of the jokes (although there are some) but because of its situations. It's one of the few "comedies" to have been chosen for the Academy's top honor, but it isn't a traditional comedy. Thanks to a brilliant and insightful script by Billy Wilder (who also directed) and I.A.L. Diamond, The Apartment is a pretty dark examination of the soul of the business world and the male-female dynamics of the late 1950s and early 1960s.

C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon, in one of his greatest performances) literally holds the key to the happiness of several of the executives at the insurance company where he works. He allows them to use his bachelor apartment for trysts with their girlfriends, and he keeps getting "attention" from these same executives when it comes time for promotion. In fact, he is sent to meet with Jeff Sheldrake (played with malicious glee by Fred MacMurray) to discuss his future, only to find that his success depends upon his willingness to give Sheldrake a key as well. He, of course, submits and has to spend more than a few nights outside of his apartment thanks to the last-minute dates that his superiors make to avoid going home to their wives.

One night, though, he comes home to find that the elevator operator with whom he has been flirting, Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), has attempted suicide because of her increasingly frustrating relationship with Sheldrake. He tries to get her to wake up and even enlists the help of the doctor next door, who has been under the impression that Baxter must be some kind of sex maniac given all of the women who have been in and out of the apartment. They manage to save Fran, but rather than allow Sheldrake to rekindle a relationship with her, Baxter chooses to walk away from his job. That may sound like I'm spoiling the outcome of the movie, but the last scene is really one of the best ever made, and it doesn't diminish its power to know what I've told you so far.

How could you go wrong with a cast like Lemmon and MacMurray and MacLaine? There's also able support from such great character actors as Ray Walston and Jack Kruschen and David Lewis and Edie Adams. The script is sharp and tells us a great deal about the corporate mentality of the time. It's a pretty humdrum life, from the looks of things, and the early scenes with Baxter at his desk with the typewriter and phone are a marvel of production design. Lemmon always specialized in this kind of character, the sort who was always put out by others but never seems to have minded; it's as if he's accepted his lot in life and plans to make the most of it. This was one of MacLaine's best early performances; you can see just how conflicted her character is. Should she stay with a man she loves but has no chance of keeping, or should she move on with her life and find someone else? That's a difficult dilemma, and MacLaine helps us to understand the pain that Fran feels.

MacMurray is perhaps better known nowadays as the dad on My Three Sons or maybe as the scientist in The Absent-Minded Professor or for his roles in other Disney movies. However, he had a long and distinguished career in the movies, and this performance demonstrates just how much range he had as an actor. He's almost as good here as he was in Double Indemnity (my favorite of his performances). Watching his manipulations of Baxter and of Fran, you get a sense of just how he managed to work his way to his level in the company.

I've seen The Apartment many times over the years. It's always an enjoyable experience. There are chuckles to be had from time to time, certainly, but this is not a happy-go-lucky romantic comedy. Wilder and his various writing partners over the years never seemed to be content with the easy laugh, and that's what makes his movies all the more worthy of the attention (and awards) they received at the time and the praise they continue to receive from moviegoers now.

The Racket (1927-28)

The Racket is a story of the police and political corruption in Chicago, a symbolic struggle between good and evil (with evil being rather dominant and predominant throughout the film). It’s a significant predecessor to such classic gangster films as Little Caesar and Scarface, but it was considered a lost film for much of the 20^th Century until a single print was found among the film collection of its producer, eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes, after his death. Tracking down the film for viewing can be difficult; it’s really only available every year or so on Turner Classic Movies.

The movie primarily focuses upon the interaction between two men representing opposite sides of the law: mobster Nick Scarsi (played by Louis Wolheim, who certainly looks the part of a gangster with his broken nose) and good cop Capt. James McQuigg (a solid if uninspiring Thomas Meighan). Scarsi wants to take control of the city by eliminating his rival gang bosses and attempting to influence upcoming city elections. He already has a measure of control over the district attorney, who manages to get him released from custody numerous times. It even appears that he also has some clout, perhaps through the D.A. and judges, over the police force.

There is at least one good cop, of course, and he sets out to clear the town of its mob influence. McQuigg has a difficult time of it, though, particularly after he gets transferred to a new smaller precinct thanks to some behind-the-scenes politics. Scarsi repeatedly tries to influence McQuigg, but he’s always unsuccessful. McQuigg cannot, apparently, be corrupted. He also can’t seem to keep Scarsi in custody even though he knows the mobster has personally killed several people. It's only after the brother of the mob boss hits a pedestrian while trying to woo a nightclub singer named Helen Hayes (but not played by the actress of the same name) that he gets his best chance. Capt. McQuigg jails the brother, the nightclub singer, almost anyone he can put behind bars in order to draw out the mob and Scarsi.

Even the newspaper reporters who cover the crime beat seem to be corrupt in their own way. They make up most of the details for their stories; it takes very, very little information to send them to the phone to call the news desk with a story. One of them is drunk and sleepy all the time, and another tells a source not to give him too much after the shooting of a mobster in the police captain’s office. Only John Darrow’s naïve cub reporter Dave Ames appears to be professional until, that is, he starts to fall for the nightclub singer. The press here seems far more interested in stirring up trouble than in reporting it. Their depiction here is not a glowing testament to the fourth estate, but hardly any profession, including law enforcement, escapes the film without some measure of criticism.

This film lost to Wings the first year of the Academy Awards, and it's not really that tough to see why. The story is rather pedestrian and may have been a bit clichéd even in the late 1920s. The acting is good, but most of the cast doesn’t stand out as being particularly adept at screen acting. The exception is Marie Prevost as the quintessential tough dame. She’s quite energetic as Helen Hayes, flirting shamelessly with Scarsi’s younger brother in front of the mob boss and later with the baby-faced Ames, who seems to be unaware that she’s quite the gold-digger (and is rather upfront about it, too). The rest of the cast does a good job overall, but they aren’t asked to stretch their talents much beyond rather mannered portrayals.

Two scenes do stand out as being especially noteworthy. One is set at the nightclub (well, speakeasy might be a more accurate descriptor) during a birthday party for Scarsi’s kid brother Joe (George Stone). It's a nicely choreographed sequence involving rival gangsters and cops and the attentions of Miss Hayes. She even rides a piano to the Scarsis’ table at one point in order to get everyone’s focus to be on her. There’s a shootout at the party, too, following a series of rival gangsters slowly surrounding Scarsi’s mob by scaring away other patrons, only to have plainclothes officers then slowly surround them. The sequence occurs early in the film and nicely sets up some of the key tensions for the remainder of the plot.

The other highlight is at a funeral for Spike Corcoran, the rival mob boss who's been killed during the party at the speakeasy. You get to see (through some clever visual effects) just how likely gunfire might be during the service, as handguns become visible underneath the bowler hats sitting in the laps of the gangsters in attendance. Otherwise, the film does not feature much innovation in terms of its camerawork, so the effect here is quite charming given how unusual it is in the context of the rest of the film. A calliope later interrupts the service, interjecting another note of humor into rather somber proceedings.

The Racket is a fast-paced movie, clocking in at just a bit more than 80 minutes long, and the action sometimes happens very quickly. The first five minutes of the film involve attempts by a couple of gangsters to shoot Capt. McQuigg in order to scare him away from his goal of stopping Scarsi’s mob, and there’s even a big shootout between rival gangs within the first fifteen minutes of the movie. There are rumors that the original version of the film was longer, but what remains is quite enjoyable. Thankfully, it has been saved and restored through the efforts of Turner Classic Movies and the University of Nevada at Las Vegas. It's good to know that there are still people trying to preserve silent films.

Oscar Nomination: Outstanding Picture