Driving Miss Daisy (1989): A Review

DRIVING MISS DAISY (1989)

In the span of thirty years few Best Picture winners have proved so divisive as Driving Miss Daisy, though the controversy has little to nothing to do with the film on a technical level. Instead, it is the subject matter that causes so much ire, so much so that when Green Book won Best Picture the specter of Driving Miss Daisy came to haunt the latter. Both films revolve around chauffeurs and their paying passengers with only the races reversed and one pair being the same sex versus Miss Daisy's male-female perspective.

Looking back on Driving Miss Daisy, like the title character the film has aged poorly; however, one can find a surprising critique of concepts that had not been conceived of when the film charmed audiences: white privilege and liberal hypocrisy.

Wealthy white Jewish widow Daisy Werthan (Jessica Tandy) had a small incident with her car: she got confused on the gears and ended up backing the car into her neighbor's backyard. Her son Boolie (Dan Aykroyd) decides it's time she have a driver, but Miss Daisy will have none of it.

Boolie nevertheless hires black driver Hoke Colburn (Morgan Freeman) to 'drive Miss Daisy'. Daisy's hostility is overt until finally she breaks down and very reluctantly takes to being driven. Soon she finds Hoke almost as indispensable as her maid/cook Idella (Esther Rolle). Miss Daisy is able to vent her irritation at the WASP aspirations of her daughter-in-law Florine (Patti Lupone) and travel to Mobile for her brother's 90th birthday.

Over time their relationship evolves from hostility to amiability as the South changes from a segregated society to a more diverse and inclusive one, though not without a few bumps on the metaphorical and literal road between Hoke and Daisy. Eventually, as Miss Daisy slips into dementia and is put in a home, Hoke visits 'Miss Daisy' one last time.

My mother loves Driving Miss Daisy, or as she calls it in her mangled English, Driving My Daisy. Why she keeps calling it that I can't guess at, but in a certain sense Mom's right in referring to it as Driving My Daisy. The film centers around Miss Daisy and Hoke in their give-and-take, particularly her evolution from hostility over the loss of her independence to embracing change on her terms versus his own views about being a man, particularly a black man.

The film is certainly Jessica Tandy's show and bless her for making Miss Daisy remotely likable given how nasty she is, particularly in the beginning towards Hoke who has done nothing wrong. Every time he attempts to do something to justify his salary, Miss Daisy comes storming in harder than Sherman stormed into Atlanta.

Miss Daisy is rude, mean, obnoxious, cantankerous and dismissive. And that's just with her only child!

She's far worse with Hoke, but Tandy makes Miss Daisy also into someone who could also be soft, even hurt. In her performance, Tandy shows that Miss Daisy is not snobbish but instead someone who still considers herself the poor Jewish girl from the wrong side of the tracks versus the wealthy widow she is now.

Freeman more than holds his own as Hoke. It might appear that he is close to being a 'magical Negro', someone who is there to enlighten the white character. However, Freeman makes Hoke someone who knows the societal limitations he faces but also knows how far he can be pushed. We see this when he coolly informs Daisy that as he nears 70 he is not about to tolerate being told when he can and cannot urinate, least of all by a woman who does not have the legal limitations he has.

In what could be a surprising turn, Aykroyd does a fantastic job in the drama as the much put-upon Boolie. He genuinely loves his mother but finds her exasperating, something just about every single son understands. It's a curious thing that despite how good Aykroyd is in Driving Miss Daisy he has not been given as many dramatic roles as his talent merits. In their brief screen-time both Rolle and Lupone give strong performances as the wise Idella and the shrewish Florine respectively.

As I stated earlier, Driving Miss Daisy has not aged well, particularly when it comes to how race relations are portrayed. Alfred Uhry, adapting his own play, seems disinterested in emphasizing what should be Hoke's irritation at Miss Daisy's manner. It's a curious thing that Miss Daisy now comes across as either a dumb liberal or a hypocrite.

She says she's not prejudiced, and she may not be in terms of thinking she is superior to blacks. However, she also says that "they all take things" when she goes into a fit about Hoke  having taken a can of sardines. The film never stops to ask why she thinks "they" take things or who exactly "they" are: blacks in general, black men in particular or just Hoke. We can laugh at how Hoke not only admits to taking said can prior to it being brought up but also buying one to replace it, showing up Daisy. However, there is something distasteful about that "they all take things" line.

Moreover, at least twice we see that Miss Daisy is rather hypocritical in her manner. She is the type of person who can support change so long as said change does not affect or impact her personally. She may not be prejudiced, and is actually complimentary to Hoke as being 'the only real Christian' she knows versus Florine who pretends to be Christian to better integrate herself into the more dominant culture.

However, Miss Daisy never stops to consider that this man, whom she's grown to be fond of and who seems to genuinely like her for herself, should have the ability to urinate when he needs to. Instead, as she is desperate to get to her brother's in time, tells him flatly that he 'can hold it' for who knows how many miles. Her insensitive and brusque manner is surprising and surprisingly shocking.

Even worse is when she goes to a Martin Luther King dinner. She tells Hoke how she loves how things are changing, but earlier when Boolie suggests she invite Hoke to the King speech she balks, giving Hoke the vaguest hint of an invitation as he drives her to said dinner. Among her shockingly stupid defenses is the idea that Hoke can hear King speak 'anytime he wants'. When Hoke suggests that she was asinine to offer this invitation at the literal last minute she behaves as though she was the injured party. It's almost as if she expected to be thanked for her largess versus recognizing that she was wrong.

I don't think Uhry or director Bruce Beresford were making a commentary about how outwardly liberal whites could be just as prejudiced as the Klan that bombed her synagogue, a sin of omission versus commission. However, it would have been nice if they had explored that a bit deeper.

Her odd assumption that Hoke either goes to the church King preaches at or has some sort of connection to King personally just because both men are black demonstrates to me that Miss Daisy has a particular blind spot.

In short, Miss Daisy shows that she is open to change so long as things don't change for her. She believes in equality for all people, but Hoke should stay in his place. To be fair it may just be that Miss Daisy struggles to see Hoke as anything more than an employee and that her separation is more class/status-based than race-based. Still, something about this did not sit well with me.

Driving Miss Daisy curiously is not as charming as I once remembered it. I can see how well it does work, having seen audience reaction at a theatrical production a few years back. I don't think that the story romanticizes segregation in any way. The film is blessed with a nice style and strong performances from the whole cast, particularly by the triumvirate of Tandy, Freeman and Aykroyd. You do end up liking the characters, flaws and all. I think it is dated and slight, but nowhere near a paean to racism.

Neither as bad as its detractors say or as good as its defenders argue, Driving Miss Daisy is pleasant but flawed as people are.

DECISION: C+

1990 Best Picture Winner: Dances With Wolves

Rocky (1976): A Review (Review #1226)

ROCKY (1976)

On this Independence Day, it seems appropriate to look back at a film that reads as a love letter to America as we see our nation as: pugnacious, not too sophisticated but with grit and and a good heart and a fierce determination. Rocky still holds a place in many people's heart and it is easy to see why: it speaks to the idea of 'going the distance', a theme that hit hard in America's Bicentennial and which still holds sway now.

Rocky Balboa (writer Sylvester Stallone) is a low-rent boxer and hired muscle for local loan shark Gazzo (Joe Spinelli). Rocky despite his boxing prowess is actually too gentle and kind to be ruthless with those whom Gazzo orders roughed up. Rocky has no prospects: about to turn thirty, his boxing career as 'The Italian Stallion' hasn't gone anywhere. Moreover, local gym owner/impresario Mickey (Burgess Meredith) throws Rock out of his gym.

Rock is thought by everyone he meets as a 'bum', one who won't go anywhere. This wounds him inside but he does not want to show it. His only concern is in winning the heart of painfully shy pet shop salesgirl Adrian (Talia Shire), who lives with her brother Paulie (Burt Young). Paulie and Rock know each other and with some pushing from the abusive and erratic Paulie a genuine romance blossoms between Adrian and Rocky.

It's here that a surprising bit of luck hits Balboa. Heavyweight boxing champion Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) has a major fight scheduled on New Year's Day for a Bicentennial celebration but the scheduled fighter has to pull out. Desperate for a replacement, Creed decides to find an unknown Philadelphia fighter as a gimmick. Who better to fight on the two hundredth anniversary of America's founding than some boxer called 'The Italian Stallion'?

Balboa at first thinks he will be merely Creed's sparring partner, but agrees to the fight. With only five weeks to train Balboa agrees to have Mickey as his manager despite their differences. Only one person in Creed's camp realizes that Balboa, unlike Creed, is taking this fight seriously. The night of the fight Creed is in for a rude shock when he realizes Rocky Balboa, this nobody, this bum, this galoot, is not going to go down easy. It soon becomes an actual fight, with one winning the match and one winning his true love.

People who watch and love Rocky focus on many aspects of the film. They focus on the uplifting story or the performances which are now so much part of Americana that they are easily parodied. They focus on the romance between Rocky and Adrian or on the thrilling theme Gonna Fly Now and its use in the training montage, which also are fodder for spoofs.

All that I think does contribute to Rocky's success and which I will touch on a bit later. However, after seeing Rocky again I think one aspect that is not as well-appreciated is a theme the movie has: the power of redemption and resurrection. Rocky begins with very triumphant music, a single theme from one trumpet echoed by another trumpet that almost declare the arrival of greatness. Bill Conti's score makes clear that Rocky Balboa is a champion even though he has nothing to show it.

However, our first sight is an image of Christ, the ultimate redeemer and one who triumphed over the greatest obstacle, a man born in ultimate power, disparaged and mocked who became King of Kings. He looks down on a fight at the Resurrection AC (Athletic Club). It's a blend of the divine and the common, the people worshiped and the people dismissed.

I cannot say whether Stallone's screenplay or director John G. Avildsen planned this out with that particular mindset. I certainly am not comparing Rocky Balboa with Jesus Christ. However, it would be too much of a coincidence for our hero to metaphorically be watched over by another poor man who rose in triumph.

There is a strong theme of redemption and resurrection within Rocky, a sense that every character wants to go above where he/she is at and be more than what society has deemed them. Rocky wants to show he is not a bum. Adrian wants to be seen as worthy. Paulie and Mickey too want a shot at being more than what they are. Each of them, filled with frustrations and fears, now through Balboa find a chance for greatness.

As a side note, perhaps that is why the training montage, particularly with Gonna Fly Now playing, is so inspiring to so many people. I confess to being surprised at my own reaction: I did get misty-eyed as Rocky races through Philadelphia, birthplace of America, looking down on the city with joy, arms raised, knowing that his chance at redemption and personal if not spiritual resurrection is within his grasp.

Gonna Fly Now, which has remarkably few lyrics, echoes Rocky's themes of redemption and resurrection, starting from "Trying hard now" to "getting strong now" and ending with "gonna fly now"

I think that we react so emotionally with this sequence and with Rocky in general because of two things. Point One, we have gotten to know these characters so well, particularly Rocky and Adrian, that we care what happens to them. This is a credit to their performances. As much as Stallone may be derided now, perhaps with some reason, his Rocky performance was quite strong. He makes Rocky a man who is not just a goodhearted tough guy. He also shows us that there is this rage and hurt within him.

We see it after he seemingly turns Mickey down as a manager. As Mickey sadly walks away we hear and see Balboa express his buried pain at being seen as nothing, a loser, a nobody. That sense of despair and fear come at us with full force. Stallone also shows us Rocky as a quite gentle man, self-consciously aware of his educational limitations and even insecurity around a rather plain-looking woman. We end up loving him.

Same goes for Shire's Adrian, who buries her own fears about not being worthy deep within herself. Once she finds that there's at least one person who loves her for her she blossoms, and that evolution makes for compelling viewing.

There really is not a bad performance in Rocky, with perhaps the exception of Thayer David's boxing promoter Jergens. He struck me as a little over-the-top. Meredith's Mickey was effective, particularly when he all but begs Balboa to be his manager. Young too was strong as Paulie, a man who in his own twisted way did care about his sister, but who was too internally loathing to show the good man buried within him.

I don't think Weathers has gotten enough credit for his Apollo Creed, outwardly an egomaniac but a man also driven by his own fears, a fear of losing his status. It's not a stretch to see why his name is that of a god.

Point Two, we identify with the characters in particular with Rocky Balboa. We see ourselves in Rocky, someone who wants his shot and when unexpectedly presented with it, determined to make the most of his moment.

I have long thought that Rocky is so beloved especially by Americans because it is essentially an American story: the idea that through hard work and determination we can achieve greatness even if that greatness is not financial or worldly. In many ways, Rocky Balboa is how Americans see themselves and the country: not sophisticated or graceful or articulate but kind, courageous, compassionate and determined to overcome the odds.

That it came in 1976 when the United States was celebrating two hundred years of existence but at a time when the nation was questioning itself after the twin traumas of Vietnam and Watergate served to enhance the film. Rocky was a reminder of what America is to many: a true land of opportunity whose people fight hard and have a good heart.

Rocky is more an emotional experience, one where the viewer gets caught up in this man's journey to the championship. I do wish they had spent more time on the actual fight and not told us there would be no rematch, but on the whole that is quibbling. Rocky still holds up because to misquote a quote wrongly attributed to Alexis de Tocqueville, "Rocky is great because Rocky is good".

It's impossible not to love Rocky Balboa and Rocky.

DECISION: A-

1977 Best Picture Winner: Annie Hall

Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road): A Review (Review #1225)

PATHER PANCHALI

Pather Panchali (Song of the Little Road) is the debut film of both director Satyajit Ray and the main character, Apu. This first part of what would become The Apu Trilogy is one of the most beautiful films I have seen, perhaps not visually stunning but emotionally impactful that it stays with you long after you see it.

Pather Panchali covers the early years of little Apu (Subir Bandopadhyay, now Subir Banerjee). He is the second child of Harihar (Kanu Bannerjee) and Sarbojaya Ray (Karuna Bannerjee) and he lives with his older sister Durga (Uma Das Gupta) and his elderly 'Auntie' Indir (Chunibala Devi), whom both are devoted to, especially Durga.

As a side note, despite their shared surnames none of the actors were related.

The family is quite poor, leading to much stress on Sarbojaya's part. She is frustrated by Auntie's habit of taking food without asking, which Sarbojaya in turn blames for Durga taking fruit that has fallen from a wealthier family's orchard (said orchard she maintains her more dreamer husband should have held onto). Harihar is a poor priest and keeps plugging away at being a writer and poet, but money is hard to come by.

As we see Apu and Durga grow up, they experience the joys of simple things like sweets and the train passing by, but also see the hardness of life. The neighbor insists Durga stole a necklace from her daughter, causing Sarbojaya to briefly throw her out of the house. She also throws Auntie out a couple of times, though the wily old lady manages to come back with little protest from Sarbojaya.

Harihar goes to find work and money away from their ancestral land, and in his absence Sarbojaya becomes more desperate and concerned. Apu and Durga experience the tragedy of loss and death, and then death comes for the innocent. Harihar finally returns but what joy he has is lost when he learns of Durga. With nothing to hold them to the only home they have known for at least three generations, the Rays go to the big city of Benares to seek out a new start.

Pather Panchali has as its major drawback its length at a little over two hours. Such a long film may try viewers' patience, especially as Pather Panchali has a very small, simple plot. It's a very quiet film: there are no major twists apart from the discovery of the necklace and its focus is on simple people living out their lives in rural India. There is no talk of politics or the outside world, in fact no mention of anything remotely connected to the outside save for the train that so fascinates Apu and Durga.

Yet my question would be what exactly should be removed? Director and screenwriter Satyajit Ray in his directorial debut takes this slow and methodical method to allow us to know these characters, and as such those with patience are richly rewarded. We are slowly woven into their lives, their struggles, hopes, joys, simplicity and heartbreak to where we can see either ourselves or our own families.

One of the great beauties of Pather Panchali is that despite the difference in time and culture the viewer can identify with the characters and their various situations: the inquisitive and playful Apu, the protective yet flawed Durga, the wily and slightly mischievous but wise Auntie, the harried and haunted Sarbojaya and the optimistic and hopeful dreamer Harihar. Pather Panchali is a story that is familiar to the human condition, centering on a family and situations both distinctly Indian and deeply universal.

It's a major credit to Ray as a director that his cast featured non-professional actors. Out of his main cast, Bandopadhyay had no acting experience and only Kanu Bannerjee had film experience. Karuna Bannerjee, Das Gupta and Devi had theatrical acting experience but no film work. They all give such wonderful performances, making the characters so relateable. We see Apu's discovery of the world, his innocence and joy in simple things. We can smile as Auntie delights in the secret deliveries of fruit Durga 'finds' for her. We can share Sarbojaya's anxieties about how to feed her family while her husband is away.

"I had dreams too...", she tells her husband softly, and here I think we see the genius of both Ray and Pather Panchali. Sarbojaya was once Durga, a generally happy child with her life ahead of her. She is also perhaps fated to become Auntie, an old hunched-over woman living off the kindness of extended family. In fact near the end a child sent by family to provide food for Sarbojaya in her grief calls her 'Auntie', suggesting that the wheel of time spins in a certain direction too.

We can also mourn the two deaths in Pather Panchali, one not surprising, one unexpected but both sad and tragic. It is no surprise that the elderly Auntie dies, though her death seems very harsh given the circumstances that led to it. It is the other death that hits you much harder, much deeper. Ray does not make it a big moment, drenching it with music or having hysterics. It is the softness, the stillness of both the death and Sarbojaya's pained, frozen reaction that hits us harder.

I confess that when she finally broke down after Harihar gives her Durga's new sari, I had to pause the film for a few moments to collect myself. You would simply have to have a heart of stone not to find yourself shedding tears at this moment. I admit I cried at this moment, and I have no shame in that revelation.

Pather Panchali perhaps has a subtle way of informing the viewer about its theme of life moving forward both with happiness and sadness. We see this with Sarbojaya, but there's another part that caught my attention. Near the end of the film Apu is sent to find someone. He dresses before leaving, and then pauses to take one more item: an umbrella. Here, he echoes his father's similar pause to collect his umbrella earlier in the film when he set out on his journey. Perhaps I am reading too much into this, but I think Ray was suggesting that Apu was now becoming a man, leaving the boy behind.

This is a film that makes one go find his or her family and express their love for them. After seeing it, I went and hugged my mother tightly and lovingly. Granted, she was suspicious as to why I was suddenly so affectionate and thought I was up to something, but such is life.

Lest I forget, the film is blessed with a beautiful score from legendary sitar master Ravi Shankar, whose music brings delight and pain that matches the story.

The pain and loss the family endures is heartbreaking, yet Pather Panchali is not a tragedy. We have moments of lightness and joy, in short, about life and the human condition every person lives out. A beautiful portrait of humanity, albeit perhaps a bit slow for some, Pather Panchali is a portrait of how we all travel down on our own Little Road.

DECISION: A+

The Silence of the Lambs (1991): A Review

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991)

The Silence of the Lambs is technically a sequel in that it follows characters introduced in 1986's Manhunter, the adaptation of Robert Harris' first Hannibal Lecter novel Red Dragon. As much as The Silence of the Lambs is seen as a horror film or psychological thriller, after revisiting it I think the film is really a much deeper and richer commentary on women as both victims and heroines.

Novice FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is tasked by her superior Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) to try to convince or con a brilliant but dangerous psychologist/psychopath to help the FBI in profiling a serial killer known as "Buffalo Bill", who skins his victims.

Said psycho is Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), known as 'Hannibal the Cannibal' for having killed and eaten his victims. Currently imprisoned and controlled by inept prison psychiatrist Dr. Fredrick Chilton (Anthony Heald), Lecter is so dangerous he is kept behind glass to avoid him touching anyone.

The ambitious Starling and the brilliant Lecter soon begin an intellectual pas de deux, one attempting to outwit the other to get what they want. For Lecter, it is to get away from Chilton, whom he detests. For Starling, it is a chance to get ahead in her career.

Things take on a greater urgency when "Buffalo Bill" (Ted Devine) has taken a new victim: Catherine Martin (Brooke Smith). She fits Bill's targeted victims: female, overweight, young. She is also the daughter of Senator Ruth Martin (Diane Baker), bringing greater attention to the case. As Lecter continues to toy with everyone, Starling continues the investigation despite Lecter's false clues and wild goose chases, driven by her own haunted past to save Catherine.

Lecter has a few tricks up his sleeve, putting everyone at risk. As Starling's investigation comes to its shocking conclusion, she finds that Hannibal Lecter, now a fugitive, will keep away from her out of courtesy, but as for his nemesis Chilton...

Going back to The Silence of the Lambs, I think that I have found a new interpretation for this story above the surface story of two madmen tied together by one investigator. Rather, and again this is my own interpretation, I think The Silence of the Lambs is about Clarice Starling more than about the horrifying crimes.

I got from Jonathan Demme's film that Clarice was the 'lamb' and that her 'silence' was that of many a competent woman forced to watch herself among the various 'wolves' that surround them. Over and over through Demme's various close-ups and Ted Tally's screenplay we see how Clarice, this small woman, has to endure that nefarious male gaze.

That male gaze takes two forms. There's the gaze of desire which comes from the revolting, arrogant Chilton but also from some of her colleagues like FBI scientists Roden (Dan Butler) and Pilcher (Paul Lazar) and perhaps Crawford himself. As Pilcher talks to Starling, he clumsy asks her out.

"Are you hitting on me?", Clarice almost jokingly asks. Without missing a beat Pilcher says, "Yes". This metaphorical lamb, however, stays silent.

The other gaze is that of contempt, best shown when Crawford and Starling go to examine the body of another victim. Crawford tells the police chief that they cannot talk about certain aspects because essentially 'there's a lady present', and later on the various officers seem irritated when Clarice asks them to leave the autopsy room.

The Silence of the Lambs, in my view, is a strong allegory about how women are victimized by men in ways large (murder, torture) and small (dismissed, harassed, ogled). I think we can see this at the very beginning of the film, where we see her running out of the very spooky, almost haunted woods. It's almost an archetype: the damsel in distress fleeing from the deep, dark forest. However, in this Gothic horror take on Little Red (or in her case, Grey) Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, the girl is seen overcoming all the obstacles.

Clarice is in her own way a lamb though a strong one, surrounded by wolves who would devour her with their eyes and with their bodies if they could; these hungry wolves range from the mentally ill prisoner Miggs (Stuart Rudin) who literally flings his cum at her, to 'Buffalo Bill' himself who would slaughter her. Chilton is the worst in that he has both desire and contempt for Starling, seeing her as both a sex object and an incessant irritant and intellectual inferior despite the evidence to the contrary.

Even Jack Crawford, who would appear to be a mentor, can be seen as both contemptuous of Starling and perhaps harboring some sexual desires.

It is never really overtly spoken, though Demme shows us how Clarice is often mistreated by the men she is around in various ways save perhaps one: Hannibal Lecter himself. Unlike just about every other man, he sees Clarice for her mind. He is rather courtly and polite, who sees in Clarice not as a thing but as a person.

Lecter is manipulative and in his own way tortures Clarice by having her delve into her traumas, but he would do this with anyone regardless of gender. There is a very brief shot of him caressing Starling's hand with one finger, which suggests sexual desire, but I am not convinced Lecter ever wanted Clarice sexually.

The lion's share of fame in terms of performances has gone to Anthony Hopkins as Lecter. What makes him a truly frightening figure is in how Hopkins plays him: as a man fully in control, brilliant, contemptuous of everyone save perhaps Clarice. Even as he literally devours people he does not seem to lose control. I think that is what makes Hopkins' performance so brilliant. He plays Lecter as someone who is always five steps ahead, taking every opportunity presented and whose very calmness masks his murderous and evil ways.

His charming, courtly manner allows for us almost to cheer when he bids Clarice farewell via telephone. As we see a frightened Dr. Chilton arrive in the Bahamas, Lecter coolly informs her, "I do wish we could stay and chat longer, but I'm having an old friend for dinner," the double meaning a mixture of menace and mirth.

Hannibal Lecter, thanks to Hopkins' performance, has become a cult figure, the center of a cinematic universe with television shows and film sequels/prequels. Poor Brian Cox: whatever the qualities of his version of Lecter in Manhunter, is all for forgotten. However, it is to me a terrible disservice to focus so much on Hopkins and Lecter when The Silence of the Lambs has an equally brilliant performance.

Jodie Foster, I think, has gone not fully appreciated for her performance in the way Anthony Hopkins has. Her performance is absolutely pitch-perfect. Foster's Clarice Starling is an authentic character. She is strong and competent but she is also vulnerable. She does not hide that she is a woman by attempting to be 'masculine' and she certainly would never think of being coquettish. Her gender is part of who she is.

However, she is someone who is capable of being hurt. A brief scene of her crying after leaving her first interview with Lecter, where she has endured having cum flung at her and crazed men screaming at her, shows that she is not above having emotions. She also has something that the male investigators do not have: empathy for the victims. Starling does not see these women as mere corpses or subjects in an investigation but instead she sees them as real people. 

The Silence of the Lambs does not have a bad performance in it, a credit to Demme as a director and the various actors in the film. Levine for good or ill is now seen as 'Buffalo Bill', his crazed 'drag act' never slipping into camp but a genuinely creepy being. Even small roles, such as Baker's fearful mother, Kasi Lemmons as Starling's fellow trainee Ardelia Mapp or Chris Isaak as the SWAT commander and even independent film legend Roger Corman in a cameo as the FBI director all have strong moments.

There are also other elements that contribute to the film's great success. Howard Shore, inexplicably not nominated for his score, creates music that is eerie and melancholy. Of particular note is when Clarice is remembering the trauma of her childhood. One can hear what sounds like the wind echoing that dark morning when her young life came apart. I think it was actually music, but it was so well-crafted that one senses the score elevated the scene. The use of the song Goodbye Horses also makes for frightening effect.

Craig McKay's editing is excellent, particularly when balancing the tension between a wrong raid, Catherine striking back against her captor and Clarice's imminent danger. Tak Fujimoto's cinematography works well in setting the eerie nature of the story, though I did question the set-up for when the police storm where Lecter is housed. It did strike me as slightly illogical that Lecter would take so much time with such an elaborate piece but that's being a bit nitpicky.

The Silence of the Lambs is a magnificent film: horror mixed with intelligent yet subtle commentary on gender roles and standout performances particularly from Foster and Hopkins. An extraordinary yet terrifying film, The Silence of the Lambs continues to hold a macabre fascination to this day.

DECISION: A+

1992 Best Picture Winner: Unforgiven

HANNIBAL LECTER FILMS

Manhunter

Hannibal

Red Dragon

Hannibal Rising

HANNIBAL LECTER TELEVISION SERIES

Hannibal

Clarice

The Intruder (2019): A Review

THE INTRUDER

I am someone who judges a film based on what it aims for and not on some lofty sliding scale. As such, I can look on The Intruder was bemused pleasure, accepting that it is trash. Granted, it's poor trash, so much so that it would have benefited tremendously if it had embraced its trashiness rather than even try to be serious. However, as almost idiotic pieces of useless entertainment go I cannot find it in my heart to beat up on The Intruder much.

Successful entrepreneur Scott Russell (Michael Ealy) and his wife Annie (Meagan Good) are looking for a country home to escape San Francisco. They think they have found the perfect place in Napa Valley: a large home currently owned by Charlie Peck (Dennis Quaid). Both Charlie and his home have fallen on hard times ever since the death of his wife two years before.

After some negotiating the Russells buy the house, but Charlie seems never to actually leave. He keeps telling them he'll soon move in with his daughter in Florida but he keeps showing up. Charlie sometimes helps around the house: cutting the grass and setting up the Christmas lights. Scott is growing more alarmed at Charlie's intrusive nature but Annie keeps insisting he's just a nice man who is a little lonely and means well.

Charlie, however, does not mean well at all. Pathologically possessive about the house he soon becomes more fixated on Annie. Charlie's growing derangement puts the Russells and their friends in danger until reaching a brutal climax where not everyone will come out alive.

As I said, The Intruder could have benefited tremendously from a little more camp given David Loughery's cliched screenplay. It is one of those films that depend on the characters being amazingly stupid, particularly poor Annie who is stubbornly foolish when it comes to Charlie's behavior.

No matter how often Charlie shows up unannounced or how often Scott's concerned are justified, Annie continues to insist that the very odd old white guy running around their home and popping up at all hours is harmless.

Bless Good for not breaking out into fits of laughter at Annie's inanity. One has to give her credit for trying to make her into even a remotely rational human being given the character as written is really, really dumb.

The Intruder loves to delve into standard thriller bits: the evil figure popping out of the shadow unseen by the others, random strangers offering important information that furthers the plot, the 'wacky' best friends who you know are there to be killed. The film to its credit makes said 'wacky' best friend Mike (Joseph Sikora) so unlikable that at least I was rooting for Charlie to get rid of him. Never was the term 'token white guy' so apropos to something as silly as The Intruder.

We even get suggestions that The Intruder borrows from other films: I could see bits that were reminiscent of Straw Dogs and The Shining, though why they went this route is unexplained.

The film almost delights in throwing things in that not only have little if anything to do with whatever the actual plot is but just as quickly forgets about them. There is a vague subplot about a tryst Scott had when he and Annie were engaged potentially repeating itself that just came and went. There is another about Charlie's daughter that similarly came and went. We are told that Scott has an aversion to guns, so we know what will happen in the end. Said 'wacky' best friend Mike, who no surprise is killed off (much to my delight) has a girlfriend we've seen, but no reason is given why she is apparently unconcerned that Mike has disappeared.

Perhaps she was just happy to be rid of Mike. It would have made things more interesting if Charlie had seduced Mike's girlfriend Rachel (Alvina August) or vice versa.

I really do think the cast and director Deon Taylor would have done better to have made The Intruder almost a spoof rather than even bother trying to make this serious. It appears Dennis Quaid opted to try and make Charlie into a camp figure with his obvious "I'm CREEPY!" performance. Ealy appears to underplay his role as almost a counterweight to Quaid's all-in bonkers manner.

Again, as I look at The Intruder, I could almost find myself enjoying it for its desperate efforts to try and be good. It isn't: the cliches and idiocy of just about everyone in the film pushes it down. The Intruder is mindless, hokey silliness but not quite fun enough for me to recommend unless it is to actively ridicule it.

DECISION: C-

Lawrence of Arabia (1962): A Review

LAWRENCE OF ARABIA

In a time when live-action cartoons and the third remake of a Hollywood story are declared among 'the greatest films ever made', it may be hard to remember when such a term meant more than fanboy hyperbole cranked up to 11. For me, it takes more than squeeing to rank a particular film in that pantheon of true masterpieces.

Lawrence of Arabia, the biopic of Colonel T.E. Lawrence, is one such film. An epic film about one man's soul, with vast vistas and standout performances directed by a titan of cinema, Lawrence of Arabia mixes the sweeping and the intimate in this extraordinary portrait of this most conflicted and contradictory of historic figures.

British soldier and intellectual T.E. Lawrence (Peter O'Toole) is sent by the Arab Bureau to find Prince Faisal (Alec Guinness) and 'find out what his intentions are'. Lawrence, who loves the land and its people but feels himself also a British officer, encounters the formidable Sherif Ali ibn el Karish (Omar Sharif) who has murdered Lawrence's friend and guide for drinking out of his well despite being a member of a different clan.

Upon reporting to Faisal's British adviser Colonel Brighton (Anthony Quayle), Lawrence is his usual contrarian self, insisting the Arab uprising should remain independent of British interests in Arabia. He comes up with an audacious plan to aid Faisal's plans: attacking the heavily-defended port city of Aqaba by land. With a very dubious Ali and fifty men going with him, they make a dangerous trek across unforgiving desert before attacking, receiving aid from the bombastic chieftain Auda Abu Tayi (Anthony Quinn).

The British now find themselves facing off against one of their own who in the words of General Allenby (Jack Hawkins) has 'gone native'. Where Lawrence's heart truly are perhaps even he does not know, as he begins to become enveloped by the myth of 'Lawrence of Arabia', helped by ambitious American journalist Jackson Bentley (Arthur Kennedy).

As the Arabs continue their uprising against the Turks and the British continue their machinations on Arabia under the shady dealings of British Arab Bureau head Mr. Dryden (Claude Rains), Lawrence seems two men in one body. It isn't until his torture and perhaps rape at the hands of the Turkish Bey (Jose Ferrer) that Lawrence becomes a whole new man, filled with an almost uncontrollable bloodlust. Eventually, despite Lawrence's efforts he cannot give the Arabs a state or be completely absolved of the duplicity.

Now Colonel Lawrence, he quits Arabia to return to his own native land, a stranger among his own people, destined to 'back into the limelight'.

I have often thought that Lawrence of Arabia is less about war and Lawrence's exploits in the desert than it is about the man himself: where he began and ended versus where his myth began and ended, whether even he knew who or what he was. The key to the ultimate theme in Lawrence of Arabia is when he and one of his two servants finally cross the Suez to arrive at the canal. As this British officer, dressed in once-beautiful but now dirty Arab dress stares out, a motorcyclist comes upon them.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he shouts, and the double meaning packed into that one statement from Robert Bolt and a-then uncredited Michael Wilson's screenplay hits the viewer. Director David Lean (whose voice was the one calling out) moves in on O'Toole's blank expression as he keeps shouting "WHO ARE YOU?" Lawrence does not know who he is and can provide no answer.

Over and over this theme of the man who has no roots, no people, ill-fitting no matter what garb he wears, keeps returning in subtle ways. It may have begun at his birth, when he tells Ali that his father was not married to his mother. Despite Ali's statement that as such he is free to take whatever name he wants and create his own destiny, something in Lawrence always keeps him separate from the people of his birth and the people he has integrated to.

At one point, when forced to kill, he declares to the disparate Arab tribes, "I HAVE NO TRIBE!". While on the surface he means that he can take a life without creating a blood feud, I think it also means that Lawrence is rootless, that he is neither authentically British or authentically Arab in the way his opposites Brighton and Ali are. Both those men fight for what they believe while keeping to their honor without reservation. Lawrence, who flows turbulently between them, cannot fully commit to one or the other.

Lawrence of Arabia is helped by some of the best performances captured for film, starting with a man so breathtakingly beautiful the playwright Noel Coward remarked that if he'd been any prettier the film would have been called Florence of Arabia. While technically not Peter O'Toole's screen debut, I do not think anyone has had a larger or more brilliant opening performance than his. O'Toole, it has been noted, was in a sense wrong for the part in that he was well over half a foot taller than the real Lawrence. I don't think it matters, as O'Toole so brilliantly captured this version of Lawrence, a man forever a bit off-center, brilliant, passionate but also arrogant to the point of reckless.

Lawrence's evolution from a mere officer to a myth partially of his own creation as 'Al Aurence' and back to Lawrence is an extraordinary piece of acting. O'Toole makes Lawrence human in his uneasiness, his oddness and then his shifts to almost mythic status and then to monstrous and ultimately conflicted and tortured physically and emotionally. He starts out as intelligent but a bit clumsy, filled with the arrogance of youth and then slowly becomes a frightening figure, particularly when he leads a massacre of fleeing Turks. His cry of "NO PRISONERS! NO PRISONERS!" is terrifying, filled with fury and emotional turmoil.

Omar Sharif, making his English-language debut after being a star of Arab cinema, is more than O'Toole's equal as Ali, the Arab nobleman in every sense of the word. He too evolves from being a 'little people, a silly people, greedy, barbarous and cruel' into Lawrence's only true friend and conscience. Sharif is the heart of the film: a man with a strong sense of honor, who fights for his people while struggling with a man he has grown to respect, perhaps even love as a brother but who also will take no nonsense from anyone.

I don't think there is a bad performance in Lawrence of Arabia. While perhaps Quinn's bombastic and almost loony Auda may come across as over-the-top, it fits the character of this larger-than-life figure. Quayle's Brighton is a man wholly dedicated to the British manner and perhaps the only honest British officer, a contrast from the wily Allenby as portrayed by Hawkins.

In his all too few scenes, Rains excels as the ever-calm Dryden, forever plotting to further British interests while doing his best to not leave any fingerprints.

Guinness too is excellent as Prince Faisal, even if today his casting would be highly criticized. He makes Faisal into an elegant, sophisticated, calm man, one who dreams of freedom for his people and his own way wily and shrewd, forever attempting to avoid exchanging one master for another. Kennedy's cynical American reporter Bentley (obviously modeled on real-life Lawrence chronicler Lowell Thomas) adds a touch of humor but is also a prism to observe Lawrence. We see this in two scenes where he takes Lawrence's picture.

In the first we see Lawrence at his zenith, almost a sun-god, with Bentley as his proclaimer. In the second we see Lawrence at his nadir, drenched in blood and death, with Bentley angry at the massacre his former sun-god has led.

While relegated to one scene, Jose Ferrer is masterful and chilling as the Turkish Bey, the menace and as open as possible suggestion of homosexual desire so well-captured.

If anything, Lawrence of Arabia is filled with masterful subtlety.

It also has some amazing technical feats, in particular Anne V. Coates' editing. The cut from Lawrence blowing out the match to the sunrise is still breathtakingly brilliant, as is the sequence where we see Lawrence lost in thought until he comes up with one word: Aqaba. It's a credit to both Coates and Lean that despite its massive length Lawrence of Arabia ever feels like it is dragging or padded.

Freddie Young's cinematography is equally brilliant, capturing the wide variety of desert and placing us within that harsh world. Maurice Jarre's score is also a masterful work, blending Western and Arab themes for a memorable soundtrack.

Lawrence of Arabia may not be accurate history but it is brilliant filmmaking. This epic film of one man's conflicted, complex and contradictory soul will stand the test of time long after all the sands of the desert are carried off by the whirlwinds.

1888-1935

DECISION: A+

1963 Best Picture: Tom Jones

Personal Reflections on 'The Public'

PERSONAL REFLECTIONS ON 

THE PUBLIC

Having seen The Public and reviewed it as a film, I think it might be interesting to look at The Public with different eyes, that of a professional librarian. Perhaps my views on The Public differ from those not in this profession. I think every person who sees his/her job portrayed on film can spot things that would not be right or conversely be accurate. I now take a look over The Public, its plot and its portrayal of a profession I am very proud to be in.

Before I proceed any further, the following views and observations are strictly and wholly my own. They do not necessarily represent the views and observations of my employer or any colleague nor are they intended in suggest or imply that the views and observations are supported or endorsed by my employer or any colleague.

First, a brief overview of the plot. A group of homeless men, facing a lack of shelters during a cold snap in Cincinnati, decide to essentially take over the Central Library branch and use it as an emergency shelter. They are helped by the librarian Stuart Goodson (Emilio Estevez) and together they face off against opposing forces who want to force them out.

One aspect of The Public that the film got absolutely right was in the montages of patrons asking for information. In the film, a patron asks for help finding a specific book, but does not know the title or author but only that it was at a certain location and its color. I too had a similar question from a patron who did not know the name or author of the book, only that is was blue. Others have helpfully described the cover but not the subject/plot, author or title.

I gave my coworker a knowing look when another patron in that montage asked why so many Civil War battles were fought in state parks. As tempting as it is to laugh at these curious questions, a trained librarian knows these questions are sincere.

It would have been nice if The Public had included in these montages telephone calls, as many people appear to think libraries have literally all stored knowledge. Some patrons call for all sorts of information: telephone numbers of local and international businesses, how to remove acid from water, whether to place fruit in refrigerators or freezers, what bus routes take them home, scores for various teams and/or for their horoscopes. Perhaps the most curious question I have had came from an 80-year-old woman who calls almost daily.

She asked whether the HIV virus was so small that it could slip through a condom. It isn't up to us to ask why a senior who by her own admission has been celibate for decades would need or want to know such things, but there it is.

Now, I think it would be good to touch on the gist of the story. The Public makes its case that as libraries are de facto day shelters for the homeless population, they can and perhaps should be de facto or even de jure night homeless shelters. Granted the circumstances were extraordinary: a fierce winter that had already taken two lives and with all other shelters full.  I've read a few comments and reviews that to my mind imply such a step would be good.

I imagine those who think as such have a good heart. Simultaneously, those who think as such rarely offer their own homes for the homeless to sleep at, but I digress.

While the idea of using public libraries as emergency/backup homeless shelters in extreme circumstances is not at heart a bad idea, there are legal and logistical issues to contend with.

All the material at a public library belongs to the government as it is usually tax dollars that pay for all the material. Otherwise, you wouldn't have people shout "I PAY YOUR SALARY!" to the staff, which has happened to me twice in twelve years. People do damage materials which have to be replaced. Having the homeless or any population stay without authorization opens up the possibility for damage or theft.

Perhaps here one could say this group of sheltered individuals would not be left alone to run amok but would be watched. Here, I would ask who would do the watching? Is it fair to ask a library staff member, already coming off an eight-hour day, to stay another eight hours to monitor a group of adults? Would it be fair to make another staff member come in for 'an overnight shift'?

Even so, should an issue come up said library staff member is in no position to stop anything. He or she cannot physically handle or restraint someone, they are not trained to respond to emergency situations or mental health issues and would be severely outnumbered in case someone or a group pose a physical threat.

Despite the almost cuddly portrayal of the homeless in The Public, some of the homeless population in libraries can be dangerous and mentally unstable. The Public touched only briefly on mental illness with the character of Big George (Rhymefest), who thought he could shoot lasers out of his eyes that would kill someone. I think the idea of Big George again makes mental health issues among the homeless almost cutesy.

From my vantage point, the homeless who do come into the library can be aggressive and delusional. These delusions at times can be almost funny to an outsider: a patron in a perfectly even tone can tell you how the CIA finally stopped sending UFOs over to their house or how their 'cousin Michelle Obama' keeps hounding them for money.

Others can be from merely talking to people who are not there (sometimes in their own language) to people who are literally ranting and raving. Unilaterally declaring a public library an emergency homeless shelter with no notice runs the risk of putting staff members' lives at risk, not to mention other homeless. Who can be so sure that a homeless patron finds him/herself in the grips of a mania that leads to someone's death?

It would be, in my view, highly irresponsible to dangerous to place any person's life at risk, and this is not even taking into account health issues. What if a homeless man had a contagious disease? What if another has a physical disability?

If the answer is having security and/or EMT staff at the ready we still have issues.Said security would have to be paid, would have to be well-trained in physical and mental health emergency management and would need time to prepare and organize. Some libraries simply cannot afford security, sad but true. In these cases the staff might have to rely on the police to come, which could also result in escalation whether or not they actually arrive. Same for EMT.

We also face a curious issue: that of actual rest. If The Public is to be believed, the homeless men there didn't actually take shelter from the storm. They instead were there to have a slumber party. In the film, the homeless are not seen sleeping but instead playing games, eating pizza and going online. I imagine most homeless would not be essentially partying at 1:30 in the morning if this scenario were actually taking place.

I think The Public erred greatly in making the library into this place of endless frolic. I think it also is disingenuous to never show where they would sleep if they actually did. Floors can be rough and there would not be enough couches, chairs and tables to accommodate everyone. I've seen people argue over specific chairs. Can one imagine what would happen if a group of people decided they would have 'their usual' chair overnight?

There are a wide variety of issues as to why a public library would be a poor homeless shelter without proper preparation. It is one thing if the local government decided to allow people to stay overnight on an emergency basis, but there is a wide difference between a teen lock-in and a shelter. In the former there is planning, there is staff (perhaps with security) and there is a group that is within reason that has also prepared to spend the night at a library. In the latter there is none of the above.

The Public suggests that the whole group are similarly within reason or at the most have mildly amusing delusions and who are there purely due to financial downturns. In reality, this group would have had people who were alcoholic or drug addicted, some not of sound mind and some that could be a danger to themselves or others. Some could be a mixture.

I would not feel comfortable putting anyone's life on the line under those circumstances.

In retrospect the idea of having a library as an emergency homeless shelter is not a terrible one. It would again depend on what the local government decided. However, there would need to be planning and coordination. One can empathize with their plight but The Public did offer its own suggestion: the Church. Near the end a preacher who was also running for Mayor came to the Central Library to offer supplies. He was more than able to have done so prior to this crisis.

I find myself intrigued by The Public, and as a side note I offer that no one I know refers to the library as 'the public'. Most if not all of my colleagues refer to it as 'the system' (which would not have been a bad title either). It raises important issues, and I have so long hoped and advocated that more libraries have homeless and/or veteran services available at their locations. It would be very good to see libraries be places where these populations can find help.

That again would require public and/or private contributions. If we are to minimize homelessness the answer is not to let them have a pizza party in the library after hours. However, at least in one sense The Public does mirror my job: it allows for a wide space where all sides of an issue can be studied. Granted the film was more advocacy than even-sided, but I for one welcome the conversation.