The Chris Moeller Archives

The 50 Great American Films 21-25

The next five films of the Chris Moeller Top 50 list, alphabetically, from G to M...


THE GRAPES OF WRATH directed by John Ford (1940)

For most living Americans, stories of the Great Depression might just as well be tales of Ancient Rome. They are of another time and place, despite the fact that many of its survivors are still among us. Modern marketeers have succeeded in wiping the Depression almost completely from the nation's conscience. Writer Studs Terkel calls the 1930's the decade when "free enterprise... the new religion-- fell on its ass completely... fell on its knees and asked the government to save it." John Steinbeck's 1939 Pulitzer Prize-winning and widely-read novel "The Grapes of Wrath" remains the essential literary document of the era, a tribute to the proletariat, socialist spirit that developed across the nation, providing comfort and purpose to the afflicted. The rights to the book were optioned by 20th Century Fox studio head Daryl Zanuck, and assigned to its top director, John Ford in '39. It was released the following year.
The movie tells the story of a family's journey from the dust bowl fields of Oklahoma to the grim and desperate migrant camps of California. Ford, a staunch right-winger, infused the film with harsh visuals and Biblical subtext. Henry Ford became a star in the lead role of Tom Joad. His hollow face and intense manner portray a simmering ambition to provide food and shelter for his family. Today, these characters look like mammoth heroes. There was a happy, unfilmed fourth act of the film- the arrival of prosperity for the Okies and their descendents in California. "Their grandchildren would star in Beach Boys songs," writes Roger Ebert.
At the end of the film, Tom has discovered some moral clarity, "Maybe it's like Casy (the preacher) says. A man ain't got a soul of his own, just a little piece of a big soul. The one big soul that belongs to everybody."


GROUNDHOG DAY directed by Harold Ramis (1993)

Bill Murray is a fascinating actor. He's a sort of daredevil minimalist. He possesses this Dean Martin-esque ambivalence to his craft and characters, but he's capable of projecting tremendous strength and emotional depth as the layers are revealed. The results are almost always surprising, and surprise is the least celebrated, key ingredient of comedy. "Groundhog Day" is Murray's most brilliant "unlayering." He is Phil Conners, a Pittsburgh weatherman, assigned- again- to cover the annual Groundhog Day celebration in Punxsutawney, PA. Phil is coarse, miserable, and unlikable. On the air and off, he's the type of person we imagine Murray would have become if he had never found the creative outlet of Second City in Chicago, and instead been relegated to a career in front of the camera in the suffocating and monotonous world of local broadcast television. Due to unexplained circumstances, Phil winds up stuck in February 2nd, forced to relive the day over and over. After the initial shock, he experiments with his newfound freedom, then finally settles on a course of action to better his tomorrow. The script, by Danny Rubin, comes up with many inspired variations on the day's events, and the film- like Phil's day- gets better and better with the benefit of time.


L.A. CONFIDENTIAL directed by Curtis Hanson (1997)

"L.A. Confidential" is the slickest of slick film-making. It's a post-war detective thriller in the tradition of "The Big Sleep" and "Chinatown," but ultra-stylized and modern. It cleverly sets the detective television shows of the 1950's in its background, and has great fun with the conventions of the genre. It's "The Maltese Falcon" meets "Dragnet"- with a Scorcese pulse, and released in the wake of the OJ Simpson trial. Hollywood captures no location more accurately or more affectionately than Hollywood. Here, Hanson, writer James Ellroy, and screenwriter Brian Helgeland, have set the story amidst the Tinsel Town culture of the '50s, mixing it lovingly with both the glamour and the sleeze. The characters are as likely to run into screen idols Robert Mitchum or Lana Turner as they are "a hooker cut to look like Lana Turner." The period music sets the perfect mood, and newcomers Russell Crowe and Guy Pierce are commanding. The individual cop, represented by Crowe, and the police department, represented by Pierce, are shown as equally corruptible. The film's mystery is complicated, tawdry, and riveting. The myths hidden behind Hollywood's bright lights are examined in depth. Some come flooding out into public view. Others are left "off the record, on the Q.T., and very...hush...hush. "


LEAVING LAS VEGAS directed Mike Figgis (1995)

About halfway through "Leaving Las Vegas," Nicholas Cage's character Ben is asked if he's drinking as a way of killing himself. He replies, "Or is killing myself a way of drinking?" We don't know Ben's motivation for drinking himself to death. We get just a small glimpse of his life before he arrives in Las Vegas- he has been humanely let go from his job, and we see him burn a picture of a woman and children, suggesting he has lost his family. He has gone to Vegas to die, and soon he finds Sera (Elizabeth Shue), a high-priced, abused prostitute who no doubt has lots of experience with sad men. She will be his guardian angel at the end of life. Their relationship is not about sex. In a memorable scene, Sera pours a bottle of booze over her body as a last attempt at physically arousing him. The soul of the movie is Sera's, because Ben has lost his.
Figgis shoots the movie with remarkable realism. Many of the scenes were filmed with a hand-held 16mm camera, often in locations in which Figgis had not received permits or permissions. Infused by modern recordings of jazz standards and a haunting score written by Figgis, "Leaving Las Vegas" is also one of the great modern musicals. The songs are "easy and sad," as Sinatra once sang, and they occasionally repeat, like the selections in the jukebox when the drunks call on their boozy favorites in the wee small hours.


THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE directed by John Frankenheimer (1962)

"The Manchurian Candidate" was withdrawn from the market after star Frank Sinatra's former friend, President Kennedy, was assassinated in 1963, and it did not resurface until 1986. Sinatra says he didn't know he owned the rights to the political thriller, and perhaps that's true. (A notorious spender doesn't enjoy talking to his money managers.) But when you watch the movie, you can understand why one might take pause to consider its cultural ramifications. It has enormous power. It's politically astute, if not wildly exaggerated, and just might be the most thrilling movie ever made. The film had no baring on the Kennedy killing beyond providing a template for conspiracy theorists, but the President's death forever cast a shadow over the film, making it seem equal parts glib and prophetic.
"The Manchurian Candidate" contains one of the most unusual scenes in film history- when the Sinatra "Marco" character and Janet Leigh's "Rosie" meet for the first time on a platform between train cars. The dialogue is odd, and might suggest an even deeper political plot than we've previously been led to believe. I'll reveal nothing more about the scene or the film. Rent it and watch it for all of its immediacy and tension. It will knock you down.


Previous Top 50 films were posted on 12/18, 12/23, 12/30, and 1/9.

posted by CM @ 4:39 PM