Day 45: Taste of Cherry (1997)

“Taste of Cherry,” by the internationally acclaimed Iranian film director Abbas Kiarostami, is a minimalistic depiction of man and his relationship to life, both as one who experiences it, but also gives and takes it away. Through the film’s events, we are given the opportunity to watch and better understand what our duty to life is and question if taking it away can sometimes be the ultimate celebration of its purpose.

In “Taste of Cherry,” we follow Mr. Badii (Homayon Ershadi), a middle-aged well-to-do, who drives his Range Rover around Tehran in search of the right man for a special job. For Badii plans to kill himself with sleeping pills and, to perform such a task in the cleanest, simplest way possible, he’ll lay in a already dug grave at night and fall asleep. But, to completely erase him from existence, he will need a willing soul to arrive the next morning and throw a few spadefuls of dirt on his lifeless body or help him out of the hole if the pills don’t finish him off. To put lightly, requiting such a person proves to be difficult.

At first he picks up a young Kurdish solider, needing a ride to his base, who grows terrified at such an assignment and, though Badii plans to pay his helper handsomely, he jumps out of the car and runs away. Next, Badii meets an Afghan man who currently attends seminary and, though he doesn’t run off like the solider, he declines the offer on religious grounds, stating that the beauty of life is to be found in all things and it is simply too precious to throw away. Finally, Badii meets an older Azeri taxidermist, who tries, at first, to dissuade him of his plans, but soon agrees to the arrangement as the money could be used to save his sick child. During their time together, the taxidermist does tell Badii a personal story of when he himself once thought of suicide but changed his mind after tasting the juice of a mulberry. The story does move Badii, but he is sure that he wants to end his life and the taxidermist agrees to arrive the next morning- whether to rescue or bury Badii is still unseen.

Throughout “Taste of Cherry,” director Kiarostami uses his camera to capture an almost parable like story that certainly holds a meaning, but leaves it open for interpretation as well. One of the most interesting aspects of the film though are the occupations of the men Badii picks up along his search and how their work holds an interesting relationship with the film’s focus on life and, ultimately, death.

With the soldier, we see a person employed to kill if necessary. It is is job, his duty, and the idea of taking life is something very real to him. With the Afghan seminarist, we have an individual who is an advocate for life to the point where he holds a belief system based around the importance of cherishing every moment of it. Lastly, we have a taxidermist, who’s whole profession is in replicating the idea of the living- taking something dead and creating a facade based on life.

Interestingly enough, he comes closest to changing the mind of Badii possibly because he lives a in constant balance between life and death, something that might best represent the thought process of a man contemplating ending it all. Also, it should be noted, that by helping Badii, the taxidermist hopes to use the money to save another, his child. It is this interesting bit that begs the question, “Is it alright to help aid death in the attempt to bring life?” A heavy question and one the film leaves open for the audience to think on.

With a this film we are given a very simple film that digests a rather complex topic in a very quiet and wonderful way. ”Taste of Cherry” is something no one should miss and all should think on.

To learn more about “Taste of Cherry,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 44: The Red Shoes (1948)

For some, dancing is life. There is nothing else and, even if there were, there’s no room left in their soul for it. It is an exhausting, full bodied profession that usually takes more out of a performer than it gives back. To put simply- dancing is a cruel mistress.

A few years back, I dated a dancer and, from first hand experience, it is certianly the most physcially taxing of all the arts. One false move can break a bone, strain a muscle, or even end a career. It is because of this that the art of ballet, in particular, is so emotionally draining. You are not only dancing your heart out and balancing on a tight wire of athletisism, but also portraying a charater that the audience must connect to. You must be internal to dance and external to perform- a dicotomy, which can rip some apart.

To do such a fierce task, one must devote their entire being to the art even, at times, when life itself passes you by. It is this struggle that Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger so wonderfully tackle in “The Red Shoes,” a film as beautiful as its story is engrossing.

In the film, we get a “behind the curtain” look of a ballet company run by the ruthless yet passionte impresario Boris Lermontov (Anton Walbrook), who sees a new creative direction for his work when he meets Victoria Page (Moira Shearer), a brilliant though inexperienced dancer. Though there is work to be done if she is ever to be a star, Boris sees an honesty in Victoria’s dancing that he simply cannot shake and soon puts his whole soul into her starring performance in the company’s new ballet based on Hans Christian Anderson’s ”The Red Shoes.”

But, as Victoria gains fame for her dancing and starts on a path to becoming a legend, Boris recieves a severe blow when he is informed that his prized dancer has fallen in love with Julian Craster (Marius Goring), the company’s composer and conductor. Boris believes this affair will ruin Victoria’s career as her life should not have room for both dancing and love and he fires Craster on the spot, hopefully ending the relationship. But this is not the case and, stricken with love for Julian, Victoria follows him out of the company and out of Boris’s grasp. Now without his muse, Boris finds his artistic creativity and his career in jeopardy and his company without a vibrant star, leading him on a struggle to bring Victoria back to dance “The Red Shoes” once again.

A magnificant undertaking, “The Red Shoes” is a film that speaks closest to artists, who understand how impossible it can be to give everything to your work as well as live a normal life. It is this constant battle emodied through Victoria, as the artist, Boris, as the desire for art, and Julian, as the need for life, that creates one of the most interesting “love triangles” in cinema. For, throughout the film, Victoria is being pulled by these opposing “loves,” each giving her something wonderful, but only by canceling out the other. At one point in the film, Boris says, “A dancer who relies upon the doubtful comforts of human love will never be a great dancer. Never.” and it’s this idea which is at the heart of the film. Can one truly represent the beauty of the imagination if weighed down by the pleasures of reality?

To answer this question, the film delievers an incredible act of foreshadowing by playing out Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Red Shoes” in the ballet. As Anderson’s story goes, a young woman is offered a pair of beautiful red shoes by a demonic shoemaker and she accepts them happily, unaware that once she begins to dance she cannot stop. Soon her feet take complete control of her life and the woman loses all she loves to the shoes, who never let her stop dancing until her death.

This fairy tale runs as a very omnious analogy for the events in the film, especially if the red shoes represent the need to dance. In the end of the film, Victoria finds herself at a crossroads between her loves and, in the end, much like in the story, it is the red shoes that figurtivily and, in some ways, literally, bring about her demise.

“The Red Shoes” is one of the finest films I have watch during “The Criterion Summer” as it’s beautiful cinematography perfectly captures both the harsh reality and the beautiful fairy tale like grandure of ballet and the artists who live and die by it.

To learn more about “The Red Shoes,” check out Criteron’s page here.

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Day 43: Lord of the Flies (1963)

In 1954, William Golding brought to the world, “Lord of the Flies,” a disturbing novel about civility lost in search of survival and the ongoing struggle between our rational mentality and our animal instincts. By the early 60s’, as the world dealt with these themes amongst war and political unrest, the book’s popularity reached a fever pitch and, seeing its potential for the screen, director Peter Brook created the highly acclaimed adaptation of this social thriller. With a filmmaking style about as independent and wild as the story’s main characters, Brook brought to the screen a vivid portrayal of the material, creating much discussion and controversy upon its release.

In “Lord of the Flies,” a group of English schoolboys, living amidst a global war, find themselves stranded on a desert island after their evacuation plane is shot down by enemy fighters. Now lost and out of contact with an adult world, the group is led by fellow student Ralph in a civil attempt at surviving with one another and making contact with the outside world.

At first, all seems to go well as the children rally together, but then an older boy named Jack grows obsessed with an imaginary “beast” that he believes lords over the island. Believing he must appease this beast, Jack starts his own tribe based around individuality and without rules and soon the majority of the group joins him and his wild ways, leaving Ralph with a few remaining boys. But, as time goes by, Jack becomes even more violent and totalitarian in his ways, believing he must kill a wild pig as a gift to the beast as well as convert the remaining boys to his beliefs. With this, Ralph and his remaining friends find themselves the victims of a manhunt, which will lead to salvation of some and the deaths of others.

With ”Lord of the Flies,” Peter Brook directed a film that delivers a strange raw energy that remains as savage as when it first premiered. This, among many others things, stems from the unique way the production took place. Brook once wrote, “All I wanted was a small sum of money, no script; just kids, a camera, and a beach.” and, with that mindset, he set off to film in Costa Rica, where he filmed his cast with no extra lighting and no daily screening of rushes. Also, without a care to film stock, Brook allowed multiple cameras to run nonstop at the same time from differant angles- culminating in over 60 hours of footage, which took him over a year to edit.

Along with a rather haphazard filming approach, Brook also delivered little to no script for the actors, instead explaining each scene as they came to it and having the cast occasionally improvise lines. If there is any fault to the film it would probably be this aspect. While there have been many good child actors, generally kids must be well prepared for their work well ahead of time to gain prime results and Brook’s approach defies this logic, creating rather amateurish, but also at times very honest, performances.

But, with this amount of freedom, Brook did get to see the actors at times reflect aspects of the film’s story. The director wrote in his book, “The Shifting Point,” that, in one instance, one of the actors was told by the other boys that his character’s death would not be faked, but actually performed as he wasn’t needed anymore. In tears, the child asked Brook for the truth and the director readily assured him of the scene’s fictional nature. Somewhat disturbed by this turn of events, Brook came to the conclusion that, if it wasn’t for the crew and his adult presence, the kids would have been at each other in a matter of days.

“Lord of the Flies” is a dark tale of man’s inner self and Brook captures this beautifully with his rogue filmmaking style, allowing the camera to capture the actors and the wild in a very candid, and, at times, very terrifying way.

To learn more about “Lord of the Flies,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 42: Fishing with John (1992)

“Fishing with John” is a fishing show- a weird, candid, tongue-in-cheek, genre bending, celebrity guest starring, self deprecating, and, now and then, semi-fictional fishing show. Though it certainly pays homage to those sleep inducing deep sea sporting shows we have all witnessed at an ungodly late hours on cable, this documentary lampoons the concept of that genre as much as it seems to enjoy it.

Spanning only six episodes, musician and actor John Lurie takes celebrity friends out fishing, in pursuit of usually a particular type of sea creature. From episode to episode, Lurie, who has very little fishing knowledge in his own right, moves around the world, from New York, Jamaica, Costa Rica, Maine, and Thailand, and attempts certain types of fishing while his friends, Jim Jarmusch, Tom Waits, Matt Dillon, Willem Dafoe, and Dennis Hopper, all, in their own particular episodes, join in on the fun. Though there is hardly any character arcs to speak of between episodes, generally Lurie and friend get what they came for and head back to shore.

As you can see, not exactly your normal three act plot structure. At times hilarious and at others moments completely dull, “Fishing with John” seems to thrive on toying with the mundane. Though for fifteen minutes nothing may happen, it is in that last five where things get interesting or weird or both. Silence fills the air for seconds on end, Lurie sits around waiting for an undersea bite, boats go out of harbor and the later back in, and then Tom Waits puts a fish down his pants. It’s absurd, but it knows it just as well as we do.

Of course, one of the best aspect of the project are the celebrity guest stars. While normal fishing shows bring on experts in the field or one time professional fishermen, “Fishing with John” has A-list artistic talent standing around in boats, seemingly growing more frustrated and out of their element the farther the episode progresses. On one episode, Jarmusch leans against the boat and questions, “Why am I here?” On another, Tom Waits walks bewildered through the Jamaican jungle and says to Lurie, “You’re a mess. And you dragged me along on this safari and I don’t know why.” It’s as if Lurie has tricked these individuals with the idea of adventure and then slowly trapped them onto fishing expeditions that none of them were prepared to undertake.

Another weird element of the series is that a narrator, voiced by Robb Webb, accompanies the footage, sometimes explaining what is going on and other times spitting out complete nonsense. At one point, Webb is talking about the Red Snapper fish and then suddenly quips, “Yes, I’d like a bite of that sandwich” as Lurie continues to fish on screen. And, to clarify, this is not Webb speaking as if off the microphone to someone in the studio. He is just, for no good reason, explaining his desire to try “that sandwich.” Also, Webb now and then just lies outright to the television audience as in the forth episode when he declares right before the credits, ”On February 19, John Lurie and Willem Dafoe died of starvation.” Of course, the following episode opens with the Webb exclaiming, “I made a mistake! John is still alive.”

“Fishing with John” is a weird and goofy piece of cinema that uses aspects of documentary film to cause friction between what is seen and what is presented. As you watch Lurie fish with his buddies and Webb’s voice give a stirring and excited depiction of the dull proceedings, you can’t help but be amazed with Lurie crazy storytelling technique, which is, to put lightly, somewhat different.

To learn more about “Fishing with John,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 41: Henry V (1944)

Though many have adapted the works of Shakespeare for film, Laurence Olivier’s directorial attempt at “Henry V” shines above many for both how well the acting conveys the dialogue of the time and how beautiful, in an almost storybook way, Olivier envisions the film from behind the camera.

In the class tale of “Henry V,” Henry (Olivier), King of England, peruses an attempt at taking over France after receiving a offensive gift from the French ambassador. Believing that the French thrown should have always been his, Henry and his men set out for the country and campaign their way through Harfleur, where Henry gives his first big speech to rouse his men (Once more… unto the breach! Dear friends, once more!) and then takes the city.

Fresh from the victory, Henry moves his troops onward to Agincourt, where he encounters the battle of his life. After first disarming the French military with his archers, Henry and his men are served a cruel blow when the French ride out and kill all their squires in the camp. Furious, Henry challenges the French Constable and they fight one-on-one. At first, the Constable strikes at Henry with his sword, but soon he brings out mace, taking England’s king off guard. The Constable strikes and Henry is forced to drop his sword. Now unprepared for attack, Henry will have to think fast if he ever plans to take over France and then woe the hand of the fair Princess Katherine (Renee Asherson).

This version of the great “Henry V” brings a fresh perspective to the production by making a very unique stylistic choice. For the first third of the film, all scenes take place in the “Globe Theater,” where Shakespeare first showed his plays. In this way, Olivier sets the mood as more fun then serious by having men and woman gather in the theatre and woop and holler for the hero and hiss and laugh at the antagonists. This brings a fresh perspective to a genre as its main thrust of jokes and drama had been lost to many through its archaic language. With this “audience” in place, the filmgoers are given a bit of guidance to the humor- almost as a laugh track for Shakespeare.

But what truly marks Olivier’s “Henry V” as one of the best adaptations of “the Bard” is not simply its look or feel, but its purpose. Filmed while still in the midst of World War Two, Olivier was contacted by none other than Winston Churchill about the film, hoping that this tale of taking back France could be used as great morale-boosting propaganda for the British troops. So connected were these real and retold wars that the making and release of the film even coincided with the Allied invasion of Normandy and its push into France.

But, even beyond it’s use as a morale tool, Laurence Olivier’s “Henry V” is a great achievement. It is a film about a story, which is shown to us through a play and, while more cinematic versions of Shakespeare have been done, there is something very intriguing about watching the story of Kind Henry and his men “live” from the Globe theatre.

To learn more about “Henry V,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 40: Armageddon (1998)

What can certainly be said, now 40 days into this blog project,” is that the Criterion Collection is generally not a place for blockbuster films. With the exception of “Robocop,” the collection thus far have been mostly foreign gems, rarely seen my the majority of moviegoer, but today that mold is broken- or blown up as director Michael Bay would surely prefer. The most blockbustery of the blockbusters, Bay’s “Armageddon” was a smash hit summer popcorn flick that brought tons of energy to the screen and remains one of the best in a string of 1990′s disaster films.

In “Armageddon,” the world finds itself under attack and in peril when meteors fall from the sky, destroying entire cities. But, the terror has just begun as a rock at the size of Texas is a mere 18 days away from crashing into the planet and obliterating everything known to mankind. To prevent such cataclysmic devastation, NASA estimates it will take a team of highly talented astronauts to launch into space, land on the rock as it passes the moon, and then drill deep into its center, where a nuclear missile will be set to blow the meteor apart, preventing its impact.

But the art of drilling isn’t easy and it’s soon realized that the best men for the job might be the worst for space- a ragtag group of famous oil drillers lead by Harry Stamper (Bruce Willis). After a mix of mildly successful training and shear chaos, Stamper and his team are set up into the skies, while NASA’s head of control, Dan Truman (Billy Bob Thorton), and Harry’s daughter, Grace (Live Tyler) watch and hope from the ground. But, once on the meteor, the trouble really begins as the drilling team realize the ground they’re attempting to burrow through is as thick as iron and the equipment they have will barely meet the need. With the clock ticking and the world on the line, it will take Harry and his boys working at their best to beat the meteor even if someone will have to make the ultimate sacrifice to make that so.

Though “Armageddon” could be ignored as just another disaster movie amongst the 1990′s genre spree, including “Deep Impact,”Independence Day,” and “Dante’s Peak,” it stands out for several reasons, including the lightening quick pace of the editing and the absolute scale of the productions set pieces. It has been calculated that director Michael Bay held a shot for an average of only 1.5 seconds and this zipping pace never allows the eyes to rest from start to finish. Even in the most mundane of expository scenes, which truly their are few, Bay keeps things moving visually in a way that, not only solidifies his style as a director, but redefines how an editing pace can set the mood for a scene or, in the case, an entire film.

Also, as is Bay’s custom, this film enjoys a wide supply of massive set pieces for which he gets to film. For “Armageddon,” Bay certainly lucked out as NASA decided to allow the film to shoot in the normally restricted agency, including the use of their sixty-five-million-gallon, forty-foot-deep pool, used to train astronauts for weightlessness, and two ten million dollar space suits. The crew was also allowed to shoot shoot sequences at the top of a real launch pad with an actual space shuttle docked under the condition that they wouldn’t enter the shuttle, which star Ben Affleck claims to have done anyway. (Can you blame him?)

“Armageddon” is an edge of your seat thrill ride that continues to shine thanks to a great pace, beautifully shot action, and Bay’s indefinable way of making even the most ridiculous of circumstances seem plausible on the silver screen.

To learn more about, “Armageddon,” check out Criterion’s page.

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Day 39: Tokyo Drifter (1966)

With “Tokyo Drifter,” our second Seijun Suzuki film of “The Criterion Summer,” we have a colorful smash bang picture that was filmed before yesterday’s ”Branded to Kill,” but certainly holds the genesis for “Branded’s” crazy style. A mix of pop art flavor and “New Wave” aesthetic, “Drifter” is a classic “man versus the world” tale that takes itself more seriously than “Branded,” but is no less fun.

In “Drifter,” Tetsu Hondo is a ex-member of a recently deactivated mob gang, who now serves his boss Kurata in legitimate real estate deals. Though most of the old gang has dispersed, Kurata had always been like a father to Tetsu and so the two have remained loyal to one another even as their business ventures have floundered and brought them into debt.

But, loyalties are soon tested when an old rival mob group, ran by the devious Otsuka, wants Tetsu to leave Kurata and start once again a life of crime. Tetsu turns them down without a second thought, infuriating Otsuka, who sets a price on the ex-mobster’s head. With all of Tokyo’s underworld after him, Tetsu takes the advice of Kurata and leaves town, becoming a drifter and moving from town to town.

But, one day, while hiding away in the North country, Tetsu finds out that Otsuka and Kurata have joined forces in a real estate scheme and plan to send hitman “Viper” Tatsuzo to take him out for good. Betrayed and now friendless, Tetsu heads back for Tokyo, set on revenge against his enemy and former boss. Though a life of peace is what Tetsu seeks, he’ll have to blasts his way through his old ways to get there first.

As mentioned before, “Tokyo Drifter” is certainly playing with pop art style and mood in a way that would later come out in full force with “Branded to Kill.” While the latter film took the cliches of 1960′s action films and amplified them to their greatest extreme, “Drifter” is tonally more mild and treats these sort of scenes more like homages than graphic exaggerations. For instance, at one point, Tetsu finds himself in a Old West themed bar (swinging doors and all) and, naturally, a brawl breaks out with everyone getting involved in the tussle. Though “Branded” might have taken this to a new level, “Drifter” lets it play out as you would seen in any classic western.

Another great aspect of “Drifter,” is the manipulation of color used to portray both characters and situations. Throughout the film, Tetsu wears light colored attire, from starting the film in a sky blue suit to finishing it in a white one. You could almost say this choice shows Tetsu’s transformation from a once dark soul trying to be better (sky blue) to finally accomplishing the goal and now striving for justice (hero white). Also, in the final scene, color is used to show the distinction between deaths as Tetsu takes down Otsuka and Kurata’s henchmen one at a time. As the entire room’s color changes from deep red to white, we can gather a visual representation of Tetsu’s triumph beyond the simple body count.

With “Tokyo Drifter,” Seijun Suzuki delivers a film of vibrant visual complexity and cooler than cool style. Without a doubt an influence on today’s directors, especially Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill” series, “Drifter” will certainly remain as a film that inspires the brain’s of artists and excites the eyes of all.

To learn more about “Tokyo Drifter,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 38: Branded to Kill (1967)

“Branded to Kill,” directed by Seijun Suzuki, is an action packed psychological thrill ride, deeply influenced by film noir and the pop art movement of Western society in the 1960′s. Considered a member of the “Japanese New Wave,” the film steps further than simple action and acts as an almost satirical portrait of what occurs when the cliches of 60′s action films are taken to their most extreme- delivering a sometimes funny, sometimes dark, but always surreal filmgoing experience.

In “Branded to Kill,” Japan’s third-ranked hitman, Goro Hanada, is at the top of his game after killing the underworld assassins ranked forth and second in his field. With these two terminated, it looks like Goro is a bullet away from taking down the mysterious number one killer and he himself becoming the greatest assassin in all of Japan.

But Goro’s plans grow quickly muddled when he meets Misako, a beautiful woman, who hires him to kill a visiting foreigner to the country. Though, at first, everything looks like it will go to plan, Goro botches the job at the last second and kills a innocent passerby, sending his reputation as a reliable killer into the toilet and his life into jeopardy. For the mob has now hired the number one assassin to eliminate him and it will take everything Goro’s got, both physically and mentally, to escape the killer’s clutches and fall out of love with the gorgeous Misako, who he has now promised to kill.

What makes “Branded to Kill” so interesting to watch is how it uses the style, look, and editing found rooted in American pop culture and cinema and amplifies it to a degree where it’s at its most extreme. It is this amplification of aspects that creates a whole new style of it’s own- both reminiscent and cutting edge at the same time. For instance, while the “James Bond” films of the same era looked at sex and even fetishes with a rather double entendre tongue in cheek approach, “Branded” skips right past this and amplifies it to such a degree that are protagonist’s large libido, as he beds both his wife and Misako, is aided by the smell of boiling rice, which gets him positively riled.

Another example of a Bond-like concept taken to the extreme is alcoholism. While Bond takes in martini after martini with very little trouble, Goro at first shows disdain for the drink, which he believes will take him off his game, but soon becomes a drunkard as the number one killer grows closer. In this way, we come to see the hard stuff not as flashy and acceptable, but far closer to actual reality, which, with the escapist draw of the Bond films, seems like an extreme.

But, just when you think the film is using this extreme approach to only redefine its straight action drama, Suzuki flips the story on its head, delivering humorous aspects of this method and, in some scenes, delivering a few rather good laughs. For instance, he amplifies the idea of “keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer” when Goro and the number one killer meet and decide to hold a truce for one more day. Not comfortable leaving each other out of sight, the two decide to link arms and go about their day, eating, sitting, running errands, and even urinating, in that way. At one point, they walk down the street, arms linked, to the dismay of all around them. It’s a rather silly, but nevertheless humorous joke in a rather “Odd Couple” sort of way.

“Branded to Kill” is much like it’s protagonist Goro- not easily pegged down. Just when you think its doing one thing, it tricks you and goes about something entirely different. But that’s certainly the draw of this odd picture and probably why it’s so much fun.

To learn more about “Branded to Kill,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 37: Time Bandits

Terry Gilliam’s wonderful “Time Bandits” is a light hearted adventure drizzled with a social commentary on the evils of consumerism. Though some would call this fantasy fare a “kids movie,” it’s far more than that, as Gilliam whips up a story that hits on multiple age levels. While children are certainly represented through the main character and his exicting adventures, it is the more adult centered discussion on blind consumtion and theology that holds as the backbone to all the fun.

In “Time Bandits,” we meet Kevin, a bright eleven-year-old boy, whose parents show very little interest in him or his love of history as they consume their time with television and the newest in household gadgets. But Kevin soon gains the interest of many when, one night, seven dwarves, Randall, Fidgit, Strutter, Og, Wally, and Vermin,  jump out of his bedroom closet and take him on an adventure through time and space. For these seven little travelers had been working for the Supreme Being, the creator of all things, repairing time holes throughout the galaxy and, have just ditched their work to instead set off with the time hole map in an attempt to jump through differant historical events and steal what they can for themselves.

Now a part of their little (no pun intended) criminal band, Kevin finds himself facing the likes of the vertically challenged Napoleon (Ian Holm), the glib Robin Hood (John Cleese), and the brave King Agamemnon (Sean Connery) as he and the bandits make their way through time. But, when a coniving  sorcerer, known only as Evil, steals the time hole map and plans to destroy the universe- recreating it as a technology based existence with no need for silly things like trees and grass- it will be up to Kevin and the Time Bandits to stop him and set things, in both time and space, back in order.

The beauty of Gilliam’s “Time Bandits” is how, as I’ve mentioned before, he has conjured up a tale exciting enough for kids, but deep enough for adults as well- digging into the topic of consumerism and the concept of theology. With a great mix of subtlety and humor, Gilliam makes a statement about excessive buying by showing it as foolish and then taking it a step further by making it the reason behind Evil’s plan.

At the very beginning of the film, we watch Kevin’s parents sit slackjawed, watching televison and making comments about how their neighbors have the fastest of the new appliances while they just have the fast ones. This absurdity of having the “new new” seems far fetched until you think upon the technology race of today as the newest products grow obsolete in a span of less than two years and everyone finds themselves once again in the cashier’s line.

But Gilliam doesn’t stop there on chastising the buying culture. Upon stealing the map from Kevin and the Bandits, Evil desires to create a world based around technology, abandoning the need for nature. At one point he quips, “ If I were creating the world I wouldn’t mess about with butterflies and daffodils. I would have started with lasers, eight o’clock, Day One!” What is intriguing about Evil’s idea of the perfect world is that Gilliam’s very next film, his dark humored magnum opus “Brazil,” centers itself in a world very much as he describes.

On the subject of theology, “Time Bandits” takes the concepts of God and the Devil and adds a fresh, though still rather conservatively based, definition to the characters. In Evil we find a character who is certainly what his name suggests, but also seems a tad bored with the goings on around him as well as easily annoyed by his henchmen. At one point, a thug stupidly reminds Evil that he was created by God and so he can’t be as powerful. With a twitch of a finger, the dark lord blows him to smitheries and yells, “I made me!”- an interesting aspect of the character, which seems to run deeper than just plain haughtiness.

In the Supreme Being we find a version of God, which is very much founded in his Old Testament interpretation, but also rather casually self aware of his position. Though we first witness him as a large bright head, later he transforms to an upright British gentleman, an image he claims to prefer. Though he does do right by Kevin and the Time Bandits, he is rather passive about the whole thing and a little put off- treating the group like a bunch of naughty school children. In fact, he seems rather disinterested by everything. When asked why he would create Evil in the first place, he shrugs and mumbles, “It has something to do with free will I believe.”

With “Time Bandits,” Gilliam delivers a film full of breezy adventure, but also heavy in its own funny way. Though it certainly has a message to deliver, it doesn’t seem interested in pushing it down anyone’s throat and, by being so easy going, the message itself becomes more intriguing. For in “Time Bandits,” you can take or leave the subtext, but, either way, you’re going to have an amazing journey.

To learn more about, “Time Bandits,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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Day 36: The Wages of Fear (1953)

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s “The Wages of Fear” is another example, after yesterday’s “Diabolique,” of this director’s keen ability to bring severe tension to a scene. While “Diabolique” was more Hitchcockian in its thrills, leaving the audience to grow anxious while resolution or answers stayed in the shadows, “Wages” brings everything into the broad daylight, delivering a more action oriented tale utilizing “edge of your seat” situations.

“The Wages of Fear” takes place in Las Piedras, a small South American desert town practically owned by “The Southern Oil Company” (or SOC), who operate the nearby oil fields. Though the SOC provides the town with work, the pay is low and the danger high and many feel the risk too great. Among those are the Frenchmen Mario and Jo, the Dutch Bimba and the Italian Luigi, each with a dark past, which has stranded them in Las Piedras. Though each desires to leave, the only way out is the town airport, requiring a ticket price and a visa that are both out of reach for their empty pockets.

Suddenly, a solution to their dilemmas has arrived in the form of an oil fire, which has begun devouring the oil fields. To eliminate the problem, the SOC needs four drivers to transport two truck loads of highly unstable nitroglycerine to the field so it can be used in an explosion to consume the fire and extinguish it. At two thousand dollars a driver, all four men leap at the dangerous opportunity, seeing it as their way out and to a new life. But, what none of them count on is just how difficult the assignment truly is and, with a path of cliffs, rocks, jungle brush, and potholes in their way, the four will have to tred lightly both with their trucks and each other if they don’t want it all to end in fire.

With “The Wages of Fear” Clouzot gives his audience an enemy that would become a typical archetype in the years to come. Instead of a single person or group playing the antagonist, we are given a corporation, which is drived by greed and treats its workers much like an evil king would treat his subjects- poorly and with little mercy. Though this idea of a “corporate enemy” had been played with before in such works as Charlie Chaplin’s “Modern Times” and Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis,” with “Wages” the corporation is also firmly represented by a single nationality, in this case, “The Southern Oil Company” is an American enterprise.

While this concept have having America play the “baddie” seems fairly normal in today’s cinema, it was unheard of at the time and caused quite a stir for Clouzot, who had already been called unpatriotic by his home country of France for his previous film, “Le Corbeau.” Fresh off of World War Two, the idea of America being the oppressor was something people could not get behind and, upon it’s state-side (and heavily edited) release in 1955, “Time Magazine” still called it “a picture that is surely one of the most evil ever made.

In retrospect, it can be seen that “The Wages of Fear” was not truly anti-American, but more anti-capitalism or even anti-everything. The four main characters of the film are hardly likable people and, from start to finish, we never really care if they’ll ever get out of Las Piedras or not. The main concern to the audience is more whether (or when) will the explosions blow and in what way. Though they are not despicable protagonists, we are not stretched to find them appealing and that’s certainly one of the reasons the film seems so bleak. Not to mention, when one of the four finds himself on death’s door, his last muttered words are, “There’s nothing.” Not exactly a pick-me-up movie.

But, even if considered dreary and unpatriotic, “The Wages of Fear” is still a classic action thriller and a tense story of men on the edge playing, both figuratively and literally, with fire.

To learn more about “The Wages of Fear,” check out Criterion’s page here.

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