The Firemen's Ball (1967) Spine #145

There are some works of art that in and of themselves are not particularly aesthetically pleasing or emotionally stirring.  However, the social / political / economic / cultural context they are produced in elevates the work to a point of significance that, on its own merit, it would not have achieved.  This seems to be one end of a spectrum where artistic merit alone stands on the other end.  In the middle, you can have a movie that is both (like Children of Paradise).

Fireman’s Ball.  Is this a great movie?  No.  It’s amusing.  It’s very much in keeping with the 1960s European push towards neorealism (using real people and real locations instead of actors or sets).  What happens?  A group of firemen are celebrating the retirement of their chief.  They get the party ready, the party happens, it is interrupted by a fire that they do not put out, the revelers return to the ball, there is an unsuccessful raffle where all the prizes disappear, the ball ends.  There are moments of poignancy, like the man who lost his house being given a jacket in order to enter the ball because almost everything he used to own about an hour ago is now gone, and one cannot be without adhering to the dress code. The fireman who’s in charge of making sure the prizes don’t disappear returns the head cheese that his wife stole on her watch and is chastised for it.  But the movie largely paints the firemen as loveable drunks who are pretty horrible at their jobs and the Czech people, at this point in history still on the cold side of the Iron Curtain, as a bunch of thieves necessitated by the economy of scarcity that was communism.  But none of these people look like they are starving (in fact, the majority are quite portly) and the beer pitchers that are masquerading as steins seem to have no trouble staying filled to the brim.  Are things really all that bad?

What’s important about this film is when and where it was made.  Milos Forman’s commentary on making the film and trying to get it shown to the Czech people is insightful and heartbreaking.  It is noted that this film and its difficulties are the impetus for Forman fleeing Czechoslovakia for the United States, for it was indeed his last Czech film.  Do not watch this film without listening to Forman’s interview on the disc.  It is invaluable for a glimpse at censorship in communist Eastern Europe.

Concession

As much as I am excited about what I've started here, I'm a bit appalled about my productivity (or lack thereof).  I also realize that posting the ultimate response to any given film is too high of a bar to raise.  I'll give myself a break if these aren't the best posts of all time or that I'm not posting at least once a week.  This has been an exceedingly busy summer.

Do the Right Thing (1989) Spine #097

This is another movie from the Intro to American Cinema class I teach, and up until recently, it was the last film of the class, meaning the class ended in 1989.  That’s an odd year to freeze on, but overall I think it is hard to try to encapsulate 120 years of cinema history with ten films.

This was Spike Lee’s third film, following She’s Gotta Have It (1986) and School Daze (1988), two films which I have not seen.  Lee not only wrote and directed the film, but he stars as the protagonist, Mookie.  His real life sister (Joie Lee) plays his sister in the movie.  He also notes in the director’s commentary that several other family members helped with the production of the film.  Some of the actors that played in his first two movies appear again in this film in different roles (although the police officers are the same).  It is odd that Lee is playing a character that, supposedly, is rather young (early twenties), and he is actually 32 when he made the film.  It reminds me of the narrator of Bambara’s “The Lesson.”  The position of the narrator in time is important.  If the narrator is speaking directly after the events in the story take place, then the last lines about how she is not going to let anything stand in her way or put her down are incredibly empowering.  If the story is told from the position of a narrator removed from the incident by 10, 20, 30 years, then the words at the end ring hollow – she is in the same position as she was and did not better herself and is part of the low-education poverty where she originated.  Is Mookie meant to be a young man, with the promise of a better day ahead of him, or is he really in his early 30s, delivering pizza to a Brooklyn area that seems to be impoverished, doomed to repeat the same day with Da Mayor getting drunk, Mother Sister watching lives move past her, the three men on the corner drinking and cursing the world, not making an impact or a difference?

Much is written about the politics and controversy about DtRT.  There are the references to racially-motivated crimes, the riot at the end of the film.  It’s rather sad and telling that the 1960s, 70s and 80s are pockmarked with race riots around the country, highly publicized crimes of one race against another.  The 80s had the OJ Simpson Trial, the LA Riots (of which the recent passing of Rodney King made me ruminate).  It seems that race relations, while coming a long way since the segregated 1950s, always is a bubbling anathema below the surface of America, which erupts violently and messily from time to time as if to say “this has not been resolved.”  The Trayvon Martin case in of all places (I’m from there), Seminole County, FL, is our most recent example.  The next session of the Supreme Court will tackle affirmative action.  We as a society will never move past this.  Nor will we move past how we treat people of lower or higher social or economic class.  I always think of the line from C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters when Screwtape says “To be means to be in competition.”  Resources are finite.  Humans are animals.  Whenever one has more resources than another, there will be the feeling of superiority and inferiority.

The conflict of this film boils down to this simple equation.  Sal’s Famous Pizzeria is in a predominantly African American, lower income neighborhood.  There are some Latino-Americans as well, and a white guy who owns a whole brownstone rather than living in a parsed-out brownstone inhabited by several families and a Korean family that runs the convenience store.  Buggin’ Out’s contention is that Sal has no brothers on his Wall of Fame, although his livelihood comes from serving African Americans.  Sal says that once Buggin’ gets his own place, he can put up whatever he wants on the wall.  The movie takes place on a Saturday, so we don’t see much of the block working.  We don’t know Buggin’s prospects.  We know he can afford Air Jordans, but that’s about it.  Could Buggin’ have his own place?  The one of the three wise men on the corner wants to see a black business in their community, rather than the two businesses on their block run by Italians and Koreans.  Lee brings this up through his characters, so it is worth investigating.

What is interesting about this film is that while Lee seems intent on dealing with the big issues and the struggle against each character and his or her ability to do or not do the right thing, the film is steeped in 1950s British filmmaking.  If you have a chance to listen to the commentary track (which is great because it is punctuated by Chuck D from Public Enemy announcing each speaker with the force of a rap lyric, even when what the person announced is talking about something extremely subtle), it is worth your time for the cinematographer’s, Ernest Dickerson’s, commentary about how he took a lot of his lighting and color set ups from Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger.

Taxi Driver (1976) Laserdisc Spine #109

I start off with a movie that is not part of the DVD collection but was once a Criterion Laserdisc, spine 109.  I teach it in my Introduction to American Cinema class, and if I hadn’t looked on Amazon to try to figure out what version of the DVD I was using, I wouldn’t have seen that the Blu ray was a startling $9.99.  A new one from a third party seller was $7.99, but looking at the bonus materials, there was noted an “Original 1986 Commentary with Director Martin Scorsese and Writer Paul Schrader recorded by The Criterion Collection.”  That raised my eyebrows.  How easy would it be to start with a movie I just watched and have seen several times?

Travis Bickle is synonymous with “whack job” in the vernacular.  There’s already enough historical pop content to keep any culture vulture salivating (notably John Hinckley Jr.’s assassination attempt on President Reagan in 1981 to impress Jodie Foster, its win at Cannes in ’76, the infamous “You talkin’ to me?” sequence).

Researching the film, I came across an article that explained how to use Taxi Driver in sociology classes to explain certain types of behaviors and theories.  A particular aspect that I found insightful is the idea of social circles.  Travis mostly resides in the world associated with his occupation, a taxi driver, and that world is deviant.  From the other drivers that he tries (rather unsuccessfully) to interact with (Peter Boyle’s Wizard having sex with a fare in the middle of the Triboro Bridge, another cabbie that wants Travis to sell what is supposedly a piece of Errol Flynn’s bathtub) to the customers that leave cum and blood on his back seat, the cabbie world is violent, sadistic and masochistic.  It is inhabited by pimps, prostitutes, and other denizens, and it is a world that is dark, taking place at night.

Something else I came across was a review of a book called Streetwise:  How Taxi Drivers Establish Their Customers’ Trustworthiness by Gambetta and Hamill.  The reviewer notes that the book examines the practices of taxi drivers in New York City and Belfast as to how drivers profile potential customers to assess whether they will pick them up or not.  In fact, there has been quite a few sociology and psychology articles written about cab drivers, cab designs, tipping practices, and so on.  The weird assertion in the film is that Travis will work any time and go anywhere.  He comments through voice over that other drivers won’t take certain types of people or go to rough areas of the city.  Other drivers notice this about him too and comment, with a mixture of admiration and incredulity.  What does this say about Travis?  Is he courting death?  A majority of his tenure as a taxi driver is spent without carrying some kind of firearm, which other drivers seem to take as part of a daily load-out.  When Travis does finally buy guns, it is not for protecting himself from fares but his plans for assassination and murder (you know, government work).

And how far gone is Travis to himself?  The other sphere that Travis attempts to operate in is the normal sphere (or however typical and commonplace NYC in 1976 can be).  This is the sphere where Betsy and Tom reside.  A sphere where you don’t take a second date to a porno.  A sphere where people sleep.  A sphere where breakfast isn’t crumbled white bread covered in sugar, peach brandy and milk.  Reading articles and reviews about this film uncovers a variety of positions taken about Travis’s mental state.  Is he just psychopathic?  Is he aware enough that some of his actions are abnormal?  When he writes a card to his parents, he not only messes up when Father’s Day is (he is writing in July and Father’s Day is in June) but explains that he cannot tell them his address because of the important government work he is doing.  He similarly tells Iris he cannot go with her to a commune because of his work for the government.  This is obviously false, but Travis knows this.  It is a way for him to self-aggrandize.  A NYC taxi driver is not a sufficient enough status for Travis, so he lies to others about his “true” work.  So, Travis may not be honest, but he does have enough of a capacity for critical thinking to discern his role in the world.  He doesn’t tell this lie to Betsy, but then again, he really doesn’t get to know her long enough to be able to spin elaborate lies.  All he can do is say his record player is broken when he has no record player.

Some writers comment on how elusive and underdeveloped Travis’s character is, making him all the more difficult to unlock.  I disagree.  On this point, Scorsese (or Schrader, or both) makes the biggest mistake.  The interview conducted at the beginning of the movie gives the audience some rather specific information that allows for a great deal of stereotyping of Travis before we get a chance to see him out in the real world.  We learn that he was in the Marines and was honorably discharged in 1973.  It would be difficult not to come to the conclusion that Travis is a Vietnam veteran.  His later expert handling of the guns he buys and contraptions he makes to wear four guns simultaneously is testimony to this (But the guy does way too much dry-firing – is he trying to wreck the firing pins? Perhaps this is more self-sabotage.).  Overall, the perception of Vietnam veterans (especially combat veterans), both in popular culture and generally, is not that flattering and tends to run, in a post-WWII America, to coding for mental instability.  WWII vets were portrayed as heroes.  Korean vets rarely portrayed.  Vietnam and onward are the damaged, alcoholic, spouse-abusing victims / victimizers.  Fair or unfair, the coding still is there for an audience to take in.  We learn that Travis isn’t too educated (“here and there”).  There’s coding for that, too.  It also appears that he has no previous employment.  He can’t sleep so he “ride(s) around nights mostly.  Subways, buses.”  We don’t see him quit another job once he gets this one.  We know he goes to porno theaters.  We learn soon after that he drinks.  His apartment is squalid, even by NYC standards.  Outside of other cabbies, Betsy, his customers, and Iris and Sport, we never see him interact with anyone else (although we see a lot of him alone in his apartment).  So, he has no friends.  To call Travis “enigmatic” is unfounded.  He’s a broke, friendless, uneducated Vietnam veteran with a drinking problem (and perhaps a drug problem, as a few times in the film we see him take pills).  If anything, the argument should be why are we fed so much of this information at the very beginning of the film if we are not meant to have preconceived, pre-coded notions about this character before we actually see him do something awkward?

One observation about this film that is particularly insightful is Scorsese’s assertion that in the scene where Travis calls Betsy to ask for another date after the debacle of the porno, halfway through the call, the camera tracks to the right and looks down the empty hallway.  We hear Travis but no longer see him.  Scorsese says that the camera, and the audience, is so embarrassed for Travis that we cannot bear to see this conversation, so we look away.

As for Paul Schrader, I will leave talk of him until I get to Mishima:  A Life in Four Chapters.  But he did make an observation that I hadn’t really considered.  Travis falls in love with two women whom represent the whore / Madonna dynamic (Iris and Betsy).  He is set up to fail in both relationships.  He wants Betsy but cannot have her.  He doesn’t want Iris but can.  Both women have father figures (Palantine and Sport).  When Travis fails to kill Palantine, he kills Sport.  Because he kills Sport, a pimp, he is considered a hero.  If he had been successful at killing Palantine, he would have been an assassin.

Incidentally, the guy who Travis has to pay for the room when he first meets with Iris (listed in IMDb as “The John”) is Peter Savage, the author of the novel version of Raging Bull.

Other stuff:  The use of the letter or the running diary is something Scorsese (by his own admission) stole from watching Godard films that used a similar technique for supplying exposition and plot cohesion.  He (and Spike Lee, in the next review I will post) goes on and on about Pressburger and Powell, two filmmakers who I’m not very fond of (at least of what I’ve seen so far), so I guess I’m missing something (I really didn’t care for The 49^th Parallel [and geez, given the subject, I should have loved it], The Dam Busters, A Canterbury Tale, and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, and Peeping Tom was ok but didn’t blow my mind).  Originally, Scorsese’s script had no humor in it, which is why the Albert Brooks character was added, as well as banter amongst the cabbies.  You have to have humor to break up tension in drama.  Aristotle says so.

Ground Rules?

The blogs I have seen tend to set themselves some ground rules and operating parameters.  Some have really strict hurdles they set for themselves.  So, rather than what I will do, it may be better to list what I won’t be doing.

1.      I will not be buying all the movies I watch.  There are two reasons for this.  The obvious reason is that I’m not independently wealthy.  The Criterion Collection is not known as being the gold standard for nothing.  If you check out used prices on Amazon for Criterion editions of DVDs, you’ll notice that a used copy is often not that much cheaper than a new copy.  And in the world of mass production, Criterion editions are not cheap compared to releases put out through studio distribution.  I’m perfectly aware of why this is (restoration, extras, high production value), and if I do ever become independently wealthy, Criterion will certainly be hearing from me.  The second reason why is I belong to Netflix (not just membership, but I adore them and pledge them a portion of my soul).  I can get disks from them or stream content.  Some purists will snort at this contention because

2.      I will not watch every single piece of extra content.  I am the first to advocate that Criterion’s extra features are invaluable to truly appreciating a film, and (most of the time) they do an outstanding job in gathering a wealth of materials to package with their releases.  However, when you stream content, you don’t get the extra features.  And if you get the DVD sent to you from Netflix, they do not include the bonus feature disks.  I called and asked if it was possible to get the extra features disks sent out separately, but Netflix does not make all of them available (a select few are).  That stands to reason, as the goal of the inclusion of all that luscious content is meant to entice one to buy the whole package.  Roger Ebert recently wrote about this.  So, I get it and why this non-rule is evil, but that doesn’t mean I won’t access additional commentary, essays, usw. about the films I watch.

3.      If a movie is out of print or difficult to acquire, I will watch another existing version.  The world of licensing can be a cruel and greedy mistress, and I know I will run into instances where getting ahold of the Criterion edition of a film on the collection’s list will be tricky if not impossible.  If at some point Criterion found a film worthy of their treatment, then an expiration of a license is not going to keep me from it.

4.      I’m not watching them in spinal order.

5.      I’m seriously kicking around the idea of including the laserdisc list.  No, I don’t own a laserdisc player (anymore), but again, as noted in #3, those films were worthy of Criterion’s attention at some point, so the laserdisc list is canonical in my estimation.  Most of that list made it to DVD and the spinal numbering system, but those that did not are not off my radar.

I believe that takes care of things.

For they say every why hath a wherefore.

What I propose to do is by no means original.  There are already several blogs that discuss The Criterion Collection, including Criterion Confessions, Criterion Reflections, Criterion Affection and The Criterion Contraption.  So, if this is ground well-traveled, why bother?

I love films.  They engage me in a way no other art form can.  I want to have a dialogue with them, just as so many others comment on literary works, art, and popular media.  Do I necessarily add something to the discussion?  Just another voice.  Its worth is relative.  I see it as an exercise, a mental workout, and one whose routine I might actually keep up with.  It is pretty daunting.  There are a lot of films on the list, and more are added periodically.

If anything else, I think it will be fun.  Certainly there’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun.