Kinematoscope

Today we check back in with Henri-Georges Clouzot, with 1953's The Wages Of Fear (Le Salaire de la peur).

Having no exposure, all I can tell you is that it's French, it's black and white, and his wife is probably in it again. And it'll probably be tense. Really, really tense.

The Key Players:

Clouzout we know, as well as his beautiful wife Véra (who plays a supporting role here).

But the whole film is sort of a family affair, as star Yves Montand, veteran French singer and actor, was married to Les diaboliques star Simone Signoret at the time- Charles Vanel played the inspector in that film as well, the same year he put in a supporting turn in To Catch A Thief.

Folco Lulli (The Organizer) and Peter Van Eyck (The Spy Who Came In From The Cold) round out the main cast.



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The Story:

In a South American town isolated by the desert, the local economy and law enforcement is all run by the American 'Southern Oil Company,' which is there to drill. After an oil well catches fire, the only way to extinguish the blaze is to blow it out with a whole lot of nitroglycerin. The only way to get it there is to drive a truckful of the unstable, highly sensitive explosive over rough terrain.

SOC, already adept at exploiting the locals for cheap labor, decides to hire the job out to the masses stranded in town with no way to pay the fare home, and they offer high wages for the job to attract lots of vounteers. After many trials and selection processes, they pick four men who coincidentally are our four main characters:

Mario (Montand): a French drifter, playboy, and douchebag (at least to his girlfriend, Linda (Mrs. Clouzot)).

Jo (Vanel): an aging, prideful gangster new to town that strikes up a friendship with Mario- this causes a falling out between Mario and...

Luigi (Lulli): (Mario and Luigi! I JUST REALIZED THIS!) a hard-working, penny-pinching Italian who needs to get out of his job mixing cement before inhaling the dust kills him.

Bimba (Van Eyck): an intense Dutchman that survived the Nazi regime after being forced to work in a salt mine.

Actually Jo is a last minute replacement for a man named Smerloff that doesn't show- did Jo murder him? It's left unclear. Mario and Jo set out in one truck, Luigi and Bimba in the other.

For the next hour and a half, they try and navigate cracks in the road, detonate a boulder blocking the way, a rickety bridge, and psychological breakdowns (namely Jo, whose nerve is nowhere near what it used to be) to their destination despite the possibility of exploding at any moment.

The Artistry:

Is there a stronger word for 'harrowing'? Chilling? Agonizing? Nerve-racking? The extended second half of The Wages Of Fear is all of these things.

Split the credit for the tension between the nitroglycerin itself and the steady time the film takes to buildup these characters before they set out- Luigi, a man of the people, and Jo, a wannabe bigshot, nearly brawling at the bar, the riotus townsfolk when the accident in question kills 13 local sons (but no SOC employees).

That idea of the town itself as a powder keg never really pays off, but it lays a solid thematic foundation of oppression. In fact, I admired how stark the film turned out to be- the cartoonish villainy of the SOC brass is never met with any retribution, Mario is at times a slimeball, other times a brute, and never really redeemed.

The cinematography is wonderfully claustrophobic, particularly for what's basically a road movie. The closeups in the trucks (labeled EXPLOSIVE in big letters, the oil fire framed by a doorway- even the cramped porch as the vagrants sit out the heat at the cantina. It helps that two thirds of the trucks sequences take place at night, with lights illuminating only the determined faces of our heroes.

If heroes you can call them: certainly Luigi and Bimba are easy to root for- Van Eyck is the most memorable performance of the four, slowing revealing a jovial personality under a battle-hardened exterior. He shoulders one of the most intense moments, when he slowly, carefully pours a little of the nitro into a hole carved in the boulder in order to blow it up.

One character who takes his name out of contention for the job right away makes a comparison: " I used to see men go off on this kind of jobs... and not come back. When they did, they were wrecks. Their hair had turned white and their hands were shaking like palsy!" This journey is like growing old, all at once. But in the promise of something better, we see four men choose it willfully to leave the hellish township behind, beaten down by heat and watchful tormentors in the SOC. But if life is the journey, through obstacle, tension, and especially fear, the only reward is untimely death or deliverance to hell: a flaming, chaotic oil field, greed wrought upon the landscape.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

After making it successfully past the bumpy road (where they have to maintain 40 mph, Speed style to keep level over the bumps and not jostle the payload), the rickety bridge, and the boulder, Luigi and Bimba's truck explodes for no reason at all. Aw.

Jo finally snaps and flees, but Mario catches up to him and beats him into submission in an uncomfortable confrontation. They encounter a sinkhole filling with leaking oil, and Jo gets out to steer the truck through- he trips, and Mario (unwilling to stop and have the truck be stuck with no momentum to carry it out) runs over his leg. On the final trip to the oil derrick, Jo dies while reminscing about his time in Paris.

Mario is greeted as a hero by the frantic workers, but collapses in exhaustion and despair. The next day, seemingly jovial, he starts back to town in the now empty truck- we see Linda and the townsfolk jubilantly start to waltz to "The Blue Danube" on the radio as Mario, smiling, dangerously swerves the truck side to side on the road for no reason, immune to the risk.

He of course careens off a mountain road, and dies as the trucks broken warning siren wails a distorted finale tone. The end.

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

Wow, it was a bummer, but I'd put it up there- I certainly enjoyed it more than Les Diaboliques.

The Legacy:

It was remade twice for Americans, as Violent Road and Sorcerer (directed by our pal William Friedkin). It would win the Golden Bear in Berlin, the Palm d'Or in Cannes, and the BAFTA for Best film despite being ignored by the Academy.

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

Not a single damn one. But here's Yves Montand singing "Les Feuilles Mortes." Culture!



Leftover Thoughts:

-Remeber that one episode of LOST where Arzt blew up? That was hilarious, and nitroglycerin will always remind me of it now.

-Truly a multilingual film, with Spanish, French, Italian, Dutch, and English all flying around in there.


Coming Up...

167. Ratatouille

166. Dog Day Afternoon

165. The Secret In Their Eyes

There's a moment halfway through The Social Network, wherein Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), Napster co-founder and proverbial devil on the should of Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), relates to the budding billoinaire the story of Roy Raymond- a man embarassed to buy lingerie for his wife in a department store, who had the idea to open a chain of lingerie specialty shops and an accompanying mail-order business called Victoria's Secret.

After five successful years, Raymond sold the business for $4 million, and ended up jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge in 1993, while the company grew exponentially without him.

Zuckerberg, stone-faced and inscrutable as ever, wonders "Is that a parable?"



Of course it is. And The Social Network, David Fincher's even more salient take on dissaffection than the Generation X rant Fight Club, is an uber-parable for a new generation, a wired-in, fast-talking, flashing banner ad in the corner of the screen, loudly telling us that we've opened a door to a new world, we've won billions of dollars, we're hip and now, and all we have to do is ignore the phone buzzing and the knocking on the door and Click Here.

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It's a study of many things at once- as much as it comments on the unique type of isolation that's bred by being connected in too many ways to too many people, it tells an age-old tale of greed and betrayal. How else could a film that almost everyone scoffed at upon its announcement ("A facebook movie? Really?") end up drawing somewhat-legitimate comparisons to Citizen Kane?

Those comparisons stem mostly from structure- a flashback laden narrative of billionaire tycoons that alienated everyone they cared about to get to where they are. But we can't all be Orson Welles- Fincher's eye is as refined as ever, and Aaron Sorkin's script runs hyper-verbose laps around Citizen Kane's episodic chapters, tied together by a dying man's last word.


Instead of a reporter pondering the MacGuffin of "Rosebud," The Social Network uses lawyers in twin depositions to relive the story of Facebook's disputed origins. As Zuckerberg faces lawsuits from former best friend Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield) and a trio of undergrad elites that hired him to program a Harvard-exclusive dating website, both lawyers try to get at the underpinnings of Zuckerberg's motivations.

Any such motivations are where the film departs the most drastically from the real-life evidence. In real life, there's nothing to suggest that he was motivated to get into exclusive "Final Clubs," or was jealous of Saverin for doing so. There's little to support the idea that he created precursor site facemash.com (a 'Hot or Not' style site using the pictures of other undergrads) because he was just broken up with- in fact, facemash actually included both male and female photos for peer-ranking (not just female ones, as in the film).

But would a normal, even-keel Mark Zuckerberg that just happened to get into legitimate legal disputes make for an interesting anti-hero? Of course not.


If Web 2.0 has created an ovearbearing disconnect with the interpersonal relationships we're supposed to cultivate when we become adults, then why shouldn't a film about one of the key founders of this portray that founder as overcompensating for an inability to connect to anyone? For as bad as it makes him look, the Zuckerberg of the film comes off remarkably sympathetic, flailing slightly as he mourns the twin deaths of privacy and intimacy- we can all relate, not because we're all antisocial billionaires, but because we live in new spheres of connection that Zuckerberg inadvertently created.

Maybe you have to have been in college during facebook's founding to consider this film as dramatic as I do (Mark Zuckerberg is, after all, two months younger than I am). But given the 48-year-old director and 49-year-old screenwriter, I doubt it. I can't wait for the film adaptation of Sorkin's stage play "The Farnsworth Invention," as I hear it tells a similar tale of innovation followed by litigation.



Every role seems expertly cast. Eisenberg, the twitchy, somewhat abrasvie "thinking man's Michael Cera," anchors the whole thing together with a shy brilliance. Andrew Garfield provides an entry point for the audience -not only is he the most sympathetic and likeable, but at one point his character even sheepishly admits he doesn't know how to update his own facebook relationship status despite being the company's CFO- a relief of sorts for anyone who doesn't consider social networking a second language.

Justin Timberlake is perfectly suited for the role of a flashy, seductive epitome of 'cool,' which the narrow-focused Zuckerberg is obsessed with maintaining in regard to his website. Rooney Mara and Rashida Jones bookend the film well with honest reductions of Zuckerberg's character. Max Minghella and Armie Hammer (twice) liven up the lawsuit scenes, though the subtext of the Saverin suit carries more weight. Hammer especially is great, as both Winkelvoss twins- though I suspect Fincher cast him instead of real twins just because he likes doing tricks in post-production.

Of course he's as technically flawless as ever- the lighting is muted but crisp, the editing propulsive and seamless (even told in double-flashback), and the rapid-fire dialogue woven with Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's wonderful score to great effect. The Nine Inch Nails frontman and producer create a rhythmic, digitally-tinged landscape that seems to make the events onscreen grow in importance.


Is it perfect? Is it the best film ever? Is it, you may ask, really the next Citizen Kane. No. Sorkin's characters sometimes sound a little too much like Sorkin characters (my favorite over-the-top line is when one of the Winklevi threatens to beat Zuckerberg up: "I'm 6'5", 220, and there's two of me!"). The film's strong adherence to real-life events leaves the ending abrupt and somewhat resolution-less, emotionally.

The larger-world effects of facebook aren't really addressed beyond making the creators very rich- this isn't too much of a drawback, but the film's brilliant trailer seemed to promise more context with that opening montage.

But even as a personal parable of the breakdown of trust, The Social Network has plenty of meaning. By all means go see it. If you like it, I bet there's some way you could recommend it to all of your friends at once.


Leftover thoughts:

-In a hat-tip to the current economic crisis, the Winklevi take their troubles to Larry Summers, once and future Treasury Secretary of these United States and then-president of Harvard. In a hilarious scene in which I expected him to say "Did I nicturate on your rug?", Summers blithely dismisses any potential value that "thefacebook.com" might have.

-Would highly recommend splurging $5 on the score at Amazon. Minimal piano like Andrew Newman's work on Donnie Darko, at least one track that incorporates clicking keyboards a la Dario Marinelli's typewriter-laden Atonement score.

-I don't see what the real Mark Zuckerberg's problem with The Social Network might be- it somehow manages to portray his alleged betrayals of multiple parties while maintaining sympathy for him, even while Eisenberg is sort of rock-star arrogant in the deposition scenes. With all the well-publicized innacuracies out there, I don't think the general reaction is going to be "What an asshole!"

-Speaking of, I have no problem with the movie taking liberties, but I have no interest whatsoever in Ben Mezrich (who wrote the book the movie was based on) and his "I made a bunch of this up" brand of non-fiction writing. I feel like there's some sort of unspoken contract with general veracity in non-fiction, but maybe that's just me.

-I especially liked the juxtaposition of Zuckerberg's creation of facemash with the party bus of women that the Phoenix club rounds up. Just taking an analogue convention of superficiality and making digital.

Ben Affleck's directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone, was an unexpected delight- assured, authentic, and relatively taut. The plot, from Dennis "Boston is the new Purgatory" Lehane, got a little murky in the end; Ben's brother Casey and Amy Ryan had to work overtime to cover for weak performances elsewhere, but such flaws were easy to overlook after going in with one eyebrow raised skeptically.

Expectations for his sophomore effort, The Town then, were considerably higher- tempering them once again is his decision to take the lead in front of the camera as well. Despite quiet, solid work in Hollywoodland, State Of Play, and Extract his last leading role was in Jersey Girl, at the height of Bennifer-related inanity.

But he's more than up to the task- The Town trades some of Gone Baby Gone's atmospheric intensity for straightforward heist action, and Affleck himself plays a solid leading man, but is an even better casting agent- every supporting role is superbly cast and superbly inhabited.



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The film starts with perhaps fancifully enhanced claims about Boston's Charlestown neighborhood producing more bank robbers per captia than anywhere else. That may not be true (at least since the Irish mob was gentrified out in the 90s), but The Town does an excellent job at drawing from the real-life close knit feel of the place to create a fictional, moody haven for thugs and hard-living wiseguys.

It's a different flavor than the Boston of Scorsese's The Departed (almost clinically austere in comparison) or the hidden malice lurking in Gone Baby Gone (which turns out to be a smokescreen). The cops in The Town's Charlestown turn their heads when the odds aren't in their favor, everyone (except Affleck's character) drinks and does oxy or coke. The cloudy sky rushes over the Bunker Hill Monument in time-lapse in two different shots- life goes on in twilight.

Piercing the clouds, and literally mentioning sunny days in key dialogue, is Rebecca Hall's love interest. She gives it her best, but the role isn't really there. Affleck's foursome of masked bank robbers takes her briefly hostage to begin the film, and the ensuing romance, unknowingly with one of her captors, never feels real enough to be worth the reveal we all know is coming. Hall's gift might be for wry understatement (like in Vicky Cristina Barcelona or Please Give), but I felt like she might have sold the melodrama of this part if it had more depth to it.

The time spent on the love interest, then, seems like the main culprit that deprives us of more time spent with Affleck's livewire best friend, an ex-convict brought to life beyond the cliche by Jeremy Renner.

Or perhaps we could have gotten more time with Jon Hamm's squinting, bluntly smug FBI-agent as he rapidly closes in. The "Mad Men" breakout star absolutely nails the one face-off he and Affleck have, and gains steam as the film goes on and we see he's just as unconcerned with the people that get in his way as any bank robber.

But if those characters seem underutilized, Chris Cooper's single scene as Affleck's incarcerated father and Blake Lively's handful of key moments as Affleck's former flame are perfectly paced and timed. Cooper's scene is almost a brief intermission, halfway through the film, that underplays a key plot element and leaves a realistic amount unspoken- Lively is perhaps the most memorable of the entire casy, if only because her raw performance is the least expected.

There's something unyieldingly linear about The Town that I admire the more I think about it. It ends with a minor flourish, but the majority of the screenplay establishes clear stakes, sets us dramatic revelations for the last third of the film (all of which are thankfully not overdone in the slightest), and then leaves the heavy lifting for the more-than-capable cast.


As perhaps unexpectedly autuer-like Affleck has been as a director so far, it helps that he started out as an internationally famous movie star- The Town boasts the same cinematographer (Robert Elswit) and editor (Dylan Tichenor) of P. T. Anderson's There Will Be Blood, Oscar nominees (with Elswit winning) for their work. (This after double winner John Toll lensed Gone Baby Gone). The result is a film seamless in aesthetic and pace, making the possibility of a Best Picture nomination seem less and less like a longshot.

In a slow September, it's easy to recommend an artful, gripping thriller like The Town.

I would've sworn I'd covered last year's Star Trek reboot pretty thoroughly, but then I remembered it wasn't one of the Best Picture nominees for some unfathomable reason.

So strap in, hold on, for a thrill ride that takes the framework of a beloved cultural icon and makes it even better.

That's right, I boldly went there.

The Key Players:

J.J. Abrams is the superproducer and director who masterminded or co-masterminded awesome things like "LOST," "Alias," "Fringe," Cloverfield, Mission Impossible III and also "Felicity." Breaking his teeth as a screenwriter (Forever Young? Really?) and maturing as a tv producer, he's been on a course as a blockbuster visionary ever since writing and directing the "LOST" pilot (the most expensive pilot ever at the time) in 2004.

Leading men Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto are probably most-associated with Star Trek this early in their careers- which is a relief for Pine (The Princess Diaries 2, Just My Luck), but a slap in the face to fans of Quinto's work on "Heroes."

So many, many other roles support these two: surely we could get to them all, but my favorites are Karl Urban's about-face into scene-stealing comedy from Lord Of The Rings seriousness and our old friend Simon Pegg from the third countdown entry.



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The Story:

A massive Romulan ship, captained by a crazy Romulan named Nero (Bana), comes seemingly out of nowhere and attacks the USS Kelvin- in the fracas, the Kelvin's captain is killed, and George Kirk briefly takes command before evacuating the ship, setting a collision course to buy the escape shuttles time, and tearfully saying goodbye over the ship's comm to his wife and newborn son.

Some years later, we see that son, young James Tiberius Kirk, steal his stepfather's car and drive it off a cliff as he jumps out- we also see a young Spock on planet Vulcan, struggling with his half-human, half Vulcan heritage. Some years even later than that they both join Starfleet as young adults, Kirk (Pine) because he was tired of back-country bar brawling and Spock (Quinto) out of a seemingly knee-jerk response to the prejudice of the Vulcan Science Academy.

Eventually, Spock graduates with honors and serves as an instructor or TA or something and accuses Cadet Kirk of cheating on a test simulation. The hearing is interrupted by news of an attack on Vulcan, and everyone rushes off to man the new fleet of ships (the rest of the Federation is busy in the Laurentian system, which must be super far away because it only takes three minutes to get to Vulcan at warp).

Adventures and peril follow, during which each of the characters we semi-recognize rise (Uhura, McCoy, Sulu, Checkov, Scott) take over their destined posts and save the day in various ways. Also there's another Spock floating around (Nimoy, of course) for some reason, and a giant ball of something called "red matter."

The Artistry:

A disclaimer: I would describe my appreciation for "Star Trek" the original series as 'casually enthusiastic' at best- I mean, I love the premise, the characters, and so forth, but I can't say I have the whole thing memorized, and I wouldn't defend the stodgy pacing and Shatner's scenery-chewing to someone without the patience for them.

To me, it's always been a relic of another time- I was more into the "Star Trek"s that were on tv during my youth, the later years of "The Next Generation" and the heyday of "Deep Space Nine" and "Voyager." But for all that the loss of a sense of philosophical trappings and parlimentary debate to the film reboot doesn't pain me in the slightest.

I wrote here about how great I thought the film was (and here and there about its technical merits during the 2010 Oscarthon), but to sum up: great script, great performances, excellently made (lens flares aside), shoddy science but all-around fun.

Here's the paradox: I would have like it probably less if I cared a whole bunch about the original series, but I also would have liked it less if I knew nothing about it at all.

Why? Because nostalgia is a tricky thing- an ideal of the past, not the thing itself- and considering it went off the air before I was born, "nostalgia" might even be too strong a word. All Star Trek had to do for me then, was remind of the parts I enjoyed of TOS without replicating it exactly. That would be the camraderie between Kirk, McCoy and Spock (check), the basic concept and design of the Federation (check), spaceships that fire space torpedoes at one another (check), and Leonard Nimoy (super-check!).

In a way I think it's partly an issue of ownership, of primacy. There are these big, pop-culture institutions that exist before we all come along and participate in the culture, and even now that we can watch them all on DVD it's hard to feel included- "Star Trek" is great, but it was never meant for me to see in the first place.

And then these remakes come along, and as disheartening as the paucity of originality in Hollywood can be, it helps these institutions belong to entire new generations. This could be why I'll argue for Batman Begins over Batman every time, or the new "Battlestar Galactica" over the old one.

You still have to make a good film- the Transformers and G. I. Joes of the world can testify to that. But J.J. Abrams, with his madcap camera shaking, lens flaring, witty sensibility fully intact, has managed to create something new and old all at once, and I can't wait for the sequel.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

Does it matter how we get there? Kirk and Spock end up as Captain and First Officer of the Enterprise after saving Earth (but not Vulcan, which implodes on itself), Nero explodes, the stage is set for the vague, open-ended mission "To explore strange new worlds" and so on.

Hopefully Abrams and co. will take this as a cue to make new stuff up for the sequels instead of rehashing old villains like Khan and so forth.

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

Well, I did see it three times in the theater. Let's nudge it up a bit. I just realized that when I'm finally done I should re-rank the 250 films I cover, a project that will be nearly as impossible as watching them all (except that Crash will be last).

The Legacy:

It was the first Star Trek film to win an Oscar (for makeup), the highest grossing ever, and the launch of a new franchise. Not too shabby so far.

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

This clip (where Kirk goads Spock into attacking him) wins solely because the poster titled in "Erotic Asphyxiation IN SPACE."



Leftover Thoughts:

-Michael Giacchino's score here is so great I'm thinking about tagging his name in all of the countdown entries in which he appears.

-Can you do the "live long and prosper" hand thing? If not I feel for you, because it's awesome.

-I'm working on a screenplay for a kids' movie called Ouroboros about a snake that comically always mistakes its own tail for food.


Coming Up...

168. The Wages Of Fear

167. Ratatouilee

166. Dog Day Afternoon

A vague idea: when viewing violent, voluminous vestiges of visual vehicles of verbalization (as V for Vendetta, a virulent volume of vastly vivacious verse, verily), the vein of vindictive votaries may veer to volatile vandilizations void of valid and virtuous veneration of the value therein vaunted.

Ahem. What I mean is, fans of Alan Moore (and David Lloyd)'s landmark graphic novel may be unfairly prone to dislike its 2006 film adaptation before even seeing it. And it's perfectly understandable, given Moore's long history of getting butchered by Hollywood, which reached a nadir with The Leage Of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

But we're here to review the film, on its own, with a gracious acknowledgment that Alan Moore deserves nearly all of the credit for the great parts of the film and none of the blame for the not-as-great parts. Okay? Let's dive in, then.

The Key Players:

Director James McTeigue has gone on to direct Ninja Assasin, and could have a long, fruitful career in his own right. But I'd bet when you search him on imdb his pull credit will always be "Second Unit Director, The Matrix," as it is right now. Because V for Vendetta is really a product of co-writers and co-producers Andy and Larry Wachowski, masterminds of The Matrix trilogy and the bonkers Speed Racer live adaptation.

Our cast, it is super-loaded: Natalie Portman had by last decade parlayed her dramatic indie chops and Star Wars prequel overexposure into A-list star status. Hugo Weaving (The Matrix, the Lord of the Rings series) was brought in to replace James Purefoy as the title character.

In support are Stephen Rea (The Crying Game, The End of the Affair), John Hurt (1984, Alien), and Stephen Fry (Gosford Park, Jeeves!).



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The Story:

SO much going on here: it's the near future, totalitarian England (that seems to happen a lot, huh?)- a despot named Adam Sutler (Hurt) has come to power, riding a wave of paranoia and fear after a terrorist biological attack.

Evey Hammond (Portman) heads out after curfew, only to be accosted by sleazy, corrupt "Fingermen" (like the gestapo)- she's saved by a cloaked, Guy Fawkes-masked, seemingly super-strong man who introduces himself as only 'V' (Weaving), who invites her to see a concert with him.

That concert turns out to be the 1812 Overture, hacked into the police loudspeakers, as a backdrop to his detonation of the Old Bailey (part of the Crown Court buildings), right at the stroke of midnight, turning the calendar to November 5th (Guy Fawkes' day).

The next day, an irate Sutler berates his underlings (ironically via huge, 1984-style tv screen), including his right hand man Creedy and Chief Police Inspector Finch (Rea), and promises are made to capture the terrorist immediately, and the girl who was with him.

Finch follows a lead on said girl to Evey's place of employment, the British Television Network where she's a PA. Just as the news crews are busy proclaiming last night's explosion a "planned demolition," V shows up with a bomb strapped to his chest, hijacks the signal, and sends out a message eloquently decrying the government, the apathy and fear that led to their power, and exhorting one and all to show up at Paliament one year hence, when he'll blow that up too.

Evey sees V nearly caught during his escape (as they were already coincidentally there, looking for her), and maces a policeman to help him, getting knocked on the head for her trouble. V takes her to his lair, to spare her the secret prison route of Creedy's secret police.

Then we see V sneak in to the home of "The Voice of London," Bill O'Reilly-like pundit Lewis Prothero, and kill him- Evey, revealing her parents' abduction and deaths at the regime's hands, promises to help him kill another important party member, a pedophile priest, but she tries to warn the man and runs away, frightened of V's murder-spree.

V also kills (more humanely) a Dr. Surridge, and at this point we realize V is killing not just important regime members, but people who held him captive many years before at Larkhill Detention Center, where the party performed awful genetic experiments on "undesirables" killing all but the man in the cell with Roman Numeral V on the door, who was transformed as a result.

Evey meanwhile, goes to the home of Gordon (Fry), a tv comedian (what a stretch) and her friend. He's recently been emboldened by V's actions, and stages a skit mocking Chancellor Sutler on his latest show- for which he is hooded and taken away, of course. Evey tries to sneak out a window, but is snatched as well.

She's tossed in a cell, her head is shaved, she's tortured and questioned- but will she cooperate and give them V's location? The shadowy interrogator promises her that's all they want, and she'll be free. And why do all of Finch's superior's want him to stop looking into Larkhill and V's past, once he realizes the pattern of those getting murdered?

The Artistry:

V For Vendetta had a couple different crosses to bear, so to speak- both in their way impossible ones. There's the Alan Moore contingent, a bitter, frothing, reclusive mass that had been burned a few times and were pessimists by nature, as well as The Matrix fans, the die-hards that shook their heads and got into the sequels, and the die-softers that could still get pumped about a Wachowski project that they didn't write themselves.

Would their new project, rife with many of the same dystopian themes, reclaim that Matrix magic without turning Moore's beloved think-piece into a prolonged music video?

Turns out more yes than no, even if Moore and many of his fans disagree. Certain subplots were logically removed, and the focus shifted slightly, but the result is a rollicking fable on its own merits.

There's an action scene very, very late that lusicrous slow-mo nonsense, as jarringly out of place as the "bullet time" scene in The Matrix was breathtaking and innovative, but otherwise the filmmakers show some restraint and focus on the performances.

Weaving's jovial, theatrical turn (perhaps mostly in the ADR booth) creates a memorable character without a face to remember. Hurt's few scenes are all memorable bombastic scenery-chewing. Portman's early innocence is a little forced to me (though her accent was fine to my American ears), but I warmed to her sincerity as the film went on- and the role of audience cipher is always a little thankless.

The MVP is really Stephen Rea, though, at his weary, doleful, Stephen-Rea-iest best. He mopes from point to point, and underplays the reactions to the conspiracy he uncovers quite well.

In fact, the biggest thing I miss from the graphic novel is a scene where his character, equally reserved, goes to the ruins of Larkhill and trips on acid until he has a revelation- Rea takes the same trip and has a much milder revelation, but apparently sober.

Otherwise mostly everything went right- V For Vendetta clocks in at a snappy 2:10, especially for all of the exposition it has to dole out the entire time. The colors are muted, the nostalgic fancies of V are all there.

The film's commitment to general theatricality is perhaps what make it worth reviewing. Witness the insane, not-Alan-Moore's-at-all monologue by which V introduces himself (as parodied above). Or the glossy, dreamlike reading of the prison-cell note.

Yes, the film changes from a morally ambigous study of anarchism vs. facism to a liberal freedom fighter's quest to topple ultra-conserativism (still sorta facist, though), and its even brief couching of the origins of the conflict in terms of American wars makes it more of an American fable. Well...I'm an American liberal, so tough.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

Evey finds a note, from a fellow prisoner named Valerie who had been rounded up as a homosexual, and the story of her life gives Evey the courage to defy her inquisitor and accept that she'll be killed. At which point he tells her she's free to go. So she walks out of her cell... into V's home. Turns out he's been torturing her, to teach her to live without fear.

She's enraged, but also emboldened by the ordeal, and decides to leave. V is sad, and asks that she come back before Nov. 5th, once more.

Finch eventually discovers that the government itself engineered the bioattack that led to their takeover (gasp!), but also that his informant was V. So who knows? (except that we know). V strikes a deal with Creevey to hand himself over in exchange for the life of Sutler (this is a suprisingly easy deal to broker.

The day arrives, and Creedy delivers- Sutler gets one in the head. Then a whole group of soldiers take a whole bunch of shots at V, but he's still standing, and kills them with knives in that nut-bonkers, indulgent sequence, and Creedy as well. That's why you don't make deals with people in masks, Creedy.

V stumbles back to his train full of explosives, says goodbye to Evey, who earlier came to see him off as promised, and dies. Finch arrives (he had a hunch about it, or something), but Evey stares him down and flips the train on to head it toward Parliament.

Which then explodes, and the people all takes off their Guy Fawkes masks (V sent them to everyone in the mail) and watch the fireworks, unsure of what awaits them tomorrow.

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

Maybe a little lower? It's super-fun, but I don't know if it's top 200 material.

The Legacy:

A decent-enough box office return and positive reviews will suffice for now. The real legacy- it's the best Alan Moore adaptation to date, and for all the things different from the source, it's more than made up for it in the extra sales thereby generated. The flashy, worse-every-time-I-watch-it Watchmen can't even come close, you ask me.

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

The so-cheesy-it's-fun alliterative speech, kinetic-typography-style!



Leftover Thoughts:

-Neil Gaiman has a pretty good theory about how the excreable LoXG adaptation is really the best thing to happen to comic book movies, since all the reviews (and the consensus) was "ruins a great comic," and helped us take it for granted that comics can be great literature that films can then ruin.

-The Wikipedia article on the Wachowski brothers REFERENCES ITSELF WHAT? Also both imdb and Wikipedia are rife with the seemingly unconfirmed theory that Larry Wachowski has undergone a sex change operation and is now known as Lana, to the point that both names are changed in the user-edited databases.

-Hey it's Patrick from "Coupling"! Neat. I heard that Jeff is in Prince of Persia and just the thought of taking him seriously in an action movie cracked me up.

-If I ever have a mansion (or a lair), The Shadow Gallery would be a pretty good name.

Coming Up...

169. Star Trek

168. The Wages of Fear

167. Ratatouille

At the library where I work, a lady was checking out The Transporter. She asked if we had the sequels, but we just at The Transporter 3, not 2. She thought about it and asked me, earnestly:

"Do you think I'll be able to understand what's going on?"

To which I replied: "You mean... transporting? I think you'll be okay."

I left a voicemail for Dave, proud owner of all three Transporters, and got this email the next day:

"Dunc-

Here's what I would have told that woman...

Well, "The Transporter 2" is a bit sleeker than its predecesor. Louis Leterrier assumes full control of the film, as opposed to sharing the helm with Cory Yuen on the first film. The second film picks up in a new, unexpected locale: Miami, Florida. Frank Martin has now taken a position as a transporter... Of children. He serves as the personal chaffeur and Dr. Ruth for the Billings Family. Jefferson Billings, as portrayed by the Golden Globe-nominated, Chute defeating, and WNBA fan Matthew Modine, is the family patriarch who serves as the director the National Drug Control Policy and is hell-bent on cleaning up the country's drug lords. How one becomes a director of a policy remains to be seen. Gianni Chellini happens to be Miami's most nefarious drug lord. Chellini is played by Italy's own Allessandro Gassman, who's film credits include "Windsurf" and "Big Deal After 20 Years," dispatches his henchwoman, the sultry Lola. Lola, not Russian in the slightest attempts to kidnap the Billings' son at a doctor's appointment Martin has taken him to. A wild shoot-out ensues, with Martin blowing up the office with an oxygen tank. Lola then intercepts Martin, and young Jack Billings, at the entrance to the Billings' estate. Lola forces her way into the vehicle and a wild chase ensues. To sum the chase best, Martin drives his Audi A8 W12 off of a parking garage rooftop into another building that is under construction. Obviously, the special effects make this sequence completely believable. Martin is then taken for a face-to-face meeting with Gianni. While meeting at Gianni's warehouse, Gianni kidnaps Jack and Martin's car is booby-trapped with bomb under the carriage. Martin notices the bomb via a puddle and proceeds to flip the car over, and catch the bomb on a crane hook. However, the Audi A8 W12 is ruined from the impact on the ground. Lola and Gianni have announced their demands and receive payment for the safe return of fair Jack. Unknown to the Billings family and the local authorities, Jack has been infected with a lethal virus that will kill anyone who comes into contact with it within 48 hours. Martin is not happy or amused by this. Martin takes matters into his own hands. Many Russians die because they have a deal with Italian drug lords that work in cooperation with Colombian suppliers. Martin fights a very large man for mild comic relief. Martin winds up with some of the all important antidote and delivers a vial to cure ailing Jack. Martin goes to Gianni's home and fights off numerous henchmen. Finally, preparing to battle Gianni, Lola steps in. A struggle ensues and Lola ends up as a part of an art piece in the living room. Martin then steals Gianni's Ferrari and chases down an airplane. Once aboard, Martin does two things: Displays his British hospitality and KILLS! The plane crashes and an underwater battle ensues. Martin incapacitates Gianni by crushing his spine with his elbow. The antidote is then synthesized from Gianni's blood to cure all the world's problems. I am leaving out the intricate subplot surrounding Gianni's sexuality, the arrival and importance of Tarconi's dinner, and the influence of French New Wave Cinema upon Leterrier's vision. I would say that it is utterly pivotal that you watch this movie to fully understand the multiple storylines that make up what is often described as the greatest action movie trilogy that stars Jason Statham of all-time."

Remember when Guy Ritchie was cool? What happened? Oh yeah, he married Madonna, cast her in a remake of Swept Away, and renamed her character after his mother. I wonder why that didn't work out?

But today, we take a look at his triumphant emergence on the scene with 1999's Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

The Key Players:

Ritchie recently proved he could direct something other than comic gangster fables with the winning Sherlock Holmes, though that in its way was sort of like Snatch or Lock, Stock without the kickin' soundtrack. But his shtick had been getting a little old, as witnessed by the serviceable but indifferently-recieved RocknRolla, even after his departures had gone even worse (like the ridiculously misguided Revolver and the aforementioned Swept Away). Holmes has brought the newly Madonna-free Ritchie back into standing as a bankable talent- I guess we'll see how he cashes it in.

He directs a large ensemble, the only notables of which include future action-superstar Jason Statham (The Transporters, Cranks, The Italian Job) and a cameo by some banjo player named Gordon Sumner (though Jason Flemyng and Dexter Fletcher have pretty solid careers as "Hey It's That Guy!"s).



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The Story:

Our ostensible main characters are four friends: a card sharp, a cook, a grifter, and a...dude played by Jason Statham (I guess he's also a grifter, as it were) pool £100,000 to back the card sharp in a high stakes game- a game that turns out to be rigged, and they end up with a £500,000 debt to a local "porn king."

The porn king, meanwhile, hires two incompetent thugs to steal the titular pair of priceless antique rifles, a group of criminals robs a trio of middle-class marijuana-growers, drawing the ire of their afro-headed supplier and his own thugs.

Our four heroes decide to rob the first group of criminals after they've cleaned out the weed-farm, keep the cash, and sell the weed to the local kingpin- who is of course the same afro-ed psycho they've indirectly stolen it from. They purchase some guns along the way, but all they can scrounge are two anicent rifles they're not sure will even fire. Hmmm.

The Artistry:

Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels clearly demonstrates Ritchie's propensity for fun montages, acid-washed visuals, and a frenetic pacing right away (though one can argue that producer Matthew Vaughn might deserve just as much credit).

But the screenplay's balance of wit, sarcasm, casual profanity, and fully-formed characters (or cariacatures) are what makes it worth multiple viewings.

Nearly every character, no matter the limited amount of time, makes an impression- be it's Sting's glowering father figure, Vinnie Jones as an acerbic muscleman (not that he plays anything else, really), the bumbling comic duo that steals the rifles, or Vas Blackwood silently watching the tv after lighting a tosser on fire.

The cockney rhyming slang helps, especially since it's just presented as is instead of explained (like in the weakest single scene from Ocean's 11).

I suppose the frank portrayal of gangland violence was sort of extreme, even just 11 years ago, but it's a yawn these days. Oh, he shot off a dude's foot? Meh.

But the lived-in underworld that Lock, Stock creates is memorable enough to be worth visiting again (which Ritchie himself would do with Snatch), and the breezy chemistry of the cast (the celebratory montage of drinking between our heroes late in the film seems pretty real) makes it a minor modern classic.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

The muscleman (and his moppet son) ends up with the money, the two bands of criminals take each other out, and our four compatriots have only two musty rifles to show for their troubles (but no debt, after the duo of thugs takes out the porn king in a hilarious crossed-wire act of desperation). They send loudmouth Tom to throw them off a bridge, just as they realize they're worth a quarter mil each! A hilarious ambiguous freeze-frame ensues.

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

I like it right here: a unique vision, a fun time had by all. My only quibble would be that Snatch is even higher, while Matthew Vaughn's superior Layer Cake is nowhere to be found. But you can't have everything.

The Legacy:

Surely the whole "Guy Ritchie movie" Type has lead to the greenlighting of lesse fare, your Smokin' Aceses of the world and all. There was also brief tv series adapted from the film.

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

I'm pretty partial to the very opening scene, with Statham's rapid patter giving way to a kickass Ocean Colour Scene set flight from the 'cozzers.'



Leftover Thoughts:

-The lack of an Oxford comma in this film's title bothers me. I will defend the Oxford comma with my life.

-My favorite running joke is the way everyone makes fun of Flemyng's character as if he's fat. "Tom what have you been eating?"

-Most of the quotes are funnier in context, really. It's the banter, not the lines themselves.


Coming Up...

170. V For Vendetta

169. Star Trek

168. The Wages Of Fear

Review spoiler: I have seen 1995's Twelve Monkeys many times and I already know that it is GREAT with a capital all five of those letters! This is because it involves one of my favorite directors (Terry Gilliam) and perhaps my favorite subject for any medium of any kind (time travel).

I would love to go back to before I saw Twelve Monkeys and stop myself from seeing it so I could write an unfettered piece for ya, but since the past is immutable I would probably slip on a banana peel, knock a glass of water onto a control board and cause the Chernobyl explosion or some such thing.

Time travel, am I right?

The Key Players:

You'd think Terry Gilliam might have called it a day on the Being Awesome front after serving as the American 1/6th of Monty Python (he did the animated shorts, bit parts, and co-wrote with the gang), but no: he decided to become some sort of Georges Méliès crossed with Steven Spielberg superdirector. He's got the creative vision and epic perfectionism that lead to inflated budgets and numerous delays, but it's all resulted in some of the most singularly wonderful films EVER (Brazil, Time Bandits, The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen (I will fight you on this one!)). Of course, fiascos are bound to happen as well (Tideland, The Brothers Grimm), but there's wonder to be found in the most uneven Gilliam projects (like the recent The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus).

Star Bruce Willis is of course better known as the recording artist behind the smash-success 1987 album The Return Of Bruno. Co-star Brad Pitt would only make a few films before tragically aging backwards into an infant in 2009.

But seriously folks, whatever happened to Madeleine Stowe? She broke out in the early 90s with The Last Of The Mohicans, Short Cuts, and this role, but has since faded into mostly supporting turns and tv guest spots. Last year she was in a Lifetime TV-movie, and you know what that means...

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The Story:

Willis stars as James Cole, a convicted violent offender in an underground, post-apocalyptic 21st century. He's forcibly "volunteered" to go up to the Earth's surface, unihabitable due to an airborne virus since December 1996, and collect samples of bugs and such to aid the scientists researching a cure.

They've also developed a ramshackle sort of time travel, and as such decide to send Cole back to 1996 to find a pure sample of the virus- problem is, he ends up in 1990 instead, and commited to the loony bin when he tells the truth about where he's from (is this ever a good idea? Not saying "I'm from THE FUTCHA!" is like Time Travel 101).

In said asylum, he meets scatterbrained zealot-without-a-cause Tyler Durden Jeffrey Goines (Pitt), the son of a prominent virologist, and his psychiatrist Dr. Kathryn Railly (Stowe). Goines helps him organize an escape attempt, but he's caught and locked up tight- only to dissappear into thin air.

Back in the "present," the scientists tut-tut about him getting locked up (and their own six-year error), and try again- this time with some more specific instructions about the people and places involved- supposedly the mysterious "Army of the Twelve Monkeys" had something to do with the virus outbreak, with Jeffrey Goines front and center.

Cole ends up in 1996, after a brief stop in WWI France to get shot in the leg- not the most subtle operator, kidnaps Dr. Railly (who's since become an expert on "Cassandra Syndrome") to drive him to see Goines. Goines (now released) denies any world-annihilating virus plans, and Railly manages to convince Cole that his experiences in the "future" are hallucinations, just before he disappears once again. He convinces the scientists (believing them just figments of his minds) to send him back one more time- meanwhile, Railly discovers various evidence that Cole's a real time traveler.

Eventually they realize that he's not crazy, and decide to up and spend the last month of the world in the Florida Keys (product placement much?).

Did I mention that Cole's been haunted this whole time by a dream (or memory) in which his younger self watches an oddly familiar man get shot to death in an airport? No? Well, it's pretty important.

The Artistry:

12 Monkeys would mark Gilliam's first attempt at directing a story he didn't develop himself (partially excepting the mythology-based The Fisher King)- the screenplay was ordered by Universal before his involvement, to be expanded from the 1962 short La Jetée- though it mostly takes the central idea of the dream and runs in other directions.

As such, it's probably the most tightly-structured of all of his films- where opuses like Brazil and Time Bandits are held together by characters and performances, Monkeys is propelled by its interlocking timelines and plot threads, woven at the center with the incrementally revealing dream sequence.

The backdrop for all of this is of course, Gilliam's trademark insanity, which makes the film more than a gimmick. The skewed camera angles in the asylum, the steampunk art-direction of the underground future- which seems to be composed mostly of banks of monitors and oversized magnifying glasses- or the harrowing Philadelphia slums.

Many of his films seemed marked by a sense of paranoia, and Willis' frenzied but numb performance might be the primary example- usually Gilliam's heroes are the only ones who see it straight in a world of fools ("Mom! Dad! Don't touch it! It's Evil!"), but Cole is harrowed enough to take tips from the inmate who introduces himself by saying "I don't really come from outer space."

The apex of this madness is the random hobo that seems to exist in both timelines at once, sometimes knowing key information (like the teeth thing), sometimes just a clueless hobo, and sometimes just a voice that outright suggests he could just be in Cole's head. He's a little overdone (why does he call Cole "Bob"?), but still fun.

The cast is largely game, too- especially the Oscar-nominated (and Globe-winning) Pitt, all tics and crazy-eyes to balance Willis's stoicism (which, as we'll see in things like The Sixth Sense, is the right use of post-Die Hard Bruce Willis anyway). Stowe's role is pretty thankless, but the rest of the bit players shine, from David Morse as a pivotal nutball to Christopher Plummer as the clueless scientist.

They combine to tug 12 Monkeys toward black comedy, though in the end it's a dark, dark film: all of the themes that it juggles (dehuminization of prisoners, rampant consumerism vs. environmentalism, delusion vs. reality) are swallowed up in the end by the lesson that the past (and thus, the future) are unchangeable (uh, spoiler I guess), which in this context is pretty hopeless.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

That memory turns out to be Cole witnessing his own death as a child! The Army of the 12 Monkeys is nothing more than a guerilla animal rights group, and it's a wacko assistant to Goines' father that releases the plague (after an early, eerie cameo at Railly's book-signing). Cole rushes through airport security to stop him on impulse (with a gun given to him by another traveler from the future? This part is unclear to me), and is shot by security.

Railly sees the younger Cole and has a quiet Wow, this is messed up moment as we draw to a close. Enjoy the virus, everybody!

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

Maybe just slightly higher- I like this film a lot, but the aura of unstoppable bleakness doesn't have me watching it once a month or anything- even Brazil is punctuated with some comedic and fantasia-based highs here and there.

The Legacy:

I think we can safely say that this (in tandem with Se7en) led at least to Brad Pitt being taken more seriously as an actor- his awards were the most notable. It's also Gilliam's most successful film by any measure, turning a $30 million budget into nearly $170 m worldwide.

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

This fan-made(?) trailer makes it seems like an entire asylum set black comedy, but it's pretty great all the same.



Leftover Thoughts:

-If you had to trace the founders of cinema to their modern descendants, there would be a straight line from Georges Méliès to Gilliam and an even straighter line from Thomas Edison to Brett Ratner. (Zing! Film-nerd burn!)

-I've seen every Gilliam film except Tideland- someday, maybe I'll make it just for completism, though I understand it's woefully misguided at best and reprehensible at worst.


Coming Up...

171. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

170. V for Vendetta

169. Star Trek

New Rule: I have to write this little intro part before I watch the film, or do any research! So when it's a film I haven't seen (like 1940's The Grapes Of Wrath), we get to fly blind up here.

I also haven't read the much-ballyhooed Steinbeck novel that today's entry is adapted from. I always sort of assumed it was about giant, lab-grown grapes that gain sentience and then turn on their masters. Will my hopes be dashed? READ ON to find out!

The Key Players:

Remember John Ford? Today he will prove to us that he can do more than say "Hey John Wayne, look stoic for a while and then call somebody "Pilgrim." Action!"

Star Henry Fonda would use this role as a springboard to many memorable turns that we will see in the top 100 (Once Upon A Time In The West, 12 Angry Men). The cast is stuffed with many other, less notable actors (the only name that jumped out was John Carradine's- though mostly he's known for starting a Hollywood dynasty of acting children (much like Fonda would)).



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The Story:

Tom Joad (Fonda) returns from 4 years in prison (for what he terms "HOME-I-CIDE" in a bar brawl) to find his family home deserted. Turns out the Dust Bowl's been leading various landholders to kick all the sharecroppers out on their asses.

He finds his extended family (including various siblings, his parents, and his grandparents) preparing to leave for California in a comically over-laden jalopy. He and a local ex-preacher, Casy (Carradine), hop in the back for the ride.

After Route 66 leads them through several states (and they lose both grandparents along the way), they find California as desolate and jobless as Oklahoma, initially- they stop in a camp outside of town for the night.

Then some slickster in a fancy hat offers work in Tavarez county, with a crooked local cop to haul in anyone who points out that his terms are unfair- this leads to a dustup in which a bystander gets shot and Casy arrested.

The family flees the camp, and a passing motorist tells them of work picking peaches at the Keene ranch. Turns out the work is strike-breaking, as they pass through a ring of itinerant strikers, with Casey among them as a recently adopted figurehead of sorts. But a posse shows up and clubs Casy to death- without thinking Tom kills one in return, and the family hides him in the back of the jalopy and steals away again.

But hey, they stumble onto a peaceful, Dept. of Agriculture camp that has plumbing, organized sanitation- even dancing! Will they live out idyllic days in this state-sponsored commune, or will the long arm of "The Man" catch up with Tom at last?

The Artistry:

The Grapes Of Wrath has a lot going for it, as long, epic-type films go. Cinematographer Greg Toland (who would later sling lenses for The Best Years Of Our Lives) has lots of fun with highway vistas, swirling dust, and shadows cast over nefarious night deeds. The cast all seems game, even the many, many extras playing other job-seekers.

But there's really one man who's called this all to order, and that man is pure Steinbeck! The plot, already plodding along at a novular pace, slows down frequently for stagy monologues about common folk and honest work. The characters are pretty clear ciphers, to the point of annoying caricature (especially the damn grandparents- he's a hammy toothless old man if there ever was one, and later, when the grandma is on her deathbed, she wistfully moans "Grandpa...grandpa!" as if EVEN SHE did not know his actual name!).

Even Tom Joad, ably embodied by the super-young Fonda, doesn't really have that much depth until the very end.

Maybe it would help if I read the book- there's clearly a lot of subtext here that no film would have the time to cover. I enjoyed the way Casy, for example, has a serene look on his face when he's arrested for hitting the cop- clearly he was looking forward to the free room and board (though they just ran him out of town instead). And my favorite part in the whole film was probably when the campers diffused a pre-planned riot that the cops were going to use as an excuse to raid those suspected "reds."

But gosh it takes a while to get there.

THE ENDING! SPOILERS!

The cops sure come a'lookin' for Tom, but he steals away by night before they can get a warrant. When his ma asks him what he'll do, he vows (in a vague, not-yet-planned-out way) to watch out for the little man. His speech is one of the foremost (if not the earliest) of the "Wherever there's [EXAMPLE OF INJUSTICE]...I'll be there" variety.

The family soon moves on, south for cotton-pickin' season, and Ma Joad speculates on how much tougher working-folk are than rich folk, and how the hard life keeps them from going soft and dying out.

END SPOILERS


Overall: Should It Be Higher, Lower?

I can't say I found it that moving- deference to the book and all, but it just sort of shambles about- cursory online reading tells me the ending of the novel is significantly different (and darker), perhaps explaining why the novel is the first thing that springs to mind when you hear the title, not the film (as opposed to, say, The Wizard Of Oz or something).

The Legacy:

Ford and Ma Joad actress Jane Darwell would win Oscars for their efforts (out of 7 nominations), it's made the NFR of course, and it's been a seminal enough version to prevent anyone else from attempting another one (unlike the 1939 Of Mice And Men).

The Best Video Of It On YouTube:

We're pretty much forced to go with Fonda's speech about all the improbable places he'll manage to be at once from the end. Though make sure you watch the trailer up there as well, if only for the way it portrays the frantic demand for Steinbeck's book as a way of hyping the film.




Coming Up...

172. Twelve Monkeys

171. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

170. V For Vendetta