What To Do When There are Multiple Versions of a Film, The Blogger Advises on Nine Such Cases

Blackmail by Hitchcock

Something that’s become easy these days is watching a movie. Used to be that you would have to wait for a film to appear in theaters again or worse, hope it showed up on TV. In which case it would be riddled with commercial breaks — yuck! You had no control. Today you can watch virtually any picture you’ve a mind to. For me, as an example, a film I’m interested in — especially if it’s one I love — could be part of my extensive DVD collection (over 300 titles). It might be available on Netflix, The Criterion Channel, HBO, Hulu, TCM, You Tube, Peacock or Amazon. In the past few years I’ve only come across a handful of movies that I can’t find anywhere. Yes, finding a movie to watch is easy. Unless….

It has multiple versions. Which one to watch? If you’re going to invest two hours in a film it damn well better be the better version of the two or the best version of the five. Let me see if I can help.

As a general rule the “extended cut” or “director’s version” or especially the “extended director’s cut/version” is better. But not always. Often there’s a director’s cut because the suits at the studio thought the film too long and butchered it. Okay, sometimes they didn’t butcher it, but they did take out key scenes. Of course, sometimes studios make cuts that improve a film, the director was over-indulgent. Usually not.

One example is Orson Welles’ The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) Welles. The story is that Welles made a masterpiece. Then he left the country and the studio got a hold of his print and eviscerated it. Welles was mortified and refused to have anything to do with the new version. Sadly, a copy of the original has never been found and may not even exist. The studio version was a very good film. But a very good film is a far cry from a masterpiece. 

Alfred Hitchcock has to be in any discussion of the greatest directors of all time. He made cinematic classics from the silent era through the Sixties. But he also made two absolute clunkers: The Paradine Case and Jamaica Inn. What was different about those two besides the fact that they stunk? The studios re-cut them. When you’re watching one of those films (and I’d advise against it) you’re not truly seeing a Hitchcock film.

I cannot advise you on every film that has multiple versions as there are so many and so many of them are the types of films I don’t watch. Also, in many cases there is no longer more than one available, unless you go to a used DVD store. Streaming services and TV channels don’t tend to offer you more than one version. Understandably.

But I thought it worthwhile for me to offer guidance on a few films that I’m well acquainted with. All are part of my extensive DVD collection (I love saying and writing “my extensive DVD collection.”) I will try avoid telling  you that one is BETTER than the other(s) though it will be, at times, unavoidable. In some cases the differences are a matter of taste and we all have different tastes — or so I’m told.

The Gold Rush (1925) Chaplin. There is the original version that was released in theaters in 1925 and then a 1942 re-release from Chaplin. The latter version includes Chaplin’s narration which is slightly shorter as Chaplin deleted a few scenes, notably ones featuring Georgia Hale, the female lead. In my opinion the narration is unnecessary and the deleted scenes are sorely missed, so I’d strongly recommend the original version. If you appreciate silent films than you’ll definitely favor the original. 

The Big Sleep (1946) Hawks. With my DVD of this great film you choose between the pre-release and theatrical versions. Without going into details, the major difference between the two is that the theatrical version has a greater emphasis on the romance between Bogart and Bacall. The pre-release is more plot heavy. To me, the plot is heavy enough and I dearly love the byplay between the two leads, so I always watch the theatrical version. Either is fine but I think the general consensus —if it matters to you, is that the romantic focus is essential to the film.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) Bergman. Here’s a case in which I’m going to say one version is far superior to the other. There is a theatrical version of Fanny and Alexander and the TV version. Watching the theatrical version is — in my humble opinion — just plain silly. Think of it this way, imagine watching three episodes of Breaking Bad edited into one episode. Fanny and Alexander was meant for TV, when you reduce its 320 minutes to 188 minutes you’re cutting down it to and into the bone. It’s silly that they even thought to make a theatrical version. Fanny and Alexander (the full version) is one of the great gems of cinema — even if it was originally for TV.

Das Boot (1981) Peterson. To me this a case of three bears where one of three is “just right” — the middle one. There is the first U.S. theatrical version which is 149 minutes. Too short. There is original German TV mini-series which is 282 minutes. Too long. Finally there is the director’s cut which is 208 minutes. Just right. Indeed the director’s cut is, for me one of the great films of all time. The other two versions are fine and if you love the story as I do watching all three isn’t a bad idea, I think if you do, you’ll settle on the director’s cut as the best best.

Blade Runner (1982) R. Scott. There have been four versions. The original U.S, theatrical version and the International version are probably pretty hard to find these days, which is just as well as they are not highly regarded. I don’t believe I’m over-stepping when I say that I’d not bother. Both feature voice over narration which is totally unnecessary and indeed distracting. Worse, they also feature a studio-imposed happy ending that maybe doesn’t ruin the film but doesn’t fit with its general tone. That leaves you with the two director’s versions, one from 1992 and the other from 2007. The latter was fully controlled by the director Ridley Scott and is the one that you’re most likely to come across today. Frankly I don’t know why anyone would bother with any other version but feel free to check out the others.

Apocalypse Now (1979) Coppola. Here’s the big one. Cinephiles are divided between the original version and Apocalypse Now Redux. The difference between the two is the added scenes in Redux which lengthen the film by fifteen minutes. I’ve read that more people like the original because it is tighter and gets to the crux of the film faster. I like the Redux better because to me it expands the story to include a bit more history and an exploration of imperialism and colonialism. I’d never get into an argument about which version is better. The best thing to do — if you really like the film — is watch them both. I have and…well, you know what I think.

Andrei Rublev (1966) Tarkovsky. This is an easy one. There is an original 203 minute cut and the director-approved version, which is twenty-two minutes shorter. The second time I watched Andrei Rublev, unlike the first time, I found myself a bit bored at times. When it was over I realized I’d watched the longer version. The third time I watched I was sure to watch the shorter version. I wasn’t bored for a second. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter other than that you should feel free to watch the longer version, as opinions may differ.

Blackmail (1929) Hitchcock. There is a silent version and a talking version of this great film. It was made as studios were transitioning to sound, hence the two takes. I much prefer the silent version. Early talkies were not great and this is an example. Sound was just being developed for use in films and actors weren’t yet comfortable with it. This comes across in Blackmail. Also Blackmail is powerful in large part because of the striking visuals, these are emphasized more in the silent version. If you don’t like silents then by all means watch the talkie version, otherwise I’d strongly recommend the silent version.

Touch of Evil (1958) Welles. There are three versions. The original theatrical version (93 minutes), The Preview Version (108) minutes and the 1998 reconstruction (111 minutes). I’m not going to tell you outright which one to watch but I’ll say that the first version was butchered by the studio. The second version restores much of Welles’ vision. The third restores even more of it and eliminates the upbeat score that accompanies the opening tracking shot in the other versions. I don’t believe anyone prefers the originally released version and most prefer the last version — as do I. But the second version has it’s supporters, mostly people who like original score and think the third has awkward sound edits. I believe the opening scene needs to be seen without the score and with the ambient street noises as in version three.

If there’s anything else I can help you with please drop a line. 

Appreciating The Grapes of Wrath, A Classic American Film

There’s so much I love about John Ford’s cinematic version of The Grapes of Wrath that it’s difficult to know where to begin. How about here: Pa Joad and the two youngest (BTW, the actors playing Ma and Pa are way too old to have children that young, but that was the way with films from that era) enter a diner to buy a loaf of bread. The loaves cost fifteen cents but they can only spare ten. The cook insists the waitress give it to them for ten. Then Pa asks about the candy that the children are drooling over. How much, he wants to know. The waitress says two for a penny. That’s perfect for the Joads and the kinds get their candy and leave. One of the two truck drivers who are dining there point out to the waitress that the candies are two cents each, not two for a penny. She feigns ignorance. Then the truck drivers leave. Obviously heartened by the generosity they have witnessed they leave too big a tip. The waitress points out how much they’ve left. “What’s it to ya?” One of ‘em growls. Nobody gives a speech. Nobody announces that they're being generous. The waitress pretends not to notice she's being kind. The truck drivers pretend not to notice she's being kind. The Joads are allowed their dignity. The whole scene works because everyone conspires to preserve everyone else's self-respect. Warms my heart.

I also love John Qualen as Muley. Qualen had an astounding 225 credits as an actor including in such great films as Casablanca, The Searchers, His Girl Friday and Grapes. He really demonstrates his acting chops in this film. Muley is a difficult role because he could easily come across as a colorful eccentric. Instead Qualen makes him tragic. He isn't merely stubborn; he's a man whose identity is so tied to the land that leaving would mean ceasing to be himself. When he prowls around the abandoned homestead like a ghost, he's almost a harbinger of what's waiting for the Joads.

The tracking shot when the Joads drive into the first itinerant camp is memorable. It begins at a tilted angle which gives a disorienting sense to the scene. We see the faces and the shacks of the campers as their heavily laden truck pulls in. It’s but one example of how Ford managed to show the all-encompassing poverty and desperation that afflicted the migrants.

Grapes of Wrath the film, like the great John Steinbeck novel that inspired it, is masterful at showing the combined effects of the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression coupled with the callousness and greed of the wealthy farmers, union busters and businessmen who took advantage of them. It is not a great representation of the American dream but it is a brilliant exposé of capitalism run amok.

What most people remember after watching the film is the speeches by Tom (Henry Fonda) and Ma (Jane Darwell) towards the end. This is as it should be. Rather than comment on them I’ll present snippets.

Tom: Then it don't matter. I'll be all around in the dark - I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when the people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they build - I'll be there, too.

Ma: Well, Pa, a woman can change better'n a man. A man lives sorta - well, in jerks. Baby's born or somebody dies, and that's a jerk. He gets a farm or loses it, and that's a jerk. With a woman, it's all in one flow, like a stream - little eddies and waterfalls - but the river, it goes right on. Woman looks at it thata way. Rich fellas come up an' they die, an' their kids ain't no good an' they die out. But we keep a'comin'. We're the people that live. They can't wipe us out; they can't lick us. We'll go on forever, Pa, 'cause we're the people.

Like all of Ford’s best movies, Grapes benefits from superior camera work. One of the great cinema photographers of all time, Greg Toland worked with Ford. It’s a movie one could watch with the sound off and just appreciate the beauty of the black and white. The lighting is masterful. The choice of close-ups, medium shots and long shots is always spot on. There are shots that bookend the film of Tom Joad walking in the distance from far away. He’s barely more than a stick figure against the darkening horizon but he attains a sort of importance and dignity from being seen in such a way. Ford did a similar thing with Fonda at the end of Young Mr. Lincoln.

The Grapes of Wrath is an important film as a social document. It must have had an incredible sense of immediacy when it came out because still today it still feels as if torn from the day’s headlines, to use a cliche. The theme of the rich getting richer while the poor only get poorer is constant in American history, more so at certain times.

What a fantastic film. Surely one of the great works of American cinema.

Fasten Your Safety Belts, I've Got a Lot to Say About the World Cup and the Beautiful Game

From the 1966 World Cup Final

No, I’m not particularly excited about the World Cup. Four years ago I wasn’t particularly excited about the World Cup because it was being played in a country that had a repressive regime with an abysmal human rights record. This year: same. Qatar in 2022 was also using the tournament for sports washing. The U.S. isn’t even doing that. Berlin in 1936 did a better job. Sports washing would require being nice to your guests and pretending that you are inclusive and bear no animus towards people based on race, ethnicity or sexual orientation. The U.S. just sent home a Somalia referee because of alleged terrorist ties. The U.S. has revoked visas for Iranian and Scottish fans (Scotland?) days before the tournament. These fans have already paid for tickets and hotel rooms. The U.S., in association with another corrupt organization, FIFA, are gouging fans. Tickets, transportation, refreshments and anything else that you can charge for are going for exorbitant rates. 

Rich white people are welcome here. Everyone else, not so much.

The U.S. is a stupid place to hold a world cup in the best of circumstances. This is not a “soccer” country by any stretch of the imagination. Other countries are mad about proper football. Here the level of contempt for the sport is at least as high as the level of appreciation for it. Let countries that care about the game and understand it host the tournament. It’s also for these reasons that I root so hard agains the U.S. team. Let teams from countries where victories are appreciated win matches.

What’s particularly galling is all the Americans I’ve heard complain about how boring or stupid “soccer” is, then when the U.S. is in tournament they’re waving the flag for the team. Hypocrites. 

I’m also displeased with the new expanded tournament that sees forty-eight countries participating. Once again a competition is being diluted so that more matches can be televised and thus fat cats can pocket more dough.

So my interest level is low but given how much I love the sport I’ll watch an occasional match, especially in the knockout stages when countries like Jordan, Curacao and New Zealand have been eliminated and the legitimate contenders are going head-to-head. One problem will still remain: for many of the matches there will be Americans in the broadcast booth. If you’ve been watching British broadcasts for the premier league, like I have, you’ve been spoiled. I’m not the only person who finds Americans doing “soccer” to be an anathema. British commentators tend to speak less, let the crowd noise breathe, avoid excessive hype and assume the audience understands the game. They treat a match as something unfolding rather than something they need to sell. Meanwhile American broadcasters, especially those who came up through U.S. sports television, do almost the opposite. They provide constant narration, frequent explanations, bigger emotional crescendos and more emphasis on personalities and storylines. (Plus those American accents just sound WRONG.)

In fact, my love of British broadcasters has made watching American sports practically intolerable. I’ve absorbed not just proper football but a particular broadcasting philosophy. After a while, American sports commentary feels too loud, over-explanatory, and oddly artificial. British football commentators are not trying to be entertaining in the American sense. Their job is closer to being a guide. They provide context, identify players, and punctuate important moments. The match itself is expected to provide the drama. American sports broadcasting evolved differently. Whether it's baseball, basketball, or American football, there's a tradition of constant narration and promotion. The announcer is often part of the show. That's why an American calling soccer can sometimes sound as if he's describing a foreign sport rather than inhabiting it.

When I hear someone like Peter Drury, Jon Champion, or Martin Tyler, I’m listening to people who’ve spent their entire professional lives immersed in football culture. There's a depth of context that comes through almost unconsciously. I’ve gotten used to commentators who let moments breathe, it’s jarring to return to American broadcasts where every silence seems to need filling.

I wish the tournament was being played in Europe or South America. I wish there were still 32 countries involved. I wish FIFA had been cleaned up and Gianni Infantino was no longer president and was instead awaiting trial on corruption charges. I wish the U.S. team hadn’t qualified. I wish I could listen to Brits comment on the matches.

One thing I’ve noticed is that virtually every major change in sports has been with one thing in mind: TV revenue. The welfare of the players is not considered. In proper football, players cannot keep playing as many matches as they are now expected to. Something has to change. Hell, lots of things have to change. They’ve screwed up the damn World Cup.

Relating to Students is Overrated, Understanding Them is Not, More on the Art of Teaching

I remember a teacher workshop from about ten years ago. I was in a group of five or six teachers. We were asked to name our greatest strength as a teacher. I think we were given some examples. The first person said it was his ability to relate to students. The second teacher said the same as did everyone else until it got to me. I was last. Before I talk about what I said let me point something else out: all teachers think that they can relate to students, even — maybe especially — ones who can’t. I remember in particular one of the teachers in the group that day was an older woman (older even than me!). I think she was used only as a sub and I recall that she was eventually let go. This woman could no more relate to students than I can relate to aardvarks. But she’d deluded herself into thinking that she was a “cool teacher” who “got” students and who students liked. There’s a lot of that. In a way it's a good thing. If you think you can't relate to students then what the hell are you doing there? But it's not as easy as it sounds and in many ways it's not as important as it sounds. If you can't relate to students but they learn from your class isn't that good enough.

Countless times during my career I’ve heard teachers talk about an activity they use in class and say something like: “the students love it.” No they don’t. Okay, sometimes they do but a lot of times I’ve known for a fact that students didn’t “love it” or even like it. One of the biggest problems that a lot of teachers — especially those who are new at the game — have: they haven’t a clue how students perceive them or their lessons and worse they think everything is hunky dory even when it isn't.

The first time I stood in front of a middle school class I was lecturing about a topic in U.S. History. As far as I knew everything was peachy. But at one point a student interrupted and quietly pointed out: “ain’t no one listening to you.” I looked around the room and I mean I carefully looked around the room and noted that the young man was right. 

Over the years I learned how to “read a room.” I can tell if I’m losing a class, or half a class, or several students or one student. It’s second nature to me now. It was an impossibility for me at the beginning of my career as it remains for many teachers throughout much if not all of their time as a teacher. 

Recognizing how a class is responding to a lesson is critical in teaching. Because I can do it I regularly “call audibles.” Students are zoning out after too much grammar? I stick them in groups and give them a few lively topics to discuss. Students haven’t really understood something? Instead of moving on to the next topic we stick with it for awhile. 

You look for bored faces. You look for confused faces. You look for frustrated faces. You also look for content and happy and satisfied faces. Students will tell you how they feel without saying a word. It’s crucial in ESL because students from a lot of cultures — particularly Asian ones — are hesitant about asking questions, especially when they flat out don’t understand. 

(I once had a class of eight Japanese students. On Thursday we reviewed the week's vocabulary. When we finished I asked for any questions, if there were any words they ween't clear on. Silence. The next day I gave a vocabulary test and six of the eight did poorly, they clearly didn't understand most of the words. I gave them a lecture about the importance of asking questions then I invented a question-asking exercise on the spot. They got better.)

Let’s circle back to the first paragraph. So how about it? Can I relate to students? Yeah, I suppose. But more importantly I can sense their needs. I generally know when they don’t understand, when they need to talk, when a certain activity isn’t to their liking, when they could use a laugh, when I need to be a little tough, when I need to give some TLC or a pep talk. I know how to read a room.

I probably come off as a braggart. I’m not. I take teaching — not myself — quite seriously. I’ve been doing it for forty years. I’ve learned one helluva lot about the job. Anyway, I’m just stating facts. I never refer to myself as a “great” teacher — no good teacher does, I’m simply doing my job as best I can.

You may be wondering what I said was my greatest strength as a teacher that day. Here it is: I’m reflective and have the ability to see when a lesson had a problem and needs tweaking and when a lesson went well and how to maximize it.

I felt kind of bad about my answer because it seemed like I was showing up the other teachers. Didn’t mean to, just being honest. Anyway, they probably didn’t notice.

After a Four-Year Hiatus, Film Quotes is Back!

Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood

Can you believe it’s been nearly four years (June 8, 2021) since the last edition of Film Quotes? I can too. But before we get into angry recriminations over the long absence or over the return of this beloved/reviled feature. Let’s enjoy some real quotes by real actors playing real characters in real movies. Enjoy!

Hey! You're Rick fucking Dalton. Don't you forget it. - Brad Pitt as Cliff Booth in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.

I saved Latin, what did you ever do? — Jason Schwartzman as Max Fischer in Rushmore.

Every act of preservation is an act of creation. Everything preserved renews creation. It's how we participate in creation. — Ethan Hawke as Ernst Toller in First Reformed.

Wait a minute. I'll decide with whom my wife is going to have dinner and whom she's going to kill. — Jack Benny as Joseph Tura in To Be or Not to Be.

In Hyde Park, for instance, some people like to feed nuts to the squirrels. But if it makes you happy to feed squirrels to the nuts, who am I to say, "nuts to the squirrels?” — Charles Boyer as Adam Belinski in Cluny Brown.

I've got a little Latino Harriet Tubman situation going on at my place. All legit. From the heart. No cash. — Teyana Taylor as Perfidia in One Battle After Another.

Hey, who decorated this place, the mug who shot Lincoln?. — Barbara Stanwyck as Sugarless O'Shea in Ball of Fire.

Excuse me. Could you give us some change, please? The doctor said we have asthma and we have to eat ice-cream right away. — Brooklyn Prince as Moonee in The Florida Project.

If it takes a watermelon five minutes to water. How long does it take a sweetpea to pee? As long as it takes a pair of dice to crap.— Elliot Gould  as Charlie Waters in California Split.

Somebody once wrote, "Hell is the impossibility of reason." That's what this place feels like. Hell. I hate it already, and it's only been a week. Some goddamn week. — Charlie Sheen as Chris Taylor in Platoon.

I'm not the guy you kill. I'm the guy you buy! Are you so fucking blind that you don't even see what I am? I sold out Arthur for 80 grand. I'm your easiest problem and you're gonna kill me? — George Clooney as Michael Clayton in Michael Clayton.

I met a wonderful man downstairs. He seemed to like me. He said I reminded him of his wife who's dead. But I assume he meant when she was alive. — Elaine May as May Sloane in Small Time Crooks.

Let me ask you one thing. Do you think - after we've dried off, after we've spent lots more time together - you might agree *not* to marry me? And do you think not being married to me might maybe be something you could consider doing for the rest of your life? — Hugh Grant as Charles in Four Weddings and a Funeral.

What am I doing apologizing to you? Why am I ALWAYS apologizing to you, you little bastard? Three months I've been apologizing to you without you even being here! I haven't done anything wrong. Why can't I quit apologizing? You the one ought to be sorry! — Cloris Leachman as Ruth Popper in The Last Picture Show.

Oh, stay jealous, babe. Stay jealous, honey. Jealousy is a disease, remember that, Diamond. I'm just gonna go chill in my mansion or whatever, you know, no big deal! — Mikey Madison as Ani in Anora.

I am constantly surprised that women's hats do not provoke more murders. — Charles Laughton as Sir Wilfred in Witness for the Prosecution.

I remember reading somewhere that men learn to love the person that they're attracted to, and that women become more and more attracted to the person that they love — James Spader as Graham in Sex, Lies and Videotapes..

It was a pet, not an animal. It had a name, you don't eat things with names, this is horrific! — Peter Riegert as Mac in Local Hero.

What's this for? For bein' an honest cop? Hmm? Or for being stupid enough to get shot in the face? You tell them that they can shove it. — Al Pacino as Frank Serpico in Serpico.

I was a big slut, but I'm not anymore. There will always be a part of me that is sloppy and dirty, but I like that, just like all the other parts of myself. I can forgive. Can you say the same for yourself, fucker? Can you forgive? Are you capable of that? — Jennifer Lawrence as Tiffany Maxwell in Silver Linings Playbook.

She needs *me*. It's not as if is she were a maniac, a raving thing. She just goes - a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you? — Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates as Psycho.

I don't think I could ever get used to being poked and prodded like that. I told my proctologist one time, "Why don't you take me out to dinner and a movie sometime?” — Fred Willard as Buck Laughlin in Best in Show.

It's Time Again For Films I've Watched Lately Some of Which I Loved Greatly, Plus a Bonus Bit About Sean Baker

The Florida Project

The Florida Project (2017) Baker. I think of The Florida Project as the 21st century version of Grapes of Wrath. Forgotten, displaced people trying to scrape by either by seeking greener pastures or hustling for every buck. The Florida Project and The Grapes of Wrath are obviously very different stylistically, but spiritually they share a great deal. Both are deeply American works about people living on the edge of the economic system that is designed to soak them for all their worth while enriching the coffers of the richest. In The Grapes of Wrath, families are displaced by the Depression, their homes, that might go back generations, are gone. In The Florida Project the poor have no homes and no means to buy one or to even lease or rent one. They’re forced to get by as best they can on a month-to-month even week-to-week basis. The Florida Project is another absolute gem from Sean Baker that primarily centers around small children but also looks at the single parents trying to raise them. Scams and hustles and deals are part of living. Both films could have been depressing but both show people with dignity and their refusal to yield to powerful forces that could break them. Like Tom Joad in Grapes, the young girl Moonee in The Florida Project has an indefatigable spirit and a stubborn refusal to accept defeat. Maybe theirs is the true spirit of America. Willem Dafoe shines as the motel manager who struggles with being empathetic while enforcing the rules.

Red Rocket (2021) Baker. Another from Sean Baker and this one pulls of the difficult feat of featuring a perfectly unlikable person as its protagonist.The ex-porn star, Mikey returns to his Texas Gulf Coast roots and is an absolute train wreck. To varying degrees he disrupts the lives of his wife, neighbors and would-be underage girl friend. We sort of root for him because he has a certain charm and his success could elevate the lives of those around him. But there’s also a fatalism to Mikey. It’s impossible to see such a tire fire of a human being doing anything but falling flat. Baker’s genius is in making Mikey someone we can’t dismiss. His story demands a look, maybe because its so outrageous, maybe because there’s a sense that maybe this time… Simon Rex is incredible as Mikey which shouldn’t be a surprise because like a lot of great directors Baker is a master at eliciting brilliant performances from his actors. Red Rocket creates atmosphere through place and texture an environment is captured without romanticizing it, in this case a Texas refinery town. The setting becomes moral atmosphere.

Nothing Sacred (1937) Wellman. A Thirties screwball comedy in color? Strange but true. The queen of the screwball comedy, Carole Lombard stars so you know it’s good. Her leading man is the reliable Frederic March. I’ve never found him to be a terribly interesting actor yet I’ve always enjoyed his performances. March and Lombard are aided by two of the better supporting players of their time, Walter Connelly and Charles Winninger. Nothing Sacred is about Hazel Flagg (Lombard), a small-town woman mistakenly diagnosed with a fatal illness, and Wally Cook March) , a New York newspaper reporter who brings her to the big city as a human-interest sensation. Hazel becomes a celebrity and loves the attendant attention. Romance develops between her and Wally, but the truth about her perfectly good health threatens to expose them. Connelly plays Wally’s editor and Winniger is the small town doctor who knows the truth about Hazel. Why he goes along with the charade is never explained but who cares, it’s screwball, Jake, and one of the better ones at that. Directed by Wild Bill Wellman who one doesn't usually associate with comedies, screwball or otherwise. 

 

Cold Water (1994) Assays. Like most great films Cold Water deepens on rewatch rather than diminishes. It resonated with me because atmosphere and emotional drift matter as much as plot. It’s a film about youthful rebellion that doesn’t romanticize. We are drawn to watching the two co-stars but can’t let ourselves exactly root for them. They are too morally comprised.The atmosphere is extraordinary. The music and the cinema photography create an unmistakable early seventies vibe. The long party sequence is brilliant. It is less narrative and more experiential. You feel the exhaustion, intoxication, longing, and temporary sense that these kids have escaped the world. Cyprien Fouquet and the stunning Virginie Ledoyen co-star. They’re not generally likable teens but they’re compelling. Ms. Ledoyen, seventeen when the film was made, had one of the most gorgeous young faces ever to grace the scene and this played a part in how enthralling I’ve found Cold Water. This is another film in which plot is secondary to mood and atmosphere, the feeling of being transported in time.

I Knew Her Well (1965) Pietrangeli. I’ve always loved this movie but initially struggled with the ending (SPOILER ALERT) because the main character, Adriana (Stefania Sandrelli) commits suicide. In the first viewing and even the second it’s not something that is telegraphed and seems barely hinted at. But with repeat viewings it has the feeling of inevitably. She is a beautiful young woman on the outskirts of fame holding down numerous jobs flirting (literally and figuratively) with those who can make or break her. She endures heartbreaks, disappointments and even humiliation. Adrianna is, unsurprisingly given the times, objectified more than respected — if indeed she’s respected at all. There are high times but always with the sense that they are stops along the way and not something that will become a permanent feature of her life. Beyond her beauty she has little to offer the entertainment world. She can’t imagine settling for less so rather than remaining on the treadmill until she ages out, she takes the inevitable ultimate step. Somehow it’s not a sad story, perhaps because it is presented so lightly (while given deeper meaning). It in some ways recalls the great Fellini film, Nights of Cabiria in that it avoids cynicism without denying cruelty. Both feature a female protagonist who suffers the slings and arrows. One ends by offering us a sad smile, the other opts out of life. Both are poignant and important films.

 

Martin Short

Marty, Life is Short (2026) Kasdan. Among other things Martin Short is the greatest talk show guest of all time. He also ranks among the funniest people of all time in any setting as has been made evident by his role in Only Murders in the Building. His career extends back nearly fifty years and has seen him star in SCTV and, for a brief time, on SNL. He’s also been in a series of films, frankly most bad but never because of him. He’s created innumerable fun characters such as the interviewer, Jimminy Glick. Comic genius is the simplest and best way to describe him. However his life has been struck by its fair share of tragedy and then some. The death of a beloved older brother when he was young and both parents before he’d turned twenty and the passing of the love of his life, his wife             Nancy Dolman from cancer at 58. Add to that the recent suicide of his daughter and it’s a wonder that he can smile let alone make us laugh. But Marty Short is made of tough stuff and is living proof that laughter is the best medicine. This documentary by Lawrence Kasdan gives us some insight into the man and not surprisingly it is one rich with friends, love and laughter. It really is a wonderful life.

Point of Order! (1964) de Antonio.No narration, no later-day analysts, just raw footage from the infamous Army-McCarthy hearings of 1954. One hundred and eighty-eight hours of footage was reduced to ninety-seven captivating minutes. You don’t feel the lack of those other eight days worth of film, there’s plenty here. One thing you’ve got is the slow descent of Senator Joseph McCarthy, the red-baiting Nazi hunter who wreaked so much havoc on the the public and its psyche in the early fifties. By the end of the film when he is continuing a tirade as the hearing room empties and everyone is going home, you can clearly see that this once mighty figure has been exposed. Joseph Welch, the aw shucks but brilliant attorney for the army played a very large part in bringing the monster down. It’s all compelling stuff.

Il Grido (1957) Antonioni. I loved this film. The pacing was interesting, not as languid as Antonioni's later films, but leisurely yet purposeful. It was more about mood than plot with the weather and settings playing a key role in establishing the feeling. It was melancholy but never depressing, never melodramatic. As if it were purposeful. You can see how it portends some of his later work but also how it stands alone as unique to his oeuvre. But unlike the later Antonioni films, Il Grido still has traces of postwar Italian realism in it. The workers, gas stations, river towns, economic hardship, transient labor — it’s grounded in a recognizable social world. Later Antonioni becomes more abstract, more modernist, more existentially rarefied.Il  Grido is a romantic, heart-breaking road film. That preceding sentence will make sense if you see the film which I recommend you do.

Platoon (1986) Stone. Platoon is one of the greatest war films ever made. As a Vietnam veteran once said of it: it has everything but the smell of war. Indeed it can at times feel like you're watching a documentary made by filmmakers embedded in the unit. There is an immediacy to the story but at the same time it has a mythic quality. It has the sweat, confusion, fear, exhaustion, and moral randomness of war — particularly the one in Vietnam — but is at its core a moral tragedy. Private Taylor (Charlie Sheen) is a soldier and our guide being transformed by war. Like the war itself, Platoon leaves residue rather than clean resolution. The cast is wonderful as is everything about the production. It was a personal film for director Oliver Stone, based in large part on his own experiences. It won the Academy Award for Best Picture which shows you that the Oscars do sometimes award excellence.

Finally a word on the director Sean Baker. I’ve now seen all of his films at least twice. The missus and I just enjoyed a retrospective of his work. For me Baker's films are about people, their relationships and their dignity regardless of their status. They're about people struggling and succeeding in small ways. A Baker film is not a grand gesture, it's a nod, a quiet affirmation. Like Aki Kaurismäki, Baker respects his audience and trusts them to appreciate small moments. Baker's world is not for Pollyanna's, there is struggle, there is shouting, there is anger and there is not always resolution, as in life. I find his films life affirming. I don't recall ever yawning during a Baker film. His films are not heavy-handed or preachy. The stories and the people speak for themselves without him underlining or emphasizing to make a point. He trusts the audience to understand or better still to find their own answers and meaning