The Button Down Blog

Cunard! Cunard! He’s our shill! If he won’t lend it, no one will!

The Thin Man was a bit of a surprise for me. Made in 1934, the film came only a few years after talkies picked up steam, so it was fun watching director W.S. Van Dyke play with new methods. It was also interesting to watch actors who clearly came from different schools (and diction coaches) come together for a movie that was exactly what it needed to be.

Our story is a basic murder mystery. Clyde Wynant, inventor, jerk, and father, disappears from a months-long trip after his girlfriend/secretary (acting the hell out of the scene at left) is killed, and there are fingers pointing everywhere. Who killed her? Where is Wynant? What does his family, including money-grubbing ex-wife Mimi know about it? Why is Wynant’s son Gilbert (below right, with sister Dorothy) always carrying around a big prop book? Does he think it makes him look smarter? And if so, how stupid is he, really?

Enter Nick Charles, master alcoholic and former detective for Mr. Wynant, and his wife Nora Charles. Even though he keeps saying he isn’t on the case, Nick keeps getting dragged in until he starts working with the police to solve an ever-increasing number of murders.

About ¾ of the way into The Thin Man, I realized why it seemed so familiar. I’ve seen the structure of the story before in TV shows like Murder She Wrote, Matlock, and to a lesser extent, Law and Order. It helps to remember that the place of theater in culture was different in 1934 than it is today. In the midst of the Great Depression, theater became a momentary distraction before televisions came to the home.

In fact, The Thin Man is perfect escapism. In the days when nobody had money, the main characters are all filthy rich, they have beautiful apartments, liquor flows freely from the taps, and they have wonderful clothes. Yet their lives are unhappy for one reason or another. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered when you can’t afford flour or new underwear.

Co-stars William Powell and Myrna Loy (left) made this film work on another level, though. There’s a comedic bent that Powell and Loy deliver impeccably. I was surprised at the relaxed style of the duo, especially Powell. In a film where everyone else speaks with a distinct theater accent and has a somewhat static delivery, Powell’s and Loy’s ease in front of the camera brought the film an air of realism that surely pulled it above competitors.

I don’t think I’m spoiling anything when I say that the murderer is found out, and they all lived (well, most of them) happily ever after. Apparently, so did writer Dashiell Hammett and the cast and crew of The Thin Man, because several sequels were made. I’m looking forward to watching them.

I’ve never been one to get excited about action movies. I’m not sure why, but they never did anything for me. (Maybe that’s why I didn’t like Reno 911!: Miami.) So when Speed was released, I was one of the few who wasn’t in a rush to get to the theater. Having now watched Speed, that was clearly my one allotted mistake for 1994.

Speed is pretty darn good. It starts pretty quickly as bomber Howard Payne (Dennis Hopper) threatens an elevator full of passengers. Cops Jack Traven (Keanu Reeves) and Harry Temple (Jeff Daniels) rescue the passengers, stop the bomber, and make an enemy. Some indeterminate time later, Payne puts a bomb on a city bus as a way to get back at the officers. If the bus goes below 50mph, it’ll explode, taking with it all the passengers including, of course, Sandra Bullock.

There. With the plot recap out of the way, let’s get down to what’s good and what’s not so good about this movie.

The filmmakers did a good job of starting with a tense situation and upping the tension every time a new obstacle made an appearance. The bus driver’s shot, the bus needs to do a ridiculously sharp turn, they have to drive down city streets, and on and on. As I was watching, I was reminded of the TV show 24. It has the same kind of keep-topping-ourselves feel to it. That works well here.

Sandra Bullock has long been one of my favorites, and it’s fun to watch her before she “made it.” She has the same everyman style that many people identify with Jimmy Stewart. There’s something in her style that allows people to identify with her, and that’s an important asset. In Speed, Bullock’s unexperienced character acts as the voice of the passengers, working closely with the cop to find a way out of the mess.

Keanu Reeves, then best known as Ted Logan of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, was a big risk for this action film, but overall it was a good choice. There are issues, like his monotone delivery, and his odd accent, but he is convincing as a cop in a bad situation.

The pulse-pounding pace continues for most of the film, and is generally successful. On the audio commentary that came with the DVD, the writer said that he wished that they had stopped before they got to the subway portion, and I agree. It was almost as if the producers didn’t trust the movie to hold people’s attention for the whole bus section, and they tacked an extra fifteen minutes on just in case. I think it was a mistake, and really dragged the movie out.

One big problem I have with the movie is the baby carriage full of cans. If you’ve seen it, you know what I’m talking about. That was totally unnecessary, and more importantly, it was manipulative to let the audience believe that there was a baby being killed. I really, really hated that.

And I could have done without the naive tourist. Played well by Alan Ruck, his “gosh darn” attitude is grating. The fact that his lines are overdubbed twice to remove swears surely adds to my disdain of him. It just made his character unbelievable to me.

Maybe my trouble with action flicks is that they tend to be a little less believable than more character-driven movies. For me at least, once the believability breaks down, the rest of the movie falls apart. There were oddities in the script for Speed that you could drive a bus through (har har), but I honestly didn’t notice them until mid-way through the second viewing. (Someone cut a hole through the pavement in downtown LA and nobody noticed?) As far as I’m concerned, that makes the movie makers successful.

Speed is by no means a perfect movie, but it’s a good one. Well paced and well directed, it deserves its spot as one of the blockbusters of 1994, and it holds up to viewing 13 years later.

Season 8, The Springfield Files

“I saw this movie about a bus that had to SPEED around a city, keeping its SPEED over fifty, and if its SPEED dropped, it would explode! I think it was called The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down.”

Season 8, Simpson-cali-fragi-listic-expiala-D’OH-cious

(to Sherry Bobbins) “Pop quiz, hotshot. I’m supposed to be doing my homework, but you find me upstairs reading a Playdude. What do you do? What DO you do?”

Also:

Season 6, The Springfield Connection

Season 8, In Marge We Trust

Season 12, Bye Bye Nerdie

I feel bad for the second movie in a trilogy. It always has a tough go. In the first movie, we get introduced to people and ideas. The director’s style in a specific genre gets shown for the first time. It’s the first time the crew gets to show what they’ve been excited to do. And the last movie is where all the storylines wraps up. It’s where everybody does it up brown because it’s their last chance to make an impression with franchise.

The second movie, though, has to suffer somewhere in between. It gets neither the starting nor the ending momentum. Even when the movies are only thematically linked, the second gets compared to its obvious betters on either end. Even if it’s a good movie, it won’t be recognized as being good enough to stand up to comparison on either end. I haven’t been able to think of an exception, at least.

For a Few Dollars More is no exception. Sorry movie, I just can’t help it.

Clint Eastwood, returning as the man with no name (known as Monco in this movie), is the same baddass he was in A Fistful of Dollars. He starts out in a barroom gambling for a wanted man’s life and of course he wins, then he wins a couple more times as other thugs in the bar try to kill him. It’s a pretty good shootout, with a great last second win that was fun to watch. Somehow, though, it doesn’t quite measure up to the shootouts in the previous movie. In this movie, it’s pretty clear that Monco is motivated by money and little else. The previous touch of helping-his-fellow-man is gone. I’m not sure I like the change.

Gian Maria Volontè (right) returns, this time as the villain El Indio, out to rob the El Paso bank. I actually like him better this time around. There’s something more sinister, more intelligent in El Indio than there was in Ramón Rojo. Both have their detailed plans, but El Indio thinks five steps ahead. I like that in a villain. Also, El Indio’s gang has the coolest hideout ever. Between jobs they camp out in an old abandoned church where El Indio can stand at the pulpit to address his mob. Again, best hideout EVER.

Finally, there’s Lee Van Cleef (below, left) in the role of Col. Douglas Mortimer, an older bounty killer who forms a partnership to stop and kill El Indio and split the reward. Pretty interesting character. He’s almost the man with no name, but he’s more methodical and less impulsive. There’s a bit of a cross/double cross between the two, but in the end they have a grudging respect for each other. I loved the nicknames they had for each other. The audience is reminded every time Monco called Mortimer “Old Man” or Mortimer called Monco “Boy” that while they were partners on this case, they would hardly be called friends.

Several things distinguish For a Few Dollars More from its predecessor. Firstly, there’s a bigness to the story that wasn’t present before. A Fistful of Dollars was contained entirely in one little near-ghost town, whereas this film spreads itself wide over miles and miles of desert and through several towns and cities.

Second, there is about a billion times more dialogue. That fact is both good and bad. It’s good because we can get a bit more insight into these fellas. Unfortunately, as with the other two parts of this trilogy, the dialogue is filmed with mostly Italian actors and then dubbed into English. It wasn’t terribly noticeable in Fistful, but with this much dialogue and no one trying to sync anything up or obscure the dubbing, it’s a bit distracting.

Overall, For a Few Dollars More is a good movie. Not quite as good as Fistful, but definitely good by any standard.

One final note; I loved the stopwatch. LOVED. It was a nice affect for El Indio and somehow (once we knew the reason for it) made him more sinister and more sympathetic at the same time. Either that, or I’m psychologically damaged beyond repair. Maybe both.

All right, all right. Probably both.

(Thanks to puppy-rescuer and all around good guy Ed Cunard for lending me his copy of today’s film.)

Singin’ in the Rain. How could I not have seen this movie before? I grew up loving musicals and somehow I didn’t see what is widely regarded as the best musical ever produced. Today, I’m adding my vote to that “widely regarded.”

Singin’ in the Rain is the story of silent film duo Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen) who have to make the transition from silent film to talkies when sound comes to the movie industry in 1927. Unfortunately, Lina’s voice doesn’t exactly go with her glamorous reputation. Because of that and the steep learning curve for filming with sound, the preview of the duo’s first talkie is a disaster and it’s up to Don, his old friend/totally heterosexual life-partner Cosmo Brown, and Don’s new girlfriend Kathy Selden to save the day.

How do they do it? Turn the mess into a musical, of course! Oh, and Kathy overdubs all of Lina’s lines. Hilarity ensues, of course, as Lina finds out about the plan and. . . You know what? It doesn’t really matter. The plot is hardly incidental, but there’s so much going on that the exuberance overcomes any problems with plot or characterization.

It’s odd that the standards and expectations are different for a musical, but for me at least, they are. It’s not that the standards are lowered, it’s that the tools are different. For example, there’s the big scene (right) where Don and Kathy embrace their deepening love for each other. In a non-musical, it would be absurd for it to be done so overtly. But put it in the form of tender love ballad “Would You” and the absurd becomes the sublime.

Not only do they sing, they dance. Apparently, Debbie Reynolds had no dancing experience when she was cast, but I think she held her own, considering she was dancing between Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor. O’Connor is a delight to watch in his song and dance number “Make ‘Em Laugh.” He and Kelly perform several numbers together, and I’m envious of their ability. (Not envious enough to do anything about it, but still.)

And then there’s the titular Gene Kelly solo that everybody knows from the vacuum cleaner commercials. He really was a wonderful showman.

There’s more to it than singin’ and dancin’ and schmaltz, though. This is a funny movie if ever I saw one. The problem with Lina’s voice was telegraphed pretty far ahead, but it still paid off with a big laugh. Later, when she was working with her diction coach, Jean Hagen’s performance was flawless. Lina was truly oblivious to how bad she was. If only more actresses today were willing to put themselves into positions like Hagen’s. She was the butt of a lot of the jokes, her true voice was never heard on the film, and she didn’t even get a song or dance number to showcase her skill! Most headlining actresses simply won’t put themselves in that position. I’m glad Hagen did.

That’s not to say that the film was without problems. Bob Boxbody*–I mean Millard Mitchell (above with Jean Hagen) is about the worst actor I’ve seen in a long time, and I’ve seen my share of bad actors. I figure he was either really bad but he knew somebody or he was really good and he was doing an impression of a real studio boss. Apparently the initials in the character’s name (R.F. Simpson) are a reference to Arthur Freed, a producer on Singin’ in the Rain. Maybe Mitchell was doing an impression of him. Either way, it was bad to the point of distraction.

I was also bothered by the resolution of the film. It was troubling that the men came up with a solution while keeping the “girl” in the dark about their plan, even while they used her. The bit with her not understanding was simply needless, and could just as easily have been written with her included instead of being used. As I said in my review of Casablanca, though, these were the times they were living in.

One more thing before I wrap up this already-too-long review. I had to smile at the irony that Singin’ in the Rain poked gentle fun at early talkies, even while they were committing heinous sins in their early use of color. Especially during the stage scenes it was clear that the production team was pretty new to the world of filming in TECHNICOLOR.

Overall, though, Singin’ in the Rain is a great film. It’s a classic that everybody should have on their shelf for those days when they need to watch an exuberant, unashamedly fun movie.

Season 6, Who Shot Mr. Burns (part one)

Season 7, Radioactive Man

Also…

That last one’s a little bit of a stretch, but if you listen to it, the beginning of the melody for the Itchy and Scratchy Show theme is the same as the beginning of “Should I”, sung in Singin’ by the guy pictured above. It was also sung at one point by Frank Sinatra. Check out his version here and see if I’m wrong.

* This insult shamelessly stolen from Mike Nelson and MST3K (The Horrors of Spider Island episode). Keep up with Mike’s current project at rifftrax.com!

Last week, some friends were talking online about animated films, and The Iron Giant came up. Most agreed that it’s on the short list of greatest animated films, while one person asked why it was so popular. Quite by coincidence, I had the disc sitting on the DVD player just waiting for me to watch it, so the subject was on my mind when I sat down to watch it.

The first thing I noticed was the design of the film. It’s set in the 1950s, and that’s clear not just because there’s a hipster and a 50s-style diner, but because every frame of the movie evokes the style of the era. The shot on the left is exactly what I’m talking about. The neighborhood is drawn in the style of children’s books like The Poky Little Puppy. The trees are shaped like the trees you would see in old breakfast cereal commercials.

Setting the mood as late-50s was important. The Iron Giant, based on the children’s book by Ted Hughes, is set in a very specific time, right after Sputnik I was launched in October of 1957. Hogarth Hughes, nine-year-old American kid and hero of the story, sits through “Duck and Cover” films at school and watches Twilight Zone-esque shows on TV when his Mom isn’t home. So when he discovers a giant robot in the woods near his house, he goes wild with excitement.

Hiding the robot, now there’s a problem. Where exactly do you hide a 50-foot robot, and how do you feed him? (And why does he need to be fed?) What do you do about his lost memory? How do you keep from telling someone that you have A GIANT FREAKING ROBOT?!? Hogarth, wonderfully voiced by Eli Marienthal, is shall we say, a little overwhelmed at the prospect. One of the best lines in the movie comes from this section when Hogarth shouts, “I’m the luckiest kid in AMERICA!!!”

Sadly, his unbridled joy can’t last. Of course other people have seen the robot, and before long a Federal agent is called in, and he isn’t happy about being called to Rockwell, Maine in the middle of a global crisis. The rest of the story flows from there, and as we go we also meet Hogarth’s mother Annie (voiced by Jennifer Aniston) and the town hipster/artist/junk yard proprietor Dean McCoppin, (Harry Connick Jr.), who unsurprisingly become a couple at the end of the movie.

So The Iron Giant is charming, it’s slightly historical, it has style. But what sets it apart from all the other animated films?

First, it doesn’t do break up the action every ten minutes for a song. I love me some musicals (I was practically raised on Sound of Music), and I love musical cartoons, but somewhere along the way it became accepted that animated = musical, and it just shouldn’t always be. Sometimes it’s a lazy way to stretch the story to 90 minutes, and sometimes it’s done to get parents to bring their kids to the theater. Both of those bother me. If you’re going to do something, you should do it for the right reason, and you should do it well. (I know, it’s terribly anti-capitalist of me.)

Second, The Iron Giant is done artfully. There’s an external reason for the snowfall toward the end, and there’s an external reason the snow stops. Both of those decisions, and countless other decisions, help the story.

More importantly than these, though, The Iron Giant addresses a question that most other animated films wouldn’t dare to. Most stick to the tried and true “boy meets girl” story, or maybe “be true to yourself.” The Iron Giant takes the latter one a step further, and explores the idea that you get to choose the kind of person you are. That’s a tall order for an animated movie, and this animated movie delivered.

The Iron Giant is the kind of animated film that all films should aspire to be. Inspiring, artful, funny and at times tender, this film is the reason Brad Bird (director) has gained such a following. Which leads me to. . .

Executive Consultant for 181 episodes over nine seasons, Director for two (Season 1’s Krusty Gets Busted and Season 3’s Like Father, Like Clown), Brad Bird would go on to direct The Iron Giant, The Incredibles, and the recent smash Ratatouille (…which until I was typing this I thought was called Ratatouiville. I are dum.). His next project is the live-action 1906, based on the novel by James Dalessandro and set to be released in 2009.

A Fistful of Dollars is the first western that I’ve seen in a long time, long enough that I don’t remember the last one I saw. That’s really odd now that I think about it, since they were a particular favorite of my grandfather’s, so I was excited to sit down and watch this film. If all westerns are like this, I’ve found the new love of my life.

From the first frame to the last, Clint Eastwood (left) defines badass. He’s cool without trying. He’s good without dancing through the poppies. He’s angry but in control. It’s clear that something in his past brought such a distance in his demeanor, but it’s not explored because it doesn’t matter. No one even knows his name, and no one dares ask. He is who he is.

Sergio Leone, the Italian director of the film, made sure right off the bat that the audience knew that the man with no name is one of the good guys. Sort of. We meet him as he enters the town of San Miguel, just on the other side of the Texas/Mexico border. As he takes a drink of water, he watches a child being beaten for a mysterious reason. He begins to react, but stops himself and the situation rights itself. He sees that someone’s being wronged, but it’s not his problem. Not yet, at least.

He heads into town and after getting some details from the bell ringer/ conveniently-placed back story teller meets Silvanito (right), owner of the town’s saloon. San Miguel has been taken over by two families, each vying for control and willing to kill to get it. Caught in the middle is the cowering populace, mostly women and children, as the men have all been caught in the crossfire. The man with no name remarks, “Never saw a town as dead as this one.” He’s right. The only person who works anymore is Piripero, the casket builder.

The stranger plays an interesting game of doublecross. He gets work from one family, gets enough information to be make himself valuable, then goes to work for the other. Before the film is over, he’s switched sides several times, always taking a few family members out on his way. And, while it would be easy to see him as ruthless and amoral, I tend to see him as ruthless and moral, after a fashion.

The stranger, you see, is heading toward a greater good. Taking out one family will leave the town still stuck under the control of a group of thugs. So he takes the dangerous path of getting rid of both families, and if he makes a little cash while he’s at it, what’s the harm?

Along the way, we learn a few things about the stranger. First, he’s always followed by a traveling minstrel armed only with a flute. And man, does he like to play the jazz flute. Call me a purist, but I prefer it when my minstrel plays his guitar. It’s a little less startling.

Second, the man with no name isn’t wholly without compassion. The family (left) of the child he saw as he came into San Miguel is stuck in a horrible position; one that has torn them apart. When the stranger gets a chance to fix the situation and make it right, he does. Not only that, he does it at great personal cost.

There’s a lot to love about A Fistful of Dollars. Ennio Morricone’s music is fitting and conveys the barren atmosphere of the film. Clint Eastwood is wonderful here. Dialogue is minimal, but there’s never any question about where he stands. The whole film is dubbed (apparently a peculiarity of Italian film) and some quite obviously, but once I got past the surprise of it, it really didn’t bother me. The violence is pretty rough, in a bloodless 1960s way, but it was fitting to the film. Best of all, the film had a sense of humor. I always appreciate that in a non-comedy.

One final thing that I noticed on my last pass through A Fistful of Dollars. Leone makes a point of having someone other than the man with no name stand up for the people of the town. Twice, this other person, whose identity I won’t spoil, stands next to the stranger, putting himself at risk. And when the stranger leaves San Miguel, it’s clear that there’s a new sheriff in town.

Before we begin, thanks to Ledger Domain’s Ed Cunard for lending me his copy of Casablanca. Just a few more to watch till I get off his shit list. Oh, what a day that will be!

Casablanca is an example of what film can do when the people involved want to make a good film. The story begins in “Rick’s”, a saloon in neutral 1942 Morocco that serves a diverse clientèle, including French refugees waiting for escape, Nazi officials, and thieves who take bribes from either side. Rick (Humphrey Bogart) Blaine claims neutrality (“I don’t stick out my neck for nobody.”) until old flame Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) Lund arrives with husband Victor (Paul Henreid) Laszlo.

Victor, it turns out, is an influential leader in the resistance movement and his only way out of Casablanca is controlled by Rick. The rest of the story so intricately developed that I can’t do it justice in this short space, so let’s get on to what makes it good and I’ll pick up some details along the way.

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There is a lot of good humor in this film. Lots of good one liners, often from Captain Renault, a regular source of wit (“It is a little game we play. They put it on the bill, I tear up the bill. It is very convenient.”). The writers, Julius and Philip Epstein with Howard Koch, seemed to know when the tension was threatening to overwhelm the audience and slipped a chuckle in perfectly.

Michael Curtiz (Director) played an interesting trick near the beginning of the film, one that I almost didn’t notice. He starts in the chaotic, angry marketplace, then moved to the relative easy mood of Rick’s. The film continues like this for 15 or 20 minutes until suddenly Ugarte is arrested and police flood the place, shots firing wildly. Then, as quickly as the police came, they go, leaving behind the understanding that everything about Rick’s, about Casablanca for that matter, is an illusion. There is horror always there, buried just below the surface.

Click image to enlarge

The characters are inhabited, of course, by an all-star cast, and it’s a good thing. The complexity of the relationships got so confusing that at one point I stopped the DVD to make sure I had everybody’s motivation right. The love triangle (between Rick, Ilsa, and Victor) itself was startling. Through the course of the film, it grew into a triangle of duty rather than love, a development that surprised the characters almost as much as me.

So yes, this is a wonderful film. That’s not to say that the film is perfect, of course. Getting past zeitgeist is difficult at times. For example, racism is alive and well in Casablanca, proved by the heroine calling Sam “boy”, or the fact that he’s the only employee to call Rick “Boss”, or the nature of his relationship with Rick. Curtiz takes time to point out that Rick isn’t racist, but it doesn’t quite ring true. Still, for the time, treating Sam (Dooley Wilson) in this manner was a major step. Nothing happens overnight, I suppose.

To continue with a few tiny complaints, holy cow, did they ever over-score movies in the 1940s. It isn’t that the music was inappropriate in tone, it was just so loud to the point of being obnoxious. The only respite we had were when the band was playing (and wow could they play).

click image to enlarge

I wish they had introduced the Bulgarians and the point of their presence in the film with more subtlety. It’s almost as if they put a neon sign over the girl. Mind, the couple was necessary to the story, and I liked the resolution at the roulette wheel. I just wish they could have hidden the seams a bit better.

There’s so much more positive than negative, though. The dueling anthems was a stroke of genius to begin with, and Paul Henreid’s performance drew it above even that. Henreid also had several well-delivered speeches. The first time Rick sees Ilsa in the saloon was magic. I stopped the DVD and replayed it a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, but the right corner of Rick’s mouth quivers just slightly when he sees her. What a subtle bit of performance. Ingrid Bergman is divine, conveying Ilsa’s public face covering her confusion as one would expect from Ingrid Bergman.

Casablanca is a wonderful film. If you haven’t seen it yet, you really should. If you have seen it, maybe it’s time to see it again.

Season 9, Natural Born Kissers

Also:

Season 3, Bart’s Friend Falls in Love

Season 7, Much Apu About Nothing

This is Matt. He hates handwritten signs in gas stations, pithy sayings on church marquees, and the small nick in his windshield that is directly in front of his right eye when he is driving. Matt likes removing the UPC sticker from new books, barn swallows that dance around him in the sky while he mows his lawn, and taking his shoes and socks off after work and wiggling his toes.

Today’s movie is Amélie, a French film released in 2001. It’s the story of a shy waitress (Amélie Poulain) in a Montmartre café. After anonymously returning a long-lost childhood treasure to a former occupant of her apartment and seeing its effect on him, she sets out on a mission to give joy to others and in the process discovers how she needs to give joy to herself.

First things first: this is a foreign language film. It’s subtitled, which I sometimes find to be distracting, but in this case I honestly didn’t notice it after the first twenty minutes or so. I’m a sucker for a good Director’s commentary, and in the commentary for Amélie, Jean-Pierre Jeunet mentions that he thought they did a pretty good job translating. Maybe 15% of nuances in the language are lost, but C’est la vie, you know?

With that out of the way, allow me to say that the film is, in a word, magnificent. Such joyous exploration of the possibilities in life. It begins with an unseen narrator describing the likes and dislikes of Amélie and many of the people who would affect her early life. My favorite is the dipping of her hand in sacks of grain. Speaking from experience, that’s something everybody should do at least once.

Audrey Tautou, in the role of Amélie, is charming. I wonder if the film would have been nearly as good with anyone else in the role. Mathieu Kassovitz did a marvelous job giving us a potential love interest who could match Amélie’s wit and quirky nature. The story has them indirectly engaging each other for much of the film, and when they do meet, it’s magic.

There is an unusually large supporting cast, and oddly enough, none of them are indulgent. All are necessary to tell the greater story, all of their little bits of story dovetail quite nicely into Amélie’s quest. For example, we have neighbor Madeline Wallace, whose husband left her for another woman and then died unexpectedly 30 years ago. Her apartment (what beautiful set dressing) confesses the life she’s lived since his death; cold, mournful, unchanged as she waits for the metaphorical other shoe to drop. He was the love of her life (she has the letters to prove it) and his betrayal struck a blow at her spirit. But before she had a chance to recover, to make peace with conflict of her feelings, he died, leaving her in a state of limbo. With him (and his mistress) gone, who can she rage against? Who can she hate? Who will explain how this could have happened?

“My life stopped that day,” she says. In a moment of melancholy, she tells Amélie that she was “born to cry.” In short, she is stuck. Thus Madeline becomes a recipient of Amélie’s quest to anonymously fix life’s wrongs, to re-light the fire that has been blown out.

Others would benefit from Amélie’s quest, and others still would take inspiration from it. Dufayel, the Glass Man, whose brittle bones have led him to a life of solitude, sees what Amélie is doing and performs the same service for two others. For twenty years, he has lived alone, passing the time by painting a new copy of Renoir’s Le déjeuner des canotiers each year. Interesting that Dufayel chose a painting with so much life between the strokes, in effect copying Renoir’s copy of life. But twice removed is too far and he begins to make small changes in his life, slowly getting involved in the lives of those around him.

Inspired by what Amélie has been doing, Dufayel befriends Lucien, assistant to the mean-spirited local grocer, teaching him to paint. Both actors deliver stellar performances both in their scenes together and when they’re apart. Serge Merlin (Dufayel) in particular has a stunning scene that left me weeping.

Looking back at what I’ve written so far, I’m making this out to be a sad, depressing movie. It isn’t. All of it is built in a world that mixes the imaginary with the real, the mundane with the outrageous. There are some wonderful effects that help lighten the mood and further the story. The film has a message, but the message is delivered with a bit of a wink and the caveat that the happy ending you’re looking for isn’t always assured (see Joseph and Georgette). It’s a film that leaves your soul cleansed and ready to rethink what you think you know.

This is Matt. He likes the film Amélie.

Last week I watched Batman Begins. Truth is, I was a little worried about this one. I’m a fan of comic books and while I don’t buy any of DC Comics’ current Batman output, I spent more than a few bucks on them in the late 1990s. Armed with all my geek knowledge and my mental checklist of notes they needed to hit, I sat down to watch the movie and surprisingly, I loved it.

What a great movie. Warner Brothers did the smart thing and went back to basics with this one, tossing out the previous film interpretations and all the baggage that came with them. (We don’t have to worry that ice skates will pop out of Batman’s boots anymore! Yay!)

Director Christopher Nolan and writer David Goyer made a smart decision when they decided to weave Bruce Wayne’s childhood story into the story of his young adulthood. This is one of those stories that everyone knows, at least to a certain extent, yet it still has to be told. The origin could have been a wasted fifteen minutes of film that put its audience to sleep, but in Batman Begins, it’s told compellingly yet sparingly, giving us just enough, and just when we need it.

When Wayne travels the world training himself to perfection, Christian Bale’s delivery is real and honest. The training scenes were wonderfully shot, culminating in Bruce’s split with Ra’s al Ghul, a decision that will come back to haunt him later. (Sorry for the spoilers, but you need to head to the back of the class if you didn’t see that one coming.)

Part of the trouble with Batman, from the writer’s perspective, is that he has to be completely feared by the baddies (and to a certain extent, the general population), but still manage to be a hero. Batman Begins does a good job of walking that line. It keeps the altruistic intentions of Bruce Wayne and still manages to make Batman a vicious monster. Seriously, I’ve never been more afraid of Batman.

There’s absolutely no question that the villains know that this is the boogeyman come to get them, and that’s exactly what Batman should be. This is one of the big difference between Batman and, for example, Superman. Superman is friend of the good guys. Batman takes the opposite position and is the enemy of the enemies. An important difference, I think, and one that I’m impressed they worked in.

Now for the villains. In short, I loved them. Cillian Murphy (above) doesn’t need the mask and special effects to be scary, he does it just fine on his own. Unassuming and almost prissy in delivery, Dr. Crane (Scarecrow’s day face) perfectly plays his psychological games before he even takes out his fear gas. Beautifully nightmarish special effects with the fear gas, too.

Ducard and Ra’s al Ghul (played by Liam Neeson and Ken Watanabe) become a counterpoint to Batman’s benevolence, with al Ghul deciding that Gotham City is past redemption, and that the best solution is to destroy the entire city in one fell swoop. Interesting that al Ghul’s villainy comes as a response to another villain’s actions. This is the kind of layering that was missing when Danny DeVito was chewing up the scenery going “Wah Wah Wah.”

Finally, we need to address the Katie Holmes issue. Just about every review I read when the movie came out two years ago mentioned how she was the weak link and that she walked through the part in a daze. I really didn’t have a problem with her performance. The part of Rachel Dawes was a bit two-dimensional, but I thought Holmes did a fine job with it. It wasn’t life changing, but let’s be realistic, she’s Katie Holmes, not Judy Dench.

There are a lot of things I’m leaving out, but I’ve already gone long. Here’s some quickies: Batmobile=Awesome; Gordon=the dad on Alf; Monorail fight=Suspenseful (har har); Lucius Fox=Potential; Michael Caine=Perfect; Christian Bale=Sore throat; and Swimming in the fountain=Paris Hilton.

This movie did what a lot of summer blockbuster-type movies don’t: It delivered action and asplosions without sacrificing quality writing and character development. Batman Begins is easily the best “comic book movie” I’ve seen in a long time, and it’s a good “movie movie” besides. It isn’t without its faults (I hate that the only way you can tell Bruce is younger is that his hair is combed different.), but it’s certainly better than most of the films showing.

Hopefully interesting coincidence: Christian Bale and Gary Oldman starred in competing made-for-TV films about Jesus Christ in 1999. Bale played Jesus in Mary, Mother of Jesus, and Oldman was Pontius Pilate in Jesus. Since finding an irreligious review of either seems unlikely, I’m going to assume they both suck, just like every other made-for-TV movie about Jesus Christ.