Sweet Sixteen
Ken Loach (2002)
Perhaps the most humanist effort of Ken Loach's humanist career follows a young lad called Liam (a brilliant debut from Martin Compston) who tries to carve out a new life by selling gear in Port Glasgow. His mum's locked up and, of course, nothing comes easy, but Liam's quick-witted and streetwise and he's determined to make it work. His limits are tested but he rumbles on, gathering all sorts of moss, as he approaches his 16th year.
Loach seems to close his marvelous film with a wink to Truffaut's 400 Blows- with young Liam shell shocked and defiant on a desolate beach- but the opening scene is so quintessentially his own. We find our hero looking at Saturn through his amateur telescope and charging a few of his mates to take a peek at the gas giant too. The moment seems to sum up so much of the great social realist's career: Last week Loach told me that the reason he always chooses to focus on the working class is that they've got better jokes, but there's clearly so much more to it then that. The characters in his films are constantly pushed to the gutter, but it's the director who has them look up at the stars.
The Spirit of the Beehive
Victor Erice (1973)
It's 1940 and we're in a rural region of Franco's Spain. A young girl called Ana becomes mesmerized after seeing a screening of James Whale's Frankenstein in the town hall. Her elder sister convinces her that not only does the monster exists, but that she's seen it down the road. Wee Ana- both fascinated and frightened by the news- decides to seek it out.
All the magic and wonder of childhood- and in turn that of film itself- is captured exquisitely in Luis Cuadrado's camerawork, Victor Erice's direction, and the beautifully curious performance of their wide-eyed young star. Three decades before Guillermo Del Toro used dreams to let a young girl escape the horrors of civil war, another of Spain's magical realists was buzzing around doing somewhat the same.
Paths of Glory
Stanley Kubrick (1957)
The first great film of Stanley Kubrick's career follows Colonel Dax; a Frenchman (played with great passion by Kirk Douglas, despite showing no evidence of an accent at all) in the trenches of the first World War. His superior, General Paul Mireau, is a classic prick. He sends Dax's men on a suicide mission and- after seeing the sparse survivors eventually retreat- blames cowardice for their demise. Mireau is desperate for heads to roll and so demands a court martial and death for three of the group. His wish is granted by a particularly slimy superior and so Col. Dax decides that he will stand at their side.
The immersive sophistication of what Kubrick achieved in the studio trenches is an absolute marvel for the time. One particularly jarring track through the chaos sets off all sorts of warning lights for the Kubrickian imagery we now know would follow. The thing simply looks incredible today but it also holds up from its moral standpoint too. Indeed, half a century after its release, Paths of Glory still has plenty to say about the grim emotional detachment between commanding officers and the expendable nature of troops on the ground.
The most frequent criticism we hear leveled at Kubrick is that he shows an alleged coldness or contempt for the human race; if there is to be one grand rebuttal from the great director's career, the final scene of this terrific film is it.
The Public Enemy
William Wellman (1931)
This essential mob movie from William Wellman turned James Cagney into a star but it's remarkable for a number of other reasons too: It's one of the first full talkies; it's pre censorship code, so it's violent as hell; and, most strikingly, is that its fingerprints can be found on almost every mob film since.
There's the rags to riches antihero; the first big score; the rise, the fall and the ultimate demise. There's the honorable spouse and the seductive temptress; there's even the idealist brother who returns from the war. There's a dead horse and an uptight seamstress and a lead performance which has been mimicked, parodied and homaged ever since.
The film also gives us a bitter taste of just how much the studios got away with before William H. Hays' infamous censorship code. At one point Cagney witnesses a close friend die, but his reaction shows a mad brand of humour in place of any sympathy or care. You feel the cynicism and disillusionment of the American depression etched out in one cruel bastard's face.
Words like 'influential' and 'blueprint' just don't seem to do it justice. There's no doubt we've already seen all this, surely countless times before, but what's most startling about watching The Public Enemy today, is that in 1931, they simply hadn't.
West Side Story
Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins (1961)
This gorgeous 1961 musical re-telling of Romeo and Juliet plants our star crossed lovers in urban summertime New York. We meet Tony, an ex gang member on the straight and narrow, and Maria, a Puerto Rican Immigrant who wants to be an American (or so they say). They meet at a neighborhood dance-hall and fall desperately in love; much to the gall of their respective peeps. Song becomes monologue; fights become dance; there's a platinum performance from Natalie Wood; and a colour palette so grand you'll feel your eyes have been reborn.
West Side Story is credited for taking musicals into a new age, and at times it does seem to cut through the genre with a flick knife swipe, but regrettably, time has not been kind to its inherent camp. Singin in the Rain transcends its era because it has no business with being cool. West Side Story shows its age because it has.
The African Queen
John Huston (1951)
In 1951 director John Huston wanted to take film-making out of the Hollywood sound stages so he shipped Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn to the East of Africa and made this regrettably dated film.
Bogart plays a bestubbled, gin-swigging steam boat captain on the river Ulanga in German East Africa who takes on the sister of a dead British missionary when the shifting tides of WWI threaten both their lives. Hepburn's pampered Anglo-Saxon represents an antithesis to Bogey's disheveled seaman but, under the circumstances, they decide to stick it out. You can pretty much work it out from there.
The African Queen is an undeniably lush work of lateTechnicolor which surely marveled audiences the world over in its time, but sadly the years have simply not been kind. Racist depictions of natives; daft unfathomable on screen love; and some god awful special effects are just some of the unwelcome smells the old engine lets off. Katherine Hepburn- allegedly suffering from continental illness for the duration of the shoot- comes off particularly bizarre but seeing Bogey bark away- and in full glorious colour!- provides a welcome distraction from the overwhelming fumes.
Worth a look but be warned, them waters do be testy.
