More Than One Lesson

dir. Steven Spielberg

There are few films that succeed at entertaining audiences of all ages, and even fewer that can make adult audiences feel like they’re the kids. At the height of his career, George Lucas was the creative force behind two of the most iconic and influential films to accomplish just that. While Star Wars explored the fantastic, Raiders of the Lost Ark delved into adventure and excitement. The character of Indiana Jones isn’t the perfect and untouchable hero of the old serials from which he was conceived, and he isn’t cool and composed in the way that James Bond is. He takes hits and can feel them later, he fights dirty and makes it by the skin of his teeth every time. He’s not the hero that only a child could find appealing and aspire to, he’s an antagonist of a modern age that an adult can see relate to. There’s a hint of cynicism to Indy’s humor that we can’t help but see ourselves in, yet he’s relentless and persistent to the very end, and we admire that.

dir. Irvin Kershner

Our tastes change as we get older. That’s not necessarily something to either mourn or celebrate; we just have to learn to accept the fact that as we evolve both biologically and psychologically, we’ll experience and respond to the world differently (I don’t care for jelly now that I would’ve devoured as a child, but I also am much more tolerant of pop music than I was while in college). Revisiting the (only) Star Wars trilogy (that matters) now, I find that I grow impatient with the pacing of A New Hope and that I don’t respond as well to the sentimentality of Return of the Jedi. On the other hand, each rewatch of The Empire Strikes Back solidifies its reputation as not even the finest Star Wars film or as one of the finest sci-fi films, but as one the finest films of all time without qualifiers. It’s easy to make the joke that Empire is better because it’s darker, but that belies an honesty and a much more accurate truth – that Empire was a film that understood its universe, its characters, and both the narrative and emotional stakes in play. Empire has stood the test of time thanks to, yes, a phenomenal script and director, but also because its focus was not on how to explore its genre, but how its genre could be used to explore and supplement truths and investments that ring true outside of any single medium or time. Depending on what version you watch, it’s also the one installment least tainted by its creator’s needless tinkerings.

dir. Francis Ford Coppola

Francis Ford Coppola’s film is Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” melted into Picasso’s “Guernica”. The ultimate war movie that defined how to do Vietnam for all time. The opening shots of predatory helicopters, coiling napalm clouds, and exploding jungles, framed by Jim Morrison’s guttural need for “a stranger’s hand in a desperate land,” is at once a deeply visceral revelation of the innate, troubling beauty of war violence, a condemnation of the wanton destruction of the primitive, and, by the movie’s end, the seeds of the demise of one nation’s innocence in the dark jungles of another land. This mythology is borne on the back of Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard, who sails up the Nung in a PBR, headed for his Army-sanctioned target, the mad Colonel Kurtz – Marlon Brando as corpulent jungle Buddha, all sweaty philosophy and petty narcissism. The movie remains, nearly 40 years later, the epitome of uber-bravura filmmaking, 16 months of it, with Sheen, Brando, Robert Duvall, and Dennis Hopper (as a kind of drugged-out John the Baptist with a Nikon F) all adding to the pastiche of ambivalent duty, rock and roll, and the darkest corner of the American psyche.

dir. Terrence Malick

Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life is almost more of a thought than a story. Whispered narration weaves in and out of glimpses of one man’s childhood. All of these disparate moments swirl around a central theme – the contrast between grace and law, symbolized in the main character’s memory by his mother and father, respectively. The film dares to ask life’s biggest questions, all through the simple lens of a young boy. The film is ever moving, ever searching, and consistently humbled by any answers it seems to find. Malick’s fluid direction and Emmanuel Lubezki’s entrancing cinematography make this one of the first masterpieces of the new millennium.

In this episode, the co-hosts assemble to discuss the listener-generated Top 50 Movies of All Time list.

dir. Peter Jackson

While it can be difficult to separate the three films that make up the Lord of the Rings trilogy, it is the first that bears the biggest burden. In The Fellowship of the Ring, director Peter Jackson must set the stage, introducing us not merely to the characters and the story, but to the world of Middle Earth itself. Combining every element of filmmaking, both new and old, Jackson creates a very real and tangible world; one that can be both beautiful and unforgiving. It is fantastical, yet often feels like it could be in our own backyard. This place of imagination brings out the child in us, eager to go on an adventure and explore new places and meet new people. And as our heroes encounter Elves, Dwarves, Wizards, Goblins, and many others, the audience is drawn deeper and deeper into a magical reality that somehow manages to feel like home.

dir. Akira Kurosawa

A farming village is threatened by a group of bandits who will take their crops when harvest comes. They respond by bringing together and hiring a group of samurai to defend them. Does that sound familiar? Even if you haven’t seen Seven Samurai you know its story. It’s a simple, yet compelling story that lends itself to a multitude of genres; from a western, to a comedy of errors, or a superhero film. Seven Samurai was among the first to tackle the premise, and it remains the best. Toshiro Mifune, while having a long collaborative relationship with Kurosawa, stands out in what may be the most iconic and entertaining role of his career.

dir. Charles Laughton

Charles Laughton made nearly 60 films as an actor. As a director, he made only one. And it may very well be the crowning achievement of his illustrious career.

The Night of the Hunter is, on the surface, a classic suspense tale. But nearly every frame could potentially be studied to uncover new observations about the evils and virtues of the human condition. The fickle affections of the masses, the frailty of paranoia and guilt, the desperate loyalty of family, and the strength of humble faith each have their moment of focus in Laughton’s film, which is ultimately a fable about innocence and experience.

In the story, a preacher with homicidal and greedy vices sets his scope on a widow and her two children whose father was executed for murder and armed robbery, leaving a vast sum of money unaccounted for. The preacher charms his way into the hearts of the widow and the town, who are too blinded by his profession to discern his intentions. Once the real threat at hand becomes apparent to the two children, John and Pearl, they flee and eventually land in the home of a strong, older woman with a penchant for taking in new “mouths to feed”.

It is the inevitable confrontation between this faithful heroine, Rachel Cooper (played with determined grace by Lilian Gish) and the monstrous villain Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum in one of his most charismatic and deliciously nasty performances) which anchors the themes of this dark fable. In their confrontation, the meek of the earth battles the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing and the film supposes that it is not the strength of mind or body which matters, but the strength of heart and spirit. The two of them even join in a duet of “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms”, which becomes an extended embodiment of Harry Powell’s trademark “Love vs Hate” sermon.

While many characters in the film profess certain degrees of faith, it is apparent which characters are rooted in substantial understanding and which ones are hypnotized by their environment or by the charisma of those who say what they want to hear. The wolves are indeed among the sheep and it takes a good shepherd to strike down the threat and call out the deception. What strikes me as so profound is the form that shepherd takes in this story – not a knight in shining armor, but a “strong tree with many branches.”

Although initially disregarded by both critics and audiences, The Night of the Hunter has risen from the ashes of the past as a rightly praised and admired tale about good and evil, light and darkness, love and hate. But it’s also about the abiding of innocence amidst a dark and treacherous world, and that perhaps the greatest irony of wicked and predatory men like Harry Powell is that the story he tells is really true. “It’s love that won, and old left hand hate is down for the count.” Amen to that.

Jaume Collet-Serra’s The Shallows is an effective little creature feature about a young woman trapped on a rock in the ocean, two hundred yards from shore and terrorized by a huge great white shark. As the tide rises and the rock slowly begins to disappear, our heroine must figure out how to outsmart the shark and get back to the beach. Everything is fairly straightforward and the film is sturdily-made, featuring a handful of thrills and a sustained tension throughout.

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dir. Francis Ford Coppola

After the commercial and critical success of The Godfather, Francis Ford Coppola had his work cut out for him in crafting the sequel. Clearly uninterested in simply telling the same story again, Coppola chooses instead to explore the cyclical nature of the Corleone family, showing us the early endeavors of a young Vito and the modern criminal empire of Michael. In doing so, we see two men who engage in horrifying acts of violence, but are driven primarily by their desire to take care of their families. And while Michael slowly but surely descends further into a cold, soulless loneliness, we are treated to Vito’s swift ascent to the top of the criminal food chain. Things are hopeful and exciting for Vito and his family. And yet, by seeing the eventual fate of Michael and Fredo (and remembering poor Sonny in the first movie), the film reminds us that, despite his good intentions, Vito has set his family on a path to Hell. With this ambitious sequel, Coppola’s exploration of the corrosive nature of the criminal enterprise is fully realized and we finally see that, in the world of The Godfather, there are no happy endings