The Big Screen Bulletin 11.19.07: The Best Movies of the Alphabet (Part 6)
Posted by Chad Webb on 11.19.2007
The end of the list has finally arrived with Y and Z plus the special # entry!
Y is for…
Yojimbo
Yojimbo
Directed By: Akira Kurosawa Written By: Akira Kurosawa and Ryuzo Kikushima Starring: Toshiro Mifune, Eijiro Tono, Seizaburo Kawazu, Kyu Sazanka, Tatsuya Nakadai, and Daisuke Kato Release Date: September 13, 1961 The Plot: A crafty ronin comes to a town divided by two criminal gangs and decides to play them against each other to free the town. Oscar Victories: None Alphabet Trivia: What is it that Sanjuro always has between his teeth?
How could this list be complete without an Akira Kurosawa masterpiece on it? From the beginning of creating this feature, I knew that Yojimbo was a cinch for "Y". Young Frankenstein is a great comedy from Mel Brooks, but Yojimbo's influence, its excitement factor, and the pure unadulterated genius that went into filming it are undeniably triumphant. After becoming a certifiable film addict, I would venture to the library for my rentals. They were free and always diverse, unusual selections apart from rental chains. One foreign film had so many copies in stock that I could not help but notice it. That was Seven Samurai, and from then on, my life was different. I was hooked on everything Kurosawa. Yojimbo stands out with his most revered efforts because it is easily the most entertaining.
It was also Kurosawa's most popular hit in Japan. It came in the middle of an extremely prolific period for the master filmmaker. He already had a heavy handful of golden trophies under his belt, and more were yet to come in the latter section of his career. I often debate with a friend what film one would suggest to somebody who has not gotten acquainted with Kurosawa yet, and wishes to. Roshomon is very profound for a beginner, Seven Samurai is lengthy, but Yojimbo is the ideal candidate. It is debatably the most accessible piece on his cannon. Thankfully, Criterion has made constant improvements to the picture, and released a DVD that is worth the $40 price.
Yojimbo was remade twice. The first time was by Sergio Leone in A Fistful of Dollars, the film which introduced the world to Spaghetti Westerns. Coincidentally, Kurosawa helmed Yojimbo as a homage to Westerns, and numerous similarities can be observed throughout, such as the barren road down the center of town, and the surrounding buildings. Leone's vastly more popular version was magnificent in many respects with Clint Eastwood, however it was almost an exact replica of Yojimbo, and Kurosawa sued Leone for breach of copyright when he did not admit it as a remake. Had Yojimbo never been completed, the Western genre would look a lot different. The second redo was by Walter Hill in the poor Last Man Standing starring Bruce Willis. Where did this story originate? Well, Kurosawa retrieved it from Dashiell Hammett's novel Red Harvest which chronicles a private detective playing one gang against the other.
Yojimbo translates simply as "The Bodyguard." The events unfold in 1860 Japan when a ronin (samurai with no master) strolls into an austere town where two warring factions are feuding over domination of the territory. He stumbles upon a Sake seller, who explains the history of Seibei (Seizaburo Kawazu) and Ushitora (Kyu Sazanka), the leaders of the gangs, and how they were once friends and partners, but eventually separated into bitter enemies. The samurai sees an opportunity. All he has to his name are his sword and brain, so his goal is to make some money. He offers himself as a protector to whichever posse delivers the most cash. And so begins the samurai's precarious game of playing both sides for his own personal gain. While he may appear thick-skinned and greedy on the surface, his startlingly rare acts of kindness expose his true intentions to the wrong people.
When the samurai is questioned about his name, he replies Kuwabatake Sanjuro, which translates to "30 year old mulberry field." This was his answer because he had been gazing at a mulberry field at the time. He has no identity except "samurai." Sanjuro could certainly be thirty years old, but the truth remains a mystery, thus amplifying his allure as an enigma wandering from place to place. Sanjuro is played with an utterly perfect bravado, humor, and poignancy by Toshiro Mifune, referred to as the greatest Japanese performer, but this does not do him justice. Contributing his talents to many Kurosawa films, Mifune is one of the best actors in history bar none. You would find his name on my top 10 list. What is so intriguing is that Sanjuro is not necessarily a hero. We understand certain actions, but Yojimbo possesses no clear-cut good guy.
In a fabulous scene early on, Sanjuro sits in a tower above all the clashing below him, and is supremely amused by what is going on. This is the type of character Sanjuro is, an unscrupulous mercenary who takes orders from no one. He is cunning, swift, and direct. What else has he got to do than keep himself entertained by these petty oppositions? He toys with the rivals like an invincible conductor leading his group to destruction. By inculcating this stance into the protagonist, his dramatic change in attitude when saving two innocent bystanders is enhanced into a more substantial plot turn.
The following year, 1962, would have Mifune reprise this role in Sanjuro. The name is slightly different, Sanjuro Tsubaki, but for the most part, we can agree that this is the same person. That story focuses on young warrior hopefuls, and the good and bad politicians that inhabit their village. The tone is not the same as Yojimbo; in fact, it is geared more towards comedy, but that is what sets it apart. Sanjuro is not quite as perfect as Yojimbo, but it is still a sensational movie that is unjustly not mentioned along with the great sequels.
What makes the character of Sanjuro so interesting as a samurai is that his motives, beliefs, and dealings contradict every code of conduct the Japanese samurai has come to be recognized for. He is scruffy, merciless, broke, and sardonic in nature. One has to rummage deep within Sanjuro's conscience to locate the honorable traits. Most importantly though, a samurai is supposed to be loyal, an attribute Sanjuro fails to display. This is how unbelievably shrewd Akira Kurosawa is. He turns the samurai legend upside down and shakes out all the cobwebs by alarming people with a loner in Sanjuro. Decades earlier, this sort of depiction would have angered the Japanese, but post-World War II, it was the right medicine for the altered culture.
Some of you might be thinking that since this is a black & white picture with subtitles, you are not enthused about giving it your time. This happens sometimes. No matter how powerful I perceive my critic arsenal to be, some casual moviegoers cannot be swayed to see such exhilaration and splendor. A typical infuriating comment I hear is "I don't watch movies to read" or something close to that. What makes statements like this ironic is that Yojimbo contains all the qualities superb American films have. It absorbs us with action, comedy, dexterity, and maximum cinematic satisfaction. Why do you think it was remade twice? Yojimbo is a rebellious four star archetype that will justifiably hold a permanent position among Kurosawa's finest accomplishments.
2nd Place
3rd Place
Z is for…
Z
Z
Directed By: Costa-Gavras Written By: Jorge Semprun Starring: Yves Montand, Irene Papas, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Pierre Dux, George Geret, Charles Denner, Bernard Fresson Release Date: December 8, 1969 The Plot: Following the murder of a prominent leftist, an investigator tries to uncover the truth while government officials attempt to cover up their roles. Oscar Victories: Best Film Editing, Best Foreign Language Film (Algeria) Alphabet Trivia: What record does this movie hold?
Lately, the term "political thriller" is thrown around a lot. Audiences will notice many new releases in this genre with the subjects of Iraq, terrorism, and the mistakes of the American government as hot topics for filmmakers. In the assemblage of the best movies that successfully combine politics and thrills in an intelligent and stable fashion, only a handful have withstood the test of time. The Manchurian Candidate, JFK, and All the President's Men are among the most popular. This is a review of one that you probably have not heard of, yet it is easily one of the most brilliant entries into the category past, present, or future. Z is a viscerally layered, significant, and incontrovertibly riveting chef d'oeuvre.
The story was inspired by events that transpired in Greece in 1963 involving the assassination of democratic Greek politician Gregoris Lambrakis, and is based on the novel of the same name by Vassilis Vassilikos. It is never specifically stated that Z's setting is Greece, but one can assume this based on hints throughout the film, the fact that legitimate transcripts of the case were used, and this disclaimer which will surely gain everyone's attention right away: "Any resemblance to real events, to persons living or dead, is not accidental. It is DELIBERATE." Z was shot in Algeria, and the language spoken is French. Let it be clear that this is a fictionalized account, but it closely parallels what actually happened.
After the opening credits, viewers catch the tail end of a speech given by the leader of police in a government dominated by right wing principles. He talks about battling leftism, but insinuates that these groups are free to do what they please. The opposition is planning a rally, but at the last minute, the hall they booked cancels, and they are forced to move to a smaller venue. In the meantime, their leader, referred to as "the deputy" or "the doctor", has had threats made against his life. The authorities are asked to aid in protecting the deputy, but they ignore this request. The meeting erupts in protests from both sides, and quickly turns into a chaotic scene. Upon leaving the hall, the deputy is struck in the head by an extremist, and he dies from the skull fracture later in the hospital.
An examining magistrate arrives, and forages into the case by investigating all angles, witnesses, and parties potentially involved. The workload is large, but he gradually uncovers the identities of those who coordinated the hit and run, and the names are shocking. Before filming in a documentary style was intrepid and widespread, Director Costa-Gavras applied it to Z in a most mesmerizing way. The suspense and tension leading up to the inevitable assassination is copious and unrelenting. The deputy gets off his plane, is escorted around town in a vehicle, and just barely makes his way into the auditorium for his speech. The "hit" itself is captured in such a lifelike and frightening manner that it will leave you dazed, shattered, and bruised.
On top of that, Yves Mortand is absolutely gripping during his time on screen, but most importantly, he is realistic. The deputy is evidently a man of great courage, and possesses the brains and uprightness that any great leader should. Unfortunately, when he gets word of the death threats, he brushes them off his shoulder and takes them with a grain of salt. This would come back to haunt him. Mortand's impact is so potent that his spirit prowls in and out of the proceedings following his demise. Every performance is a deft mix of genius, emotion, and pragmatism, but a few do stand out. Irene Papas acts as the deputy's wife, a woman who is hounded by reporters moments after she arrives, and troubled by flashbacks of happier times. The examining magistrate is portrayed with a constant chilling expression by Jean-Louise Trintignant. His task was to execute a quick decision that would overshadow the true situation, and then the entire incident can be forgotten. He takes the road less traveled, and analyzes each piece of evidence to rip out the roots of the case. Trintignant has the aura of an impartial individual who is stanch, and will stop at nothing for the facts. Finally, Pierre Dux is extraordinary as the General, the highest ranking officer, who blankets his intentions with kindness, yet his statements contradict themselves.
The message of Z was not necessarily to expose the horrific tragedy of Gregoris Lambrakis, but to reveal that this tale is eternally relevant, and can resonate with every country, culture, and government approach. The officials certainly describe themselves as being in a position of Democracy, but look at how their ideals have drifted into a labyrinth of hypocrisy, lies, fascism, and conspiracies. Z is a learning tool for the entire world, and should not be confined to one particular period of history. It should go without saying that Z rang a delicate chord when it was released in 1969, so much so that Director Costa-Gavras, Screenwriter Jorge Semprun, Composer Mikis Theodorakis, and some of the cast are banned in Greece.
The script from Semprun is a thing of wonder. This is not a naïve version of the events, nor is it vague and two-dimensional. This is a profound, moving, and indomitable screenplay; one that explores nooks and crannies others would be afraid to. This was the third feature for Director Costa-Gavras, but by far his most renowned to this day. He is a master at balancing all the vital elements of a political thriller which educates as well as excites the audience. His focus shifts as the plot coagulates, and that is where the range of his abilities lie. Gavras is aware and alert to the difficulties of crafting such a project, so he switches the concentration on multiple occasions. The music is quite intriguing from Mikis Theodorakis. He formulates an eclectic mix of touching melodies and intensely distorted instrumental rock blasts.
Z was my introduction to the resume of Costa-Gavras, and I am anxiously awaiting to enjoy more of his efforts in the weeks to come. His technique is motivated and impressive on a large-scale. What was initially called a "traffic accident", escalated to an episode that rocked a nation. The conclusion is the equivalent to a punch directly in the gut. It is an honest ending that will stay lingering in your mind. Z was the first film to be nominated for both Best Picture and Best Foreign Language Film. I am positive that this was the least expected selection to this list, but it earned its place as a masterpiece everyone should appreciate, especially today.
2nd Place
3rd Place
# is for…
2001: A Space Odyssey
2001: A Space Odyssey
Directed By: Stanley Kubrick Written By: Stanley Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke Starring: Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwood, William Sylvester, and Douglas Rain (voice) Release Date: April 3, 1968 The Plot: Mankind finds a mysterious, obviously artificial, artifact buried on the moon and, with the intelligent computer HAL, sets off on a quest. Oscar Victories: Best Effects (Special Visual Effects) Alphabet Trivia: What came out first, the film or the novel?
Midway through constructing this feature, I had the idea of naming one film that was the best "number" movie. I thought it would make a nice honorable mention that is no stronger or weaker than any other winner on the list. I knew the entire time what I wanted it to be, and what it needed to be. It never occurred to me that this would be the only Stanley Kubrick effort to be highlighted, but how more fitting a bookend to the best movies of the alphabet than 2001: A Space Odyssey? Like Citizen Kane and Star Wars, tackling a review of a film of such magnitude is not easy. No review, essay, article, or even book could generate a complete all-encompassing view on this film. Here however, I will simply discuss some of its history along with my thoughts and feelings.
No other film that I have seen triggers more argument, debate, and general discussion than Stanley Kubrick's 1968 masterpiece. That's right; it is undoubtedly a perfect piece of art. Calling it merely a film does not capture the essence of it. This is an experience, one that should not be taken lightly. To be frank, I probably know more people who dislike 2001 than those who enjoyed it. Viewing 2001 for the first time today requires one thing above all else…maturity. That is not the only prerequisite, but it is the crucial one. The attention span of audiences today would not be prepared for 2001. It demands more from those who are watching. Much of it has no dialogue; do not count on endless explosions, snappy one-liners, nudity, profanity, violence, or humor. So what?
Do these facets have to be in a film for us to be entertained? If your answer is yes, you are missing out on a great deal of pleasure that certain cinema has to offer. Another quality that is necessary to appreciate 2001 is patience. This is not a project where the average shot length was under 2 seconds. It is slow moving, but deliberately paced, and insists that your attention be firmly immersed in what is transpiring on screen. Do not scrutinize it. Admire what is happening, and soak up the atmosphere to your fullest extent. We should be applauding Kubrick for having the balls to sit there and keep the camera on apes for 15 minutes. Yes, that is how long it is. Many have tried to tell me this runs for almost an hour. Fifteen minutes is not a lifetime. The remarkable opening sequence is entitled "The Dawn of Man" where the creatures stumble upon a monolith (presumably left by aliens). Due to this, they discover other uses for the bone of animals. Many do not know that this is loosely based on Arthur C. Clarke's short story "Encounter at Dawn."
I think the reason most folks are turned off by 2001, whether they want to admit it or not, is the ending. Admittedly, the first time I watched this was on a shoddy VHS tape through my below mediocre television set, and when it was finished, I was baffled. I had no clue what exactly went down in the final section. However, I did know that I had witnessed something bigger than most films, more ambitious than anything I had ever seen. Some people become angry because they cannot decipher or understand what occurred; hence they say "I didn't like it." For me, this propels me to research the film, or watch it a second time. Granted, some complex endings are stupid, but not 2001. It rests in a totally different league. From what I have learned, Arthur C. Clarke's novel "The Sentinel" (which this is based on) and 2010, reveals the majority of unanswered questions, but Kubrick wanted us to solve it on our own. Personally, I am glad he chose to do that.
The intention was for us to be left thinking with no closure. We will attain the resolution at our own speed. It may be the second viewing, the third, or the fiftieth. I love that 2001 ignites discussion. I enjoy talking about it with people. Some do not like it, and that is their opinion, but no matter what final rating you award, one thing is for sure. 2001 is more memorable than any motion picture in history, so memorable that everybody wants to talk about it, argue about it, or cheerfully chat about why they adore it. I don't have to type on and on about what films were directly influenced by 2001, but one of the most obvious is of course Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Taking into account the humbling special effects and the vast array of visually stunning images, it would be impossible for this not to affect a generation of filmmakers.
Getting back to the story threads, one of my favorite moments is when the bone is thrown into the air and turns into an orbiting space device for a cut which catapults us through the future many millennia. Man has grown and advanced over time, and we are now exploring space. The narrative then centers on Dr. Heywood Floyd (William Sylvester) who travels to the moon to examine a strange monolith that has been discovered beneath the surface. Whatever it is, the object is transmitting a signal to Jupiter. The troop of scientists that accompany him are stumped as to what it is and why it is sending a signal anywhere. The scenes in space are mind-blowing and grand on a rare scale. Besides music, a hefty portion of the space scenes are silent, which only enhances the overall impression that is astonishing, creepy, and hypnotizing.
This sends us to the ship Discovery where two crew members, three hibernating scientists, and the computer HAL 9000 are heading a mission to Jupiter in an attempt to find out why the monolith is sending signals there. The crew quickly sees that HAL needs to be deactivated, but the computer is smarter than they expect. This whole portion is enthralling in every sense, and also provides most of the quotable lines and comedy. The voice of Douglas Rain is just eerie. His vocal performance is marvelous. Speaking of the acting, all the humans appear to be motorized and ordinary. The do a fine job, but the point is that the characters are secondary to the sights and sounds. The last part of 2001 is entitled "Beyond Jupiter and the Infinite." This is where we become perplexed as to what occurs. It is an insightful, invigorating, and unexplained journey whizzing past stars and galaxies.
The music plays an integral role in 2001. Originally Alex North was hired to record a score, but to establish the proper mood during filming, Kubrick played classical music, and was delighted to the effect, so that is what he employed. Not one selection cues our emotions. Johann Strauss' "Blue Danube Waltz" and Richard Strauss' "Thus Spake Zarathustra" have become forever linked with 2001. I don't think a suitable word exists to describe how the music and visuals intertwine in 2001. It is a feat that has not been equaled since. The special effects are still astounding and spectacular almost 40 years later. People often praise the effects in films like Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings, but if I had to name the best operation and assimilation of them, Douglas Trumbull's achievements in 2001 would be the cream of the crop because it truly does transport you to a unique and wonderful place in the deepest darkest corners of space.
Kubrick was incredibly meticulous and cautious with every single aspect of this film. He was careful that it landed as close to scientific realism as possible. Kubrick was so worried about how the final version would look that when theaters placed an intermission on the film, he ordered the exact place of where it would start, told his composer to create music solely for the intermission, and furthermore forced the theaters to turn the lights off a minute before it restarted. Kubrick also made a gutsy decision to shoot in Super Panavision with an aspect ration of 2.2:1, and mix the soundtrack in stereo sound. I could write for pages about how intimately he collaborated with Arthur C. Clarke, effects technicians, and other crew members to generate the outcome he wanted. I don't think anyone would dispute that this master hit all the right notes.
Similar to all the great classics, 2001 endured numerous changes before the final product was agreed upon. An early script had narration, several casting decisions were last minute, and the titles were altered more than once. The joke one was "How the Solar System Was Won", and the documentary sounding "Voyage/Journey Beyond the Stars" was going to be printed, but Kubrick hated the film Fantastic Voyage, so he wanted to eliminate any comparisons. The end result was 2001: A Space Odyssey, an event that does not just challenge us, but makes viewers confront an artistic invention they have never witnessed, and behold the exhibition of intellect it affords. I don't know what I would say is my personal favorite Kubrick film, but this would definitely be one of the top two. That doesn't matter. 2001 is a rare and spotless gem any way you categorize it.
2nd Place
3rd Place
The Final List
A is for… Apocalypse Now
B is for…Back to the Future
C is for… Citizen Kane
D is for… The Decalogue
E is for …The Exorcist
F is for … Forrest Gump
G is for … Goodfellas
H is for … Halloween
I is for … It's a Wonderful Life
J is for … Judgment at Nuremberg
K is for … Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
L is for … The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
M is for …Monty Python and the Holy Grail
N is for … Network
O is for … Oldboy
P is for … Pulp Fiction
Q is for … The Quiet Man
R is for … Raiders of the Lost Ark
S is for … Star Wars
T is for … Toy Story
U is for ... The Usual Suspects
V is for … Vertigo
W is for … The Wizard of Oz
X is for … X2: X-Men United
Y is for … Yojimbo
Z is for … Z
…and # is for … 2001: A Space Odyssey
Closing Statements
Wow, I'm finally done. This list has taken over my life during the past month or so, but I have loved every minute of it. I am sorry to see it end, but I have other worries now. This has been a more changing experience than I initially anticipated. Since I have had to watch the majority of these films over again to properly write a decent review, it has given me newfound respect for each of them. Even the winners I would not have picked for myself are better now than I thought after the first sitting. I am proud of this list. All the top movies deserve to be there, and most importantly, it does not look like any other "best of" countdown you have seen on other sites.
I want to thank everyone who stopped by to look at the column. I hope you enjoyed the picks, and even if you didn't, or perhaps have not seen one of the winners, I urge you to watch them again, and/or give them a chance by renting them or adding them to your Netflix list. I also thank the staff whose votes greatly helped and influenced my decisions so the list was not biased. Next week, we return to our regularly scheduled program of the Big Screen Bulletin where I attempt to play catch-up with all commotion that I have missed in the last month.
Trivia answers: U) Al Pacino, V) color/power/excitement/freedom, W) Shirley Temple X) 27, Y) a toothpick, Z) shortest movie title ever, #) the film
