Category Archives: The Great Movies

This is the second of three posts this week celebrating the works of Richard Donner. Click here and here for the other two posts.

I recently made a list of my five favorite Richard Donner films and, some time down the road, I’ll probably do the same list for westerns. At the top of the westerns list will be the same title on top of Donner’s list: 1994′s Maverick. Some of you are crying foul, I’m sure. What about Unforgiven? The Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns? The Wild Bunch? John Wayne! Frankly, you can take all of those. Mr. Maverick is number one with a bullet. Allow me to break it down for you.

First of all, I’m not a fan of westerns. It’s probably my least favorite genre in cinema only because it is so limited to what it can do. How many westerns have you seen had the following cliches? The lone cowboy butting into situations that don’t pertain to him. The gunfight/fistfight on the streets with nervous townspeople looking on. A scene in a bar where shots of whiskey are served and/or the bottles are smashed to pieces. Lingering shots of men on horses slowly passing through gorgeous landscapes. I could go on and on. Without fail, these scenes are in every western. I’m just bored of watching the same recycled scenarios. (Horror is no better, honestly, but I think you can be more creative when it comes to blood and gore.)

When I saw the dour and lifeless Cowboys and Aliens this summer, I was trying to think of westerns that were actually fun. Back to the Future Part 3 had the typical cliches, for sure, but at least the film toyed with the usual conventions by including the loopy element of time travel. Then you have Blazing Saddles, which I am always reminded of whenever I see cowboys sitting around a campfire. And don’t get me wrong. Recent entries of the western canon, like True Grit, Open Range, Appaloosa, and 3:10 to Yuma are all damned fine films. But where’s the fun?

That makes Maverick the single most entertaining entry in the entire western genre. It has all of the cliches you would expect but Maverick actually makes them feel fresh again. Renowned screenwriter William Goldman (no stranger to westerns, having penned the iconic Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) manages to make Maverick a rollicking good time, filled to the brim with cons within a con, colorful villains, fantastic poker scenes, and more than a few tricks up its sleeve. Maverick is more of an adventure than a western, taking us from town to town as our beleaguered hero (Mel Gibson) tries to collect enough money so he can enter a high stakes poker tournament. Along the way, he falls for a sly thief (Jodie Foster) and encounters resistance from a sheriff (James Garner, the original Bret Maverick in the TV series). Like Mission: Impossible, Maverick updated the elements of its popular TV show counterpart and made its own rules for the big screen. Despite having never seen the TV show, it is still fun for me to see the old Maverick play against the new one. The witty banter between the two men and the vixen that comes between them is a great, energetic thrill, its tongue planted firmly between cheeks.

Being an outsider when it comes to westerns, I missed out on all of the cameos and references. Actors like Leo Gordon, Denver Pyle, Robert Fuller, James Drury, so beloved in the old school classics of TV’s past, are given the royal treatment in Maverick. The film is a love letter to those enjoyed those serials back in the day. Even though I’m not in that particular fan club, I can still appreciate what Goldman and Donner have done here. Even Donner himself had a hand in those serials in the 60s. It’s hard not to embrace the love and affection displayed on screen.

And Donner really has fun with it. He not only employed those famous cowboys in the film, but some of his own former actors in blink-and-you’ll-miss-’em roles. Danny Glover, Gibson’s co-star in Donner’s Lethal Weapon series, appears as a bank robber in the beginning of the film. The two actors stare at one another as if they recognize each other. It’s a cute gag, all in good fun. Donner also cast Margot Kidder in a brief part as a nun. Kidder, as we know, was Lois Lane in his Superman. Hell, he even put his own wife (uber-producer Lauren Shuler-Donner) in a walk-on part. On Maverick, it’s all in the family!

He and Goldman toy marvelously with the storytelling structure. The first half is a flashback, while the second half is told in “real time.” This gives the film a greater sense of urgency, a larger element of surprise. They also utilize Maverick’s voiceover to hilarious effect. Upon meeting Alfred Molina’s Angel, Gibson voices, “From the moment I slapped eyes on this hombre, I smelled trouble. And refried beans.”

The stars are irresistible. The camera loves Mel Gibson. I don’t think he has ever looked as good as he does here. Gibson oozes charisma in every scene, and it is only fitting that he is playing (spoiler alert!) James Garner’s son. Garner’s been acting in front of a camera since the mid 50′s and he’s as effortlessly charming in the new Maverick as he was in the old one. 40 years of experience and that ‘ol Jim Rockford’s still got it.

And Jodie Foster, who inexplicably drew the most criticism for her work here, has never been this light-footed. After winning Oscars for such heavy, wrenching performances from Silence of the Lambs and The Accused, it’s a refreshing joy to see her in such a buoyant, almost ethereal role as ditzy, determined petty thief Annabelle Bransford. Her gorgeous angelic face complements Gibson’s chiseled good looks. (I got a little thrill watching the two of them together again in this year’s The Beaver, in which they played a married couple.)

Graham Greene stops by in a brief scene as Joseph, an Indian who is paid handsomely by a wealthy tycoon to act like, well, an Indian. The face paint, the feathers, the whole get up, is all an act. Greene’s contemporary mannerisms are priceless. Joseph happily helps his buddy “Mav” get the money he needs, and the camaraderie between these two old chums is among the cheeriest highlights of the film.

Then you’ve got the heavies: James Coburn as the Commodore, the host of the big poker event of the year, and the invaluable Alfred Molina as Angel. Of course, like everyone in Maverick, the Commodore has a few tricks up his sleeve. And Angel is the poor schlub who continues to get duped by Maverick at every turn. Bret Maverick is always one step ahead of you, gentlemen. He knows how to read your tells.

Maverick is as good as it gets for me when it comes to pure well-oiled entertainment. The film helped cement 1994 as one of cinema’s greatest of all-time. That year saw some of our best movie stars (Tom Hanks, John Travolta, Jim Carrey, Morgan Freeman) in some of their most memorable roles, and Gibson in Maverick is no exception.

When, if ever, will westerns be this fun again?

“You can’t help it, can you? You really are irresistible.”

When I recently watched The Big Lebowski for the first time in many years, I noticed something peculiar. The tone of the film is unwavering from its first frame to its last. It is pitch perfect all the way through. The Coen brothers have always been masters when it comes setting tone and mood in their films and The Big Lebowski, easily their biggest challenge to date, is an unparalleled success.

Everyone in the film is either an idiot or a moron. Our narrator, a perfectly cast Sam Elliott (come to think of it – everyone here is perfectly cast) loses his train of thought during his opening monologue. When he staggers onto the scene midway through the film, he appears drunk or stoned. Even The Dude (Jeff Bridges) is thinking, “What the hell is this guy talking about?” But The Dude abides, goes with the flow. With only a few brain cells left, The Dude knows not to question everything.

The Dude is more concerned about the soiled rug in his foyer – “It tied the room together, man” – than about the fact that two clueless men broke into his apartment. After repeated break-ins, he does not consider a deadbolt but actually installs a piece of plywood on the floor so he can wedge a chair between the wood and the door. He doesn’t even consider the fact that maybe the door opens the other way.

His buddy, Walter Sobchak (John Goodman), doesn’t exactly think things through either. His anger issues override all logical thoughts in his head. Sobchak is a man-child; when things don’t go his way, his reaction is immediate and violent. But he is incredibly loyal — to his friends, to his country and to his guns.

Their friend Donnie (Steve Buscemi) is the sanest person in the entire film, but he’s as clueless as they come. He tries so hard to keep up with the antics surrounding him. When it dawns on him that his friends are up to no good, he keels over and dies. The absurd reality was too much for poor Donnie. He should have just shut the fuck up, man.

When The Dude and Walter get embroiled in a complex kidnapping scheme involving a millionaire (also named Jeff Lebowski) and his trophy wife, they are clearly out of their element. Of course, that’s the plan all along for the millionaire – he wants the scheme to fall apart so he can keep the money and get rid of Bunny all in one shot. Little does the Big Lebowski know that Bunny was not kidnapped after all. Little does anyone know anything in The Big Lebowski.

There is not one scene that does not feel fresh. Everything in The Big Lebowski is new and completely original. Sure, the dream sequences felt out of place upon first viewing, but once you’ve inhaled the film’s narcotic essence a couple of times, they roll as sweet a bowler’s strike. And what wonderful sequences they are! The major one, after porn producer Jackie Treehorn (Ben Gazzara) knocks The Dude out with a drug, is a mood masterpiece set to the hypnotic tune of Kenny Rogers’s “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In).” When the Coen brothers plant a camera inside of a bowling ball as it rolls down a lane, you know you’re watching something special.

The truth is, I can’t spot a single cliche in the entire film. It moves in directions you can’t possibly predict. The plot is a complex maze of misunderstandings; when populated by a bunch of nimwits, of course nothing will go as planned. The Big Lebowski is heavy on plot elements but is completely character-driven. The film moves along based on the characters’ actions and inactions. That’s what makes it so endearing. That’s why there are Lebowski festivals every year. The Dude is an icon in his simplicity; if you can make him a White Russian, he’ll go where ever you want him to. Walter wears his emotions on his sleeve. He always goes one step too far. Donnie has a look of devastation on his face when he hits 9 pins instead of 10. The man just wants to bowl a good game. Everything else is inconsequential. Maude (Julianne Moore) is the Big Lebowski’s daughter and thinks the whole scheme stinks to high heaven. Inexplicably enough, she’ll be happy as long as she gets The Dude’s seed. Why The Dude? She doesn’t say, and she doesn’t really need to. Does the Pope shit in the woods? There’s your answer to everything you need to know about The Big Lebowski.

Joel and Ethan Coen are master filmmakers, among the very best in the movie business. They are not the type of writers who sell out. They are determined to make fresh, original films, even if they are doing a remake or a book adaptation. None of their films will ever have a sequel. The Big Lebowski, like Fargo, like Barton Fink, like Blood Simple, is a masterpiece in mood cinema. And if you find yourself disagreeing with that sentiment, well then you are about to enter a world of pain, my friend.

I know what you’re thinking. There are hundreds — no, thousands — of truly great movies out there. Do I really want to single out Mission: Impossible? My answer to that is a resounding yes. When a high-tech, expensive, flashy Hollywood blockbuster is working on all levels, the results can be pretty extraordinary. How often does that happen? If it provides a consistent adrenaline rush without insulting your intelligence, it can be just as rewarding as a prestige film that will go on to win multiple Oscars. When you first saw it, you probably weren’t all that impressed. You were confused by it, the underwhelming sequels brought the whole franchise down, Tom Cruise is weird, etc etc. You may have your reasons. But if you actually sat down and watched this movie again, you’ll realize this: when it comes to superior craftsmanship and sheer entertainment, Mission: Impossible delivers the goods.

I credit five people to the success of this film. First, the three writers — David Koepp, Robert Towne and Steven Zaillian. These guys are pros. Look up their credits, they are heavyweights in this business. What they did here works on so many levels. They took the concept that worked successfully in television for many years and essentially glorified an episode of the series into a movie. It’s got all of the same elements of the TV show. Then they made a bold move: they turned a beloved character from the series and turned him into the villain. I think this was a crucial move to spin the entire franchise into a new direction. It also provided a great, unexpected twist for first-time viewers and long-time fans.

Another smart move the writers made: they killed off the IMF team within the first 15 minutes. You don’t really expect well-known actors like Emilio Estevez and Kristin Scott Thomas to die in the first act. The movie hit the ground running with these pulled-the-rug-out-from-under-you twists that are normally reserved for the final act.

Mission: Impossible is also a very dense thriller and first-time viewers may be exhausted trying to keep up with the pace of the script. It holds up very well in repeated viewings and this makes it stand out among the effects-heavy, action blockbusters we see in the multiplex every summer. Most of these kinds of movies are set pieces strung together by filler scenes where nothing essential happens. The writers made sure to include pivotal information and clues when the action is not moving. In other words: every scene counts.

The fourth key person I give credit to the film’s success is the director, Brian DePalma. In fact, without him, the film probably wouldn’t be as fun to look at. I love how he handles the camera. Look at the scene at the aquarium restaurant, for example. Hunt and Kittredge are sitting at a table in a room surrounded by fish tanks. DePalma uses his trademark tight close-ups and low-angle tilts. These shots set up the action that will occur a few minutes later and simultaneously ramps up the suspense. Is Kittredge to be trusted? Is there way out of here? When Hunt delivers his awesome line that I love repeating any chance I can get — “Kittredge, you’ve never seen me very upset” — the camera goes wide as the gum explosive sticks to the glass and Hunt makes his escape. It’s one of the film’s many masterfully staged sequences.

DePalma is also a fan of high-angle tracking shots, which is prevelant in a few key scenes in the movie. Most dramatically, he uses this technique during the famous vault break-in sequence. It’s ridiculous in theory — Hunt and his team breaking into a high-security vault at Langely — but theory doesn’t matter as long as the scene is executed well. And this scene is among the best in cinematic history.

Then there’s the fantastic train sequence, which serves as the climax of the film. Surprisingly enough, most of the film is light on action and heavy on momentum and building suspense. So this ending actually releases some of that built-up tension as we watch the TGV hurdle across the countryside at lightning speed. I didn’t detect any trademark DePalma stylings here, but his expertise on how to handle an action sequence is on full display. No quick cuts or jittery camera work — you know exactly where everyone is and what is unfolding in front of you. Of course, we know it’s impossible for a chopper to fly into a tunnel unscathed while tethered to a high speed train, but DePalma and effects house ILM made it look entirely convincing. It doesn’t just end there — you’ve got Hunt and Phelps jumping from the train to the chopper like 2 kids on a playground. It’s enthralling to watch. It’s the film’s only effects-heavy action sequence and it works like gangbusters.

All of that said, none of this would have worked without the fifth and final key element to the film’s success: the music. Danny Elfman composes a score so addictive and pulsating, the movie would be lifeless without it. First, he takes the famous theme song and ramps it up about 10 notches. Seriously, if you don’t have goosebumps during the film’s cold open scene which leads to the brief title sequence, you have no pulse. Throughout the film, you hear his terrific, edgy, ticking percussion and it winds you up like a clock. It completely drives the film.

Tom Cruise, an actor I greatly admire, makes a terrific action hero, but I think he’s better when he stretches (i.e. Eyes Wide Shut, Magnolia). He doesn’t make or break this film, but he more than holds his own. The rest of the cast is strong and reliable — Jon Voight, Ving Rhames, Jean Reno, the great Henry Czerny (so wily as Kittredge). Vanessa Redgrave has some nice scenes as the enigmatic Max. The double crosses are fun, but if you think about it, they are mostly superficial. Mission: Impossible doesn’t survive on the basis of these twists and that’s what makes the film hold up on repeated viewings. The entire film does not hinge on the big reveal.

So, without these writers, DePalma’s direction and Elfman’s score, we would have a standard, by-the-book, action-heavy update on a popular TV series. We’ve seen this numerous times over the years. Most of them are forgettable. Mission: Impossible is the rare summer blockbuster that lives and breathes. It gets better with every viewing, tightens its grip on you and never lets you go.

I’ll be honest here. I have well over a hundred DVDs that I’m proud to own. But really, they just sit there and collect dust. I am a movie fanatic, but I’m not the type who watches the same movies over and over again. I have thousands of favorite titles, many of which I’ll be more than thrilled to give them a second, maybe a third viewing. But in that vast collection of favorites, there are only a select few titles that I will never tire of watching. If I catch it on TV, I will finish it all the way to the end. If I know it’s on ahead of time, I will DVR it, even though I already own it.

Poltergeist is one of those titles.

This film was released in 1982, and it looks as glorious as anything on my 50″ Plasma. HDNet Movies was showing this classic a few months back, and the quality of the HD transfer is superlative.

Tobe Hooper, with major help by Steven Spielberg, directed this classic white knuckle thriller about a family terrorized by spirits who are trapped in their home. According to spiritual medium Tangina Barrons (played so memorably by the great Zelda Rubenstein), these spirits are caught in between dimensions. After they died, they never moved on “to the light” after death. So the spirits kidnap Carol Anne, the 5-year-old daughter of Steven and Diane Freeling, thinking she’s their salvation, a life force that will finally bring them to the light.

Talk about mistaken identities.

95% of this movie takes place in the Freeling house, and that just amazes me. The filmmakers managed to spring life into this house, making it one the most memorable set pieces in the history of medium. How do you forget that tree sitting outside Robbie’s room? The chairs sliding across the kitchen floor? The exit portal in the foyer? You certainly won’t look at unfinished pools the same way again. Every section in this home has a chance to shine.

Too bad the house vanished without a trace in the end before it had a chance to have a career in movies. Blame it on the Poltergeist curse, I guess.

Also memorable are Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams in career-launching performances. Both are wonderful actors who I’ve admired for years. They are believable as parents so fiercely protective of their children and are emotionally and physically exhausted from the turmoil surrounding them. It’s a shame that Heather O’Rourke passed away after the third film; she had a sweet, angelic face and could have made a run at a decent career in Hollywood.

The sequels are far less successful, though I do admit to enjoying the third film to some extent. In it, Carol Anne moves in with her aunt and uncle (Nancy Allen and Tom Skerritt) in the city, only to be terrorized again by spirits who really, really want her to take them to the light. Damn it, man, forget the light already! There’s nothing there! Nelson and Williams wisely avoided this silly mess (after the bitter taste the second film left us, I can’t say I blame them), but Allen and Skerritt are well-cast as a couple who realizes soon enough that maybe they shouldn’t have adopted Carol Anne after all. She’s bad luck.

I guess they never saw the first two movies.