Quint's Reviews and Ruminations on Film

I died earlier this year (what a way to open a thread), I only bring this up because a thing like that changes a person, you become existential and start to wonder.... "What's it all about, Alfie?" You were something, then you were nothing, and then - Huzzah! - something again. Wild, but did any of it really matter, you live, you die, eventually you're forgotten, just a name on a stone.

And these cherished movies of mine, did they matter? My thoughts on those movies, just a lot of stuff and nonsense? Nothing I say here will be remembered, it won't change lives, it won't significantly enlighten anyone, so why even bother expressing myself in this small corner of the world? I don't know, but I am alive, so I might as well live, share my thoughts, even if they are ephemeral.

So, movies - what do they mean to us, what kind of film buffs are we, what brought us here? As a youth they were fun, the family jumping into the car to go see Godzilla fight Mothra at the Drive-In, or Batman running about because, "somedays you just can't get rid of a bomb". But then it all changed, one weekend at grandma's house, I leveled up, quite by accident.


I didn't know the title then, but Casablanca was a film that so captivated my 8-year-old mind (I was somewhere in that age bracket when I happened upon it) that instead of going out to play with my siblings and the neighborhood children, I stayed with the picture. It was a tough choice, those kids looked like they were having a blast - but I couldn’t tear myself away from this story, and that cool Bogart and that captivating Ingrid Bergman.

I remember my parents and grandparents coming home and finding me watching TV (this was a day and age before computers and video games), “What in the world are you doing in doors?” my father asked, a bit amused that his son was watching some old black and white movie that was probably over his head -- But not so much. I got it and was enthralled by the melodrama, the wartime intrigue and the dialog that bubbled with wit, irony and heartache. When an old flame walks back into Ric's life, the rush of longing, hurt and anger, was palpable. It haunted me, and I point to that moment as the day I fell in love with motion pictures.

It's when I discovered that movies could also be great art, that they could reach into the depths of your soul and be more than just a fun way to waste a few hours.

So that's what this is all about, Alfie. A place to review, sure. But also, to reflect and remember a lifetime of loving movies.

With that in mind, a related question, do you have a movie that changed everything for you? You were this kind of movie watcher before, and on a whole other level, after?

Next post: More game changers.

Welcome back to the living.

__________________
5-time MoFo Award winner.

Wow, that was one helluva way to open a thread! It's an interesting thread topic too...You were only 8 years old and watching Casablanca. I can't image having the patience myself when I was eight, I would have probably been coloring on the tv set screen trying to make the movie into color!

I only watched Casablanca when I was into my 40s. I had heard it was one of the greatest movies of all time which of course put it on such a lofty pedestal that it gave me high expectations so that when I did watch it I wasn't that impressed. Since then I've watched Casablanca a few more times and I would call it one of the all time greats, at least in my book as it ticks all the right stuff for emotional world building. It's the kind of movie I love.

I guess if you loved Casablanca at 8, it's probably a sign the movies were in your blood from birth.

Thank you... and of course, being a movie freak, when my cardiologist informed me of this (I was wearing a heart monitor when it happened, so he knew how long I was gone), versions of Monty Python bits started playing in my head. I'm not dead... in fact I'm feeling better

Continuing on with the topic of Movies That Made Me a Film Fan
From the Hollywood blockbuster to the raw, socially conscious small budget dramas. Movies can romance you, tickle your funny bone, thrill and inspire you to think. They can be deeply personal or widely communal, a source of bonding.

With that in mind, here are 4 others that transformed me into the dyed in the wool film fan I am today.


When I was a kid John Wayne was my favorite actor, the first ‘star’ I followed. If there was a Wayne movie on TV, I was there to watch it. My father didn’t like the Duke, didn’t like his politics etc. But he’d suffer through his films for his son. I remember him taking me to the theater to see True Grit, and even though he’d chuckle every time Glen Campbell attempted to act, I, we, had a great time.

I also remember watching the Oscars, or part of the Oscars that year. My family wasn’t much into award shows, but apparently everyone knew the Duke was going to win, so mom & pops had me sit and watch as John’s name was called… which thrilled me to no end. So True Grit is the movie that leaps to mind when I think of Wayne, not simply for the flick, but for the family bonding I associate with it.


I was really into sharks around this time, and I begged my family to take me to see Jaws. We were visiting relatives in another -larger- city. And we went to the biggest theater, with the biggest parking lot I’ve ever seen. The crowd of people was staggering to my young eyes. I’d never witnessed anything like this. (They say Jaws gave birth to the summer blockbuster and I saw it come into being firsthand)

The movie scared the holy crap out of me, but I loved it - I loved the shark and the colorful characters. It was also the first time I was sucked into merchandising. I collected Jaws and shark related books and T-shirts, etc… I still have the plastic Jaws cup from the theater. It was the first movie I saw multiple times in movie houses. Every time there would be a revival showing, I was there. I eventually bought copies when it was sold on VHS, DVD and later BD.

Jaws still rates highly with me. It was my first ‘favorite’ movie, my first EVENT picture.


My college phase - It’s not like I’d never seen a foreign made film. In my youth I watched plenty of Godzilla and Gamera movies, and I can’t imagine HBO didn’t show higher brow fare in the 70s. But when I think of the movie that got me interested in world cinema, I think of Bergman’s classic (and it might also have been the first I’d seen with subtitles, not dubbed).

Watching this for the first time, I was knocked out by what a wise and poignant look at life it was. It was honest, but it told its story with imagination (the dream sequences), and was cinematically eye popping. It might be the first picture where I really started paying attention to the importance of cinematography, of lighting and edits and structure.

After this I expanded my horizons and started exploring film from across the globe. I came to treasure Kurosawa, Bunuel, Fellini and others…. but it all began here, with Bergman.


This was the movie that exposed me to the wonders of silent cinema, and how physical comedy could be an art form. Before this I saw such antics as low brow and childish… but Keaton showed me the light, he showed how physical humor could have finesse and style. To put it in dancing terms: while some comedians were like strippers, Buster was a ballerina. He was more than just a talented entertainer. He was an artist and a genius. I was in awe of him, and after the General I sought out other silent films in earnest.

Plus, Buster represents film as pure joy and happiness... whenever I see that wonderful, expressive, stone face of his, I instantly smile. Even if it's one of his weaker films, just seeing him lifts my spirits.

Same.

I recently watched all of John Wayne's filmography from Stagecoach on. I liked True Grit for Wayne's interaction with Kim Darby.

That's an undertaking, I salute you.

Some years past, I re-watched both True Grits and read the True Grit novel, loved all 3, but I too like that relationship, the interaction between the actors (though I acknowledge that Hailee was the better, more perfectly cast Mattie). Plus, I like that they used the cat in the Wayne version. A modern critic once pointed out that the General was important in showing Roosters prickly personality and who he decided to care about (and there wasn't many he'd cotton to), so that fatherly connection with Mattie was a nice sign that she was one of the rare ones he let in.

The cat was played by the famous Orangy, who earned a mention at the cinema cats' site we spoke about not long ago... https://cinemacats.com/true-grit-1969/

Movie Mentors
I remember a movie site that was picking their best ofs for each year; and the main guy getting upset with some of the selections, and the people voting because that they hadn't seen this or that - and I was thinking, dude, some of these folks are half your age, you have a considerable head start... you can't expect an 18 or 20-year old to be where you're at - They'll get there, if they want to, give them time. And seriously, unless your mother had a functioning theater in her womb, none of us entered the world fully formed film fans. We had our guides or mentors - the first being your parents - I was blessed with 2 movie fans. After that, friends and other family members could turn you on to a good flick, and outside of them, you have the critics, historians, the books and magazines (anybody remember Premiere, with the movie cards inside... I was a subscriber). And eventually forums and websites.



I even had a customer at the video store I managed, bring me in a bag full of hard to find (at the time) movies on tape he collected, he just wanted to share with a fellow film buff...among his treasures, and first-time viewings for me, The 400 Blows, The Seven Beauties, and I Am Curious Yellow.

Bring on the cinephiles!

The 70's gave us something new, critics, not in print, but on TV, and not just a segment on a morning show, but a full half-hour of movie talk. It was called Sneak Previews, which featured two competing reviewers -Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel- sharing their thoughts on recent releases. I first caught the show when it aired bi-weekly on PBS, and I loved the banter, loved their personalities and how they'd go at one another. Other folks took notice, there were watercolor discussions, and their popularity grew.


Now, whether you like celebrity critics or not is up to the individual, and I have noted some backlash from former fans of the duo. While I can see where they're coming from, I'll never disown them... Gene recommended Rock and Roll High School, which lead me to the Ramones, the movie and their records became favorites of mine. Roger turned me on to Studio Ghibli with his positive notice on My Neighbor Totoro, and both gave me Kurosawa. They really loved Ran, would show these goregously shot clips of the movie, and gushed on and on about it. Man, I had to get to a theater immediately and see Ran... and after that, I needed to explore more from the master. I might have disagreed with them here and there, and I've moved on to others I like more, but I can't hate on folks who put so many fantastic flicks on my radar.

After graduating from S&E, I moved on, sought the scholars, the ones who could articulate the ins and outs of a movie better than a half-hour show could.


A guy I really liked was David Bordwell, a film theorist and historian, who, along with his wife, Kristin Thompson, offered up the kind of insights into film that I was craving. I needed more than thumbs up or down, I needed to explore the craft of film, but also the philosophy of film, if you will - the bigger picture, and also the smaller details. I could see these for myself, but I desired teachers too (man, I would have loved to have taken a class with David) - not to give me an opinion, or to recommend a movie as you might get from a Rotten Tomatoes aggregate score, but to help me to see what I might not be seeing or to discuss what I did notice.

Take Bunuel's Tristana, there's a scene where his camera follows his characters into the bedroom -framing them within. The door closes, but instead of fading to black to the next scene, or cutting to the interior, he instead pans the camera around to another open bedroom door, effectively re-framing the scene and the actors without use of editing. I loved that, the audacity of that, it seems minor, and the movie would have been what it was with or without that, but that the director and his camera man chose to do it that way makes me smile, the persistence of the all seeing eye, it won't be denied, you can't even close a door on it, not if it doesn't want you to. But also, the technique... why stop and reset the scene, when the camera can just glide over and serve the same purpose.

Some of these things might be purely aesthetic or they might be saying something, symbolically or otherwise. But they are all a part of what I love about motion pictures.


There are others - Imogen Sarah Smith, I think she's a terrific writer, it also helps that we have the same tastes, we both love noir, especially the movie In a Lonely Place, and we both love Buster Keaton (I bought her book on the comedian and adore it)

More on that noir classic later, now it's time for a break - but this was a good way to set the table, get a peak at what I have in mind for the thread.

Till tomorrow.

In a Lonely Place is about self-destruction and inner darkness set against a Hollywood backdrop - where it lays bare the contradictions, emptiness and enabling found in the studio system.

It's a tragic love story between a cocksure, hot-tempered screenwriter suspected of murder (Dix) and his seemingly composed and cool neighbor Laurel, who provides him with an alibi.

I can't break down the picture any better than Imogen Sara Smith did in her incisive essay... An Epitaph for Love

This bit in particular resonated. In contrasting it with other Hollywood tales, like Sunset Blvd, she wrote...

That's key, and viewers who fail to grasp this could interpret the picture as either knocking Laurel or apologizing for Dix's behavior. While friends and colleagues in the film do this, the story, as story, is far more complex and psychologically nuanced to follow suit. This is simply the world we are observing, and these are the people in this world, for better, for worse.

If we are frustrated by or feel anything for Dix it's because we want to believe in the good, we 'cling' to it. We want him to get his act together. The film even gives us a taste of what can happen when he does - When we see him smiling, in love, and working on his script. We want 'the good' to continue, and it kills us when it doesn't. When Dix's anger rises up, it's terrible, unpredictable, and ugly. We recoil and are sickened by the violence, just as Laurel is - while we are not told why she ran from her previous relationship, we know why she wishes to do so here. When Dix smacks a dear and loyal friend, that's the final nail... he effectively murders his love, his chance at having something clean. And his desperation when he realizes this, only leads him to do something worse.

Going beyond emotional reactions, judge IALP on the nuts and bolts of cinema and you find genius. The quotable screenplay is one of the best ever written, both layered, smart and biting. It branches away from the novel's serial killer story, and adds the element of exposé on the nature of studios, celebrity, and such – and in doing so becomes much more profound. I also think it's Ray at his directorial peak. And the photography, architecture... the rich performances that are both volatile and sensitive... the film's very existence, its brilliance, counters the pictures thematic cynicism and shows us that our hopes are not in vain. Hollywood is able to produce elevated works of art... even if it can't spare these characters from their own personal hell's.



Additional thoughts
I believe it was a wise directorial/screenwriting choice to shift perspectives partway, from Dix to Laurel - Grahame gave an incredible performance, and it's all in the small details she throws in there. At first, cool and confident, but as it goes, we watch her initial defense of Dix eaten away by doubt. She's heard the stories, seen him lash out, and though he's not smacked her around, there's aggressiveness in the way he speaks to her, in the way he touches her, and she notices that - you can see it in her acting.



It's interesting how the studio didn't want to make a film about a serial killer (who, in the outstanding Dorothy B. Hughes novel this is loosely based on, is also a rapist, so yeah, a hard sell for Hollywood), but what they got instead wasn't exactly cheery - funny that some old schoolers, like L.B. Mayer, disliked how Wilder took the gloss off the dream factory with Sunset Boulevard, but IALP was just as scathing - the studio system lay exposed in 1950, and you could say All About Eve did the same to Broadway.

How does it rank among 1950 releases?
Very well, it's one of my big 5 - 5 features with 5-star grades - joining it are Sunset Boulevard, Rashomon, Los Olvidados, and All About Eve.


Love the lighting in this scene, it doesn't just highlight the eyes, but surrounds the face, so you can see the turned down lips, slack, hanging cigarette and a look of shock, even a little madness(?) on Bogart's expressive features.

I just saw this for the first time a few months ago and I really, really liked it. Really. I think I only knew Gloria Grahame from The Big Heat but I thought she was the secret weapon of that film. Here she's just the weapon. She's almost more important to this movie than Bogart. Again, loved the film.

Glad to hear of another fan of Gloria Grahame. I so agree she's very important to In A Lonely Place. It's a solid acting job and a character quite different than she ever played before. I'm such a Gloria Grahame fan that I watched all of her movies. Some of her lesser known films are well worth seeking out.

Yeah, I've always liked her - looking it up, it appears I've seen 25 (which includes the Rich Man, Poor Man, television miniseries)

My pessimistic world view put on film.

The story follows the trials and tribulations of a down-and-out poet, told through music… and that music was phenomenal. While there was one comedic tune, most of the lyrics are devastating in their perceptions. Focusing on topics ranging from lost love to lost humanity.

I’ll never get that scene set in the dark side of town out of my mind -- It shows us the sick, homeless and sold (the prostitutes) as the singer laments about the state of the country and society. He asks, who is looking out for these lost souls (who shouldn’t have been allowed to become lost in the first place.)

And the final tune was a blistering, emotional knock-out that spoke about integrity, materialism, commercialism and what that does to the artist and his art… what amounts to him throwing his pearls before swine. Few appreciate or understand him (they all want sunny, happy, poetry) and most damning is that even those who are poets themselves, or those who consider themselves patrons of the arts, are truly, only in the business of art. Or the pretense of art.

It’s a depressing movie, a wise movie. It’s about India, but its message is universal. It was a personal tale for the director, though also relatable to me, having been involved with songwriting and music most of my life. That side of it hit me so hard that I’ve not taken time to express how remarkable the picture looks. The shadows, the compositions, the close ups. And the acting? It’s crushing.

Yes, this is my pessimistic world view put on film, but it closes on my deepest hope. That somewhere, out there, someone else understands.



Additional Thoughts
It bugs me when I look at 'top musicals' lists and there's not a Bollywood movie to be had (or you get a token Bollywood film tucked in the back end). And Pyaasa, which, IMHO is the greatest musical of all time, is usually never mentioned... usually! I have to commend Indie Wire for breaking that trend, for it not only made their list of 100, but was slotted in the 5th spot. Wow, I salute you!



The others from India on that list include #19. Pakeezah (1972) / #34. The Cloud-Capped Star (1960) / #47. RRR (2022) / #54. Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995) / #61. Mughal-e-Azam (1960) wish to hell I could find the B&W with English subs / #71. Sholay (1975) / #85. Lagaan (2001) and, #93. Devdas (2002) though personally, I prefer Bimal Roy's 1955 version

That's a solid showing - I do wish they would have given representation to the golden age, like Debaki Bose's Vidyapati (1937) (with songs composed by Rai Chand Boral (that pioneer of Indian film music) and sung to perfection by the legendary K.C. Dey and Kenan Devi) or Nartaki (1940). I was also a fan of Bimal Roy's Madhumati (1958) and Alvi & Dutt's Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam (1962)

And yes, MoFos, I noticed your 100 and, Et tu, Brute? was there no love for India, not even a one pointer?

In a Lonely Place is in my top 10 films of all time. I'll likely do a write-up at some point and go into specific reasons why it works so well, but to me it's a combination of two spectacular lead performances with great supporting characters tethered around them. I love how it captures a part of the filmmaking process that is often overlooked - the writing aspect. Bogart's character is so dynamic too and his behaviors really reflect something I hadn't really seen in noir that much... Sunset Blvd is another film that comes close and is in my top 100.

Nicholas Ray is at his best here and with screenwriter Andrew P. Solt you had two powerhouse personalities that both likely cared far more about their art than the dollar. Also editing the picture was a lady named Viola Lawrence who's filmography reads a mile long. She had worked with Orson Welles, Howard Hawks, and had been editor on several of Bogart's pictures... I believe with his recent production company Santana Productions, so I have little doubt that she upheld the vision of Ray, Solt, and Bogart. It's a true passion project if there ever was one, and I believe Bogart said it was his favorite of his pictures and the closest he ever revealed of his darker side, while the humor etc reflecting his own real personality.

They say a film is made three times, when it is written, when it is filmed, and when it is edited and it seems like In a Lonely Placed knocked it out of the park on all three points. That ending is truly spectacular too and by not having Bogart kill her, but rather coming within an inch of doing so, but backing away, it makes the tragic nature of it so much more powerful, I think anyway.

In a Lonely Place is a looker too with cameraman Burnett Guffey behind the lens who won Academy Awards for From Here to Eternity and Bonnie and Clyde. That music score by George Antheil is also instantly memorable and I even prefer it to the more well regarded theme of Laura.

Basically I think a million things come together and the stars aligned perfectly to create what I consider the greatest of all the noirs and it does it without ever having gangsters, mobsters, heists, partners double crossing each other, planned murders, femme fatales, gun fights or a dozen of the other familiar troupes of the genre... yet it still remains undoubtedly a noir film.

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I'll look forward to that, but well said what you wrote here.

I made a list at another site, titled "My 25 Treasures" - that was for movies that meant a lot to me, in many ways, not just the traditional biggies, like Casablanca or Citizen Kane, but things like Jesus Christ Superstar, that I have a long history with (from the LP to the stage play, to the movie) - In a Lonely Place is among the 25.

If I'd have been here for the Noir list, I'd have ranked it #1, just edging Out of the Past.

It's interesting how we have those films that we all love which are the biggies like Casablanca and then we have those personal treasures that don't really seem to take off or be canonized the way others. In terms of modern westerns City Slickers is a film like that for me. Also speaking of westerns, a film like The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, definitely does have a cult following, but seems widely forgotten outside of a few vocal supporters.

I think In a Lonely Place was like that for years, but it seems like in the last decade or two, it's finally starting to pick up traction on critics and directors lists and making top 10s and top 100s in getting the respect it deserves among the great noirs and Bogart films.

I wasn't planning on a new post tonight, but....


It's always and exciting time I when I complete a favorite director's filmography... but also a little bittersweet because, while you can always revisit your favorites, there will be no "new" to enjoy, and that sense of discovery is at an end.

But mostly it's exciting, and thanks to @SpelingError I'm one step closer to the end with Naruse.

It's curious how the director was an unknown for most of my life. Of Japan's classic era filmmakers, I first discovered Ozu, then Kurosawa, then Mizoguchi... but Naruse might as well have lived on Mars.

As Dan Sallitt noted in his Mikio Naruse Companion, the shift began with a 2005 New York retrospective, in 2008 Catherine Russell's book was published, then in 2013 fans got involved by subtitling all that they could find - and suddenly the Naruse floodgates opened. For me it all began with When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960), watched on Friday, Apr 15, 2016, back when Hulu was hosting Criterion films.

And from there? Well, I've gone from 0 to 67 in an 8-year span*, making him my most watched Japanese director and one of my favorites. He was rock steady, I could always count on him - if I was on a poor streak of movies, I could turn to Naruse and know I'd find something wonderful. Oh sure, there were a few that were weaker, a couple of 2.5ers, but nothing tragically awful (and there were several I felt were sorely underrated).

Another interesting thing I discovered, is that in his old age, Naruse didn't become tired or stale, he also didn't do what Ozu did, who perfect a style late in life, and pretty much stayed in that lane (with great results I should add). Naruse instead got bold - he co-directed a film with one of the young gun Sun Tribers, he played with guilt riddled noir (The Thin Line), and with Moment of Terror he tried his hand at broad sensationalism (and got a scenery-chewing performance out of Hideko Takamine - an experiment that wasn't as successful - I prefer it when he handles subjects like this with more sensitivity and tenderness (and subtlety). After his death, his muse, Takamine, said he wanted to make a film with just her in a white room, she'd do all her acting within this empty, white space. I would have loved to have seen that.


BTW, the one I watched tonight was a 32-minute short, titled Woman's Ways - from a portmanteau film about young lovers (The First Kiss - 1955) - it was a cute romantic comedy, a call back to the directors' earlier films. I enjoyed it, got several laughs, and it's always interesting to watch Takamine and observe her expressions - her face, her sad eyes, always tell the story.



My 5 favorites
1. Sound of the Mountain (1954)
2. Lightning (1952)
3. Scattered Clouds (aka "Two in the Shadow" 1967)
4. When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960)
5. Yearning (1964)

Links
Here's BFIs 10 Essentials https://www.bfi.org.uk/lists/mikio-n...ssential-films, which also speaks to the style of movies he made.

Sadly, there's a whopping 21 films that are lost, including his first 7, which began with 1930's Mr. and Mrs. Swordplay. But it's not only the early releases - 1949's Furyô shôjo (aka Bad Girl, or Delinquent Girl) is among the missing. Here's a page from Toho Kingdon that explores The Lost Films of Mikio Naruse.

Postscripts
* With digital streaming, it's a lot easier these days, it took me decades to find, and go through all of Fellini's

* 67 seen? Learn From Experience was released in 2 parts, most sites lump them together as 1, Letterboxd breaks them up into 2, so on my list there is currently at 67. BTW - I loved part 1, but felt part 2 was significantly lesser

A passion project for Peter Dinklage, who's been linked to the picture since 2014. The pandemic delayed production, leading to the loss of several cast members—but not Dinklage, and he's the driving force behind this western thriller.

There's a thread of sadness woven throughout the film - and a throughline that concerns family - those who cause damage, those we loved and lost, those not of blood, but bonded to. And it's that love of family that pushes a young man (Levon Hawke) to persuade Dinklage's Reginald Jones and his partner Eustace (Gbenga Akinnagbe) to help him rescue his kidnapped sister (Esmé Creed-Miles) from the clutches of Cut Throat Bill (Juliette Lewis) and her gang.

The story, written by Joe R. Lansdale and adapted by comedy writer(?!) Joe Kelly isn't anything we haven't seen before, a tough trek through harsh terrain to save someone was had in classics like John Ford's "The Searchers". It's also a lengthy film, and a bumpy ride in spots, with subplots that add little and go nowhere (the bits with the 2 brothers), yet it's predominately a compelling odyssey, populated with intriguing characters.

Your acting aces? Dinklage exudes cool, is composed in manner and more dangerous than others perceive. He's Initially stern, seemingly uncaring, which gradually gives way to compassion. The word that comes to mind for Reginald is soulful, it's in his eyes, it's in his demeanor. And this complexity of character lends added weight to the tale. His antagonistic opposite is Juliette Lewis's psychologically and physically scarred mad-woman, Cut Throat Bill. What you see in her drug addled eyes is damned creepy.

There are times when the movie becomes a nightmarish trip through hell - along with Bill and her odd twitches, raspy voice, and erratic behavior, we briefly meet a menacing pimp, and later, a broken, bleeding preacher who recounts Bill's horrific past in a manner that would make Poe shudder. There are towns without pity, unforgiving wintery landscapes, a place ominously named "the thicket" that instills fear in people -- and a score composed by Ray Suen that accentuates the oneiric quality of the flick (it accompanies an art filled credit sequence that sets the tone effectively).

I love a good western, and this was a good, if occasionally uneven, character driven western. At times strange and unsettling, at others mournful and heartbreaking - but also offering a shaft of light to hold the sorrows a bay.

From Méliès taking audiences on a trip to the moon, to Keaton's visual illusions in Sherlock Jr., from Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint climbing over the faces of presidents in Hitchcock's North by Northwest, to Kubrick's mind-blowing Space Odessey - filmmakers have stretched the bounds of our imaginations, enabling us to see and experience the impossible. The Lumière brothers gave us reality, and from that sprung raw, grounded dramas, while others saw the potential for magic -- and in regard to magic, one of the earliest to truly take my breath away was Cecil B. DeMille's The Ten Commandments.

I can't recall my exact age, but I vividly remember our family outing to the theater—not a drive-in, but an indoor movie house. It was a classic, single-screen establishment that still stands today, though it's been repurposed for music and plays. Upon arrival, I was dismayed to learn we were there to watch an old, stuffy biblical story—yuck! I must have whined a bit because I remember my mom encouraging me to give it a chance, assuring me, "You'll like it, trust me." And like it I did. I was captivated by the sheer spectacle of it all—the elaborate sets and costumes, the sweeping grandeur, the intimate human dramas (I hung on every word that was spoken). It was larger than life - the score was monumental, the special effects astonishing. We even heard the deep, imposing voice of God, who, to be honest, seemed rather cruel and impatient. Although I loved the film, it made me wonder why God needed a Moses at all. Couldn't he just snap His fingers and, "Huzzah," instantly free the slaves and transport them to a new home? The movie made me think, debate, and question. But more than that, it allowed me to witness what I could never see in real life: the parting of the Red Sea.

I don't recollect whether I believed they actually parted a sea, or if I was simply in awe of the illusion. It truly looked as though the hand of God had cleaved the waters in two. How did they accomplish that, I wondered, with mouth agape. Nowadays, of course, I can spot the seams, the reverse shots. And special effects have advanced to a point where the sequence could appear even more lifelike. But back then, it was magical and wondrous and perfectly rendered.


And that sense of wonder still strikes me, even as I've grown older and more cynical. An example of that was 2006's Superman Returns, which wasn't so hot as a movie, but there were these moments, like when Supes takes a bullet to the eye... because that's something you'd wonder about as a youth, sitting on the floor with your comics and thinking.... "What if you shot Superman in the eye, would it hurt him?" it's the kind of moment that brings a smile to your face, though it's not you who are smiling, it's that kid you used to be. Also, that bit when he tries to prevent an airplane from crashing... seeing this in a real-world setting - the hero circling the dying craft, trying to figure a solution, because while he's strong enough, the plane isn't, and pieces of it break off in his hands.

More recently, watching Godzilla Minus One in the IMAX with that impressive sound system, which captured the overwhelming power of the beast and the destruction it caused. The city attack, for one, had me in awe and muttering under my breath, "Holy hell!"

I love that movies can still do that to me. Still make me feel what I felt as a lad, when I saw Moses raise his hands and part the sea.

"Amazing!"

Yes! I can trace my own movie addiction back to about age 8, when my parents took me to see "How the West Was Won" in the theater. The anticipation, the thrill. I didn't want it to end.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable thread. Looking forward to following it for a long, long time!

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Scarecrow: I haven't got a brain ... only straw. Dorothy: How can you talk if you haven't got a brain? Scarecrow: I don't know. But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't they? Dorothy: Yes, I guess you're right.