Gangs of television

It's always fun watching some movies on cable television. The first two times I remember noticing the difference with a television-safe broadcast was with Independence Day and Die Hard. With Independence Day, Randy Quaid should say "Alright, you alien assholes" but on television he says "Alright, you alien animals". The problem is that there's an extra syllable, and in order to get this line to sync with the scene, they had to speed it up, and the way the mouth moves on "asshole" with the sound of "animal" struck me as particularly funny as a kid. Die Hard's edit was for nudity. There's a scene right when the terrorists first seize control of the building and the party, and a girl is dragged by the arm shirtless through a hallway. On television, there's a quick zoom in to avoid seeing the exposed breasts, and as a result most of the shot is just of an empty hall being panned and scanned. Of course, there's many other examples of this, and these two certainly aren't the more famous examples of edits (see Goodfellas), but they are distinctly in my mind.

Watching Gangs of New York this afternoon on AMC is just as fun. For whatever reason, it's acceptable to say the word "nigger", but not "fuck". And, I was sure my favorite line wasn't going to be in the film, but there it was, with Bill draped in the flag, for all to hear: "your mouth all glued up with cummy juice?" There's also the issue of nudity, because before that scene is one set in a brothel where many of the women are either topless or so loosely clothed that they expose themselves when bending over. Rather than try to cut around this like with my Die Hard example or by pixelating or blocking the nudity, the television network decided to maskover the nudity with a flesh-tonned blur that made it appear, strangely, to just be a breast with no nipple. So odd.

But, the most striking thing I noticed is that this movie could have been amazing if it wasn't for the casting. DiCaprio is too much of a lightweight to be continually paired up with Scorsese. He was fine in Aviator and theDeparted, but he's no DeNiro. Then, there's Cameron Diaz who shouldn't have even been allowed on the set. It's not that she is a bad actress, but her talents aren't suited for a role like hers in this movie. I even have issues with Brendan Gleeson and John C. Reilly who are both usually more than serviceable. Really, it's Daniel Day Lewis' show.

Watching the movie, it makes me cringe what might have happened if Taxi Driver was made today. How much pressure would there have been on Scorsese to make the love story between Travis and Betsy? Cybill Shepherd was already the weak link in that movie. Oh, how the world would have been in Scorsese made Gangs of New York when he wanted to in a time with more room for experimentation from auteurs.

In lieu of a Roman Polanski tribute

I tried to have a Roman Polanski marathon the other day, but sadly the copy of The Pianist I kept receiving in the mail was borked. Thus, I didn't feel right having a marathon and excluding a major work. I had Repulsion, Knife in the Water, Chinatown, Rosemary's Baby, and others ready, but this one movie, one that I still haven't seen, kept me from my marathon. So, to commemorate recent events, I decided to change the nature of the Roman Polanski marathon.

Lolita was the second masterpiece in the neverending (well, until his death) streak of Kubrick films. Something about the movie never clicked with me. Many people consider Kubrick films to be cold and detached, with Barry Lyndon getting the blunt of this criticism, but Lolita always seemed restrained. Perhaps this is because of the Hays Code. The Hays Code was the informal name for the MPAA ethical codes of the 1930s and on. Back then, nudity was forbidden, along with mentions of homosexuality, explicit violence, and sexuality rising to levels higher than one passionate kiss. As a result, I guess, Kubrick had to withhold himself in adapting the novel to screen. One of the more controversial moments in the film is when the main protagonist, James Mason as Professor Humbert, is on the verge of making love with the caretaker of Lolita. As he is kissing Lolita's mother, Humbert looks over at a picture of Lolita on the nightstand. The general idea is that he is imagining Lolita as he is kissing and, eventually, making love to the mother.

Despite all this, I always forget much of the movie. Peter Sellers does a fine job in his multiple character role, as does James Mason, but Sue Lyon, as Lolita, is forgettable. Perhaps it is because she is playing just an ordinary kid, for the most part. Rather than the other two characters in the next two films, she's more of a prop for the film than someone to empathize with.

Leon, or is it Leon: The Professional, featured the young Natalie Portman as the sidekick to a hitman. Growing up in a dysfunctional environment has certainly impacted this child. Portman, as Matilda, wears skimpy clothing and smokes, despite being 12 years old. She has a crush on her mentor, Leon, and tries several times to seduce him. Leon resists, refuses, and fathers her the best he can. This romantic subplot is not fully explored, and as a result seems more exploitative than anything, but because Natalie Portman gives a great performance, she's at least memorable. 


But the best child role in this mini marathon is, of course, Iris. Iris, with the street name "Easy," is played by the young and talented Jodie Foster. Here is a girl who is at once confident and at the same time insecure. She lives on the street with Harvey Keitel as her pimp until taxi driver Travis Bickle comes along to disrupt the order of life. Scorsese films aren't known for interesting women roles, with the exception of Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore since the title character is a women, but Iris, mostly due to the writing and Foster's talent, is perhaps the most interesting Lolita character in these three films.

Why I watch, part 1

Every once in a while I get asked the question "Why do you watch movies?" It is a bizarre question to ask someone, especially when they enjoy dramas or melancholic movies. Why would someone want to watch the painful choice of Sophie? The self destruction of Jake La Motta? The horrors of the holocaust? Or the brutality of nature? Is it voyeurism? Escapism? I figured I'd discuss some of my favorite movies and see if I answer that question for myself.

The Fall of Man

Martin Scorsese had to almost die for this film to be made. Robert DeNiro read Jake La Motta's autobiography early in the 1970s, and continuously pressured Scorsese to make a film about La Motta. For whatever reason, Scorsese kept passing on the idea, but while bedridden from a near fatal drug overdose, he finally read the book and agreed it would be his next film after his recovery. Scorsese would claim in later interviews that he poured everything he had into Raging Bull fearing he would not be around much longer.

And boy does it show. The movie chronicles the tragic, self destructive life of the famed boxer, beginning with his late rise and sudden downfall stemming from his stubbornness and jealousy. He is a man full of inexplicable rage, against his fellow boxers, his brother, his wife, and mostly himself. Not a hero, not a man to like, or emulate, yet strangely sympathetic.

This movie is my favorite Scorsese movie, and it ranges from the technical to the emotional. The film is shot in black and white, suggested to hide the copious amounts of blood during an era of stricter censorship, but more likely to give hints of a documentary style, to match the period of the 1940s, and portray the simplistic certitude of La Motta's state of mind. It seems every introduction of a character is done through slow motion to convey the importance of them to La Motta. Finally, the fights, with the ever changing ring dimensions to reflect the state of mind of La Motta in the ring, to the use of smoke and fire, the flashing of the lights, the sweat, the cleansing that is almost religiously ritualistic, and the blood, are mesmerizing and horrific.

The story is relatively simple. A Bronx bull fights his way to the top of the boxing circuit, only to lose his title and the love of those around him. However, the details of his transformation is what makes La Motta so fascinating. Proving to his brother his superior strength, both physically and mentally, La Motta asks the brother to punch him repeatedly until he bleeds. Gearing up for a fight, La Motta's wife sexually arouses him, and then he douses himself with ice water, denying himself pleasure and using that sexuality to savagely beat his opponent. Refusing to be knocked down, La Motta must prove to Sugar Ray that he can withstand any punch, and in the most memorable scene from the movie, withstands a barrage of punches. La Motta's downfall isn't quiet either, with his marriage being severed after he beats his wife and his brother after a falsely suspected affair, with an encounter with the police for an underage tryst, with the selling of his prized championship belt, and with his lousy comedy nightclub act.

It's a heart-wrenching movie, even if the protagonist is unsympathetic. Yet, what draws me to it? Do I see a part of myself in the boxer?

A Soaring Heart...

What more can really be said about the greatest love story in all of film? Written by the greatest twin screenwriters (well, other than the Kauffman twins), the movie tells the old tale of forbidden love. The film is a tragedy. Rick doesn't get the girl. Laszlo will continue to be hunted. Isla will still harbor feelings for Rick. I guess Louis and Rick will be better friends, maybe. Yet, this movie is considered a love story, a romance that women will enjoy more than men. What other great romantic films are out there that compare to Casablanca's bleakness?

More than you might think. Sure, we have our Notting Hills with love that will be "indefinitely." Harry and Sally are reunited at New Years. The hooker with the heart of gold eventually stops tricking. Meg Ryan does have mail. But, what about Gone with the Wind? Here we have the highest box office movie ever, where the man tells the girl to bugger off. In Brief Encounters, the two lovers know their moments won't last forever. Love Story ends in death, The Way We Were ends with a sappy song, and Breakfast at Tiffany's has Mickey Rooney as an offensive caricature of a chinese man.

In the end of Casablanca, much is unknown. Rick has sacrificed his happiness for that of Ilsa's, and it is not certain knowledge that Ilsa and Lazzlo will survive the war. Rick is the man I want to be. He can get any girl, but he is willing to give up the girl, and his livelihood, and his happiness, for the noble good. If I watch Casablanca to see what I want to be, do I watch Raging Bull to see what I don't want to be?

Unknown Intimacy

If I were to learn a foreign language for the silly purpose of being able to watch movies without subtitles, I would learn Swedish for the sake of being able to watch Scenes from a Marriage without being bothered by text on the screen. I want to be able to focus on the eyes of Liv Ullmann.

Here we have another romance that ends in tragedy. A man and his wife have a "convenience" abortion. A man and his wife find intimacy outside their marriage. A man and his wife betray each other emotionally and physically. A man beats his wife. A man and his wife get divorced. A man and his wife, in the middle of the night in a dark house somewhere in the world, realize they will feel true love ever again.

To watch a movie like this, I am far too young, too inexperienced, and too naive. Yet, this movie stirs in my heart both excitement and fear with the hopes of one day having such an intimate relationship and the possibility of squandering it.