Anatomy of a Murder.
Respected small-town lawyer and former district attorney, Paul “Paulie” Biegler, returns from one his frequent fishing trips to find a message from the wife a potential client. His alcoholic friend and colleague, McCarthy, urges Paulie to take the case: a murder charge that became public knowledge while Paulie was out of town. After agreeing to meet with the accused, McCarthy reveals to Paulie the horrific details: local bar owner, Barney Quill, was killed by Korean War veteran, Lieutenant Manion, who doesn’t deny the murder but claims that Quill beat and raped his wife, Laura. Through research and conversations around town, Paulie discovers it may be difficult to defend Manion; he waited an excessively long time before killing Quill, he is violently jealous of men near his suggestively dressed, overly flirtatious wife and there isn’t a bad word to be heard against the victim; regardless, Paulie takes the case determined to uncover the full truth and requests help from McCarthy, provided he gives up the bottle. A gripping, thrilling courtroom drama, Anatomy of a Murder reflects on the uncertainty inherent in the judicial system amid a whirlwind of revelations, accusations, trickery and moral ambiguity. Though there are outdated, disturbing attitudes toward consent, and women in general, the principle of the film should stand the test of time for some years yet. Just in case I hadn’t heard enough jazz recently, Duke Ellington also provides a cool score and cameo.
The 400 Blows.
While alone during recess, punishment for being in possession of a pin-up handed to him by one of his peers, young Parisian student Antoine Doinel begins writing on the classroom wall; his authoritarian teacher disciplines Antoine again, believing him to be nothing more than a troublemaker. Antoine’s life doesn’t improve much at home either: he spends his nights in a sleeping bag on the sofa, his mother is confrontational toward him and his parents argue nightly. After playing truant from school the following day, Antoine fails in his attempt to forge a sick note, causing him to show up the day after without one, the not-so-white lie he provides is soon uncovered resulting in his running away from home. His parents, along with his teacher, consider Antoine to be a badly behaved, unintelligent, compulsive liar; with no adults willing to listen to him he continues to act out, but where will his list of worsening misdemeanours lead him? On the surface, Françious Truffaut’s semi-autobiographical debut is a simple film that doesn’t really go anywhere, however the writer-director’s subtle remarks on the disillusionment of French youth, his own included, elevate it to a more complex, though-provoking experience. Thematically similar to Breathless in its depiction of the existential problems faced by the protagonist, The 400 Blows stands with Godard’s picture as a classic of French New Wave cinema.
Some Like It Hot.
In Prohibition-era Chicago, a mobster-driven hearse evades the police while encumbered by a coffin full of whiskey bottles. As the gangsters arrive at a funeral home, a front for their speakeasy, the police are readying themselves for a raid thanks to a tip-off from informant “Toothpick” Charlie. Optimistic gambler Joe, the club band’s saxophonist, and worrisome Jerry, the bass player, escape in the fracas caused by the invasion, already moneyless they now found themselves jobless too. While retrieving a car from a mechanic’s garage, they witness the murder of the speakeasy snitch by mob boss “Spats” Colombo and his henchman, narrowly avoiding the same fate they are pursued by the gangsters. Terrified, desperate and broke, Jerry and Joe disguise themselves as women in order to join an all-female band due to tour Florida, that just so happened to require a bass and a sax. Concealing their identities from the beautiful band led by voluptuous singer and ukulele player Sugar, herself looking to escape men for a while after a string of unsuccessful relationships, could prove to be difficult as they compete for Sugar’s affection. Some Like It Hot is yet another hit for writer-director Billy Wilder. The hilarious antics of Joe and Jerry, or rather Josephine and Daphne, are what make this film the quintessential romcom. Regarded by many as one of the greatest films of all time, and I’m finding it difficult to argue with that statement; terrific script, delivered perfectly (despite the infamous difficulties) by leads Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon, exquisite direction, pacing, costumes, sets. An endlessly enjoyable film.
Nazarín.
While staying at a poor neighbourhood inn, a Catholic priest, Padre Nazario, discovers that he has been robbed. Seemingly indifferent to the experience, Nazario receives some money by a visiting well wisher, which he then immediately donates to some beggars. His compassion and benevolence extends to Beatriz, a broken hearted woman who attempted suicide upon being scorned by her lover, as well as Andara, a prostitute seeking shelter from Nazario having committed murder and requiring medical attention for a wound sustained in the fight. Despite Nazario’s declaration that if asked about Andara he would not lie, the police are informed of her whereabouts and he faces having his license revoked for housing a criminal; so he begins roaming the country, begging, worshipping God and helping those in need as a form of pilgrimage. Though Nazario’s honest and charitable nature is detrimental to his well-being, his belief in the futility of possessions, love of all living things and faith in God maintain his contentment through such trying times. Nazarín is an under appreciated, almost forgotten Luis Buñuel picture that reflects on morality and faith in a corrupt world of skeptics, asking the question what would happen if Jesus were a Catholic priest in 20th century Mexico. Far from the surrealism Buñuel is renowned for, this could be mistaken for Andrei Tarkovsky, in fact the Russian filmmaker listed Nazarín as one of his favourite films. A beautiful, profound, critical tragedy that may just change your outlook on life.
The Magician.
Travelling through the forests of 19th century Sweden are the members of Vogler’s Magnetic Health Theatre: the leader of the group Albert Vogler, a mute conjurer/doctor, his understudy/disguised wife Manda, his charismatic assistant Tubal, his witchlike grandmother and their coach driver Simson. During the journey, Simson becomes convinced of approaching ghosts and ghouls, prompting Vogler to inspect the area, whereupon he discovers a dying alcoholic actor; Vogler, intrigued by the death that consumes their new companion, watches him in his final moments. Upon their arrival in a small town, the troupe are interrogated by the chief of police as to their previous demonstrations in an attempt to ascertain the legality of their business. Vogler and his company are treated with disrespect and humiliated by the police chief and his two fellow inquisitors: Dr Vergerus, a logical, skeptical scientist, and Consul Egerman, a religious believer in the occult. A wager is made between Vegerus and Egerman as to the reality of Vogler’s supernatural abilities, an answer due to be revealed in a private show the following day. In the face of skepticism and belief, it becomes increasingly unclear what is true and what is a lie, what is real and what is an act. From those that I’ve seen, The Magician is Ingmar Bergman’s most accessible film. A mysterious, perplexing, frightening yet comedic drama that would satisfy even the most unenthusiastic of cinema goers. To the more inquisitive of viewers there are the reflections on faith synonymous with Bergman pictures, a theme that he would explore further in the years following The Magician’s release.
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