SOPHIE'S CHOICE (1982)

Ira says

There are 2 things I am absolutely sure of. Hollywood can never make enough films about the Holocaust. (I don’t say this for any biased sentiment or reason, I just find that period in human history extremely complex and extremely important to the history of civilization). And Meryl Streep is the finest working actor in Hollywood. What a performance. Sophie’s Choice is a film my parents have told me about since as far back as I can remember and watching it now, I see why. This isn’t just a holocaust movie, it isn’t just a film about the atrocities of a group of people against another group, about a survivor of pain or suffering, the aftermath of war and the ups and downs of a cross cultural love story, it is more astoundingly and powerfully a film about 3 characters, their relationships and the endless mysteries, complexities, ugliness and depth of human nature.

Pakula, (Klute, All the Presidents Men, The Pelican Brief), a director who excels in the conspiracy thriller tradition as much as he does in the exploration of the human psyche brings us a moving, stirring, deeply affecting drama with three stand out performances from Streep, Klein and MacNicol.

Streep’s first two scenes in the film; the violent, memorable argument ending with her collapsed on the staircase outside her apartment and her first real speaking scene at the doorway of her Stingo’s flat, shot in a beautifully lit, soft focus mid shot, both give you goose-bumps. In the first we barely see her, as she sits in the background of a long shot, dressed in white with half bare legs, hiding her face and sobbing, she mutters apologies and that astonishingly perfected Polish accent hits you like a bolt of thespian-prowess-lightning. The next time, transformed, a beautiful ethereal creature, creamy white skin, tray in hand, piercing eyes she’s sweetly offering her neighbor some dinner. In two short scenes, the fine actress reveals layers of her character a lesser performer may have never been able to do. Sophie’s inherent flair for drama, her warmth, gentleness, pain, fragility, deep emotional disturbance and underlying strength come through with conviction in the opening image and that single interaction with MacNicol. And as she leaves the food and turns to climb the stairs back up to her apartment , her final words linger with a haunting subtext, “Stingo, it has a friendly, happy sound. I like it.”

Friendly and happy. As much as the film looks so on the surface, Sophie’s Choice is almost constantly full of dark mystery and is often unfriendly and unhappy. I loved the way Pakula marks the beginning of the 3 characters’ friendship, starting with a flamboyant but somewhat unnaturally swift letter of invitation from Sophie and Nathan to their new found southern ‘baby’ , the to be ‘Bard of Brooklyn’ when he first arrives in New York to the doorstep of their bright pink building. To that triumphant, lyrical, happy montage sequence at the fun fair in Coney islands where everything looks exciting, normal, joyous on the surface, but things are as unaligned, as much in disarray as those elongated, weird looking figures are of the actors reflecting off the distorting mirrors. Those mirrors were a huge symbolic image early on in the film for me and even while the three grow to be the ‘best of friends’, you always know this is the point of view of STINGO speaking, the same idealistic, innocent, impressionable, lovable, understanding STINGO who comes to a ‘strange place like Brooklyn’ to embark on a ‘voyage of discovery’ and stumbles into much murkier territory.

Pakula’s screenplay, rich, dense, and intelligent is masterful in how it withholds information and replaces it with subtext , hinting at deeper meanings throughout. I loved the use of the voiceover as the young, naïve writers narration glossses everything over with a lyrical, eloquent quality, that almost feels unreal. As the plot moves between the present day friendship, the love, drama and everyday normalcy of this odd triangle of people to flashbacks of the holocaust, the concentration camps and the horror at Auschwitz, Pakula really manages to take us between different spaces and worlds.

I liked how he uses warm textures, bright colours, lively music and a quicker pace for the former, and a minimalist, grey landscape for the latter, making these sections stark, stripped of colour, crisper of dialogue, and harsher in tone and mood. And yet the film always feels a bit romanticized in the present. It’s not a sentimental, mushy, annoying sort of romanticism, because it’s an escape from something so horrendous. The film keeps asking you to come back to the present, to forget, to bury, to cover up, to LIE about that past. Lies. Redemption. Music. Poetry. Literature. Champagne on the Hudson. It’s all so satiating and wonderful. And it all comes bundled in the guise of love. An idea that Pakula and his actors take and wrench of all its juiciness and lay bare.

Klein is fantastic as NATHAN, at once giddy, generous, funny, glamorous, a great friend and fervent lover and yet aggressive, violent, and wholly unstable. Sophie is his redemption, his rescued, fragile little child whom he welcomes with Emily Dickenson and open arms. There is a slow lingering mood in the flashback scene where their courtship begins to turn into something more meaningful. He has just saved her life and has been nursing her tenderly. The point of view has disappeared from Stingo to the camera and Pakula stays on them for a long time with a stationery camera, in a long shot and a long take as they move from familiarity to comfort lying on a bed. And even when the camera begins to zoom in ever so slightly, and NATHAN begins to read aloud to her, music begins to drown the image out, underlining what will clearly be a doomed affair. Alluding also to a later final image of them similarly in a bed with their destiny written out plainly.

While Nathan is an intriguing character and the force of insatiable energy in the film, it is Sophie who to me is the richer and more captivating. Streep is just brilliant as she transforms from a swan like, flowy beauty to a blood drained, pale weakling, to a hardened camp survivor to a wiser, but passionate older woman. As volatile, tempestuous, and clearly passionate the relationship she has with Klein gets, not for a second do the two actors ever stop making you believe that this is a couple that is deeply, madly in love, that they are in every sense of the word ‘crazy’ about one another. Theirs is a heartfelt romance, and a real love as much as it is a desperate attempt to cling to an illusion of perfect bliss. Its almost as if Pakula lingers with them in moments of silence after a heated argument, or when they first meet, or as they lie together at the end of the film to constantly remind us of that and of the fact that Stingo is always watching. It’s through his eyes that the camera catches them escaping into their own very private world together at different moments in the film. But Stingo has an illusion too. And one that will shatter in the most potent and the most unforgettable of ways. It first begins to do so when Sophie admits she lied about her father, a ‘Jew hater’. Streep’s face recounting that section of her story to Stingo about an hour into the film is one of the most memorable images for me from any film I’ve ever seen and one of the few close-ups Pakula uses so sparingly in the film. But it is the casual, unexpected, almost expressionless revelation of that ‘choice’ towards the final curtain call of the film that really hits you. It may somehow uncomfortably justify the end, or explain it, or make it easier to understand. But one things for sure, it, along with Streep’s performance in the film, will never leave you.

Neha says

SOPHIE’S CHOICE is a film that lingers with you for a long while after its end credits roll. The simplicity and stillness with which Alan J. Pakula directs his actors and guides his narrative, pealing off the layers of a very complex human story, surprising us with character insights and revelations not to shock or provide a dramatic twist to the tale but to enlighten had me riveted each step of the way. The characters are not just rich and multi-dimensional but each one of them-Sophie, Nathan and Stingo come with such a dynamic thrust of duality and yet there is an honesty about them that makes it hard to judge, condone or support their deeds or acts of compulsion. One must simply marvel at how William Styron’s character driven novel has found such a powerful voice on film as well.

Early on in the film when aspiring writer Stingo played by Mr. MacNicol shifts into a Brooklyn boarding house and meets Sophie played by Meryl Streep, we see Sophie surreptitiously covering the German concentration camp engraving on her arm-little do we know what a brutal story we are in for that does equal justice to all those wonderful moments of joie de vivre that cement the delicate and nurturing friendship between Sophie, Stingo and her “glamorous” boyfriend Nathan played by Kevin Kline and to all those hard hitting sequences in the film that account for Sophie’s devastating, life altering times at a concentration camp where a certain “choice” gave her invisible but defining scars, clouding her life in secrecy that holds tremendous intrigue for Stingo just like it does for us.

But none of it feels invasive or in your face or even like a post world war 2 commentary. Pakula uses extreme close-ups to sublime effect, steps back and allows Sophie’s story to find its own voice as her long drawn out conversations with Stingo, with its various tones of truth and deception truly transport us back in time and into her tormented psyche. Seamless flashbacks that particularly take on gritty black and white hues for the concentration camp scenes are dramatically captured in long shots and still make you feel so claustrophobic.

Meryl Streep has been photographed beautifully. Very rarely is one so bewitched by such delicate beauty that has a penetrating resilience and voluptuousness to go with it; by a face that in extreme close-up shows both a silent pain and a more apparent passion for life. Streep doesn’t just become Sophie, she embodies her-from her graceful and sensual body language to her stilted Polish accent to her affecting performance-Streep’s choice to do Sophie’s Choice was probably an ambitious one even for an actress of her calibre at the time and guess what? Nor could the Academy resist acknowledging her efforts for this one.

As for her supporting heroes, Kevin Kline convincingly portrays his passion and lust for Sophie as her lover and equally rattling is his ire so much so that each time he enters a scene one simply can’t measure his state of mind and that keeps us instinctively on our toes. As for Dr. MacNicol, he plays Stingo who’s more of a silent observer and listener. For the most part there is such an ambiguity around his attraction for his neighbors. Is he seduced by Sophie’s beauty or is the writer in him intrigued by her story? There is also a homo-erotic bent to his affections for Nathan. But be that as it may Dr. MacNicol plays each shade with compassion and a measured intensity.

Dramatic, suspenseful and disturbing- Sophie’s Choice is a compelling human tragedy that soars with its power pact performances and keen direction. If you want to see Meryl Streep in her finest hour –Sophie’s Choice must be your top choice.

GOODFELLAS (1990)

Neha says

“As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster” - so says Henry Hill, our anti hero played with ferocious commitment by the ever intense Ray Liotta who in my books plays a character of a lifetime. It helps that it’s based on a true story and Henry Hill is the notorious “Wiseguy” gangster whose life and times have been well documented by crime reporter Nick Pileggi in a novel before he collaborated with Scorsese to pen the film version.

Following the life of Henry Hill we flash back into his early days as a delivery boy for the mob but then he meets and befriends Jimmy played with understated flair by Robert De Niro and as is revealed through Hill’s always penetrating voice-over-Jimmy’s the kind of guy who “roots for the bad guy in the movies.” (And has one of the best character introduction sequences we’ve seen) But of course he’d back the likes of psychopath Tommy played by Joe Pesci whose another startling revelation of the film-He’s as brutal as he is funny (but don’t ever make the mistake of calling him that unless you genuinely believe he’s funny and not in the clown sort of way.)

The story of these three friends follows an intoxicating yet tragic curve-as they are first united by ambition, greed, drugs, rock n’roll, violence and crime and just as Hill gets seduced by the power, glamour and the gamble of the mafia world so do we and so does his wife Karen played with pinching honesty by Lorraine Bracco. It’s interesting how Scorsese adds her voice-over to the film, making her almost an outside eye to the world she’s now a part of. Before we know it the high’s and the illusions come shattering down as Scorsese begins to deconstruct it, starts to question the moral compass even within the mafia world and simply grips us with the dark reality of betrayal, distrust, greed, survival and self-serving agenda’s of friendships and alliances made in the Italian/American mafia reign of the sixties/seventies.

In this character driven drama- it’s about the big story-the rise and fall of Mafia life but it’s really about the small, subtle details as well. No matter how life threatening the situation, these guys still have time for food-the stirring of the tomato sauce for the evening pasta dinner is right up there in their list of priorities and the meticulous preparation of food becomes an equally dynamic aspect of the gang’s life in prison as well. Play of voiceovers and freeze frames aside, there’s also one long uncut scene that follows Henry and Karen through the back doors of a club Copacabana, through the corridors and kitchen to the main room where the waiter guides them to their seat and Henry manages to even talk to a colleague before he takes his place. Karen asks him about why he gave the guy some money before the focus shifts to the stand up routine by Henry Youngman and that’s when Scorsese finally decides to say “Cut”. It’s exciting, hypnotic and kinetic which pretty much sums up the tone and overall experience of Goodfellas.

While there are umpteen quotable one-liners (“What am I, a schmuck on wheels?” “What do you do for a living? I’m in construction.”) and some light hearted moments as well, there’s always a dark sense of foreboding looming in the background. While the “awe” in Hill’s voice-over’s sucks you into the world of the glamorous underbelly, there’s always an unwavering realism and the “true story” factor that makes things feel more plausible and closer to home. Think of a Godfather in the suburban streets of New York.! Scorsese’s astute eye, the attention to detail, the original story, the power packed performances and a truly memorable ensemble of characters makes this no ordinary gangster flick-in fact it’s extraordinary in the way in which it influences, surprises, engages, entertains, inverts the grammar of film making and holds your attention for it’s two hours and thirty minutes of crime, thrills and drama..

Ira says

Goodfellas. Wiseguys. Goodfellas. Glo-rrious. Goodfellas. Gangsters. Criminals. Thieves. Animali. Italian. Mafia. Mafia. Mafia. Words, circle around in my head, punching out at me. Punching with the unmistakable, untouchable machismo and constant droning intensity of Ray Liotta’s voice. Words that hit me quite like the film GOOD FELLAS does with its loaded title, its loaded guns, loaded pockets, loaded performances and loaded emotion.

Watching it for the second time in years, it happened all over again. Like a punch, right in my stomach. Whooosh. Boom, bang. I feel like Joe Pesci, the funny guy, the frightening guy, the guy telling his Italian brothers, all those Pete’s and Paul’s about how he was bashed up by a cop. The guy who uses an expletive in every sentence he speaks and the guy who won best supporting actor at the Oscars for his portrayal of the tiny, and most violent gangster of them all, TOMMY.
EScorsese’s preoccupation, obsession rather with themes of Italian identity, faith in god, Catholicism, masculinity & violence seethe beneath every frame of GOODFELLAS, and I say seethe, because the man is a master of tension. And tension, bubbling, boiling and constant is what he creates in this one from start to finish. Sure, Goodfellas is the shocking saga and true story of the biggest heist in American history, but it’s also a great film taking us into the fabric of the lives of the men who masterminded it. Not just Maurie the wig maker, but ALL of them. The system, the organization, the famiglia.

As the opening sequence bathed in the red from a cars headlights, cuts to a long sequence of flashbacks, Scorsese bombards us with chapter 1 without wasting any time, and in the first 20 minutes you see young Henry (LIOTTA), choosing and infiltrating his way into a life of crime. There is a celebratory, buoyant energy in the fast pace, the crowded frames, the energetic, steady, strong voiceover and the often drowning, upbeat music in the background. And there is something jolting about how casually Henry recalls, “ I was living in a fantasy”. Because you almost join him for the ride. In fact, what’s worse is that you almost BELIEVE that ride. You almost think you’ve ‘met the world’, you almost re-imagine the human moral code you have learnt, known and lived by. Almost. And therein lies the beauty. As much as he sweeps you in, as firm, strong and omnipresent as the fantastic German cinematographer Balhaus’s camera work is, as gruesome, gritty and un-watchable this one gets in parts, Scorsese takes you into it with an illusion of grandeur, an illusion of what’s ‘ok’, (so that you almost agree that the only 2 rules in life are ‘never tell on your friends’ and ‘always keep your mouth shut’).

Through vibrant music, the searing irony of the title, Liota’s delusion of perfection, Scorsese strips down the high life of crime to shock, shake and scandalize you with its ugliness and shocking immunity. And the deliberate flair with which he sets it up tells you that somewhere, somehow, betrayal, backstabbing, blood is around the next corner, that this is all too good to be true. Each time the fantasy and camaraderie breaks with the sight of a corpse, a hand with a gun, a close-up of cocaine, you are forced to remember, this isn’t the real world. This is a dream. A dirty, nasty, underworld, illegal, dream.

Here’s some frightening food for thought: Godfather. Amongst my favourite films of all time. Sopranos. Amongst my favourite TV shows of all time. Italy, one of my favourite countries in the world. Italian, one of my favourite cuisines. I suck in a deep breath, was I Italian in my last life, do I just like Coppola and Scorsese, or De Niro and Brando, or do I take some vicarious pleasure in watching those who live on the wrong side of the law? ((No, psychology, I don’t particularly want an answer). I know the answers are a combination of some of these and a function of the fact that some of favourite directors and actors have done these films but then I have to question, haven’t we all got some strange thrills by doing something forbidden in our lives? Isn’t that one of those covert human follies nobody ever talks about. Isn’t that slicing through to the very fundamental ideas of morality, redemption, good and evil.

At the movies, where glamour & crime are the greatest playgrounds for high drama, the MAFIA has been a fascinating subject. Here’s a world where people can and do, get away with murder. But it’s also a world that’s real, and unsettling. And that’s exactly what a director like Scorsese would be interested in and what he wants it to be. A montage of Bracco as she enters the famiglia, as she recounts how ‘normal’ it was for everyone to be called the same names, to spend all their time together or the prison episode where prison is about wine, scotch and good food for these dons, who basically own the system reiterates these ideas.

To me, somehow, GOODFELLAS seems Scorsese’s most finished work, his most personal, and his most passionate. From the sharpness of the writing and the scope of the dense screenplay, from his attention to detail in every aspect of filmmaking to the wonderful production values. Notice how the costumes, music, and the settings are not only tinged with careful authenticity over the 3 decades the film spans, but also aesthetically well balanced. From the way he uses fast cuts and long tracking shots, to the way he plays with colours, light and moods, from the way he provides 150 minutes of entertainment and thought provoking cinema to the way he gives it all a very firm, very strong, very masculine and very ITALIAN energy.

And above all, for his superb casting. The MEN make the film. And in this case the one woman too. His casting is excellent all around from the biggest leads to the smallest character parts for both men and women. From heavyweights like De Niro or Liotta to Pesci, Paul Sorvino, Tommy’s mom, Henry’s babysitter to the very memorable LORRAINE BRACCO as KAREN HILL, Henry’s one and only, rock and life partner. Performances bring this story alive with an aggressive realism, a focused intensity and an astounding conviction. You grow to empathize, hate, love, and feel for them all. Despite the yelling, the abuses, the drama and the immorality, the gruesome acts, the sense of the indignation and horror at how the world we know turns upside down and is run by criminals, ultimately you gasp, you squirm, shake your head in disbelief, even crack that occasional smile because whether you like it or not, you find finally, that you care, quite a great deal in fact, about that world and the people who live in it. And that, my friends is good moviemaking.

THE FRENCH CONNECTION (1971)

Ira says

“Nobody’s gonna get hurt! Everybody’s cool”. We all remember that famous car-train, chase sequence don’t we, which even in this day and age of better technology, CGI, faster cars, faster action,and considerably larger amounts of money, has the ability to keep you sucking your breath in with its gripping execution and palpable suspense. Lets not forget that much of that suspense also comes from a gruff, gritty, top of his game Gene Hackman who’s swerving, thumping, surging energy with that car contrasts completely with the steely determination in his fixed, intense eyes (What an actor, yikes). But does anyone remember the shot of Hackman on the street in a quieter moment somewhere just before the chase sequence, quickly walking past a red flag? Its hard to recall, barely registers but its a wonderful touch from director Friedkin, alerting us that the real fun and the real danger is just about to start. The thing I marvel at most in William Friedkin’s FRENCH CONNECTION is the completely absorbing way Friedkin handles his material despite it being a true story. Sure, it was one of the first few drug crime dramas of the 1970’s in Hollywood and became a forerunner to a decade of a New American docu style realism in cinema. Sure, it is historically significant for the way it looks at the underbelly of New York and exposes the extent of a thriving drug trade and, a particular drug bust of the time. But, it was also the first R rated film to be nominated and to win, the Academy Award for Best Picture, and to go on to win in 4 other categories. Even today, when I watch it again, I cant help but pay attention to the fact that this is an extremely well made film, and Friedkin doesn’t forget to tell you a really good story.

With the Taking of Pelhams, Traffics, and dozens of crime/drug/cop/action thrillers that have been around in the past few decades, some may say what’s all the fuss about, that there is hype because its a true story, or that the film is basically a long chase sequence, there is always something so refreshing and satisfying about going back to filmmaking without frills, and about filmmaking that excels in almost every department. Whether its Tidyman’s Golden globe winning, tight screenplay or the brilliant editing which makes not a single moment, scene or shot feel extraneous, or unnecessary, Friedkin controls his storytelling with a focus that is compelling to watch.

After venturing into comedy/musical comedy with Good Times and then Pinter’s A Birthday Party, Friedkin found his feet and firmly established himself as a director of note with this one and even to date it is probably his best film. (He pretty much became a hot favourite with others like Coppola and Bogdanovich at the time because of it in fact!).

Using a lot of handheld camera work, I liked that doesn’t beat around the bush at all and how he creates a sense of intrigue right from that opening sequence where a man going about his normal business, sitting at a cafe, buying bread, checking his mailbox, suddenly gets shot dead. And as he dives into the story, moving swiftly from France to the sights, sounds and not so sweet smells of New York City, the mystery begins and the pieces are as puzzling to us as they are to our leading duo, the very nonplussed, very tough cops POPYE DOYLE & BUDDY RUSSO. The beauty is, by the time you have started to put those pieces together you have been sucked in by the performances and world of the film.

A world that is far from glamorous and often very ordinary. I like how, if you look carefully, Friedkin constantly gives you subtle glimpses into character, moods, motives, and offers you New York city at its most un-glorified, mucky and dirty best. And dirty is what this ones all about. Be it the smoke in a seedy nightclub, or the undergarments of a one-night stand Hackman has that are strewn across his room, nothing is pretty here. Most interestingly, neither are the characters and lives of NY city cops, something the film is always sensitive to as well and which the performances bring wonderful nuances to.

From the excitement of discovering clues and the beginnings of a new case, long hours of waiting, the lack of sleep, the silent trailing, the endless watching, the frustration of hunches turning out wrong, to outbursts of frustration and taking refuge in women or drink, HACKMAN delivers a crackling performance here making POPYE far more that just the wronged, good guy cop stereotype, but breathing a real life into a grey character. Who was the real guy after all? I loved the silently dependant relationship and implicit understanding he shares with his partner RUSSO, a very good contained and intense ROY SCHEIDER. With almost no women apart from some singers in a club and Hackman’s one faceless liaison, this ones male driven cast is superb all round and at a short 104 minutes, THE FRENCH CONNECTION, will always remain one of the most cult crime thrillers Hollywood can boast of.

Neha says

“Based on a true story” - now doesn’t that make you immediately sit up and pay attention? Well it sure peaked my attention as I skimmed through the DVD cover of the 1971 crime thriller THE FRENCH CONNECTION. Now the danger of being too faithful to a “true story” could be that you’re running thin on plot turns that translate engagingly on film- and while most of this story involves an undercover operation with cops keeping tabs or more aptly stalking their suspects what director William Friedkin does remarkably is understand the trap of “inaction” that his story could find itself in and smartly focuses for the large part on creating long, suspenseful, thrilling, cleverly constructed and superbly visualized chase sequences. I don’t remember the last time I saw a film in which 60% of the running time involved a cat and mouse chase across the Big Apple.

The action shuffles back and forth between France and Brooklyn, New York and involves a Narcotic Bureau investigator Detective Jimmy Doyle played masterfully by Gene Hackman who along with his partner Detective Russo (Roy Scheider) follows up on a lead involving a major drug deal that’s about to go down in the city. While Jimmy needs to placate his chief’s anxiety at the number of dead ends he finds himself at, he’s more than driven to reach the bottom of this case when someone tries to kill him. Slowly if you haven’t guessed already there is a French connection to this drug deal as a celebrity French actor Henri Devereaux (Frederic de Pasquale) and a diplomat Alain Charnier (Fernando Rey) seem to be in the fray. Jimmy is consumed by the case leading up to a climatic encounter that’s hard hitting in its starkness and blind passion.

This is one thriller that justifies its setting. In fact you can’t imagine the film being shot anywhere else but New York. The way in which locations, set pieces, by lanes, alley ways, the subway and the entire landscape of New York has been used is truly riveting. Not only does Friedkin capture the bustling beat of the city, but he also uses the city’s landmarks as important plot points in the chase sequences. Bravo to you Sir! The way in which the camera follows the characters- you always feel like even those doing the watching are being watched. There is this looming danger and heightened anticipation to every chase and helping matters is the delicious Hitchcockian use of music.

Watch it for Gene Hackman who’s just the kind of detective Hollywood loves- charismatic, witty, intense, aggressive, intimidating, persistent and passionate. Admire it for its thrilling tempo that never lets up and sit back and be captivated by one of the longest and most dynamic chase sequences you’ve ever seen on celluloid.

PULP FICTION (1994)

Ira says
“Nobody’s gonna get hurt! Everybody’s cool”. Hell, excuse my language here Jules, that first part’s a darn lie. But; ‘everybody’ and everything is cool. PULP FICTION has got to be the coolest movie I have ever seen and remains to date amongst my top twenty favorite films of all time. Why? Well, I know everyone has got answers to that question. And a whole booklet of em. But this is about me and my relationship with a gentleman named Quentin Tarantino, a wonderful, unique, smart director who gave us his best work with this one back in 1994; a film I have seen about 6 times since and never had enough of.

Now, 1994 was the year of some big movies including the heartwarming journey of a man named FORREST GUMP and the moving, liberating story of pair of friends in prison in SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. And then there was one that was, well, somewhat unconventional. A film that came out of nowhere and whacked you right in the eyeballs with a startlingly new, absolutely irresistible kind of storytelling. Tarantino took the by-the-book rules of filmmaking and genre conventions as we’d known them, turned them inside out and sometimes upside down to give us ‘pulp’ and ‘fiction’ in cinema like you had never seen it before.

Pulp: ‘lurid subject matter on rough paper’. Taken from the American heritage dictionary, (notice how he gives his material some pop-cultural gravitas right from here), the words on the screen are ironic because its not merely ‘lurid’ and its certainly not ‘rough’. PULP FICTION is a well-made movie in every sense of the term. Refreshing, original, smart, violent, shocking and very, very funny, Tarantino gives us a ‘Royale with Cheese’ here, ladies as gentlemen, as Vince would say. And here are just some of the reasons why.

Lets talk language and dialogue: Blood, action, satire, humour, unforgettable characters, tense drama and low bred criminal behaviour all go hand in hand with some classy writing in a truly inventive, smart screenplay. You want to learn the basics of the legality surrounding marijuana in Amsterdam? Do you want to learn what a TV show pilot is? Do you want to know where some phrases we use today in common parlance, actually came from? Example. One character to another: “I’m gonna go take a piss”. Other character to the first, “that’s a little too much information for me there Vince but, go right ahead.” That catchphrase “little too much information for me”. Damn, it was the coolest thing to say for a while, well at least us teenagers were doing it all the time!

And have you ever really seen a film where criminals are quoting scriptures, or talking about burgers and foot massages like it’s the most normal thing in the world while they are on their way to finish a job that just MAY involve killing, oh, five people? Or a killer pointing a gun at a guy’s head and apologizing to him if something he happened to do in between had broken his concentration? Its not just about the cool dialogues, it’s the language that is so wonderful to listen to in a film about criminals. Going against our expectancies, playing with English and with plenty of repartee Tranatino infuses his story with lots of clever, contemporary wit.

Lets talk structure: Non-linier, episodic, pot boiling with seven separate chapters (the deadly sins, anyone?), each amazingly complete in themselves and perfectly executed. From that hilarious opening prologue which hangs in the air like a simmering question mark that doesn’t go off till the final half hour, to each unit in itself. Mia and Vince at Jack Rabbit Slims: the TWIST sequence (one of the most talked about in the film), the scene in the Chrysler between Vince and Mia full of uncomfortable silences, relationship analysis, and a little battle on the nature of fallacy, romour, truth. The melodious irony of GIRL YOU’LL BE A WOMAN SOON and one of the scariest, realest and funniest overdosing episodes I have ever seen in any film. Soliloquy number 1 in a seedy restaurant introducing Marsellus Wallace and Butch. Soliloquy number 2, a flashback from Butch’s childhood and a recounting of the history of a family heirloom in a mock serious, succinct, and alarmingly precise way. A taxi ride that questions Butch’s motivations and experience of what it ‘feels like to kill a man’ and never forces you with a dumb answer. A motel room where you see the only glimpses of real and true love in the film between Butch & Fabienne (the closest thing you’re getting to romance in this one let me tell you). The deliciously built climax sequence through Butch’s apartment, to a regular corner store backroom, to a shocking, disturbing rape scene and soliloquy number 3 where Butch & Wallace call it quits. (We still cool people? You still on the same page, or chapter at least?).

To finally, THE BONNIE SITUATION where many of these very pieces I’m talking about above, come hurtling back together and make sense in a way that tickles. The funny part is, in the final act, when Tarantino enters for a bit part along with a guy who solves problems (the fantastic HARVEY KIETEL as Wolf), many plot points and threads have been tied already but you just haven’t had the chance to pause and say, ‘what??’ or ‘wow!’ (because you are always between those two words really). On the surface, its only because something major happens about halfway though the film, a character casually dies that you’re really waiting to see how that happened. But if you look carefully, plenty of question marks remain even when that closing epilogue begins because you’re winding back all around to the very beginning, when you began to meet this world of unforgettable people.

So, lets talk character: As problem solver, WINSTON WOLF says, a person can ‘be a character’ but may not ‘have character’ . This one has characters that are both things simultaneously. It cannot be said enough that performances drive PULP FICTION into a whole new arena of have-to-be-owned movies. This is the film that gave TARVOLTA his groove back, got SAMUEL L JACKSON his most talked about role to date, made UMA THURMAN the number 1, Goth like, sexy kitten of the 90’s, found Bruce Willis a role he could sink every morsel into, gave Hollywood MARIA DE MEDEIROS (Fabienne) and VING RHAMES (Marsellus Wallace) and gave HARVEY KIETEL & CHRIS WALKEN the chance to prove just why they are veterans of their craft.

And lets then, finally talk craft, style, genre; lets talk Tarantino. PULP FICTION set the bar for what we today know as a postmodern crime drama. Like a pastiche, Tarantino blends and subverts genres like thriller, black comedy, noir, drama and action, and makes references to several other films and styles within these genres and to popular culture as well (note the Marylyn Waitresses and a host of others). He creates moods and tones that are comical, reflective, violent, brooding, mock satirical and often mundane, giving the film attitude, texture and a lot of flavor. He uses long takes where the camera follows a character from behind, watching, tailing, as well as quick cuts, hand held movements, clean frames, and graphic colours in the art direction and production design. And he punctuates and controls his storytelling not just through words but also through silences, bursts of sudden violence, and music. Not a moment feels wasted, things happen quickly and the film moves fast even at 2 and a half hours, leaving you vaguely hungry for more. Watch it, watch it again, and watch it all over again. You marvel at the ingenuity and mastery each time because this is a that film never underestimates its audience or their intelligence. It knows its cool, it doesn’t try to be. What can I say, PULP FICTION, I love you too honey bunny.

Neha says

So much has been said about this masterpiece that I’m less inclined to quantify it and would like to simply tell my fellow blogger’s that if you love cinema and the creative process of it all-then PULP FICTION a landmark exercise of 1994 even today has the power to shock, satisfy and seduce movie lovers with its sheer attitude, style and ingenuity. Hell not only did it resurrect the flagging careers of John Travolta and Bruce Willis, even a certain Mr. Tarantino is trying to eclipse the Pulp Fiction hangover.

W ith Pulp Fiction Hollywood gave birth to a new genre and for now let’s just call it “THE TARANTINO FORMULA.” Bloody violence, gun power, a stylish criminal underbelly, black comedy, pulsating, heavy metal music, a complex, multi-layered, non-linear screenplay divided into chapter format with multiple characters converging at some point, an uber-cool surprising climactic twist and memorable bad boys that are as audacious as they can be compassionate. These are the rough bullets of the Tarantino formula. But it can’t be replicated. Many have tried and failed miserably. Even Tarantino’s recent Inglourious Basterds revisits this formula and while it’s a defiant and rock solid piece of work it still doesn’t match up to the Pulp Fiction tour de force. It’s just hard to match the confidence and the rebellious spirit of Pulp Fiction’s writing, direction and performance art.

Every character is well defined-be it big or small. Uma Thurman as Mia, the wife of Mafioso Marselles (Ving Rhames) in just a few scenes redefines the term “seductress.” John Travolta gives one of his more mature and understated performances as Vincent Vega who works for Marselles and in his attempt to make big daddy happy he takes Mia out and hilariously struggles with keeping his attraction for her under wraps. Now the most delicious character of this ensemble cast is Samuel Jackson playing Jules Winnfield, whose Travolta’s partner in crime and through the course of the film we see him struggling with his conscience. We see two sides of that magnetic struggle-his compassion and faith in God verses his instinctive and intimidating authority at the job.

Every other dialogue is a quote unquote- loaded with thought and weight and laced with wit. 50% profane and 50 % poetic in tone- it takes one heck of a confident actor to pull it off. In this case 11 confident and fully immersed ones who commendably make it their comfort zone.

But for me it’s really an “experience” to see how the TARANTINO FORMULA comes together and it’s mainly got to go with how Tarantino constructs his long drawn out, leisurely paced scenes. Take the second scene in the film for example- Here’s where we are introduced to Travolta and Jackson who are on their way to do a job (that basically entails getting rid of some young boys who cheated and stole a mysterious black briefcase from their boss). It starts of with them talking about the most random stuff- What the Big Mac is called in Europe, the French metric system and then it eases its way into talking about how Marselles threw a colleague out of the window because this buddy gave the Boss’s wife a “foot massage.” Now the sexual decorum of a foot massage becomes one of the funniest points of debate between the two and all of this while they are heading to kill a few guys. The scene changes its beat when Jackson says to Travolta “Time to get into character” and soon after what we witness is theatrics at its superlative best when Jackson quotes from the bible in a dramatic baritone and takes care of business. One almost felt he was like a priest reading someone’s last rites in a Shakespearean tragedy but Tarantino masterfully uses dramatic flair to give us an insight into Jackson’s bible-reading, god-fearing, miracle-believing ways. From here on it’s really about Travolta and Jackson getting that stolen black briefcase to their boss, dealing with a tizzy of twists and turns and other characters along the way.

One could deconstruct every other scene in the movie and here’s what you’d find- Tarantino trusts his audience and their intellect; there is a certain awe-inspiring confidence and rebelliousness to formula and conventional archetypes; there is an intuitive style and boldness in treatment and a clever if not complex spin to a crime story. Pulp Fiction will remain a radical effort and for a long time be relevant to world cinema but most importantly it’s a TARANTINO signature effort that’s one bloody entertaining and engaging ride.

THE LAST PICTURE SHOW (1971)

Neha says
The Last Picture Show leaches the hope and life slowly and painfully out of its unhappy and restless characters’ just as its black and white artistic cinematography paints a bleak, colorless portrait of a small town, Anarene, Texas of 1951. Made in the 70’s but as an ode to the time that it’s been set in, the black and white visual experience not only enriches the movie but compounds the emotional, thematic, intellectual and nostalgic gravity of its plot and in terms of a movie experience there’s Bogdanovich’s supreme command over his narrative that makes his story leap out of the screen with its sense of realism, deceptively giving you the illusion of it’s characters drifting through time but perceptively the character stories and the varied sub-plots are all moving, scene by scene towards a moment of truth.

Director Peter Bogdanovich’s narrative takes a piercing look at a transitional period of American life and culture. Think about the 50’s when war and economic distress along with the advent of television isolated people, took them away from community living and boxed them into claustrophobic shells of loneliness and despair! And that’s about the time when a little dilapidated theatre, a symbol of bringing people together witnessed change, not of the most valued kind, when it’s forced to shut down and with the last picture show that marks the last happy memory witnessed by this town with two good friends bonding over a movie, what then takes over is an acceptance of life long frustrations and disillusionment in its absolute form. Not an uplifting time at the movies that’s for sure but in it’s tragedy and it’s thematically rich, finely drawn and studied characterizations, the film is an evocative and deeply unsettling journey.

At its centre is Sonny played with a gut wrenching honesty and humility by Timothy Bottoms who observes life through his relationships with the older and wiser; through the mid-life angst of his football coach’s wife Ruth Popper played with a pitch perfect restraint by Cloris Leachman; through the words and memories of Sam, the Lion, played with an arresting intensity by Ben Johnson. Sam owns the town’s only hot-spots-the pool parlor, the theatre, the café bistro and is like a father figure to Sonny. In a wonderful scene with Sam and Sonny out fishing by the tank, Sam echoes the film’s underlying philosophy “You wouldn’t believe how this land has changed.” And when the camera pans horizontally across a flat and empty Texas landscape with Sam recounting his youth, lost love and free spirit, it strangely mirrors Sonny’s life as a high school teenager who’s adventurous enough to run off with his college crush to get married. But coming back to that powerful scene at the lake, it ends with a heartfelt cry when Sam says, “Being a decrepit old bag of bones, that’s what’s ridiculous.” And the irony is Sonny’s life is going the same direction with generation after generation experiencing the same rite of passage, the same disillusionment and the same acceptance of it in spite of how things change around them

And then there’s Billy (Sam Bottoms) who’s mentally challenged but the epitome of innocence who sweeps the streets relentlessly, symbolically trying to hold on the last remaining threads of a communal past. He’s Sonny’s last vestige of hope and their relationship endears you with its gentleness and bashfulness but with Billy’s eventual fate comes a coming of age moment for Sonny as well where all illusions are shattered and reality hits home. The film also explores the progressive, uncomfortable but flagrant sexual awakening of its society seen through the likes of a young and manipulative Jacy Farrow played with an icy hauteur by Cybil Sheppard, adding yet another revealing dimension to the story.

This is in many ways a director’s film and Peter Bogdanovich’s story telling echoes his love and understanding of cinema, tradition and change. With a poetic and multi layered screenplay, clever use of country music and aesthetic camera work that goes a long way in creating a mood and tone for the film, penetrating, Oscar winning performances, THE LAST PICTURE SHOW is a deceptively simple and passionately provocative piece of art.

Ira says

The Last Picture Show opens quietly with a wide shot of a dusty Texas road and a young boy listening to country western music, on the radio of a beat up old heap of a car that he’s finding hard to start. We see him in black and white, the colour palette for the entire film, a choice unheard of in HOLLYWOOD since the 60’s and one that, 31-year-old director Bogdanovich made very consciously for the film, made in 1971. The young boy is silently joined by another; they smile at each other, the first swings the other’s cap the wrong way around on his head, a gesture of complete understanding that is repeated at least half a dozen times in the film, as they share a very secret, special, obviously familiar greeting of acknowledgement, warmth and acceptance. (Some of the most powerful parts of this one are in fact the silences)

Whirring around on unnaturally desolated roads, blaring the cheerful music, you vaguely start to sense what the film suggests so acutely throughout, and it’s really only at the end when you can fully make sense of that opening scene. That short car ride is marked by something palpable, alive, hopeful, and yet stifled. It expresses the muted exuberance of carpe diem, the very promise of life, of adventure, the gung ho spirit of the Midwest, of an age of cowboys long gone (later mirrored in a wonderful speech by the erstwhile Ben Johnson sitting by a water tank). Alas, it’s only the promise. And the strange thing is, as realistic, at times funny, uncomfortable or moving THE LAST PICTURE SHOW is, it is also undoubtedly sad and very much rooted to a specific time in American history and culture.

SONNY (Timothy Bottoms), is of course the protagonist here and while the film is really about his journey on the surface, it’s also the journey of all its characters and the journey of a town, a country and a society that is on the brink of transformation. The story of a land and its people who, as much as they are bound to their small town life, must also face larger and imminent winds of change. ‘The last picture show’, the advent of television, the end of an era, the inevitable blurring of social, sexual and conventional mores, the redefining of society, and yet the eternally human, relevant realities of war, of adultery, of loneliness, of love and most of all of growing up.

Bogdanovich does an incredible job of maintaining a tone and mood for the film that doesn’t change in its quiet, frank determination to be brutally honest, non judgmental, and almost methodical so whether its adolescent sexual exploration, nudity, humiliation, death, a slap in the face, a kiss on the mouth, there is a powerful starkness in it all so that it hits you that much harder. He makes you feel the repression, the sadness, and passive aggression of his characters without the melodrama in a vein of realism that is very much part of the films world and underlying social, cultural and emotional fabric. I found aggression a very interesting theme in this one and Bogdanovich explores this quite wonderfully. Hinting early on in the film to ideas of a call to arms, to wake up and live, to be free of that oppressive burden of conforming to what is ‘expected’, he sets up the inevitable tragedy of not being able to do so.

In an amusing sequence just after the first scene in the film SONNY, BOBBY and DWAYNE are chided by different groups of older men, in different ways about the previous days football match where they played ‘all right’, but if they only knew how to ‘tackle’, then victory would have been theirs. The repetition is funny, the subtext, not so much. To me, a strong reminder of a typically American go getter attitude but also a satirical look at the idea of masculinity and the ‘social’ role of a man, an idea that like feminity, and a woman’s role, is explored deeply by the film.

Bogdanovich doesn’t shy away from exposing latent or overt aggression in women either. Jacey will stop at nothing from playing sweet, innocent damsel in distress to moving as easily into guises of sexual predator and gold digger even as she is constantly guided by her own mothers experiences. And Jacey is played by a young lady making her big screen debut here, Cybil Shephard. (I remember Shephard most from her “Moonlighting” days, the popular TV show from the 90’s that starred her and BRUCE WILLIS!). It was amazing to see Jeff Bridges and her looking so young and standing out with stellar performances here even with some big-weights in the cast. All Bogdanovich’s actors, particularly Burnstyn, Johnson and the little known actress Cloris Leachman amongst the older set, are very strong.

Much like the plays of Sam Shephard or the films of director Sam Mendes today, THE LAST PICTURE SHOW is on the surface a social drama and bittersweet slice of AMERICAN life set in 1952, but it also becomes a true classic because of its richness in subject and character making it stand the test of time. Revealing, entertaining, disconcerting, uncompromising in its grittiness, and human in its character follies, its as relevant and satisfying in 2010 as it must’ve have been back in the 70’s. It will take you a while to accustom yourself to that world, the leisurely pace, and the style where Bogdanovich stays away from fuss, from frills, from anything extra, and from drama of any kind. Keeping his frames clean, his landscape uncluttered, his characters real, and his camera steady, watching, firm, he takes you into a world however far removed in history, geography or cultural context, is universal and often painfully close to home.