Star Wars The Force Awakens (2015)

         

A couple of days ago, I went to the Vue cinema to experience the most anticipated film of the year. I was rather ambivalent about the film before I seen it. As much as I was glad that George Lucas had decided to give the franchise to Disney (or rather just packed it in), and allow the imagination of the universe to expand further, I didn't really know what to think about JJ Abrams being in the directing chair for this new series of films. Granted, while I have heard that he did a good job with the Star Trek reboot, I must admit that I never really watched Star Trek and therefore I don't really have a solid opinion on the series at time of writing, but I will say that I felt like he would carry over a lot of elements from that series into Star Wars. Thankfully, I found that the film held its own well, and despite the strong similarities to A New Hope, the new characters and updated settings were more than enough to keep me satisfied.

Now to explain my history with Star Wars, I have to confess that I am one of those fans who went into the franchise long after Return of the Jedi was released. Unfortunately, even when they re-released the special editions in 1997, I was too young to be aware of them at the time. Then I watched a commercial on TV in 1999, and my interest was sparked after I seen a guy in red and black make-up with horns on his head, and I was enticed by this mysterious looking character. I was so hyped to see this film. It was a bit of a shock for me to realize that there were three films before Phantom Menace, and while I do credit the film for getting me interested in the universe with its impressive settings, and two characters in Qui-Gon-Jinn and Darth Maul, it was a little bit too convoluted for its own good, and it lacked a lot of the character and humour so prominent in the original trilogy. I will always stand by the fact that this film was more interesting than Attack of the Clones by far, and while I admit that Revenge of the Sith was more relevant to the timeline, I found it too dark for its own good.

Now the original trilogy was viewed by me during the time Revenge of the Sith came out, and I was in awe of it. It was a universe that had archetypes, a good and bad that you can feel for (the battle between Vader and Luke is still exhilarating) and imagination. While its morality is a little more questionable, and the writing wasn't always top notch, Star Wars, to me and a lot of others, has always been more about the characters, effects, worlds, and mythology. The Force Awakens seems to be going in the right direction in this respect.

From the beginning, the title scroll explains exactly what is going on, and actually manages to give us an identifiable character, Finn, who wants to get out of the First Order where he is forced to be a Stormtrooper. When he saves the pilot Po, the two strike up a friendship that is really believable, and I was quite shocked by how well done it was. The two really work well off eachother. Eventually, things go wrong, and Finn is stranded on the planet Jakku where he meets a scavenger by the name of Rey, who has been waiting for her family to return. They are all on the same journey, and when Rey meets up with Finn, their relationship is probably the strongest part of the film. Of course, we get Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Leia in their matured roles, so it manages to feel very familiar while keeping the focus on the two main characters strong. It turns out a new villain called Kylo Ren is wanting to take over the Galaxy, and while this motivation has been seen time and time again, I feel like the way that Kylo Ren is portrayed in the film is the way that a Young Darth Vader would have acted, and had the prequels done Anakin a lot better and in a more identifiable way, this would be how I think many would have liked to see it. His mask hides the turmoil, and he isn't even the top Jedi to take on this kind of role, making his journey as interesting as Finn and Rey's. 

Overall, I feel like this film is a step in the right direction. It does have problems, especially since most of the film feels a bit too similar to A New Hope, and one really controversial scene in the middle of the film is still quite jarring for me, but overall the mythology, friendship, new antagonist (and Snoke being the new big bad), humour and visuals are top notch, and I am excited to see where they go from here. It was a film that has much of the greatness expected in Star Wars, even if it falls short compared to the original films.

Lucas Bolton Reviews - Wild Strawberries (1957)

The moment I seen Persona, I fell in love with its bizarre imagery and distributing plot. It was a film about split personalities and (like Roger Ebert said) about cinema as a whole, using various techniques, and even referencing other Bergman films like Through a Glass Darkly. I remember doing work experience in Fopp, and while I was pricing films, I seen the DVD. I was so compelled to get it. It looked like a film that would really hook me. At that moment, I became a Bergman fan, being the easily fanatical person I am.
Now I admit that I haven't watched a ton of his films, but I thoroughly enjoyed Persona, Summer Interlude, Through a Glass Darkly, Cries and Whispers, and what I have seen of Fanny oct Alexander with its dynamic characters and beautiful period setting. Two films of his that I have in my collection are finally getting a look at now. I still have yet to see Seventh Seal at time of writing, but I finally decided to take a gander at one of Bergman's most visceral films, Wild Strawberries. And I think it is the only film that I have seen of his, so far, that matches the quality of Persona. In fact, in many ways, it actually is a better film.

One thing that has always intrigued me about the film was how Bergman used Victor Sjostrom (another legendary filmmaker in Sweden, most notably for his work in the Silent cinema with titles like The Phantom Carriage, and The Wind, which is one of Lillian Gish's most potent works) as the main lead of this film. It's a beautiful marriages of modern and old in one, and that alone sold me on this film.
The story centers on a Professor who is caught up in his dreams and memories, and must confront the regrets and emptiness that was his past. He goes on a trip to a ceremony with his daughter-in-law, who considers him selfish. As he drives there, he finds the old house he grew up in, and reminisces about the days of old. As he journeys through those memories about his family, he finds a woman (played by Bibi Andersonn) and two men who go on the drive with him. It's a joy to see these characters interact, and I think Bergman does a great job of making us feel for some of these troubled characters. It's almost like they find a father figure in Sjostrom, and I just love seeing the way he observes the events happening on screen.

The film walks the line between emotionally involving, and artistically challenging, with close-ups, dream sequences, and memories that intertwine the past and present. One scene that stuck out for me is the one where the Professor's cousin, in the past, places a mirror in front of him, most likely trying to make him face all that guilt once more. The backdrop with the house is beautifully photographed with bright whites, and the mirror creates a surrealistic effect. It is utterly sublime to watch.

To be honest, it was hard to find anything wrong with this film. I think it may be better than Persona because it managed to strike a perfect balance in its storytelling, and it didn't rely on the overuse of bizarre imagery for the sake of being artsy (even though I do enjoy that about Persona). Wild Strawberries is an enticing and artistically stunning experience; one that helps you identify with the concept of old age, and the emotions associated with it. Pretty much an impeccable film if ever there were one.

Pasolini (2014)

Today I went to the Glasgow film theatre. As I was awed by the lush screen perfectly optimized for 4:3 and 16:9 presentations, a feeling of excitement rushed within me as the curtains at the back closed, and the lights dimmed. A cinematic experience awaited me. And what an experience it was.

For those of you who don't know, Abel Ferrara recently made a film about the late great Pier Paolo Pasolini. It is understandable if you have missed out on this information because the film seems to be going for a more indie feel than anything, and had it not been for BFI advertising it on Facebook, I probably wouldn't even have seen the film in all its glory today. In fact, I think that mentality of filmmaking fits perfectly with that of Paolo's. He even admits in the film that even if no one goes to see his films, the tools with which he can express his meaning are all that matter to him, and how he can navigate the meaning with the power of cinema. He was much like Ingmar Bergman and Stanley Kubrick whose meaning carried through in each of their movies. However, Paolo is very interesting in the sense that he could contradict himself pretty easily. The film even seems to draw a parallel to this fact since the project of his next film was going to be based on freedom, yet all he decried in Rome was the fact there was too much mayhem - probably caused by too much freedom, I would imagine.
Now the film basically centers around the final day of Pasolini. Almost like how The Gospel According to St. Matthew handled elements; many close ups of Pasolini's faces are exploited, and the film is not afraid to show the sexuality and brutality prevalent in his films like Decameron and Salo. The weird thing is that the film seems to jump from Italian to English on many occasions. I personally would have preferred it if Dafoe maintained an English speaking role since I think it just makes more sense. Though I can completely understand that they were probably trying to spruce up the film, and didn't want to alienate audiences who were maybe not used to Foreign films (though I highly doubt any audience watching this is unaccustomed to films like that, but I think the principle still applies). Similarly, while I did find the concept of delving into his future project interesting, keeping the desert setting alive and the overall divinity that Pasolini thrived on, the transition from reality to the dream project was not always that easy for me to follow. I occasionally thought a completely new story opened up; but then again, maybe that was deliberate, since Pasolini's film , Theorem, dealt with that kind of storytelling as well where each of the characters would follow a trance on the "guest" character played by Terrence Stamp. A very interesting, but weirdly disjointed way of telling a story. He was represented as absolutely subversive in his nature, and never afraid to say no.

Dafoe was an excellent casting choice for Pasolini. He managed to almost show the pain the man must have felt in being rejected, and dealing with it on a regular basis. But he still managed to bring to life a creative and truly challenging figure, and this was easily the strongest part of the film. Near the ending, I was on edge just watching the twists and turns, and being pulled into his universe, only to have it completely shatter in a second. The way it handled his murder (based on Homophobia) made the whole thing about his controversial nature even more interesting than I ever thought imaginable.
If you are a fan of world cinema, then you owe it to yourself to watch Ferrara's portrayal of a multifaceted human being through the lens of a single day. Though you must be warned that the film does not pull any punches with its violent and sexualised content, but without these core elements, we forget what was going through the man's mind.

The ABCs of Death 2 (2014)

There are some movies in this world that are just badly made (like Manos: The Hands of Fate) or misguided (like Plan 9 from Outer Space) that make it really difficult to get incessantly angry at their shear awfulness. And this particular one can evoke both laughter and anger; but never fear, which I assume is what the premise is set on (It should evoke some form of tension as is the tradition of many other horror movies. Some can be interesting from a historical perspective like, say, "Dracula" 1931, but some are just lost in their own silliness. This movie is the epitome of that). 

If you ever come across this movie on Netflix, it is just best to just avoid it at all costs. How it managed to get on there is the biggest mystery to me, but I am at least happy that I didn't need to shell out money just to satisfy my owncuriosity. The title of the film does indeed entice the viewer, but it almost feels like it is delving into snuff film territory, much like the infamous "Faces of Death" (a film that I just can't stand for the life of me). But it is nothing of the sort. As the title suggests, each letter of the alphabet represents a form of death. Apparently, the film was handled by a whole bunch of different directors who were given their own individual letter to work with. Thus creating a mishmash of stories and styles that rarely seen to correlate, bringing creedance to the idea that it was handled by loads of other people. While it seems like an interesting idea for a movie, it really becomes tired after 30 minutes. You will get the odd story that you can't help but laugh at like the story for 'G' that takes an unexpected turn for the worst, and an animated feature which harkened back to "Eraserhead" and "Nightmare before Christmas". However, the stories got so mind numbingly tedious after 'J' (trust me when I say that the reveal for 'J' is really asinine) that I just switched the movie off, and let it simmer in my mind for a while. What did I watch? How come only some of the scenes were memorable, yet others were plain forgettable? I have rarely watched a film that bored me, annoyed me and made me laugh simultaneously. And if you find the structure of this film to be entertaining, then by all means watch it, because there are some creative elements thrown in there, and some of the guesswork for the letters may be intriguing to some.

However, it only succeeded in taking me in and throwing me out. And at a point, I was more than happy to let it fall into oblivion. If you want a film with an interesting set up much like this, but with better execution, then "Creepshow" might be your cup of tea.

Stanley Kubrick Films: Barry Lyndon (1975)

Barry Lyndon was the film that convinced me that films can be walking and breathing paintings. You can see Gainsborough in almost every shot. The zoom outs gives us the grand sweep of history as we witness the rising and falling of its title character. I was actually influenced to take up photography as a hobbit because of this film. While the film is not nearly as important as 2001 or as controversial as A Clockwork Orange, I feel it was his technical and narrative breakthrough. I remember my first viewing was a tough one. I felt very distanced from the film, and I was put off by the narrator's tone, the seemingly withdrawn emotions from Ryan O'Neal's performance, and while I adored the music, it didn't absorb me into the world of the Barrys as one would expect. 

But I couldn't let this first impression sit with me; the production and character of the film, as well as my adoration of Kubrick, made me want to return to its grandeur, and be guided through on an almost subconscious level (which is where I think the classic music really is effective in that regard). 

Rewatching the film is the best decision I ever made. Shots that I found hard to connect to suddenly became enticing to my eyes, my mind wandering in the backdrop of the lushness found in Ireland and England, the flames of every candle lit interior and the window lighting of church and palace interiors. Kubrick was in love with the 0.97 Zeiss lens used during 2001, and the result is silky smooth depths of field in landscapes across the country, palaces and castles all represented.

And Redmond Barry suddenly became the most fascinating character in film; the picaresque Irish lad who becomes an English soldier, a Prussian soldier, a British Officer, a spy, a gambler, skilled swordsman, a gentleman, an opportunist, and then a poor man riddled by grief, almost like he went back to the beginning of the woeful life he tried to escape. And I think that can not only be quite relatable, but I found that as you begun to sympathize with the character of Thackeray, the stages of his life start to unfold, and we start to feel more for his stepson, Lord Bullingdon, than anyone else. His character develops in intellect, manner of speaking and his discipline, but his personality rarely changes from the scoundrel who fell for his cousin back in Ireland. I think that's why his journey is so fascinating to me because as much as he tries to reach a higher status in life, and does as much as he can to achieve the palace of Lady Lyndon, his character doesn't change his Irish ways, and only seems to be selective with the English ones required to reach that desired sphere. I love the performance by Ryan O'Neal; what may seem like wooden and unconvincing acting suddenly brings the character to life. And to be fair, this actually feels like an accurate representation of people in that time. When Redmond disguises as a British officer, and tries to coerce Captain Potzdorf into thinking he is with his stories and sweet talk, O'Neal's delivery has the right amount of passion, and distance that it is not hard to appreciate this level of complexity that he brought to the role. His face shows hurt when he watches his cousin drift away, and his face shows anger when he is shown up by his stepson. 
And Marisa Berenson is directed impeccably. When she goes out for air, and the gambler Redmond walks out after her, it is all shown in a wide shot as we see him from the window, and watch her devastated stare as though she is trying to control her impulses. 

I don't feel it is just a film that shows the downfall of a character and the beauty of its world, but it is also one that touches on emotion, using music in a visceral manner. I felt emotion for the time, I felt it for Barry in so many instances because he has to deal with a lot of grief, and then he inflicts all of that on a man who would come to resent him. That is why I am always so transfixed by it, and why it continues to be my favourite Kubrick film, and because Kubrick is my favourite filmmaker, I feel that is a massive thing to say. But like Once Upon a Time in America, Taxi Driver, Dark Knight, Way Down East (or Metropolis), Amadeus, Rashomon and Citizen Kane and many others, you could put me in front of the TV, Blu Ray in the player, and whether I am in the mood for it or not, I will be hooked. Films like this hold a very emotional power over me. I can't tell you how close to tears I was when Barry had to tell his son about the fort again. It really defies those who claimed the master wasn't able to handle emotions in film, and to me, that was why he was the best filmmaker. 

I have alluded to Lord Bullingdon (played by Leon Vitali), and it is important to talk about him since he is such a major character. He is the one who stops Barry from destroying that family fortune that his father worked so hard for, and much like the way Salieri was to Mozart in Amadeus, Bullingdon becomes increasingly more resentful towards this "opportunist" and the adoration for his mother becomes harder to hold onto. All of a sudden, this character became the one I wanted to see succeed. 
He was distanced, but attached to his Mother. He had power, but it was nearly withdrawn by his half brother of Barry and Lyndon descent. When all of this culminates, my emotions were heightened, and I felt so satisfied with the experience that I couldn't let it go. I highly recommend this astonishing film. It is hard to say which version is best since, if you are a purist, the Blu ray's aspect ratio (1:78:1) may disappoint those who know that Kubrick desired the film to be more along the lines of 1:66:1 because the black borders gave the images a painterly feel. The DVD is a more accurate representation of those wishes. But trust me when I say that the Blu Ray is the finest way to watch this film. The best way to look at it is what's more important to you? Aspect ratio or image quality? Either way, you will be treated to one of the best experiences of your cinema going life. The best films last. And this one, while a box office failure on release, has become the greatest achievement of cinematography, direction and writing that he ever achieved. Every classical piece keeps my mind engaged, the backdrops and lighting shown to contrast against its distanced character are enticing, and the character building is remarkable.  "Good or Bad, Handsome or Ugly, Rich or Poor, they are all equal now".

Intolerance (1916)

When the idea of Intolerance was preposed, do you think that it was possible that people thought Griffith was insatiable as an artist? After he had seen "Cabiria" (1914) he knew he had some competition to face. After "Birth of a Nation", millions of dollars was spent on sets, and much of those sets would come crashing down weeks after the film's initial release. It is a real shame to me that it couldn't have stayed up to convey to Modern generations how truly amazing the designers and technicians of Hollywood were at the time. I believe there is still an elephant statue in that is up in honour of it, so at least some of its legacy remains. 

Now this is a film that I do really appreciate. Die Nibelungen owes its entire life to the film. The story takes a bit of time to start up. Griffith, in response to the animosity that Birth created (rightfully so), wrote a pamphlet on his dislike of censorship. Eventually, he concocted the idea to merge two stories that focused on a central theme, and placed them in a film that spun four separate stories together. The modern story focuses on mill workers and two characters, the Dear One (played by Mae Marsh) and the Boy (played by Robert Harron). The mill workers are getting unpaid and overworked and eventually outrage (the Boy being a part of that). Eventually they move out to town, and the Boy gets involved in crime. He becomes enamoured with the charming Dear One, and they eventually get married and have a child. His past comes back to bite him, and the uplifters of society try to take the baby away from the Dear One

Then you have the Babylonian story which focuses on the siege during the rein of Bellshazzar. It shows you how the marriage market worked back then, and the lack of freedom that women endured, especially Mountain Girl, who is granted her freedom by Bellshazzar. The battles rein on through the night, and it extends way over to Cyrus (you feel Griffith's savagery of war is to denounce it rather than advocate it, which wasn't as clear in Birth as it should have been).

The third story focuses on the Huguenots taking over France, and how they want to thwart the king and queen. The fourth story focuses on Jesus, and the tribulations faced during that time. 

Now while some of these stories may sound very antiquated when you hear about them, it is the structure of the film and the majesty that make it so interesting. You see, when the film starts you can see Lillian Gish rocking a cradle with a baby in it... Endlessly. My first thought was that it was strange to not see Gish in a lead role since she was Griffith's main actress back in the day (one of the first relationships of that kind that I can think of). But I find that it was an interesting approach to storytelling and she acts as the plot device that pulls the story back and fourth throughout. 

After that, I do find it very hard to access right away. there is no real establishing shots for the Jenkins. At all. So you have to wait for the film to really unfold in its telling of the stories before any of this becomes clearer. So you could go in half way, and either be totally baffled or overawed by the story arc at work here. Thankfully, it does get a lot better in the middle half, and the core stories that interest me are both the Modern and Babylonian stories. The first half of the film is a bit too preachy for my liking, but I can understand that for the time, given how hard it was for films to establish their stories visually. It is one of the reasons why I feel that German cinema was a lot stronger than their American counterparts. They managed to do this better than anyone else. What I like about the Modern story is the Dear One and The Boy. Mae Marsh had such an endearing performance. She was able to emote in a way that connected with me, and I felt her plight when her husband was sentenced and her baby was taken from her. The actions like when she tries to impersonate a hoiti-toiti by walking upright just tugged at my heart strings. You can tell that she wants acceptance like all of us do. Robert Harron is to drama what Fairbanks Sr. Was to comedy. Griffith chaperoned him on sets for a good few years, and his developing abilities as an actor are really tested in this film. He is very hands on, and while his emotional range is lacking, you can feel his desire to change is a real one. His performance harkened back to "The Muskateers of Pig Alley" an early Griffith biograph that proved to be one of the most influential gangster pieces in history. 

The Babylonian story did a terrific job at entertaining me with its visuals, and charming characters, while at the same time making me bewildered by the conflicts that they go through. I want these people to be helped, and I want them to succeed.
I want the Mountain Girl to find love and fight for Bellshazzar. The most visual part of the story is, indeed, the Babylonian seige scenes - the tension and terror as they fight from above to stop the seige of their Babylon, and the level of detail in the violence (beheadings and stabbings) are monumental and not that dissimilar to the likes of The Gladiator or Lord of the Rings. Griffith apparently even boasted that nobody died on the set. That's how organic this film really was, and I think where a lot of that tension comes from - the real sense of peril some of these actors must have been in. It's like seeing real soldiers fighting to the end, only these people are real and they are artists in their own right, painting the images of a time far gone as Griffith and Blitzer bring the lens closer to show us these images. Lots of masking like in "Birth" only it is used far more emphatically and to bring attention to the film's key moments like a sword getting taken out for battle.

The other stories were very hard to get into until the climax ensued. "Brown Eyes" was uninteresting as she was basically just a damsel of distress. Catherine De Midici did nothing for me. And while I find the Jesus story ambitious, and the actor was downright perfect for the role, it wasn't until they intercut his crucifixion with the trial that I actually felt his story meant anything.
When the Huguenots took over in the French part of story, I wasn't really sure whose side I was on. But the constant intercutting and montage of time kept it from getting stale, and it made it more than an epic and more than a love story; it was an experience as film should be. Whether that experience was a positive one is up to the viewer and the viewer alone.  And for me, it delivers its messages, characters and visuals well enough.

It is a montage of what the times were like in those four decades (in the documentary Kenneth Brownlow, Lillian Gish even said that "what film did this before and since?". And I honestly can't think of any others, so she's probably right), the theme that bonded them, the characters (at least in the Babylonian and Modern day) that act as representations of that, especially the Dear One, The Boy, and Bellshazzar. Even Constance Talmadge, who doesn't do much in the film, just leaves you feeling hopeless for her. The tracking shots, lighting, depth of field, and stage design have really made the film stand above its archaic quirks, and for that, I do feel like it is a gem to behold. However, the Huguenot and Bethlem stories didn't interest me much -  it was almost like Griffith developed the Babylonian and Modern stories first (which may be true since they were intended to be separate films before Griffith interwove them) and in between that, his interests in these other stories took place, and he thought that he could shoehorn them into the film itself, which admittedly does make it very interesting in the long run. Andrew Stone once remarked that it is like looking at two TV screens simultaneously. As a result, it can get dreadfully long, and it can be overly preachy.
Still, if you are interested in time, theatrical acting, and the majesty of real sets, then I couldn't recommend this film any higher for you. Trust me when I say that, despite these faults, that hold it back for me, the film's two core stories are truly remarkable, and the telling of the story is enough to sustain one's interest, even when the melodrama seeps through. The fight against the uplifters, the battle of the Huguenots, the siege, and the climax are some of my favourite sequences in silent film, and make the film a testament to Griffith's genius, especially if "Birth" made you feel detached to him. See it in small doses, though, as it can be pretty overwhelming (admittedly anticipating the climax does make a single viewing worthwhile). The bit when the train just stops as the Dear One commandeers is kind of hilarious to me. How does it manage to stop on a dime like that when trains usually need to be a good few meters away to stop safely? Oh well. On my Image entertainment DVD, the distributors describe it as perhaps the greatest film ever made. And, in my opinion, it doesn't even come close to that title nor does it even feel like the greatest silent film ever. It is a flawed masterpiece that celebrates freedom , peace and it pleas against intolerance of the rulings and fates of people at the time and it was probably one of the first instances of eye candy that was ever put on film. Especially the last scene that eerily hardens back to the ending of Birth... Which may be best forgotten about.

Lucas Bolton Reviews - The Birth of a Nation (1915)

It is now 100 years since D.W. Griffith's "Birth of a Nation" caused both a revolution and a stir in the ever growing film industry.  This is a film that is very hard to critique; on the one hand, it showed that films can be artistically challenging, and can far surpass the nickoledian novelties of otherwise taudry entertainments that was the norm back then (as commented on by Stanley Kubrick during his speech on receiving the award dedicated to Griffith. This was how I discovered Griffith, and it made me as fascinated by him as I am by Kubrick). On the other hand, it was the film to show that cinema can be a tool of manipulation and personal embellishment. There is no way of denying this after you see the distasteful nature of Southerners that is portrayed in the film itself.

I always loved what Roger Ebert said in his review of the film. He said "The Birth of a Nation is not a bad film because it argues for evil. Like Riefenstahl's "The Triumph of the Will" it is a great film that argues for evil. To learn how it does so is to learn a great deal about film, and even something about evil". I feel that this sentiment is the truest that has ever been applied to the film. The scary thing about it is that it does such a sterling job at portraying the Africans as evil and the Southerners as downtrodden. It is both a technical achievement, and the most malicious film I have ever seen. To get deeper into this, I will have to cover what the story is about.

In the 1860's, the nation was divided. You had the Camerons who were on the Southern side and the Stonemen who were on the North side. The character of Colonel Cameron (played by Henry B. Walthall, who had a really devilish appearance throughout) has fallen for the daughter of Austin Stoneman, Elsie (played by the immensely talented and adorable Lillian Gish), whose father is a strong proponent of Black men's rights. At this time, Abraham Lincoln is still the one in charge of the country, and as the Civil War rages on, things seem to be pretty content all in all. And then, at one of the plays Lincoln attends, he is shot and killed by John Wilkes Booth (played by Raoul Walsh, who directed Regeneration, which was a revolutionary gangster film, and he also directed the first film that John Wayne was in with the exception of his extra part in Noah's Arc). At this point, we come to the second act of the film which deals with Reconstruction, and this is where things take a turn for the worst. Austin Stoneman is now the one in power and orders the "evil" black people to raid havoc on the south. This is where most of the racist sentiment starts to become clear. There's even a scene where Colonel Cameron is looking disdainfully at another black man for simply walking on the same ground as him. How twisted is that? And then during one scene where there is a class of black men, they are shown as impudent and uneducated. It is not hard to see why this film really stirred up audiences back then when racism wasn't really a matter of discussion.

The one thing that is undeniable is that no matter how horrible some of the images are, it is impossible to keep your eyes away. I have seen the film three times (my third time bring today where I watched the first hour of it one day and then the other two hours of it today. It can be a real slog if you decide to watch it all on the one day), and through the wonderfully made documentary by Kevin Brownlow, and A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese, many of the images are embedded in my head. The intimate moments like when Colonel Cameron comes out of the hospital and reunites with his family and as he comes closer to the house, you see the hand of his mother touching him. It is a sweet and humane moment that showed the power of framing and acting that Griffith managed to direct in an impeccable fashion. And when Cameron is on the battle field and sticks the flag into the canon just before he collapses. Wonderfully masked and elegantly shot.
And the way the KKK soar through the place as they seek revenge for what the North did to their sister is climactic and grandiose. The Ride of the Valkyires brings the ultimate sweep to the landscape as they ride on horseback, and though the connotations are reprehensible, the tension and execution of the scene itself is magnificent in every single way.
The problem is that while you do get scenes of technical proficiency and of emotional resonance, like you would expect, there are ones that evoke disgust. The worst has to be when they introduce Gus into the film. He is portrayed as the ultimate monster who wants to take advantage of a white girl. As Cameron's sister is drawn closer to him, she takes a leap off the cliff in one of the best intercut shots in the film. As you would expect, the KKK outrage at this and place the man on trial (as the picture above shows).  And if that image didn't horrify you, then maybe the man's fate will.

To me, the most relatable character in the film is Elsie (Lillian Gish was given free reign and she did an amazing job at portraying a strong, yet scared character. Her loving moments are subtle and she
is one of the least melodramatic actresses of that era).  In her mind, she comes to a crossroads. How can she love a man so vindictive against black people when her father is the proponent of Black men's rights? And as Lynch (the right hand man to Austin Stoneman)'s desire for her increases, she is then conflicted at all possible angles and it is such a shame to see that happen to her. If it weren't for the vindictiveness of the Reconstruction period, you would really be able to feel for Gish's character at that point, which is why I am that ambivalent about this section of the film.

And if you are telling us that black men in that time ruled over the South, then you are just trying to play with the Audience's mind. In a rerelease of "Birth" in 1930, Griffith remarked "Truth? What is the truth?". And I guess it is safe to say that the stubbornness of the Southerner and the idolization for his father took over the true facts of that time for him. But I am grateful for his contributions to the motion picture business, and I think it is a shame to see how people take it for granted nowadays.
If you ever wanted to learn about technique and editing in film (i.e. masking, split cutting, tracking shots, landscape shots and close ups), then this film is a must see, if you can excuse the running time and prejudiced nature of it. However, if you are easily offended and riled up by this kind of thing (or find Silent films hard to watch in general), then I would strongly suggest avoiding this one. If you are interested in seeing, then I suggest getting either Kino's or Eureka's versions since they have the crispest quality. I watched the original Kino DVD, which is still a really good version compared to some of the other public domain DVDs out there. I have heard that the VHS tape by Connoseuier is perhaps the best version of the film, but I have yet to see that at time of writing.
Griffith is a great filmmaker, and Intolerance and Way Down East are some of my favourite films ever made, and while those two films were not nearly as revolutionary as this one, and maybe not even as coherent, they were far more accessible and the techniques used in this film prevail in those two films, so there are many other ways to experience his craftsmanship even if you did ignore this film
"Birth" is an important film in history, and important to watch for its innovations, and I am glad that I have seen it. But the bad taste it leaves in my mouth makes it really hard for me to watch, the length of the film is really bogus, and it is difficult to recommend in all good faith. It is a mixed bag to say the least

Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

Sergio Leone was known as the master of the Spaghetti Western. His contemporaries like Federico Felini were very unique and never delved into specific genres. However, Leone, like his contemporaries, created a style all on his own. The close-up in a Leone film has so much impact that it gives you a sense of that character's emotions. We can feel that Clint Eastwood is serious about anybody being in his territory. And in Once Upon a Time in the West, we can feel the pain that Charles Bronson is going through as he faces his past. In many ways, the craft of his films really did shine in the Western genre, and he managed to establish an art that was once heralded by John Ford, and completely change the landscape for all Westerns to follow (such as Wild Bunch and Unforgiven, the film to change the entire morality of the characters in that timeframe). But for many years, he had wanted to tackle another genre. One that I feel cemented his legacy as one of the finest filmmakers to ever live. And that film was Once Upon a Time in America.

I think Once Upon a Time in America was the film that Leone was building up to for years. His knowledge on America and his I'm love for the book "The Hoods" made him want to make a gangster film, and this fervor took up a whole decade of his career. He eventually secured a producer, and convinced him to produce his magnum opus. The producer said that Leone had actually relayed the script in what seemed like 3hrs and 49 minutes, which was the running time of the film (taking the recent Extended Director's Cut out of account). He had already shot the film in his mind, and on the set, he would supposedly enact every single action that the young and Adult actors had to do. And you can see the delicacy of every movement in the film. Even moments like when the young Patsy (an uprising gangster) is eating a Charlotte Rouse, and he's trying to make it look like it hasn't been touched at all, so that he could give it to Peggy to achieve his desires with her, he can't stop the desire he has to eat the Charlotte Rouse, and this is like a trigger to the way gangsters lose control throughout the entire film. It is one of the simplest vignettes ever, yet it leaves such an impact.

I mentioned that Leone had to direct both young and Adult actors, and this lets me segue into the narrative structure of the film. It is set up in three different periods of time. You have the 1920's Prohibition era that focuses on the young uprising gangsters, how they hustle drunks for a bit of money, settle ordeals, how they got their liquor, and it establishes the crucial relationship between Noodles (the main character who is played by Robert De Niro in his adult years) and Max (the leader who is played by James Woods) and the power of both friendship and betrayal is represented throughout. Max is looking to build a massive empire, and Noodles just wants money, and the love of his life, Deborah (played by a young Jennifer Connelly and Elizabeth McGovern). As the years go on, these characters become tied to their own goals, and it becomes a very visceral experience. We see all Noodles desires is his beloved Deborah, who has higher hopes in life, and couldn't settle the on the one she loves, and even in prison, he couldn't stop fantasizing about her. Whereas Max's desire to succeed far surpasses any love he has for his woman, Carol (played by the wonderful Tuesday Weld), who takes it on the chin. Noodles, and his friends Patsy, Cockeye and Max are probably one of the first times that Jewish gangsters have been portrayed in film, and it provides a refreshing experience to behold. And we also have the 1960's where we see Noodles as an old man, riddled with grief, and left with nothing but his memories. Something has came to his attention though that has made him come back to his hometown after years spent in Buffalo (we can only assume what he was doing during that time).
Now while the film is set up in three different periods, it is the telling of the story that makes it so profound (which is the reason why the theatrical version of the film was such a disaster). See from the very beginning, we already suspect that Noodles is a wanted man, yet we haven't found out who he is yet. De Niro always manage to pull off an intense performance in his eyes, and as Ennio Morricone's splendidly resonant score takes place, we can feel that he is no longer the man that he used to be. In fact, in some ways the film could even be interpreted as a dream since there's so many connections to the opium den where Noodles goes to decompress. The use of transition such as the light fade out which brings us to a moment of revelation and the use of a Frisby to bring us back to the past is some of the most technically proficient moments of storytelling that I have ever witnessed and it makes me fall for the world that the film creates. It is a puzzle that rarely falls into place, and even with the Extended Director's Cut, it can still spellbound you by its power. The extended edition throws in some really interesting scenes like when Noodles is trying to find out who the mysterious person is, the origins of the cemetery where his friends were buried, and what happened when they went for a "swim". It even adds an extra layer of emotion to the reunion between Noodles and Deborah.

The use of "Yesterday" truly does bring a lot of the regret of Noodles' and Max's characters to the surface. They grew up together, yet their minds were in completely different places. And even in their Adult years before old age, you feel how withdrawn Noodles becomes with their heist operations. He even asks his friend after committing an extremely violent act: "Today they ask me to get rid of Joe; tomorrow they ask me to get rid of you? Is that okay with you? Because it's not okay with me". It is a battle between heart and mind, and the film does a tremendous job at absorbing us into that, whether we like the characters or not. 4hrs and 6 minutes of the film may be a bit long for some, but to experience a film like this is to experience the growth of a wonderful genre and the power of time itself.  "When you are betrayed by a friend, you fight back".