“We live in an age where the artist is forgotten. He is a researcher. I see myself that way.” — David Hockney
There are so many films being made today one would think we’re entering a new Golden Age of filmmaking. Clearly, this couldn’t be further from the truth. The reality of mass corportate consumer culture and advertising dominating the entertainment scene has in fact brought movie making backwards. Way backwards. And despite the amazing technologies now available (and the multitude of talented people working in the industry), both the art and craft of films has gone significantly down in both depth and quality. The writing is either formulaic or pretentious, the direction noisy and disjointed, and the camera work is all over the place. Even some of the greatest actors of our generation seem to be mailing it in, passing through it purely for the money. The result is we’re dominated by categorical products tailored to specific viewer groups; teenager romantic comedies, holiday fare (the Halloween & Christmas usuals), big budget superhero blockbusters, and last but not least, 3D animated sequels and “classics” reboots. It gets tiring and nothing is more forgettable. (Can anyone even recount the musical scores from today’s movies?) Hence, I’ve been encouraged to discuss four truly great films to counter this regression or at least the feeling of it — gems that time forgot — films made with wit, creativity and power produced during a time when genuine creative writing and directorial courage was still encouraged.
Deliverance (directed by John Boorman)
Headed by the stellar cast of Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, Jon Voight, and Ronnie Cox, Deliverance is a film that grabs onto your senses and keeps its grip on you long after it’s over. Bound together by a tight script by James Dickey who adapted it from his own original novel, it’s a story about two things: the battle between man and nature and the (still) on-going battle between urban and rural America. The premise is simple: four city-dwelling friends get together for some oldschool male-bonding via an escapist adventure canoeing down the dangerous Chattooga River, deep in the wildlands of the Appalachian countryside in Georgia. Experienced canoeists and civilized men who lead happy if perhaps dull lives, they have no idea what they’re about to encounter. The exhilarating journey forces each of the men to question both themselves and the romantic vision of a “free and united” America. When the adventure ends, the lives of these men and their relationship with each other will never be the same. I dare not give away any of the details and spoil it for those who have yet to visit this film but under John Boorman’s taut direction and Vilmos Zsigmund’s uncanny cinematography, Deliverance not only delivers, it teases, bites, shocks and terrifies. In my opinion, it’s an underrated masterwork made by a masterful director.
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest (directed by Milos Foreman)
There aren’t too many films that feature a delectable concoction of such wit, fun and tragedy as Milos Foreman’s One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. A winner of six Academy Awards (Best Picture, Director, Writer, Actor, Actress, and Supporting Actor) The movie begins with convicted criminal Randal McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) being transfered to a psychiatric ward for evaluation. There, he meets a cast of rather unusual characters, all whom, surprisingly, have volunteerily checked themselves in for psychological treatment. At first, McMurphy is sly and clownish, like a man whose cunning plan to escape serving prison time has worked out perfectly, perhaps even better than he had hoped. He makes loads of friends, toys with the medical and nursing staff and, like a highschool clown both disrupting and controlling the classroom, he’s having a ball. That is, until the confrontations between McMurphy and the head nurse, the infamous Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher), get really dark and serious. The battle of wills and the psychological violence that ensues is both humorously exciting and terrifying. The film questions what is normal and what constitutes psychosis but it also brings to focus the validity of the methodologies used to treat patients in such institutions and the unchecked power of those responsible for them. In the end, the film is a treatise on individuality and freedom, the very things all of us are looking for but few of us truly find.
12 angry men (directed by Sidney Lumet)
I love this film and everytime I see it, I love it even more. Shot almost exclusively inside a small room, it’s not a film concerned with physical pyrotechnics, elaborate production design or eye-candy special effects. Instead it’s a film that shows us all how having only a solid script combined with tight direction and superb acting (led by Henry Fonda) can do to an audience. Made back in 1957, and shot in black in white, 12 Angry Men is a tale about 12 jurors who are to be strictly secluded in a room until they arrive at a final verdict for a young man charged with murder. What initially appears to be a slam dunk case for a conviction turns into a drama that seethes with tension as a battle between the jurors builds and builds as the night marches on. At first, the story seems simply to be about just another murder case but the real tale is one that cuts much deeper, like what happens to our humanity when man is faced with the uncomfortable truth; can man really know truth? Can he accept it? As we see how each man’s intentions are exposed during the deliberations, we as the audience, too, are forced to look at ourselves and realize how easy it is to be prejudiced, and often so without knowing that we are. In Lumet’s 12 Angry Men this important and profound message is not merely preached, it is experienced.
Midnight Cowboy (directed by John Schlesinger)
I recently saw Midnight Cowboy only for the first time (somehow, this film has eluded me all these years). I was totally bewitched by its power. Buoyed by touching, complex performances by acting stalwarts Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight, the film sneaks up on you, brewing slowly yet richly, it forms a kind of spell rarely witnessed in movies today. A story about two strange and downtrodden castaways, we get an in-close exposé of the lives of men with so little that all they’ve got is each other. One man, Joe Buck (Voight), is a mere gigalo, one who hopes to parlay his cowboy charm on women in the big city (New York) to arrive at what he thinks is the American dream. The other, Ratso (Hoffman), is a disabled and homeless conman with naive dreams of his own but who barely scrapes by an existence. Neither have much direction in life, both are burdened with a painful and dark history. Controversial due to its’ daring themes and imagery at the time, this is a movie that shouldn’t really be explained and to do so would be to rob it of its immense power. There is so much sadness, innocence, sincerity, and beauty here. Add to it John Barry’s mesmerizing score, and we’re beholden to its magic. Midnight Cowboy can not be described as anything less than an absolute masterpiece of American cinema.
To see more great film recommendations go here.