Category: Lists

[Stop Button Lists] Just Going On: Top Picks, 1 of 4

Stop Button Tenth Anniversary Top Picks, February to April 2015

One of the things I really wanted to do with the Stop Button’s tenth anniversary schedule was get back to good movies. When I started blogging about film, I often wouldn’t even write about bad movies, much less admit to watching them. Much less hunt them down. I remember my “review” of Crash, a film I loathed, was something like “Nope.”

Over the years, I have gotten far away from trying to find good films. Widening the net has lead to some surprises, but I missed seeing great films. So “Top Picks.” Items one through 104 on my Movielen’s “Top Picks For You” list. I made it through fifty-two of the films in six months. I’ll be talking about the films in four different posts. The final post will undoubtedly explain why I stopped. The site’s not called “The Stop Button” for nothing.

Of the first thirteen films I watched, I had seen six of them before. I went into five of the films with preconceived notions–I did not on the sixth because I had forgotten seeing the film. But watching Inherit the Wind, Bullets Over Broadway, A Night at the Opera, The Battle of Algiers and All Quiet on the Western Front, I had certain expectations.

I thought Inherit the Wind would be better. I thought A Night at the Opera would be great. I was hesitant about Battle of Algiers, having seen it maybe fifteen years ago; Algiers blew me away though. I was wrong about it last time. All Quiet on the Western Front is amazing. Maybe even more as I’ve seen so many classic films since I last saw it. I knew, from scene one, Bullets Over Broadway was going to be just as bad as I remembered it. It did not disappoint.

Miguel Ferrer, Yasiin Bey (as Mos Def), and John Livingston star in WHERE'S MARLOWE?, directed by Daniel Pyne for Paramount Classics.
Miguel Ferrer, Yasiin Bey (as Mos Def), and John Livingston star in WHERE’S MARLOWE?, directed by Daniel Pyne for Paramount Classics.

The film I didn’t remember seeing, Where’s Marlowe?, I know I wanted to see in the theater but didn’t. I must have rented it from DJ’s Video in Ashland in college because I had definitely seen it before. Not a very good movie. Probably never thought I’d be dumb enough to see it again.

Of seven films I had not seen, I had only had interest in seeing The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. It was one of those films I always thought I was supposed to see and never got around to watching for whatever reason. And I had heard of Ride the High Country–Peckinpah doing a mainstream movie–Angels with Dirty Faces–I had no idea what the film was about, I just knew there was such a film–and Diary of a Country Priest. Thanks to over twenty years of Criterion announcements, I was familiar with the film and Bresson. I had just never met anyone who told me to watch any Bresson.

The two documentaries–Capturing the Friedmans and The Galapagos Affair–I had never heard of. Galapagos never really caught on–it’s recent enough I would have heard about it at work–but Friedmans is from when I’d see movies at art house theaters. I’m surprised I don’t remember seeing a trailer for it.

The last of the seven–Zach Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead, I knew about, of course; I just had no interest. For whatever reason, even though I give Watchman one star, Movielens assumed my high regard for Man of Steel meant I would like Zach Snyder’s first film. Movielens was very, very wrong. 2004 was about the time I stopped seeing most studio releases. I do remember my friend telling me Jake Weber was good in Dawn of the Dead. We were Jake Weber fans from “American Gothic.” Anyway.

A scene from DAWN OF THE DEAD, directed by Zach Snyder for Universal Pictures.
A scene from DAWN OF THE DEAD, directed by Zach Snyder for Universal Pictures.

I jumped all over the place on the Movielens list of 104 films; I meant to keep a copy and maybe I’ve got it somewhere, but I don’t know where. Certainly nowhere full text indexed. So I’m not sure if Movielens estimated five stars for these films or four and a half stars. “The Stop Button” uses–basically–the Maltin guide’s rating scheme so I usually just add a star to the site’s rating when I enter the rating into Movielens.

So five stars Movielens equals four stars Stop Button, four and a half to three and a half and so on. All of the 104 films on the list, in other words, I should give at least three and a half stars.

Looking at the list of thirteen films, Movielens was wrong sixty-one percent of the time. Not as to whether I liked the movie (I’d say I liked seven of the thirteen films) but whether I thought the film was excellent. Seeing as how the Top Picks list was supposed to give me the very best films to watch (for me and, consequently, the site), I was somewhat disappointed.

Inherit the Wind, I remember, was lower on the list so it might very well have been estimated at four and a half stars, which is a “correct” estimation. But Capturing the Friedmans and Where’s Marlowe? I was expecting a lot from those films. Galapagos Affair I thought was going to be a mix of Terrence Malick and Somerset Maugham, only a true story. It’s not. It’s badly done.

Angels With Dirty Faces and Ride the High Country also stand out big time. Angels because, although it’s technically a classic, it’s almost more a classic for its place in time–Cagney teaming with young Bogart for Michael Curtiz–than its content. Ride the High Country is just an odd mix of sentiment from Peckinpah who doesn’t have the philosophy down yet to pull it off.

Chazz Palminteri and John Cusack star in BULLETS OVER BROADWAY, directed by Woody Allen for Miramax Films.
Chazz Palminteri and John Cusack star in BULLETS OVER BROADWAY, directed by Woody Allen for Miramax Films.

I went into them all expecting something brilliant. I even opened my mind when I went back and watched Bullets Over Broadway again, even though–deep down–I knew what I thought of that film. I even went into Dawn of the Dead with an open mind. Even after I saw James Gunn’s name on the opening titles–having just recently watched Guardians of the Galaxy–and knew what I was actually in for. Dawn of the Dead is one of those “forgotten affections.” It’s an unspoken regret. There was a lot of enthusiasm for it on release, even from people who knew and appreciated the original. But then it faded away, like many films of the early aughts.

Diary of a Country Priest was a weird one because I had no idea what to expect. Like I said, I’ve never talked to anyone about Bresson. I just knew of him. Country Priest is a long, tedious viewing. It’s worthwhile, but it’s long and tedious. Paired with The Decalogue, which I was watching–in parts–around the same time, I couldn’t help but think about how much films have changed in terms of religion. Catholic filmmakers have no problems questioning their faith, examining it, examining its dimensions, drawbacks, place in daily life contrasted against urban landscapes. Scorsese sort of turned Catholic exploration into the preeminent American genre in the seventies and made some great films. But today we have “faith-based” films, which require absolute belief for the film to work, whereas Scorsese’s not interested in the viewer’s baggage, just the film. Country Priest is more along those lines, but Bresson doesn’t have enough of a character in his protagonist. Narrative symbolism and character studies are a difficult proposition. Bresson tries to get out of it by not acknowledging he’s doing a character study. He tries to make the religiosity of the protagonist more important than the protagonist. It doesn’t work. Would I get something more from the film if I had a (1940s) French Catholic background? Probably. But I’m never going to have the experience of seeing it with that background so I better commit to how I do see it.

Jean Martin and Saadi Yacef star in THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS, directed by Gillo Pontecorvo for Magna.
Jean Martin and Saadi Yacef star in THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS, directed by Gillo Pontecorvo for Magna.

The four best films I saw in this batch are The Battle of Algiers, A Night at the Opera, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and All Quiet on the Western Front.

The best one is Western Front. The least best one is probably Opera but maybe Algiers. So the order goes Western Front, Sierra Madre or Algiers, Algiers or Opera. I want to see them all again sooner than later, with the exception of Western Front because one can only have his or her soul wretched from one’s body so often. Will I see them soon? No. But I will probably see more Huston and Bogart collaborations–I’m actually watching Key Largo for a blogathon in a couple months. So I might not watch Sierra Madre again right away, but it’s lead me to another film. Opera certainly reminded me how much I need to watch Marx Brothers movies. Algiers didn’t lead me to Gillo Pontecorvo’s filmography. It was one of the first films I watched and I was so excited for that one particular film, I didn’t think outside it.

Western Front has not led me to thinking I need to see more Lewis Milestone. I’m always thinking I need to see more Lewis Milestone. I’ve loved him since just after high school, when I first watched The Red Pony.

Alternatively, the remaining nine films do not encourage any specific viewing. Inherit the Wind comes the closest, but it’s similar to the Lewis Milestone situation. I know I want to see more Fredric March films or Gene Kelly or Spencer Tracy–or maybe even the Inherit the Wind TV remake, but I’d have wanted to see all those things, with the exception of Kelly, who I forget I like as much as I do in Wind, without having seen the film again.

Claude Laydu and Nicole Ladmiral star in DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST (Journal d'un curé de campagne), directed by Robert Bresson for L'Alliance Générale de Distribution Cinématographique.
Claude Laydu and Nicole Ladmiral star in DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST, directed by Robert Bresson for L’Alliance Générale de Distribution Cinématographique.

Country Priest hasn’t got me readying any Bresson. I’m sure they’d be okay, probably good, I just need an inciting element to get me interested. The same goes for Angels With Dirty Faces; I’m no more or less interested in Cagney or Curtiz. And Ride the High Country probably affected me the least of the better films. Even though it stars Joel McCrea and I’m a Joel McCrea fan, it hasn’t got me interested to see any other late McCrea or early McCrea Westerns. It just doesn’t get a person interested.

The other films, the documentaries, Where’s Marlowe?, Broadway, the mall zombies… they mostly cause avoidance. Except Woody Allen. I’ll just go on arguing Bullets Over Broadway is one of his only bad films. I’ll avoid 300 a little bit longer. I’m shocked the film still has such a strong reputation. Such a good joke on “Party Down” about it.

At the time, of course, I didn’t think about how these films–collectively and seperately–might affect my viewing habits or interests. I had the Top Picks list, which I thought would keep me going. It didn’t, but it felt–especially at this early point–like it would.

[Stop Button Lists] Dekalog (1989-90, Krzysztof Kieslowski)

Dekalog, 1989-90

  • One • 10 December 1989 • Not Recommended
  • Two • 11 May 1990 • Highly Recommended
  • Three • 18 May 1990 • Not Recommended
  • Four • 25 May 1990 • Not Recommended
  • Five • 1 June 1990 • Not Recommended
  • Six • 8 June 1990 • Not Recommended
  • Seven • 15 June 1990 • Recommended
  • Eight • 22 June 1990 • Highly Recommended
  • Nine • 29 June 1990 • Not Recommended
  • Ten • 24 June 1989 • Not Recommended

When talking about Dekalog, three things are going to come up. Religion in film (I’m listening to The Blessed Islands to get in the mood), Mannequin (you know, “Switcher!”), and Dekalog.

Since Dekalog is ten modern tales of the Ten Commandments–the director, Krzysztof Kieslowski, and his cowriter, Krzysztof Piesiewicz, mix various commandments in each episode. I’m hesitant to read too much about Kieslowski and Dekalog because it seems like if I was so interested in his story, I would’ve read it years ago, when I first heard about the film and thought I should see it. Dekalog is out on video–VHS, now DVD–in the United States from Facets. Facets is a Chicago film non-profit joint–and also video store–I heard at length growing up in the Chicago area.

I don’t think I ever went to the store. Maybe once. But probably not.

Facets released Dekalog in 1999–I remember my fellow video store clerks salivating over it, but I don’t know if any of us actually watched it. I know I didn’t. Before the VHS release, I think it played at the Music Box Theatre; I knew about it enough to know the VHS release was a big deal. Roger Ebert loved Dekalog. So, apparently, did Stanley Kubrick.

I don’t get it. I’ve seen all ten episodes. I don’t get it.

I have no idea how to talk about Dekalog; I wrote about each individual episode separately. I rolled my eyes at the returning character throughout the films–this guy who sometimes shows up to watch the characters as they go about doing something they shouldn’t, whether committing adultery or liking their computers too much. But he’s not in every episode. So some commandment breaking is worth witnessing and some isn’t.

In the second episode, the lead of the first shows up for a second. Then, later on in the series, one episode mentions the events in another. How do the new episodes characters know about it? Because everyone knows everything, it’s a “small” huge city. A lot of the episodes take place in the same housing complex, but Kieslowski doesn’t do anything with it.

So what makes Dekalog so significant? Film critics spent the nineties blathering about Kieslowski, who’s been forgotten since Miramax can’t try to get any more Best Foreign Picture Oscars (Kieslowski passed away back in the mid-nineties). In the great information transfer from film snobbery to Internet film enthusiasm, Kieslowski and Dekalog mostly got left behind. It’s not like Facets is Criterion, after all. They aren’t the brand of usually accessible, but still somewhat elite, films.

Criterion’s about a wide audience. Facets doesn’t seem to care. Or at least it didn’t when I was a teenager. But it doesn’t matter; Dekalog has always been presented towards a wider audience. Ebert championed it, after all.

Dekalog raises a significant question about film. Is being about religiousness enough for something to be “good” or “significant.” Kieslowski’s not good at it–the exploration of the Commandments and so on. The writers are sensational and often let that sensationalism get in the way of the reality of the story. The first episode has a home automation computer–running BASIC–more advanced than anything you can get now. Kieslowski just wants to crap on technology and figures his audience doesn’t include anyone knowledgable about computers, which might not have been a lot of people in 1989 Poland, but still. It’s goofy.

However, I’m not religious. I haven’t seen The Ten Commandments since a Thanksgiving long ago. Is it even Thanksgiving? See? Not religious. Should me not being religious affect how I perceive Dekalog? No. It’s about people. It’s made by people, it’s about people. It’s about dumb people, it’s about obvious people, it’s about unbelievable people.

Is it ever about real people? Kieslowski puts his actors through such narrative hoops, it rarely feels honest. The manipulation is incredible. Here’s where if I wanted to spend the time, I could look up other reviews of Dekalog and talk about them. But this post is already on its second draft and one of the best things about Dekalog is me being done watching it.

I picked Dekalog for The Stop Button’s tenth anniversary short film emphasis (sharing that spotlight with Jacques Tati’s short films, the silent shorts of Buster Keaton and episodes of the British anthology show, “Journey to the Unknown”) because I’d meant to see it since 1999. I’d never even gotten around to seeing Kieslowski’s Three Colors trilogy, even though I made a joke about it in my post on Red. The Brian Cox one. The second Brian Cox one.

Stop Button’s tenth anniversary feature emphasis involved watching a list of Movielens suggestions; on one of those preliminary suggestion lists was Kieslowski’s Red. It reminded me about Dekalog, so when I was working out a weekly short film schedule, Decalogue made it.

For short subjects–whether it’s a short film, a cartoon, an episode of an anthology television show–I use a three “star” system–“Not Recommended,” “Recommended,” “Highly Recommended.” On the site, I recommend one episode of Dekalog and highly recommend two others. So I don’t recommend seventy percent of Dekalog. Dekalog runs 572 minutes or nine and a half hours. I do almost want to marathon it just to torture myself, like as a live blogging thing but there are at least four hours in there I really never want to see again.

For a while, I thought about doing a silly trailer with clips from each episode cut together like Miramax was going to release a dubbed version. I had done similar video essays, which is what Criterion calls them–I call them “Stop Button Modells,” which no one gets–as a new feature for the tenth anniversary of the site. Then, during Eight, which is easily the best episode, I decided I wouldn’t do it without clips from all the episodes and I wouldn’t use clips from Eight because the acting is too good to put alongside the bad acting in other episodes. Eight deserves respect. Does the rest of Dekalog deserve ridicule?

Probably not more than forty-five minutes of it. Maybe fifty. Well, fifty plus almost every moment in Ten.

Movielens has a single listing for Dekalog. Not ten different parts, just one. One nine and a half hour movie. I did some fake math–the math is real but the reasoning behind how I do the math is baloney–and determined, with mathematic malarky, I would give Dekalog one and a half stars. For purposes of recording on Movielens, which I actually adjust to two and a half stars (as Movielens has five possible stars and “The Stop Button” goes to four).

Still awake? Still waiting for that Mannequin reference? How I wish there was a way to code a police officer emoji chasing a dog emoji across the screen right now. 🐶 👮

Well, here’s the Mannequin reference. I give Mannequin a star and a half. I give Mad Max 4 a star and a half. I give Starship Troopers 3 a star and a half. And, if I was going to give it anything, I’d give Dekalog a star and a half. Not really recommended, but special circumstances. When I was looking at the films I do give a star and a half, they tend to be the ones I’m most contrarian about–Oldboy, L.A. Confidential, Nightmare Alley–so Dekalog fits right in. Even though I never intended to give it a star rating.

And Dekalog shouldn’t have a star rating. It’s way too complex for a real one. Not because it’s about the Ten Commandments or because Kieslowski can get so pretentious while unable to compose for television aspect ratio, but because it’s too long. Dekalog is too long, has too many actors, to be discussed traditionally.

Hence this post having a lot of Mannequin references. In emoji. 🎈🍕

After nine and a half hours, I feel like Dekalog should have taught me something. It did make me realize film and film criticism have become lapsed Catholics (to the age of reason perhaps). But that topic’s worth real scholarship and I’m ready to be done with Dekalog.

[Stop Button Lists] Film School in a Car, Lesson 04

Audio Commentaries discussed…

  • Tron • 1997 • Steven Lisberger, Donald Kushner, Harrison Ellenshaw, and Richard Taylor • Disney Home Video
  • The Seventh Victim • 2005 • Steve Haberman • Warner Home Video
  • Total Recall • 2001 • Paul Verhoeven and Arnold Schwarzenegger • Artisan Entertainment
  • Straw Dogs • 2003 • Stephen Prince • The Criterion Collection

In my more carefree youth, when I wanted to watch a movie I’d order it from Ken Crane’s LaserDisc, in widescreen (usually) and watch it two or three days later, depending on UPS. I distinctly remember wanting to watch Tron, which doesn’t hit many people, and I didn’t want to wait for Ken Crane’s. So I went and got the jumbo LaserDisc “Exclusive Archive” edition from Disney. Tron in CAV.

One thing about CAV, which was sort of uncompressed–real freeze frame, real slow motion, real reverse (stuff I still can’t do on blu-ray or a computer)–is it felt like a big deal. You had to change discs every thirty minutes or less, you saw the frame counter progress. It was cool in a way nothing on DVD has ever been, as that technology concentrates on the user experience, not the geek factor.

But I never listened to the Tron commentary on LaserDisc. I think I watched the movie and felt really bad about having bought it. And when I was going to listen to my next commentary, I went with Tron because I thought I’d have to work hard to convince myself to do it again otherwise.

What’s strange about the Tron audio commentary is it’s fine. Some of the guys are a little annoying in the way they mock the easily mockable elements, but there’s some great technical information. Director Steven Lisberger’s impetus for the film actually explains why it wasn’t more of a hit–he was making it for computer professionals in an era where there weren’t enough of them.

A scene from TRON, directed by Steven Lisberger for Walt Disney Pictures.
A scene from TRON, directed by Steven Lisberger for Walt Disney Pictures.

That said, no one talks about the film in its historical context as a punchline, which deserved some mention. Tron is infamous. Until the sequel, it was probably best known for being a “Simpsons” joke. That episode might have been done after this commentary, but then it was even less known.

Now I’m mad at myself again for buying the discs seventeen years ago.

For my next commentary, I went with one I really wanted to hear–and had to stop myself from listening to in order to get through Tron–The Seventh Victim. I first read about Val Lewton when I was in college; I’d heard of Cat People and maybe even seen Curse of the Cat People, but I wasn’t familiar with him. I knew the directors–Jacques Tourneur (thanks to Gun Crazy), Robert Wise (who wouldn’t) and Mark Robson (I Want You and Home of the Brave)–but it was long before Warner released their Val Lewton box set on DVD. But there was a LaserDisc set and I got it. But I didn’t watch any of the movies then. Maybe Cat People.

Fast forward a decade or so (the Val Lewton filmography took me five years to complete–I saw Youth Runs Wild in 2008 and finished with I Walk With a Zombie in December 2013), and Victim is still my favorite Lewton. So I really wanted to hear the commentary. I had no idea there were commentaries on the DVDs; I’d been watching many of the Lewton films off R2 or TCM.

Steve Haberman does the commentary on The Seventh Victim and it’s everything I hated about film textbooks. He lectures from notes, when he does go quiet to watch a scene, he doesn’t really talk about what made him go quiet, which is annoying. He’ll just drop off and come back with more lecture in a bit. Haberman’s strength is talking about the film going from story to screenplay to finished product and the changes along the way (they’re just not interesting because he’s talking about that progression, not the film). However, when he gripes about cut scenes and how happy he is they didn’t make the film… it’s beyond annoying just because it’s not clear he’s seen the scenes. If he’s just read about them, how would he have any idea how they’d have been put into the picture.

A scene from THE SEVENTH VICTIM, directed by Mark Robson for RKO Radio Pictures.
A scene from THE SEVENTH VICTIM, directed by Mark Robson for RKO Radio Pictures.

So Seventh Victim is another one where I love the film and never want to hear this commentary track again.

Total Recall is not the opposite situation, but sort of close. I don’t know if I want to listen to the commentary again immediately, but it might but fun to listen to again while actually watching the movie. Not because the commentary is particularly good–in fact, it’s not–but because it’s fun. It’s Paul Verhoeven and Arnold Schwarzenegger (making ten grand for the recording–back in 2001) and Verhoeven is treating Arnold like an equal commentator. And Arnold is acting like a salesman. He’s on a publicity tour for the film and he does well with it, but it doesn’t make the Recall commentary valuable as information about filmmaking.

Okay, it’s still somewhat valuable because Verhoeven does talk about some interesting aspects of the film but he needed a better cohost. He needed Rob Bottin or the effects guy or the editor or maybe one of the writers. Even Sharon Stone would’ve been better, as Arnold and Verhoeven talk about her like idiots.

However, just listening to it did make me recognize how much of Jerry Goldsmith’s Total Recall score follows as an Innerspace follow-up. Speaking of follow-ups, even though they talk through the end credits, Arnold and Verhoeven never actually explain the failed Total Recall 2, which somehow ended up as Minority Report much to Arnold’s chagrin.

Arnold Schwarzenegger stars in TOTAL RECALL, directed by Paul Verhoeven for Carolco Pictures.
Arnold Schwarzenegger stars in TOTAL RECALL, directed by Paul Verhoeven for Carolco Pictures.

One thing on Arnold, who’s the most personable person I’ve heard on a commentary track–it’s impressive to see how well he works at making himself likable. It’s strange because, until Twins, he didn’t worry about it. But when Arnold at least sold himself as wanting to be liked as a movie star by everyone, he became a lot more important as a movie icon than almost anyone else in the last thirty years. Arnold never wanted to direct, he never wanted to be respected as a filmmaker; he wanted his brand to be beloved.

He and Tom Cruise should do a movie together.

The next commentary–Straw Dogs–was another perfunctory decision. I had loaded up Basic Instinct, for another Verhoeven, and Batman, just because I didn’t even know Burton had recorded a commentary for it, but went with Criterion’s Stephen Prince commentary on Dogs, which is unlike any I’ve ever heard.

Sure, it’s a scholarly commentary and an in-depth one. Prince explains why every shot is important, how it functions for the narrative, with little bits about director Sam Peckinpah thrown in. Right off, Prince is reductive in his discussion of the film–Dustin Hoffman’s protagonist is “the villain,” Susan George is, apparently, the hero. Everything in his commentary is a defensive of the film against negative critical response, which is just more reductive. It’s a strange commentary. Prince’s defense of Peckinpah as auteur is so complete, he refuses to look at anything else. Even though it’s a great film and many of Prince’s points are accurate–unarguably accurate–his decidedly anti-feminist (while “pro”-female) reading of the film makes it constantly unpleasant.

And he uses way too many adjectives and adverbs in his prepared comments. He’s trying way to hard to make a great film “legitimate” and doing nothing to actually appreciate the film itself. I’m not sure about the history of audio commentaries–other than King Kong being the first back in the 1980s, but Prince’s 2003 scholarly commentary compares terribly to something like Leonard Maltin’s 1987 Night at the Opera commentary (also from Criterion, albeit on LaserDisc not DVD).

Dustin Hoffman stars in STRAW DOGS, directed by Sam Peckinpah for Cinerama Releasing Corporation.
Dustin Hoffman stars in STRAW DOGS, directed by Sam Peckinpah for Cinerama Releasing Corporation.

Maybe the most striking thing about Prince’s commentary track is his inability to think about watching or experiencing the film. Everything is about Peckinpah’s intent and process. Nothing about how the film plays, not to its audience, not even to him.

Nothing worse than a film snob who doesn’t enjoy film.

As a film snob who does enjoy film, I can’t try to fit talking about Joe Dante, Mike Finnell and Chris Walas’ track for Gremlins into under a hundred words. I’m thinking four titles a post is the magic number, especially when I’m going to listen to so many annoying or lame ones.

One thing about listening to commentaries without the film. It focuses you, it makes you try to remember and it makes you think harder about the film. I don’t prefer it, but I do find it rather valuable.

[Stop Button Lists] Val Lewton at RKO, 1942-46

Val Lewton, filmography, 1942-46

One of the things I wanted to do with The Stop Button, way back when I started it (or, if not started it, when I realized I was going to keep going with it), was watch all the Val Lewton RKO movies.

I discovered Lewton in college. I can’t remember how, whether it was in a magazine or a book, but I got the LaserDisc box set used and wanted to dig into these noirish horror films, so unlike the Universal monster movies of the same period.

I didn’t. I think I watched I Walked with a Zombie and maybe Cat People. It took me years to get through all the films when watching them for the site too. Five years–Youth Runs Wild is a 2008 post, I Walked With a Zombie is a 2013. I distinctly remember wanting to watch the rarer Lewton. Of course, there are eleven films and two of them are rare. They’re the outliers for a variety of reasons.

I was also a big Mark Robson fan in college (I still am, I just don’t watch his movies enough anymore); he might have been how I came across the LaserDisc box set.

A scene from THE SEVENTH VICTIM, directed by Mark Robson for RKO Radio Pictures.
A scene from THE SEVENTH VICTIM, directed by Mark Robson for RKO Radio Pictures.

Robson directed six of the eleven films, including the best (The Seventh Victim) and the worst (Youth Runs Wild). Robert Wise and Jacques Tourneur handled the rest. Tourneur–and I’d discovered him late teens thanks to AMC–brought the most visual distinction to the films, even though he didn’t get the flashiest settings.

Tourneur directed the first three films–Cat People, I Walked With a Zombie, The Leopard Man. Each of these films has incredible terror sequences. Tourneur, Lewton and cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca figure out how to make a long walk alone the scariest thing in the world. The settings are contemporary, not classical. The possibility of horror exists in the real world.

Until college, I was also a fan of the Cat People remake. I fell out with it when I discovered the original. Having fallen out with the original, I’m back to being a fan of the remake. So when I saw the original, I could see the memorable terror sequences in their (superior) original form. I’m not a big fan of most of these films–I just don’t like most of the writing. But they’re so well-made, I’ve got a soft spot for them. None of them run over eighty minutes either, which makes them a lot more welcoming.

Cat People I watched just a couple years ago. 2013 was the year I pushed myself to get the Lewton films watched. I don’t think in preparation for anything, just because I hadn’t gotten it done (I’m similarly always trying to get Die Hard 3 watched since its the only one without a post up).

It’s really xenophobic. Cat People, not Die Hard 3 (well, maybe, I don’t remember). With old movies, there’s often some discomfort in finding the line; you have to look for it and you might really like the stars or something and there’s hesitation. You’re forcing yourself to be negative on something you like. Like when you find out, in addition to being the greatest sidekick of the 1930s and 1940s, Walter Brennan was also a racist.

Tom Conway, Simone Simon, and Kent Smith star in CAT PEOPLE, directed by Jacques Tourneur for RKO Radio Pictures.
Tom Conway, Simone Simon, and Kent Smith star in CAT PEOPLE, directed by Jacques Tourneur for RKO Radio Pictures.

But Cat People’s xenophobia gets in the way of the story. It clouds the screenwriters, it modifies the film’s potential. Knee caps it. There’s a lack of empathy and it hurts. Now, I’d seen Curse of the Cat People first–and it was rarer than even Cat People back in the eighties and nineties (I’d read about them all in the Maltin guide, I’m sure). I loved Curse of the Cat People when I saw it just after high school. It got me interested in Robert Wise movies.

So when I watched Cat People in February 2013, I hadn’t seen Curse again yet. I still assumed Curse was going to be amazing. I was still hopeful. I just wish I remember where I read about the Lewton films back in 2002 or so. Maybe there was an article in “Films of the Golden Age” but I remember a lot of details about the individual projects.

I Walked With a Zombie, which is Jane Eyre on a sugar plantation with zombies (voodoo zombies), has a bunch of great stuff in it too. My wife and I definitely watched it back in college; I had a lot better memories of it than it comes across. Discovering these films in college, seeing this level of visual craftsmanship–in a low budget picture (seventies John Carpenter and RKO Val Lewton go hand in hand)–is exciting. It’s still exciting now, but now I also see the narrative problems.

I’ll want to see one of them again–The Ghost Ship, The Leopard Man–just because they look so great. Leopard Man takes place in a small Southwestern town and they do a fantastic job with it. Ghost Ship’s on, well, a ship and it gets a lot of visual mileage from that setting. The Lewton pictures have particular personalities to them thanks to the visuals. Frightening, intriguing ones. The movies never get too discomforting you can’t enjoy their production values, even while they’re trying to terrify you.

Simone Simon and Kurt Kreuger star in MADEMOISELLE FIFI, directed by Robert Wise for RKO Radio Pictures.
Simone Simon and Kurt Kreuger star in MADEMOISELLE FIFI, directed by Robert Wise for RKO Radio Pictures.

The last three Lewtons are period pictures–though Mademoiselle Fifi is too. I had originally planned on splitting off the period pictures from the rest but Youth Runs Wild gets in the way. It’s the only Lewton-produced picture I don’t have any interest in seeing again. It got all cut up by the studio and what remains isn’t worth talking about. Though a teen picture is a hard proposition anyway.

Boris Karloff stars in the last three pictures–The Body Snatcher, Isle of the Dead, Bedlam. They’re often creepy. Lewton goes for the jugular on the concepts–grave robbing, false imprisonment in an insane asylum, possession. I think I’d seen Bedlam before, like on AMC, and it still creeped me out. These films were about people who could identify their fears and voice them, preparing the viewer for what was to come.

I think I’d stopped being such a big Karloff fan by college and never had much interest in these final three films. Isle of the Dead is pretty darn good, however. I guess Robson made the two best Lewton films (Dead and Victim). Period pieces were a hard sell for me. They still are. Karloff also has a big onscreen personality; I was worried how the films would deal with it. It seemed gimmicky–horror star Karloff and horror producer Lewton teaming up.

When I did get to Bedlam, however, I had a lot of hope for it. Isle of the Dead had gotten me optimistic. There’s an excitement in the Robson pictures not present in the Robert Wise entries. It’s like Wise knew he was on his way into non-genre pictures but Robson didn’t mind playing in the category. But the Wise ones, even though I don’t have much nostalgia for them, are pretty good films.

Simone Simon stars in THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, directed by Gunther von Fritsch and Robert Wise for RKO Radio Pictures.
Simone Simon stars in THE CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, directed by Gunther von Fritsch and Robert Wise for RKO Radio Pictures.

Except Curse of the Cat People. That one’s a real disappointment. Especially since I’d loved it so much when I first saw it; I was still in that period when I’d blather on to people about films I’d seen (which actually did stop before the site came around) and I know I talked about Curse nonstop for a day or two.

The Lewton films still have that excitement factor for me. Even I gave most of them ★★, they’re important American films. Some of the excitement might still have to do with them going so long unseen but talked about. Cat People airing on the local PBS station was a cause for videotape planning in the early nineties; people made sure someone (or two or three) was taping it so they could borrow it.

And there’s still Lewton excitement online, which is cool. There was excitement back when the DVD boxset got released in 2005 (which made that LaserDisc box set purchase in 2002 a bit of a waste). The intensity’s changed, but the films availability have made it–for the first time in the films’ seventy year history–easy to see them. Except Fifi and Youth. Those two films are still difficult to see (though PAL DVDs have been released).

Lewton’s films are problematic but it’s impossible not to be a Lewton aficionado.

[Stop Button Lists] Film School in a Car, Lesson 03

Audio Commentaries discussed…

  • The Funhouse • 2012 • Tobe Hooper • Shout! Factory
  • Cat People • 2002 • Paul Schrader • Universal Home Video
  • The Wolf Man • 1999 • Tom Weaver • Universal Home Video
  • The American • 2010 • Anton Corbijn • Universal Home Video

I had good reasoning when I decided to listen to The Funhouse commentary; it’s similar to Psycho III in it being a Shout! Factory special edition, though I saw Funhouse more recently than Psycho III. It’s a horror film, but I really liked Funhouse. It’s one of my “dissenter” items on movielens. My co-host from Alan Smithee Podcast, Matt, loves the film and thought my exuberant reaction to it might be due to some kind of movie enthusiasm osmosis as I’m not a horror movie guy. But Funhouse is a monster movie, one with some startling reality to it.

So I listened to the commentary. And it is awful. Tobe Hooper, for his part, seems tired. I’m saying tired because the alternative is old. However he prepared for this commentary, it wasn’t the correct method, but it also doesn’t matter because he has a moderator. And the moderator, Tim Sullivan, is the single worst thing I’ve ever heard in front of a microphone. He’s condescending to Hooper, he’s condescending to the film–someone needs to tell Shout! Factory when their commentators hawk the blu-ray during the commentary track, it’s beyond obnoxious. He asks Hooper a question then cuts him off. He also exhibits zero empathy towards the characters in the film. Of course, he’s only seen it twice. Anyone would be a better moderator for this commentary. Even listening to Hooper ramble would be better than having Sullivan there.

Elizabeth Berridge stars in THE FUNHOUSE, directed by Tobe Hooper for Universal Pictures
Elizabeth Berridge stars in THE FUNHOUSE, directed by Tobe Hooper for Universal Pictures

And, while I turned off Criterion’s Godzilla commentary because of David Kalat’s moronic commentary–and even resisted the urge to reference “the stop button”–Funhouse does have Tobe Hooper. He does have things to say. Not a lot of them and Sullivan often interrupts or just derails Hooper’s train of thought, but he does have things to say. Sullivan’s just along to sound ignorant and offensive.

Most frustrating–and not Sullivan’s (presumably unintentional) misogyny–is how patronizing Sullivan gets. Shout! should get a moderator who’s interested in what the commentator has to say.

For my next commentary, I went with Paul Schrader’s Cat People as I happened across the DVD (the blu-ray doesn’t have the commentary). I grew up interested in Cat People–I was interested in all remakes in the early eighties–but didn’t see it until I was a teenager. I think I liked it the first time, but didn’t the subsequent times. I feel like I’ve told this story before. Anyway, the film impresses me quite a bit these days. Like Funhouse, it’s a Universal, early eighties horror movie. Unlike the Funhouse commentary, it’s Schrader alone and assured. Maybe Hooper just doesn’t have the ego for it. Schrader definitely does.

It gets off to a good start with Schrader talking about the production design and so on, but then he gets into the story of how the animals were treated and it’s real creepy. Schrader isn’t an animal lover. In fact, I’d say no animal lover should listen to the Cat People commentary.

Schrader manages not to become to personally offensive because he’s never actually likable. He’s not concerned with it. He’s talking about the filmmaking, not selling himself (or even selling the film) to the listener. It’s refreshingly pragmatic. If occasionally creepy.

Nastassja Kinski stars in CAT PEOPLE, directed by Paul Schrader for Universal Pictures.
Nastassja Kinski stars in CAT PEOPLE, directed by Paul Schrader for Universal Pictures.

The commentary also gets somewhat uncomfortable due to Schrader (at thirty-five, which is better than I thought) having a love affair gone wrong with lead Cat Nastassja Kinski (she was twenty). And Schrader’s openness about what shots he ripped off from Bertolucci and other European directors is cool. It raises this whole question about whether American film ever lost its proverbial virginity or just appropriated it from European cinema. The way Schrader talks about it, so matter-of-factly, makes one wonder if his peers were (or are) as forthcoming about their inspirations.

That openness has a callback to the Funhouse commentary where Sullivan accuses Hooper of ripping off a shot from Halloween and Hooper responded it was an intentional, obvious, acknowledged homage to “John” [Carpenter].

Having listened to two Universal horror commentaries, I figured I might as well go with a third (I had to reformat my iPhone and lost the various commentary tracks I’d assembled when I got the idea to listen to them again). Tom Weaver’s commentary for The Wolf Man; its DVD release was part of the same series as Bride of Frankenstein and I loathed that commentary track. But Weaver’s very different from Scott MacQueen, who did the Bride commentary. Weaver’s bemusedly hostile to the studio putting out the DVD. It’s never outrageous, but Weaver clearly doesn’t think Universal did enough to preserve the history of its horror films.

The Wolf Man commentary track reveals a subset of classic movie fan so big it appears to be its own thing–the classic horror movie fans. People who understand the studio system, understand how things worked, how classic films (especially b films) connect with one another, but their interest is entirely specialized on this one genre.

Lon Chaney Jr. and Evelyn Ankers star in THE WOLF MAN, directed by George Waggner for Universal Pictures.
Lon Chaney Jr. and Evelyn Ankers star in THE WOLF MAN, directed by George Waggner for Universal Pictures.

I grew up with The Wolf Man but also forget my sentimentality to it–maybe because I saw the sequel, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, first. When my dad and I drove to a satellite location of our video store to rent The Wolf Man–you couldn’t return movies returned from this store at the other two, nearby locations, which meant another drive–we actually rented the 1979 Wolfman. I just remember it being an old dark house movie, but cheap seventies.

But I learned about old movies through the monster movies. And The Thin Man. My affection for The Wolf Man led to the “Films of the Golden Age” magazine, which led to discovering Eleanor Parker, which led to me seeing a lot more movies made before 1965. With rare exception (Kubrick, Hitchcock), I didn’t go back further than a Fistful of Dollars. Why? Because I could talk to most of my film-enthusiastic friends and acquaintances about those films. Older ones, not so much.

Weaver makes a lot of fun of Lon Chaney Jr. being full of it, but he always gives the impression of being a fan. Weaver’s rounded in how he talks about these people whose work he admires (though it’s not clear how much he really needs to talk about the drama).

The Wolf Man’s got an excellent commentary track. Weaver does a great job.

I was going to listen to another Universal release but ended up going with The American. I remember seeing it in the theater–we didn’t go opening weekend, but early in the second week. I loved it. I just haven’t seen it again. So I saw it almost five years ago. Made me wonder if I’d be able to follow director Anton Corbijn’s commentary as I’m not familiar with the film.

And, yes, I could follow Corbijn. He’s recording the commentary soon after making the film and he’s got a lot of narrative comments. He even quiets and tells the listener to pay attention to particular scenes. His enthusiasm for the film is refreshing.

The American was an impulse outing–cheap weekday movie night or something. I hadn’t seen much George Clooney since Solaris or so. But I really loved The American. I remember thinking about it at length afterwards. And Corbijn explains some of his inspirations and I think they’re what make the film special.

George Clooney stars in THE AMERICAN, directed by Anton Corbijn for Focus Features.
George Clooney stars in THE AMERICAN, directed by Anton Corbijn for Focus Features.

He went with a lot of Spaghetti Western visual influences and seventies Hollywood pacing, only set in the “Italy you never see,” in the modern day, with George Clooney as a hitman instead of a gunfighter. It raises an interesting question–where did the Western go? Did the genre just grow into thrillers? Triceratops and sparrows.

No. Because Westerns marketed to men, thrillers market to women. Kind of.

The American’s also an interesting commentary because, running under it, Corbijn was working with another director. George Clooney would’ve a more accomplished director. He probably still is a more accomplished director, missteps aside, than Corbijn. At least in terms of brand and marketing.

Corbijn does a fine job with the track. Not sure it’d be worth listening to again, but definitely once. Made me want to see if there’s a Tailor of Panama commentary too.

I was hoping for five commentaries minimum a post, but I’m getting close to the upper limit on word count so I’ll wrap it up right here.

Right here.

Here.

[Stop Button Lists] Eleanor Parker at MGM, 1952-60

Eleanor Parker, partial filmography, 1952-60

I grew up avoiding Eleanor Parker movies. At least the one everyone knew about–my mom and my sister used to watch The Sound of Music all the time. My dad and I avoided it for years. When I did discover Eleanor Parker in the late nineties, I can’t remember the order in which I saw her films. I know I ordered a bunch of LaserDiscs from Ken Crane’s, including The Sound of Music, but I can’t remember the viewing order.

But Scaramouche would have been one of the early ones I saw. I’ve always loved Scaramouche; given I remember seeing it multiple times before “The Stop Button” (and once since), I almost think I saw it first on VHS and then on the MGM LaserDisc. I distinctly remember not getting the out of print Criterion Scaramouche.

Growing up, about the only fifties movies I saw were Universal sci-fi pictures and maybe some Hitchcock, so Scaramouche was a revelation. It’s visually lush but also sincere and thoughtful in its storytelling. It trusts its audience.

I first learned about Eleanor Parker in an article in a magazine called “Films of the Golden Age.” The article had a lengthy discussion of her career, so I knew she started in the forties with Warner Bros., but her most easily accessible (save Sound of Music) films were her MGM films from the 1950s. They were big enough pictures to get VHS releases and often LaserDisc ones.

Robert Taylor and Eleanor Parker star in ABOVE AND BEYOND, directed by Melvin Frank and Norman Panama for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Robert Taylor and Eleanor Parker star in ABOVE AND BEYOND, directed by Melvin Frank and Norman Panama for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Above and Beyond was readily available on VHS. It had a painted cover, so it wasn’t a quick MGM/UA classics release. They didn’t really have those with VHS releases; I don’t think any big studios got around to releasing EP copies of stuff. Well, maybe Orion Home Video did.. I know I saw it relatively soon. It’s now out from Warner Archive. I’ve seen it at least three times. It’s diametrically opposed from Scaramouche. It’s not lush, though it is still bright. It’s dark, it’s depressing, it’s not playful. I’d only seen fifties melodramas, usually from Universal (on pre-commercials AMC) so Above and Beyond was a surprise. I’ve seen it get some gruff over the years (at least people are seeing it), but it’s a fantastic film.

I remember both Escape from Fort Bravo and Valley of the Kings being rather easy to find. There were VHS releases of both and maybe a LaserDisc release of Fort Bravo. I went with the VHS on it because I was under the impression the film was 1.37:1, though it was actually an early 1.66:1. The LaserDisc wasn’t 1.66:1 so I was fine. It’s since come out on DVD widescreen.

Fort Bravo is another awesome film; it got me on a John Sturges kick (which Magnificent Seven ended–Seven always ends my Sturges kicks). William Holden, discovering John Forsythe wasn’t always a cheesy nighttime soap opera star. Fort Bravo’s got a complex, strong story. It’s beautifully paced. By college, I had seen a number of Westerns (thanks AMC), but when I saw Fort Bravo I had probably only seen the Leone Dollars trilogy. I was not a Western fan. I was very hesitant towards the genre. Fort Bravo, with its strong character development, changed my mind on the subject. It’s also about the only calvary movie I’ve ever seen I can tolerate.

Valley of the Kings, even though it’s got Parker and Robert Taylor–and even though I was forgiving of the film the first time I saw it (maybe the first two times)–is fairly awful stuff. It’s the bad fifties melodrama just with a good pair of leads. I remember that “Films of the Golden Age” article being gently disparaging to it and I responded similarly. The last time I saw it, however… well, it is (I think) the only Eleanor Parker movie made after 1950 with a single ★ rating.

Robert Taylor and Eleanor Parker star in MANY RIVERS TO CROSS, directed by Roy Rowland for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Robert Taylor and Eleanor Parker star in MANY RIVERS TO CROSS, directed by Roy Rowland for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

After Valley of the Kings came Many Rivers to Cross, the last of Parker and Taylor’s films together. It’s also sort of the peak of Parker’s MGM career as a leading lady. There’s no real hook to it–it’s a frontier “Northwestern” adventure comedy–besides its cast. It’s okay enough. It took me forever to track it down because TCM stubbornly refused to air it for a few years. I remember having a letterbox recording of it until the film got released on DVD, rather soon considering neither Eleanor Parker or Robert Taylor have modern fan followings. It was when Warner was doing amazing releases just because they could.

Parker’s next film in the fifties for MGM was Interrupted Melody, which featured greatly into the article in “Films of the Golden Age” and could very well be the first Parker film I saw. MGM had a beautiful LaserDisc release of the film. I don’t know if I’d seen much Glenn Ford at that time; I do remember Roger Moore being a bit of a surprise.

Melody is a fantastic film. I sort of remember having it on VHS, but I might just be remembering the video store having it on VHS and me putting it on my recommendations shelf. I can’t imagine seeing the film pan and scan, it’s such gorgeous widescreen. I would have avoided Melody earlier because of the singing. Luckily I’d gotten over the “no musicals” hurdle of my film viewing.

I’ve read Woman of a Thousand Faces, Doug McClelland’s book about Parker–I think I read it while still seeing her films–so if something significant happened after Interrupted Melody, it seems like it’d be reported in that book. I think I have it out of storage. But even without the book, it’s clear MGM stopped giving Parker such high profile roles, which is kind of dumb (Melody was her last, of three, best actress nominations–she lost to Anna Magnani, who I don’t think I’ve ever seen in anything).

Eleanor Parker and Glenn Ford star in INTERRUPTED MELODY, directed by Curtis Bernhardt for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Eleanor Parker and Glenn Ford star in INTERRUPTED MELODY, directed by Curtis Bernhardt for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

The “Films of the Golden Age” article was complementary about Lizzie, Parker’s multiple personality thriller. It took me years to see it (I think TCM just aired it one day, not part of a Parker marathon) and it didn’t impress. It’s the only film I haven’t seen since starting “The Stop Button;” Warner Archive has never gotten around to it.

They also haven’t gotten around to The Seventh Sin, which is one of those “too late” movies. It’s Eleanor Parker and George Sanders finally doing a movie together, after their “primes.” It’s good too. I just read David Lewis crap-mouthing it in his memoirs, but it’s good. It’s a Maugham adaptation. It’s far from perfect, but Parker and Sanders in a Maugham adaptation? No one can mess that one up.

Sadly, the film’s not available widescreen anywhere. TCM still airs a pan and scan print. It was apparently a big bomb for MGM back in the fifties and Sanders is a weird draw. He has a very solid modern fanbase, but not a wide one. It’s focused.

It’d be very cool to see it OAR.

The last Parker MGM film–ever, actually–is Home from the Hill. I saw Home from the Hill really early on too, just because MGM had a nice LaserDisc release of it. It’s since had a great DVD release, which is particularly nice for me–my LaserDisc had begun to rot by the time I transferred it onto DVD-R.

Hill was a weird film. It has Anthony Perkins, George Peppard and Robert Mitchum. Okay, Mitchum wasn’t weird to see in a film, but seeing Perkins and Peppard? It was strange. I only knew them for their crappy work. The “A-Team” is real crappy. I wasn’t even allowed to watch it because it was so dumb.

Eleanor Parker and Robert Mitchum star in HOME FROM THE HILL, directed by Vincente Minnelli for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Eleanor Parker and Robert Mitchum star in HOME FROM THE HILL, directed by Vincente Minnelli for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

It’s a great film and was one I made people watch. It also introduced me to Harriet Frank Jr. and Irving Ravetch, who wrote a number of good films.

The eight years of Parker’s MGM films–Scaramouche in 1952 to Home from the Hill in 1960–feature some of her best work, but they were also a great introduction to Hollywood filmmaking of that era.

When I first saw these films, I hadn’t seen anything like them. Going back and seeing them again over the last ten years, I still haven’t seen anything like them. There’s a distinctness to the films thanks to Parker; many of the films are beautifully made and acted by all parties, but Parker makes them all different from each other.

[Stop Button Lists] Film School in a Car, Lesson 02

Audio Commentaries discussed…

  • Die Hard • 2001 • John McTiernan and Jackson DeGovia • Fox Home Video
  • Godzilla • 2011 • David Kalat • The Criterion Collection
  • Godzilla • 2006 • Steve Ryfle, Ed Godziszewski and Keith Aiken • BFI DVD
  • The Thomas Crown Affair • 2000 • John McTiernan • MGM Home Entertainment
  • Psycho III • 2013 • Charles Edward Pogue • Shout! Factory

The problem with these commentary list posts are immediately obvious—if I pick a commentary because of the last one I listened to, there’s not going to be the context in the same post. For example, I listened to Die Hard after finishing the Bride of Frankenstein commentary I didn’t find useful.

Bride and Scott MacQueen’s mindless positivity compares interestingly to John McTiernan and Jackson De Govia’s commentary for Die Hard. They aren’t recording together and the track is heavily edited (someone, off mike, is clearly prompting at least McTiernan) but it’s utterly fantastic. De Govia has substantial, informed enthusiasm for the film and McTiernan. He describes Die Hard as a film where the filmmakers hadn’t figured out they were capable of genius yet–he’s talking about McTiernan, which seems accurate, cinematographer Jan De Bont, again accurate, and producer Joel Silver, questionable–and so part of the film is seeing it all come together. I was wondering why he was picked for the commentary track, if it was just availability, but given the importance of Die Hard’s setting, he’s a perfect choice.

As for McTiernan, listening to him talk about Die Hard is astounding because he gets it. I loved Die Hard growing up–have I ever recounted it being the first R-rated movie my mom let me watch (we had to look away for the Takagi scene)–but it wasn’t until after high school I really understood how and why it worked so well. And it’s intentional. McTiernan talks about the choices he made to make the film work. The commentary track isn’t just great for Die Hard, it’s also great in how McTiernan (and De Govia to some extent) understand what made the film special. The reusable Die Hard element as MacGuffin. It’s sort of difficult to listen to it and remember how bad the sequels have been lately; maybe Bruce Willis should give the track a listen.

Bruce Willis stars in DIE HARD, directed by John McTiernan for 20th Century Fox.
Bruce Willis stars in DIE HARD, directed by John McTiernan for 20th Century Fox.

McTiernan, who’s made some really bad films (and at least one more really great one), sounds like a great, collaborative blockbuster director. If he has an outrageous ego, he hides it well.

The commentary track is for the first Fox special edition of Die Hard (I think). Does Die Hard deserve a “scholarly” commentary? Undoubtedly. Would it be better than the director’s? Probably not. Again, McTiernan seems to get it. Die Hard, while rather fluid in its making, isn’t an accident. It’s a bunch of talented professionals figuring out a film. The commentary documents their successes pretty well.

After starting the Die Hard commentary, I looked up to see if McTiernan had done a commentary on Thomas Crown Affair, a personal favorite. He did do a commentary, so I dug out my copy of the DVD. However, I didn’t want to be interrupted during that one and I had a forty-five minute workout (not a couple hours running, which would give me time), so I made the questionable decision of listening to David Kalat’s Godzilla commentary.

Godzilla, the 1954 original Japanese version, a film I like and have a great interest in. I’m unapologetically nostalgic for Godzilla movies. Figured it was a safe bet. The commentary was from Criterion after all. And it’s atrocious.

Kalat never really talks about Godzilla, the film, except in pointless anecdotes. He’s not giving a commentary, he’s giving an academic lecture. But not about the film, but a lecture about the film being worthy of an academic lecture. Because of its content? No, because of its cultural significance. Godzilla sounds like validating the academic pursuit. Kalam doesn’t even mention the director by name until eight minutes into the commentary.

Then there’s the weird stuff. Like Kalat constantly being an apologist for Japan’s involvement in WWII (I’m assuming Criterion didn’t bother subtitling this commentary in Chinese), or how he does like the character Ogata because he’s good-looking. Oddest has to be Kalat calling Momoko Kōchi’s character Emmy. It’s Emiko. Kalat wrote a book on Godzilla. He should know the characters’ names.

Even as a commentary about the Japanese film industry, it’s not interesting because Kalat doesn’t provide enough context.

Akihiko Hirata, Momoko Kōchi, and Akira Takarada star in GODZILLA (Gojira), directed by Ishirô Honda for Toho Company Ltd.
Akihiko Hirata, Momoko Kōchi, and Akira Takarada star in GODZILLA (Gojira), directed by Ishirô Honda for Toho Company Ltd.

When he does talk about the film itself, his observations are either condescending or obvious. They’re often hostile towards “the establishment” (my phrase) who doesn’t see Godzilla films as important. Of course, Kalat does nothing to make the film seem important as a film, only as a cultural relic.

When Kalat attacks Godzilla fans who prefer calling it Gojira, the whole commentary falls apart and I changed my mind about not turning off a commentary. Life’s too short for Kalat’s kind of nonsense.

It also changed my schedule—I wanted to hear the British Film Institute’s Godzilla commentary from their 2006 special edition release, just to see if anyone could talk about this film intelligently. Bruce Eder was supposed to record commentary for the Criterion’s cancelled laserdisc releases in the 1990s. Shame he didn’t, probably would’ve saved me from Kalat’s.

The BFI commentary–from Steve Ryfle, Ed Godziszewski and Keith Aiken (they’re indistinguishable)–contains a lot of the same information as the Criterion commentary. One assumes someone at Criterion saw it. But the BFI commentary’s a lot looser, a lot more interested in the film. It’s far from a perfect commentary, but it’s not a lecture. It exists alongside the film, not removed from it.

Both commentaries go into tangents, but the BFI tangents are far superior. Are they more informative? Not always; they’re far less thorough. But the commentators aren’t obnoxious or hostile to the listener so they don’t have to be as thorough. They can have an interesting detail without needing exhaustive explanation. Between the history and culture lessons, the commentators’ comments on the filmmaking are far superior to the Criterion track.

I’m still not sure I learned much valuable from the Godzilla commentary. Both commentaries have a decided distance from the film. I wish I understood Japanese; I’d love to hear the Toho commentary on the film (if there is one).

Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo star in THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR, directed by John McTiernan for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo star in THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR, directed by John McTiernan for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

When I did get to Thomas Crown Affair, it was clear McTiernan didn’t have the perspective on the film he had on Die Hard. There hadn’t been enough years (which is the difference between a scholarly commentary fifty years later and a contemporary one done a few months after theatrical release–or less).

Again, McTiernan shows a real understanding for how he made Thomas Crown work. There’s a bit about him doing walk and talk shots with a dolly instead of steadi-cam to get a retro, deliberate feel and he’s right. Ditto how Faye Dunaway works in the movie. It’s a fine enough, post-DVD commentary track. But a disappointment considering I rushed to hear it.

So next I listened to the Psycho III commentary with screenwriter Charles Edward Pogue. I’ve never had a good opinion of Pogue (after a year of looking forward to Dragonheart, it was a stinker) but I did appreciate his Psycho a bit when I saw it. So much so I bought the blu-ray with the commentary.

It might be the first screenwriter commentary I’ve heard (not counting writer-directors). Pogue’s a strange commentator. He’s somewhat likable, if inexplicably full of himself, and enthusiastic. When he mentions his stage background, he gets obnoxious real fast.

The commentary has a moderator–Michael Felsher–who keeps Pogue on track as the film progresses. Felsher’s promptings are more about the film’s making than Pogue’s writing, which is fine. Pogue’s a talker and he has a lot of stories. So if you’re interested in Psycho III, the commentary works out.

Anthony Perkins and Diana Scarwid star in PSYCHO III, directed by Perkins for Universal Pictures.
Anthony Perkins and Diana Scarwid star in PSYCHO III, directed by Perkins for Universal Pictures.

Did I learn anything? Pogue can’t take criticism, which is problematic. Humility goes a long way in an audio commentary. I also felt better about turning off Kalat’s Godzilla commentary; I never liked Pogue during his commentary but I was interested in what he had to say. Personality aside, he’s got valid recollections about the film’s making. He can talk about it. At length.

Pogue’s far from the perfect commentator. He was only on set a couple times. He didn’t see much filming. I also wasn’t super-wild about the film in the first place, I remember having problems with his script.

For the next set of commentaries, the first will definitely be for Tobe Hooper’s The Funhouse. A horror movie I am super-wild about, which I saw recently, and the director does the commentary track.

[Stop Button Lists] The Lost Worlds of Kevin Connor

Kevin Connor, partial filmography, 1975-1981

I have heard of Arabian Adventure, I had forgotten I knew about it when I was thinking about doing this list. Kevin Connor’s career–which has gone from British fantasy films to American television to direct-to-video to the Hallmark channel–reminds of someone like Jack Arnold, who went from Creature from the Black Lagoon to “Gilligan’s Island.” I’m sure a lot of guys who directed “The Brady Bunch” had made some decent pictures in the forties and fifties.

But I wanted to do a list about Connor after watching The People That Time Forgot again for “Stop Button Favorites.” It’s a weird series of fantasy films, most starring Doug McClure, three adapted from Edgar Rice Burroughs, a few starring Peter Cushing, a few starring John Ratzenberger!

Land That Time Forgot had been my dinosaur movie as a kid, it and Planet of the Dinosaurs. Even after Jurassic Park came out, because Jurassic Park was “real” not movie fantasy. It did all the imagining for you.

Doug McClure and Peter Cushing are bewildered Victorians in AT THE EARTH'S CORE, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Doug McClure and Peter Cushing are bewildered Victorians in AT THE EARTH’S CORE, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

Of the films on the list, I’d say Land That Time Forgot is easily the most “respectable.” It lacks the constant sexuality of People and it’s nowhere near as stupid as At the Earth’s Core. Now, Earth’s Core had Caroline Munro but she was sort of forgotten in the late eighties and early nineties. A mythic siren of PG-sexiness my generation didn’t grow up with.

And Warlords of the Deep didn’t have much U.S. distribution on home video. I’m not even sure it’s out now; I rented it (on R2) from Nicheflix the moment I could but I had never even come across it on VHS at that point and I was always on the lookout. As for Arabian Adventure, like I said, I sort of forgot about it even existing. I know I saw the seventies Sinbad movies but not much after I was seven or eight.

Goliath Awaits, the only entry on the film not a theatrical release (Goliath was a syndicated prime time miniseries), is there because it is such a perfect postscript to Connor’s other fantasy films.

John Dark produced all of Connor’s fantasy films–not Goliath–and they had a lot of similarities between them. They were period pieces. Land and People take place in the late 1910s, At the Earth’s Core is set in the Victorian era, Warlords is early 20th century (nothing too specific) and Arabian Adventure is, you know, some kind of fantasy era of Arabia. It’s not supposed to be very good; I know I have to see it now but I’m not looking forward to it.

They mixed American actors down on their luck with British actors who were just doing another gig to pay the bills. They launched no careers–unless they helped Sarah Douglas along to Superman II or Ratzenberger to “Cheers”–yet they are incredibly memorable films. Kino Lorber even got Connor to do commentary on their recent Land That Time Forgot blu-ray. It’s not a cult classic, but only because it the eighties weren’t long enough for it to catch on enough before Jurassic Park. It’s a quasi-cult classic.

Thorley Walters, Sarah Douglas, and Patrick Wayne star in THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Thorley Walters, Sarah Douglas, and Patrick Wayne star in THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

And they aren’t good. Well, People That Time Forgot is good. I’d love to hear a commentary on that film to see if Connor was being stylistic or they just didn’t have the money. But the other films aren’t good. Earth’s Core and Warlords are both awful. Back when I got them all (well, I owned Land and People) and watched them one week, my friend Jim was worried I had lost my mind. “What are you doing to yourself?” he said. Later, after I saw Goliath Awaits–I had first heard about it in high school, but had not found the full length version until 2007 or so–I mailed Jim a copy immediately. Such lunacy most be shared.

Over the years, even before the site, I have reexamined the interests of my youth, or even just the films people said were good when I was a youth, and tried to be as objective as possible. Good and enjoyable aren’t the same thing. A well-made movie can be entirely unrewarding (or partially unrewarding). Navigating nostalgia and how it interacts with the viewing experience of a film is simultaneously frustrating and fun. Critical thinking can be fun. Much like talking about these Kevin Connor films.

What’s upsetting about the films, listed chronologically, is how they don’t inform one another. Connor leapfrogged. Okay Land, bad Earth’s Core, good People, bad Warlords, haven’t seen Arabian but heard it’s even worse than the bad, then underwhelming TV mini series Goliath. It’s inconsistent to say the least. It does seem, however, even though there was so much cast and crew crossover, People and Land were their own franchise. Connor and Dark and McClure’s collaboration wasn’t the franchise.

Doug McClure and John McEnery star in THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Doug McClure and John McEnery star in THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

While we were recording “Alan Smithee,” Matt and I would often decide–talking about the bad movie of the episode–the story of its making would probably more interesting than the resulting film itself. We never did any of the Kevin Connor movies for an episode; we probably should have at least done one. Is there some great story behind the scenes of these films? Maybe, but I think not.

But for at least ten years, in the seventies and eighties, many of these films filled children’s minds with imagined lands and some inappropriate thoughts about cave girls. They aren’t insignificant, they shouldn’t be forgotten. I’m just not entirely sure they’re worth seeing. Other than People That Time Forgot. I think I wanted, as Matt and I were discussing what to do with “Alan Smithee” (we ended up closing it down), to try to get an interview with Sarah Douglas about her fantasy and sci-fi work as she’s now awesome on Twitter.

What do these films of Connor’s deserve now? A good book. I wish I had the time and resources to write it. I’ll have to hope to read it instead.

[Stop Button Lists] Film School in a Car, Lesson 01

Audio Commentaries discussed…

  • The Thing • 1998 • John Carpenter and Kurt Russell • Universal Home Video
  • Sabotage • 2008 • Leonard Leff • MGM Home Entertainment
  • A Night at the Opera • 1987 • Leonard Maltin • The Criterion Collection
  • The Passenger • 2006 • Jack Nicholson • Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
  • The Bride of Frankenstein • 1999 • Scott MacQueen • Universal Home Video

I can’t remember the last time I watched an audio commentary. Wait, no, I do remember. I watched the commentary track on Swamp Thing. I can’t remember if I watched both of them, but I definitely watched the Wes Craven one and realized I don’t like Craven’s commentaries (since he had so little to say about the film) and I really don’t like Sean Clark as a moderator. Doesn’t seem like a single person commentary track should have a commentary track.

And I had listened to Jim Wynorski’s Return of Swamp Thing commentary. But I’m not sure if I listened to anything in between. I used to listen to commentary tracks all the time, then I stopped. I can’t remember if it had to do with the quality of commentary tracks nose-diving as every DVD added one or if I just focused more on watching more movies. Initially, it was probably the former, then gave way to the latter.

When I started recording commentary tracks for “Stop Button Favorites,” one might think I would have gone back and listened to commentary tracks I loved to try to capture it. Nope. I did not start listening to commentary tracks again until last week, after recording four commentary tracks, after reading someone on Twitter talking about how they were great for commutes. And, between a ninety minute commute (round trip) every day and multiple runs a week, I’m running out of podcasts.

A little context on my audio commentary fixation–I collected them. I bought old laserdiscs, turned the commentary tracks into VCDs, sold the laserdiscs off on eBay. For years. In addition to the commentary tracks I have on blu-rays and DVDs and HD-DVDs, I have a box of VCDs with nothing but commentaries. So there are a lot of listening choices.

A scene from THE THING, directed by John Carpenter for Universal Pictures.
A scene from THE THING, directed by John Carpenter for Universal Pictures.

But I had just gotten The Thing on HD-DVD (for a second time; at least this time it was only fifty cents) and it has the wonderful John Carpenter and Kurt Russell commentary track from the Universal Signature Collection LaserDisc. In the late nineties, before DVD, we LaserDisc aficionados used to get to dub our discs onto VHS for friends. Twice (flipping the disc at least once, usually more) because people wanted the commentary tracks. John Carpenter commentary tracks are amazing. I fell off after LaserDisc, never getting around to Starman. I’ll have get to that one.

By 2007 or so, I’d stopped listening to commentaries (save those Swamp Thing ones); response to them frustrated me. It didn’t seem like people were listening to better understand a film (or film in general), they were listening to them to “understand” why they should like a film. There was a discussion on a forum about how Miami Vice’s commentary made people like the film. I hated that idea. Why bother critically thinking about a film if you aren’t going to critically think about its commentary track.

So I knew I wanted to only wanted to listen to films I’d already seen, already had a solid thought about. Obviously, watching a film alongside a commentary is rather helpful, but I don’t have time for that dedication. Not for everything.

And it hasn’t been much of a problem. While I remember a lot of The Thing, I saw Sabotage months ago and could still follow Leonard Leff’s fine. I’ve never been particularly well-read on Hitchcock’s filmography (even when I was seeing a lot of Hitchcock), so hearing about the “thriller sextet” was cool. The discussion of the editing was similarly awesome.

Harpo Marx, Allan Jones, Chico Marx, and Groucho Marx star in A NIGHT AT THE OPERA, directed by Sam Wood for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Harpo Marx, Allan Jones, Chico Marx, and Groucho Marx star in A NIGHT AT THE OPERA, directed by Sam Wood for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Leonard Maltin’s commentary for A Night at the Opera, on the 1987 Criterion Collection LaserDisc, was either the first or second commentary track I ever heard. My dad got a LaserDisc player either in ’88 or ’89 and we had to go to the dreaded Blockbuster to rent LaserDiscs. Night at the Opera was one of the first two rentals. I’ve never forgotten Maltin’s anecdote about Harpo going back to get harp lessons as an adult and discovering he’d learned it all wrong as a kid so he just stuck with what already worked. I just didn’t remember it was Maltin doing the commentary. That Night at the Opera commentary track, first heard when I was ten or eleven, contributed a great deal to my holistic interest in cinema. It was particularly interesting to hear now, having just watched Opera and A Day at the Races, as Maltin discusses the former’s superiority.

But, given there are only so many audio commentary tracks out there of films I’ve seen, won’t I run out if I only listen to the ones for films I love. I recently watched The Passenger, after many years of it sitting in my collection unwatched (from back when there was only a R2 release). Since then, there’s been a special edition, complete with star Jack Nicholson doing a commentary track (about thirty years after the film’s release). And that Nicholson commentary track is rather interesting. And full of humility, which one doesn’t really think about Nicholson. He’s a natural storyteller and there’s something about hearing him get lost in the film viewing (which often happens to me during my own commentary track recordings). It didn’t change my opinion of The Passenger, but it does make me even more irate at that Wes Craven Swamp Thing commentary.

Maria Schneider and Jack Nicholson star in THE PASSENGER, directed by Michelangelo Antonioni for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
Maria Schneider and Jack Nicholson star in THE PASSENGER, directed by Michelangelo Antonioni for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Still, I had some interest in The Passenger; it’s Antonioni, after all. And Nicholson doing an audio commentary. Bride of Frankenstein, however, I went into trying almost hostilely. I liked the film as a kid, but never as an adult. Scott MacQueen’s audio commentary–which declares Bride the perfect horror film–is shockingly awful. MacQueen makes director James Whale sound like a disagreeable drama queen (quite literally), more concerned with manipulating the censors than making a good movie. Maybe it’s just MacQueen’s voice, but his remarks sound stilted and way too prepared. There’s no enthusiasm, no distraction. During the long silences, it doesn’t sound like MacQueen’s watching the movie, just waiting it out before continuing reading his notes.

Obviously, I’m not the target audience for a Bride of Frankenstein commentary track (I’d forgotten what a low rating I gave the film and had to reread my post) but still… if it is the “perfect horror film” (which is ludicrous; this commentary track was recorded after 1974–i.e. Texas Chainsaw Massacre, a film I can’t even watch, was extant), shouldn’t MacQueen be excited about it? Maltin and Leff, the other film historians, couldn’t keep their enthusiasm contained. When it comes to Bride, I sometimes wonder if its perceived greatness hasn’t become its greatness. So what else to talk about except details to reinforce and validate that perception.

The best part of the Bride commentary is when MacQueen gets contradictory. Towards the end, his conclusions in tangents often don’t work with his thesis; he’s too wrapped up in filmmaking trivia.

And it’s xenophobic. And MacQueen makes awful puns.

Ernest Thesiger and Colin Clive star in THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, directed by James Whale for Universal Pictures.
Ernest Thesiger and Colin Clive star in THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, directed by James Whale for Universal Pictures.

But did I learn anything from it? Sure. A purely positive “scholarly” commentary is hideously useless. Then again, Bride is a Universal Home Video release, not a Criterion. MacQueen got his check for being positive, which is an interesting concept. Of course, Leff was far better on Sabotage, but Universal seems fairly desperate to sell their catalog. To be fair, their restorations are often gorgeous. But their approach to commentaries is questionable.

Much as I would like to continue, I do think there needs to be an upper limit to these Lists posts and we’re getting close to it.

Next time I do a “Film School in a Car” post, I know for sure they’ll be some John McTiernan. Not sure what else yet. If you have any commentary suggestions, please do let me know.

[Stop Button Lists] Robert Downey Jr., Nine Movies of the Megastar

Robert Downey Jr., filmography, 2008-13

I have been a Robert Downey Jr. fan since Soapdish. Looking to escape sounds of the Bulls playing the Los Angeles Lakers, my dad and I went to see Soapdish in the theater. I’d seen Downey in Weird Science and maybe Johnny Be Good, had wanted to go see Air America (but didn’t–and still haven’t seen it) and definitely knew him from the Pick-Up Artist. I watched a lot of 20th Century Fox movies and CBS/FOX Video loved playing the Pick-Up Artist preview on tapes.

After Chaplin, I waited for Downey’s movies. Heart and Souls, Short Cuts; I even saw Only You, something I’ve never forgiven myself for doing. After Only You, I fell off until One Night Stand. I’ve seen some of the interim movies since, including Home for the Holidays and Restoration. I saw Gingerbread Man, was mad at Downey’s terrible performance in U.S. Marshals, liked him in In Dreams and Wonder Boys. Then fell off until Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, even though I’ve meant to see Singing Detective.

So I’ve been a conscious Robert Downey Jr. fan since I was twelve years old. And I was thrilled when he signed on to do Iron Man. He’d just been awesome in Zodiac. It’s a shame he hasn’t stopped playing the Iron Man part, which actually seems based on his characterization of “The Pick-Up Artist” Jack Jerricho.

Gwyneth Paltrow and Robert Downey Jr. star in IRON MAN, directed by Jon Favreau for Paramount Pictures.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have the face of a Botticelli and the body of a Dégas?” Gwyneth Paltrow and Robert Downey Jr. star in IRON MAN, directed by Jon Favreau for Paramount Pictures.

For his part, Downey has suggested he doesn’t want to do a film unless he gets paid a lot of money. He also doesn’t like poor people. He’s also still a great actor, even if people are starting to find Tony Stark a little much.

Beginning in 2008, with Iron Man and Tropic Thunder, Downey has entered the least artistically successful phase of his career. Maybe ever. I haven’t seen his eighties stuff in fifteen years plus. The two films are the division point. Iron Man or Tropic Thunder. The former plays on Downey’s ability to be likable regardless of the situation (I won’t get into the drugs but until this point in his career, they were extremely important to his career) and the latter showcases his ability to turn in a fantastic, impossible performance.

Iron Man made more than three times as much money as Tropic Thunder.

Now a potential box office draw as the dramatic equivalent of Johnny Depp (throw “serious” actor Downey in a franchise, it crosses over between kids and more discerning ticket buyers), Downey tested his popularity. Sherlock Holmes was a new franchise where Jude Law had been in bigger movies than the top-billed Downey. The Soloist was Downey trying for an Oscar in a drama. Holmes did well, Soloist did not.

Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifianakis star in DUE DATE, directed by Todd Phillips for Warner Bros.
You can tell by the suit. Robert Downey Jr. plays straight man to Zach Galifianakis in DUE DATE, directed by Todd Phillips for Warner Bros.

So Downey stopped trying Hollywood dramas. He went with a comedy (Due Date), it flopped, he corrected the course of his career. Did he hire Tom Cruise’s original manager or something?

Thanks to Downey, Disney has made a lot of money with the Marvel movies. Marvel has made a bunch of money. Warner Bros. could be happier, but Downey’s one of the biggest movie stars in the world; Sherlock Holmes 3 is inevitable.

What’s frustrating is his acting ability. It hasn’t gone anywhere. Sure, the Marvel movies don’t ask him to stretch, but he sold the silliness of the element discovery in Iron Man 2 and he and Gwyneth Paltrow’s chemistry in that series gives it a solid foundation the filmmakers seem entirely unconcerned with. It isn’t necessary for the box office, but Downey can’t help being really good.

Even in The Avengers, Downey was the one who sold the reality of the film (not just its contents, but its very existence) to the audience.

A scene from THE AVENGERS, directed by Joss Whedon for Walt Disney Pictures.
Tin can or not, Robert Downey Jr. cashed a check bigger than the rest of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes combined in THE AVENGERS, directed by Joss Whedon for Walt Disney Pictures.

When I first thought of this topic–Downey’s “road to super-star” films, I did the math to make sure I wouldn’t have to talk about The Judge. I also asked some friends what they thought about doing a post on this topic. I felt like I should make a list of Downey’s best films, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of the nineties films. Though you should see every film listed in the first two paragraphs as soon as possible.

For lack of a better term, Downey’s the one who creates Marvel’s reality distortion field. His presence makes it seem like it should be not just good, but worthwhile.

Look at Iron Man, Downey’s got issues with father figure Jeff Bridges failing him. Or Iron Man 2, Downey’s got issues with his father’s nemesis, played by Mickey Rourke (can you imagine the eighties Hollywood stories they could’ve shared?), while one of his same-aged peers is after him. Plus, it’s Sam Rockwell as that guy. Oh, and he’s got a brewing romance with his assistant, who sort of runs his life and company. The Iron Man movies always have a strong enough dramatic cast to make a synopsis–an artfully written one–sound like a great mainstream drama. They just happen to be superhero movies. And those dramatic plots usually fail miserably amid comic book nonsense. But the movies are still good.

Robert Downey Jr. stars in IRON MAN 3, directed by Shane Black for Walt Disney Pictures.
“You’ve been in my life so long, I can’t remember anything else.” Wait, wrong movie. Robert Downey Jr. sits with his box office golden boy in IRON MAN 3, directed by Shane Black for Walt Disney Pictures.

Why? Because Downey.

The Sherlock Holmes movies are a little different, of course, because Downey’s not playing the same kind of jerk. He’s playing a more lovable jerk; maybe the third one is still potential just because Downey’s rocking the jerk persona in public now too.

No matter how many movies Downey makes for Marvel, no matter how much money he makes for them, he’s never going to be as good as he was in Chaplin in any of them. He’s not even going to be as good as he was in Heart and Souls. Hopefully he’ll always be better than he was in U.S. Marshals, because I’m probably going to see all of those movies eventually.

Because I really do want to see a rematch between Julian and Rip; I just know, with Downey’s range these days, it’s not worth the price of a movie ticket.