The Screengrab : toshiro mifune

Final Farewells: The Best & Worst Death Scenes In Cinema (Part Five)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 21 May 2009 22:00:00 GMT

Bambi’s Mother in BAMBI (1942) & Debra Winger in TERMS OF ENDEARMENT (1983)

The actual moment that Debra Winger’s character dies in Terms of Endearment is all well and weepy (and fairly Goth, what with that deathbed make-up job), but the real reason James L. Brooks’ ten-hanky drama makes the list is the gut-punch scene where Winger’s dying Emma Greenway Horton says goodbye to her two sons in the hospital, easily the most harrowing family tragedy scene since the national trauma induced by the off-screen demise of Bambi’s mother (thanks to goddamn Man entering the forest) way back in 1942. In the all-time Top Ten of throat-lump-inducing lines of dialogue, it’s hard to beat Mr. Bambi’s grim pronouncement, “Your mother can’t be with you anymore.” But for me, no single moment of cinema is sadder than Winger’s Emma telling her youngest son, after their final visit together, “I think it went pretty well, don’t you?” -- except maybe the look on the little kid’s face when he bravely nods goodbye. (Now if you'll excuse me, I...uh...think there’s something in my eye...) (AO)

Warren Oates in BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA (1974)

Bennie the down-on-his-luck piano player just wanted to make an easy buck. Some rich guy who calls himself El Jefe was promising money in exchange for proof that a poonhound Bennie knows, one Alfredo Garcia, was dead. Sure, Bennie knew that proof might involve a little grave robbery, but the promise of money and a new beginning with his ladyfriend Elita gave his small-change dreams a lift. What he didn't know was that every step he made was shadowed by death and failure. First he has to kill a couple of bikers who intend to rape Elita. Then, when he finds the body, he loses Elita along with whatever remnants of his soul he had kept scraped together. After he recovers his precious proof of death, the severed head of the poonhound, the death toll mounts furiously while Bennie grows more and more unhinged, monologuing in his car to the filthy, fly-streaked bag in which Garcia's head rots. There's something rotten in Bennie now. There's something rotten in the whole scenario, and when he finally confronts El Jefe, he's beyond caring about life and death. He has nowhere else to go, and the trajectory of his life will soon converge into a single point with the probability of his death. (HC)

Warren Oates in MAJOR DUNDEE (1965)

It's supposed to be Moby-Dick in the Old West, but where the Great Whaling Book starts cooking with grease about 2/3 of the way in, Major Dundee falls to pieces. With Charlton Heston and Richard Harris in the lead roles, there's a Christmas dinner's worth of ham smeared all over even the good parts. But the supporting cast is excellent. And when Warren Oates, playing ne'er-do-well Confederate soldier O.W. Hadley, deserts and is captured, the supporting staff quietly, almost wordlessly, shows up the stars of the movie. In the above scene, consider how natural Oates seems, how L.Q. Jones and Ben Johnson express their characters' tension, sorrow, and anger with barely a sentence between them. The movie falls apart after this. It seems that Oates, with his weird energy and comic timing, was the thread holding everything together. (HC)

Joel McCrea in RIDE THE HIGH COUNTRY (1962)

Although the clip is nowhere to be found on YouTube, Joel McCrea's Steve Judd goes out with a dignity that all who live by the gun -- or whatever "living by the gun" means metaphorically these days -- should aspire to. Earlier, he tells his old friend Gil Westrum (Randolph Scott) that he "just wants to enter [his] house justified." When Westrum makes to steal the gold that's under their protection, Judd is a step ahead of him, but the disappointment in the way he looks at Westrum is almost worse than his threat to make Westrum stand trial. The final shootout isn't about the gold, though. It's about the girl they're protecting from the feral mining family she's gotten herself mixed up with. Westrum redeems himself at the end, choosing to take the honorable side and stand with his friend. When Judd is mortally wounded, Westrum has the wisdom to step back, shield the young people from the blunt reality of death, and give Judd the closure he wants: alone, justified, eyes gazing up at his beloved high country. (HC)

Toshiro Mifune in THRONE OF BLOOD (1957)

Here's something all of you aspiring regicides should know: when the witch or witches make a prophecy about your success or failure, don't share it with anyone. Macbeth saw his thanes defect to the other side and was finally dispatched by Macduff, whose rough birth made him Macbeth's ideal assassin. Toshiro Mifune's Lord Washizu meets death at the hands of his own archers in a spectacular rain of arrows as he runs from place to place, bamboo shafts sticking out of his body at odd angles, his face a mask of horror, fear, betrayal, and anger. It's a crime that this scene isn't available on the youtubes. (HC)

Takashi Shimura in IKIRU (1952)

Takashi Shimura's face is, even in rest, a remarkable vehicle for his emotions. Perhaps its highest calling was carrying the stricken look he uses throughout Ikiru as Kanji Watanabe, a dying bureaucrat who realizes that his life will mean nothing when he is gone. He decides that his decades of pointless public service will be worth it if he can turn a stinking cesspool of a lot in an unappreciated corner of Tokyo into a park with a playground for children. The final third of the movie leaps forward to his funeral, as his family and co-workers discuss his drive and mission, growing more and more grief-stricken as they realize why he fought so hard for this little playground. At the end, we hear and see the testimonial of a police officer who saw Watanabe on the final night of his life, sitting on a swing in the park that is his legacy for the world, with his face transformed. All of the fear and sadness that he had been carrying in every scene of the movie has become into a beaming look of pure and simple satisfaction and joy. It's one of the most impressive and powerful emotional gut-punches in all of cinema. (HC)

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three, Four, Six, Seven, Eight & Nine

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Hayden Childs

Set Your DVR!: February 14 - 16, 2009

Hayden Childs — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 19:00:00 GMT

What promising movies, you may well ask, does TV have to offer this weekend? Well, I may well answer, there's the second part of a samurai epic, there's Tom Stoppard's deconstruction of Hamlet, and then there's a meditation on alienation in Swinging London! Wowee!, you may exclaim. Keep it down, I might reply, people are trying to blog in here. Perhaps you could tell me more, you may ask. Pushy, I might think, aren't you? But I would tell you anyway. And, as long as we're speaking in hypotheticals, this is what I might say:

First up is Samurai II: Duel at Ichijoji Temple on IFC Saturday morning (that's 2/14) at 7 am central/8 am eastern. If you caught Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto last week, you know that this is a must-watch trilogy. If you missed it, go ahead and start here. I think you can pick the story up easily enough. Starring Toshiro Mifune. I should point out that the above clip is far murkier than the cinemascope colors in the actual movie.

On Sunday, IFC is showing Tom Stoppard's comedy Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead twice: first at 7 am central/8 am eastern and then again at 1:05 pm central/2:05 pm eastern. I'm sure you're aware of this movie or the play behind it, but just in case you need a refresher, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are minor characters in Hamlet who are convinced by Claudius (that's Hamlet's uncle, the King) to transport him to England, where Hamlet is to be executed. Hamlet escapes, but not before modifying the letter to the King of England so that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern will be executed in his stead. At the end of the play, a messengers arrives at the Danish court to inform Claudius that R & G are dead, only to find the Hall full of bodies (uh, spoiler?). Anyway, Stoppard's play and movie assume that the viewer has more than a passing familiarity with Hamlet and Beckett's Waiting For Godot. The events in the story are greater than R & G can understand, leading them to muse on life and fate and roles that people must play as they rush headlongs towards their fates.

Finally, on Sunday night (technically Monday morning) at 1 am central/2 am eastern, TCM is showing Blow-Up, Antonioni's strangely meditative film about the nature of reality. As in other Antonioni films, the central mystery of the film is unanswerable, but it causes an existential crisis in the lead character, who in this case is a fashion photographer who believes that he has photographed a murder. Antonioni injects an extra layer of cool by setting the time and place in mid-60s Swinging London, and the cast includes David Hemmings, a shockingly young Vanessa Redgrave, Jane Birkin, and the Yardbirds in full swing with Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck, who steals Pete Townshend's guitar-smashing schtick for the film. The clip above appears towards the end of the film, but I had to include it because of the lovely symmetry with the fake tennis match in the clip from Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead. Tennis matches: with a ball, they're only a game, but with no ball, they are metaphors for life.

Set Your DVR!: February 2 - 9, 2009

Hayden Childs — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 16:00:00 GMT

This week has three movies to make your DVR (or, you know, you) happy! First you have a Preston Sturges sex romp straining against the Hays Code. Then a classic sci-fi version of The Tempest with Freudian overtones! And finally, the first third of an iconic samurai trilogy. Enjoy!

The Miracle of Morgan's Creek, playing on TCM on Thursday, February 5 at 7 pm central/8 pm eastern. The Hays Code forbade movies in which unmarried people had biblical knowledge of each other, if you know what I mean, and I think you do (hint: I'm not talking about smiting). But Preston Sturges had an idea about a movie in which a small-town lass goes out for a few drinks with some soldiers on their way to WWII and winds up pregnant by one of them. The character is named Trudy Kockenlocker, and if that's not enough for a quick dirty joke, she's played by the hot-to-trot Betty Dutton. To slide under the Hays Code bar, she's had a quickie marriage to the guy. Unfortunately, she can't remember his name. Professional bundle-of-nerves Eddie Bracken stars as her small-town pal stuck in the friend zone, but who wants to be so much more.

Forbidden Planet, playing on TCM on Friday, February 6 at 7 am central/8 am eastern. Many of the sci-fi flicks of this period are about creeping Communism or mindless anti-Communism (as if sacrificing basic civil liberties to fight an idea is anything other than preposterous). In this one, political philosophies are nothing compared to the horrors of the psyche. It's an adaptation of Shakespeare's The Tempest, starring Leslie Nielson in a dramatic (non-ironic, I mean) role, and it's a lot of fun.

Samurai 1: Musashi Miyamoto, playing on IFC on Saturday, February 7 at 7 am central/8 am eastern. This is the first of the Samurai trilogy, starring the always-amazing Toshiro Mifune as Musashi Miyamoto, one of the great swordsmen of Japanese legend. This is cinema at its most epic and iconic. If you watch this, be prepared to check back over the next two Saturdays for the next two parts, because the trilogy really must be seen as a whole.

Set Your DVR!: February 1, 2009

Hayden Childs — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Here's the Weekend Edition of Set Your DVR! These three movies should carry you through until Monday, and all are on IFC on Sunday, February 1.

First up is an Akira Kurosawa double-feature. IFC is showing Drunken Angel at 7 am central/8 am eastern. Drunken Angel is Toshiro Mifune's first film with Kurosawa. It's a yakuza/gangster flick, and I've never seen it, so I'm excited about it. Also starring Takashi Shimura.

Immediately afterwards is Ikiru at 8:45 am central/9:45 am eastern, which is easily one of the most profound and touching films you could ever see. This one has Shimura in the lead as a dying bureaucrat who wants to leave his small mark on the world. I know that sounds like an opportunity for the worst sort of Forrest Gump-like cinematic idiocy, but remember that it's Kurosawa behind the wheel, not some Hollywood hack.

I wrote a little more about Shimura here.

Here's a short clip from Ikiru. Sorry about the bad translation.

Last up is Death and The Maiden at 9pm central/10 pm eastern, and again overnight at 2:05 am central/3:05 am eastern. I recently wrote about Death and the Maiden in this list.

And don't forget The Night of the Hunter on TCM tonight at 11:45pm central/12:45 am eastern! See y'all next week.

Screengrab Salutes: The Top Biopics of All Time! (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 22:00:00 GMT

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1998)

Biopics have always blurred the line between fact and legend, a stylistic practice that both fueled and destroyed the career of Hunter S. Thompson, who (at his best) went beyond the bounds of traditional journalism by injecting himself into the stories he covered, amplifying the reality of his subject matter through wild exaggeration. But, as a certain lame duck American president can certainly attest, “truthiness” is a slippery slope, and Thompson eventually began to confuse himself with his journalistic doppleganger, Raoul Duke, the drug-addled party monster at the heart of Terry Gilliam’s psychedelic adaptation of the college dorm room staple once considered unfilmable. While a “straight” biopic of the actual events of Thompson’s life would be fascinating (as long as Art Linson, director of the tedious Bill Murray fiasco Where the Buffalo Roam, had nothing to do with it), Gilliam instead captured the legend of Thompson/Duke and his infamous 1971 road trip to Sin City with his “attorney,” Dr. Gonzo (a funhouse mirror fictionalization of the Mexican-American political activist Oscar Zeta Acosta). Critics loathed the over-the-top depiction of Thompson’s hallucinated wonderland, yet despite an excess of shrieking in Benicio del Toro’s headache-inducing performance as Gonzo, Johnny Depp admirably captures both the real Thompson and his alter ego in an underrated performance. Plus, the movie’s a flat-out hoot: after howling through a near empty screening with fellow Screengrabber Scott Von Doviak, another audience member who’d ignored all the scathing reviews approached us to hazard the minority opinion, “Yeah! It was funny...right?”

RAGING BULL (1980)

Directors who specialized in noir – drawn as they were to doomed heroes and disorienting levels of moral ambiguity – loved to make films about boxers. Carnal, visceral creatures, they seemed particularly drawn to the sort of manipulative femme fatales the genre celebrated, and they played to the notion of destiny’s brute: they were men, after all, whose primary form of human communication was savage physical violence. Martin Scorsese, who brought the dynamic emotional energy of the ’70s and the gorgeous visual iconography and crushing sense of guilt and shame of Catholicism to the noir framework, clearly felt the same way, so it’s no coincidence that one of his greatest films is a breathtaking refinement of the old-school pug-centered crime drama. What makes Raging Bull such a shocker, then, is that it’s a true story: Jake LaMotta’s meteoric rise, brutal determination, mercurial mood swings, and destructive relationships with his wife, his family, and his God seem like the stuff of lurid, overblown pulp drama. Given the material they had to work with, it’s no wonder Scorsese and his collaborators created such a stunning, immediate film. While much is made of the admittedly astonishing physical transformation made by Robert DeNiro as his LaMotta slid from lean, hungry contender to fat, washed-up ex-champ, his emotional and psychological transformation is just as incredible, as the cocky, unstoppable self-confidence of the young man inexorably decays into the pitiful, indulgent self-loathing of age.

MISHIMA: A LIFE IN FOUR CHAPTERS (1985)

Paul Schrader wrote the screenplay to Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull, which may have served as a sort of apprenticeship for his directing, four years later, the moving screen biography of Japanese novelist Yukio Mishima. Not only did he borrow heavily from Scorsese’s visual handiwork (notice the overhead camera angles, and the visual tonality that mixes elegiac near-silences with scenes of fiery violence), but he chose as his subject a public figure who shared more in common with Jake LaMotta than either of them would have cared to admit. Like LaMotta, Mishima’s story was so bizarre as to seem like the stuff of fiction: a weak young man who transformed himself through sheer willpower into a physically perfect bodybuilder; a barely closeted homosexual with poetic inclinations who married one of his country’s most famous female beauties and preached a gospel of rabid militarism; and a famous celebrity, considered the greatest writer of his generation, who ended his life in the most base possible manner, staging a would-be fascist revolution that ended with him clumsily committing suicide as the soldiers he hoped to inspire laughed at his grand ideals. Deftly blending intense psychological moments from Mishima’s life with gorgeous evocations of some of the most famous scenes in his fiction, Schrader creates a biopic that shows how much he learned from Scorsese – and how much he brought to the table himself.

THE ELEPHANT MAN (1980)

There were a million ways The Elephant Man could have gone wrong. (It’s easy to see how, in the innumerable one-joke parodies of it that sprang up in its wake.) A film about John Merrick, the terribly deformed Victorian-era man whose intelligence and perception transformed the lives of many who met him, could have been overly mawkish if taken too far in one direction, or grotesque and exploitative if taken too far in the other. Mel Brooks, who financed the film, knew this, and his first and best decision was to keep his name out of the production, realizing that audiences and critics would expect the film to be a joke if they thought it was coming from him. He took a major risk in hiring David Lynch to helm The Elephant Man, especially given Lynch’s penchant for unnerving surrealism, but Lynch was the best possible choice, and hit the necessary tone just right: he let Merrick’s appearance speak for itself, trusting John Hurt to communicate the agony of his mere existence as well as the man’s essential dignity. Lynch made the right decision to transfer his sense of the absurd and the bizarre onto Merrick’s surroundings, presenting us with a view of Victorian London as unsettling and alien as that of the world of Eraserhead, while putting Merrick in the position not of a monster, but of a man who did his best to be human in a world that would not allow him that role. The collaboration was so successful it’s a shame that the project Brooks next intended to do with Lynch – a surreal nightmare biography of Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels set entirely inside the subject’s head - never got off the ground.

SAMURAI I: MUSASHI MIYAMOTO (1954)

When the historical figure you’re portraying in your biopic is less a human being than a character straight out of legend, you’ve got a lot of leeway in how you can portray him. There have been dozens of films in which legendary swordsman and duelist Miyamoto Musashi is the central figure, but the best of them all is director Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai trilogy. Though they’re best viewed as a whole, the first of the three movies is probably the strongest installment, telling the story of the epic figure from his humble beginnings to his utter transformation in the crucible of an unimaginably bloody battle. What Inagaki does right, and what distinguishes Musashi Miyamoto from the innumerable other films about the characters, is to strike a powerfully clear balance between historical storytelling and epic filmmaking; he is able, through solid storytelling and some highly inventive composition, to convey the sense that he is allowing us a glimpse of a real human figure who came from a particular time and place and ended up the way he did for discernable reasons, but he never lets go of the sweep and tension that remind us we’re watching a movie about a hero who is as much demigod as man. Of course, much of the credit must go to Toshirô Mifune, who gives the first of many towering performances in the lead role, yet Inagaki – rarely thought of as one of the first-rank Japanese directors of his day – does a fine job of sustaining the mood, tone, pace and look (abetted by some terrific EastmanColor cinematography by Jun Yasumoto) that distinguishes the whole trilogy. It’s as close to a definitive biopic as one can hope for when dealing with a legend.

Click Here For Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Part Five & Part Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce

Set Your DVR!: November 24 - December 1, 2008

Hayden Childs — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Can you believe that it's the end of November already? I've barely gotten over Halloween. But there's some great movies coming up this week, so get that record button ready.

Mon, Nov 24:

8/9 pm: The Proposition on IFC (repeat 11/25 at 12/1 am).

Tues, Nov 25

3:45/4:45 am: The Wild One on AMC. You may ask what that young man is rebelling against? At this point, the answer is: whaddaya got? Later the answer will be: belts.

8:50/9:50 am: The New World on IFC (repeat at 2:35/3:35 pm).

7/8 pm: Ride With The Devil on AMC (repeat 11/26 at 12:30/1:30 am). Among the many inversions of your expectations in Ang Lee's Civil War drama is the utter surprise when the pop singer Jewel appears and you do not feel like leaving the room immediately.

11 pm/12 am: The Last Waltz on VH1CL. Why is The Band so awesome? Marty Scorcese wants to know.

11:15 pm/12:15 am: Rio Grande on TCM.

Wed, Nov 26

Don't you have a turkey to baste? Or travel plans? TV offers no excuses to procrastinate on the day before Thanksgiving. Unfortunately.

Thurs, Nov 27

5:15/6:15 am: Solaris on IFC. Tarkovsky version, not Soderbergh.

5:30/6:30 am: Planet of the Apes on FMC (too many repeats to mention over the next four days). Starting with a documentary called "Evolution of the Apes" at 5 am on Thanksgiving Day (here in the US, I mean; apologies to our friends elsewhere who will not be stuffing their faces with bird carcass and pie today), FMC is showing nothing but Planet of the Apes movies until Sunday. Rock me, Dr. Zaius!

10:30/11:30 am: The Godfather on AMC. Family. It's what's important in life.

2:30/3:30 pm: The Godfather, Part II on AMC. You should pointedly insist that your brother (or brother-in-law) sit down to watch this with you when the bastard swipes the last piece of pumpkin pie.

9:30/10:30 pm: Beneath the Planet of The Apes on FMC (too many repeats to mention here over the next four days). A guilty pleasure for some, which is why this POTA movie gets special notice. I should mention that I had no idea that there were so many POTA movies. I remember seeing a few when I was a kid, but I didn't realize that the series went on for so long. My favorite is Under The Volcano Of The Planet Of The Apes, in which Charlton Heston plays a burnt-out diplomat drunkenly careening from chimp bar to chimp bar while his luck slowly runs out.

Fri, Nov 28

9/10 am: Picnic at Hanging Rock on IFC (repeat at 3:05/4:05 pm).

Sat, Nov 29

1/2 am: The Harder They Come on TCM. Is this the finest rude boy movie ever made? It certainly has the best soundtrack.

3:30/4:30 am: Hell on IFC. The grandfather of J-horror, this is a shockingly gory Japanese flick from 1960.

7/8 am: THRONE OF BLOOD on IFC. Sorry for shouting, but it seems appropriate to shout when mentioning Throne of Blood, the all-time best version of Macbeth on film. You've got Kurosawa & Mifune. Medieval Japan. Cobweb Castle, witches, a walking forest, and a rain of arrows. Allegedly T.S. Eliot's favorite film. Throne of Fuckin' Blood.

6/7 pm: A Boy Named Charlie Brown on FAM (repeat 11/30 at 11 am/12 pm). Pardon my language. I got carried away. Since you might have family with you over the holiday weeked, perhaps it's a good time to revisit the classics of Charles Schultz? This is the one (as you may remember) about a spelling bee. No, not Spellbound, but you're close.

8/9 pm: Snoopy Come Home on FAM (repeat 11/30 at 1/2 pm). What will that rascal Snoopy do next?

Sun, Nov 30

7/8 am: Sansho The Bailiff on IFC. Fantastic drama about justice misserved in feudal Japan. It's not Throne of Blood, but it's not too far behind.

9/10 am: Twentieth Century on TCM. Classic screwball comedy.

9:05/10:05 am: High and Low on IFC. Frequent commenter Janet says she sometimes thinks this is the best Kurosawa/Mifune movie full stop. I sometimes agree with that.

11:15 pm/12:15 am: The Wizard of Oz on TCM. No Judy Garland here. This is the silent version from 1925.

Mon, Dec 1

I got nothing. Hard enough to go back to work after the holiday weekend, anyway.

Set Your DVR!: November 17 - 24, 2008

Hayden Childs — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 16:00:00 GMT

My infant daughter has been sick this weekend, and I'm not feeling too great myself. So this may be the most slapdashed, pithy-free column yet. Keep those expectations low! Adam Christ asked last week about setting up an online movie discussion based on one of the flicks I mention in this column. I don't have an answer for him, but I promise to figure it out soon. Anyway, here's what I like this week. As always, be sure to mention any glaring omissions in the comments thread and I'll edit the column to add your recommendation.

Mon, Nov 17:

6/7 pm: Restoration on IFC.

8:30/9:30 pm: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939) on TCM. This is the Charles Laughton version.

10:15/11:15 pm: The New World on IFC (repeat on 11/18 at 2:45/3:45 am). By god, what a great movie.

Tues, Nov 18:

3:30/4:30 am: The Man In The Gray Flannel Suit on AMC. Quite a contrast from Mad Men, but it should provide a little something to help tide us over.

5:05/6:05 am: Incident at Loch Ness on IFC (repeat at 10:15/11:15 am and 3:25/4:25 pm). This is not a great or even good movie. But it is rather fun to watch Werner Herzog parody himself.

5:15/6:15 pm: Ride The High Country on TCM. One of my all-time favorite films, this is the first movie Sam Peckinpah directed that's really a Peckinpah movie. Randolph Scott and Joel McCrea, two actors a little past their sell-by date, are perfectly cast as Old West gunfighters in a similar autumnal period of their lives. There's a fascinating shift in tone about halfway into the movie. I don't mean to detract from the first half when I say that it has that slight remove from reality that's not too unfamiliar to fans of earlier Westerns, especially those of John Ford and Anthony Mann. The cowboys may be tough, but they're pretty clean and well-spoken. At the halfway point, the action moves to a rough mining camp, which shepherds a more realistic look at the past: grimy, ugly, amoral. Westerns would never be the same.

7/8 pm: To Have And Have Not on TCM. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everyone loves Bogey & Bacall.

10:30/11:30 pm: Top Hat on TCM. Astaire. Rogers. You know the score.

Wed, Nov 19:

5/6 am Burden of Dreams on IFC (repeat at 12:35/1:35 pm). Brilliant documentary about the making of Fitzcarraldo.

9:15/10:15 am: Picnic at Hanging Rock on IFC (repeat at 3:45/4:45 pm).

5:35/6:35 pm: Ride With The Devil on IFC (repeat 11/20 at 4/5 am).

10:05/11:05 pm: The Last Wave on IFC (repeat on 11/20 at 2:05/3:05 am).

Thurs, Nov 20:

12:45/1:45 am: Sunrise on TCM. One of the greatest film of the silent era. I was fortunate enough a few weeks ago to catch a showing of this in a friend's film class with a bunch of people in their late teens/early 20s. I was a little worried that some of the kookier silent movie tropes would lose the audience, but I was dead wrong. They loved it. It's a loveable movie.

8/9 am: Duel on CHILLER (repeat on 11/21 at 2/3 am). Spielberg's first film.

9:45/10:45 am: The Cars That Ate Paris (repeat at 2:35/3:35 pm). An oddball film from early in Peter Weir's career about a town that bolsters its income by causing horrendous car accidents.

8:45/9:45 pm: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) on TCM. This is the Lon Chaney version.

Fri, Nov 21:

1/2 am: Citizen Kane on TCM. I don't know if you've ever heard of this film, but it apparently has some sort of reputation.

3:15/4:15 am: The Stranger on TCM. Orson Welles' most conventionally-directed movie.

8:45/9:45 am: High and Low on IFC (repeat at 3/4 pm). Kurosawa and Mifune do crime drama. Their best movie that doesn't involve samurais.

11 am/12 pm: Vanishing Point on FMC.

Sat, Nov 22:

3:45/4:45 am: Die, Monster, Die! on TCM. In Germany, this is The Monster, The!

7/8 am: The Sword of Doom on IFC. One of the finest samurai movies that wasn't directed by Akira Kurosawa.

4:45/5:45 pm: Vertigo on TCM. I'm breaking my no-Hitchcock rule again. But no matter however long it's been since you last saw this, it's been too long.

Sun, Nov 23:

5/6 am: Bend of the River on AMC. Mann/Stewart Western.

5/6 am: A Night In Casablanca on TCM. Marx Brothers.

1/2 pm: The Thomas Crown Affair on TCM. Steve McQueen!

Mon, Nov 24:

8/9 pm: The Proposition on IFC (repeat 11/25 at 12/1 am). John Hillcoat's Aussie Western.

Set Your DVR!: October 13 - October 20, 2008

Hayden Childs — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Here’s upcoming Movies of Interest in the next week! I realized that last week’s entry gave all times in Central Time. From here on out, I’ll do the Central/Eastern thing. I will also spill things over to the following Monday, because several great movies show on Sunday night. Finally, let me know in comments if you see something I missed!

Other than that, the rules are the same: I’m trying to avoid recommending obvious movies, but I know you’re a knowledgeable reader, so some of the ones here might seem large and unsubtle to you. But that’s alright. I’m using an in-law test: I’ll stick with movies that my in-laws have most likely never heard of. And no premium channels, because I’m too broke to afford them.

Mon, Oct 13:

10:30/11:30 am: The Circus Queen Murder on TCM. Pre-code murder mystery starring Adolphe Menjou. Not available on DVD.

11:00 am/12:00 pm: George Washington on IFC (repeat at 4:15/5:15 pm and again on 10/14 at 4:30/5:30 am). Slow and thoughtful take on African-American youths in a go-nowhere Southern town directed by the guy who made Pineapple Express. Obvious influences: Terrence Malick and Charles Burnett.

2:00/3:00 pm: Vanishing Point on FMC. The lesser of the two great existential car movies of 1971 (Two-Lane Blacktop is the other). This one’s still a pop culture point-of-reference, especially for Tarantino movies. Definitely worth a viewing.

5:00/6:00 pm: Dave Chappelle’s Block Party. As mentioned last week, this one is a fun and light take on the concert film, directed by Michel Gondry and built around Dave Chappelle’s general awesomeness.

7:00/8:00 pm: My Man Godfrey on TCM. Now that we’re headed into a genuine financial depression, take a moment to consider one of the great films about the repercussions of the Great one.

Tues, Oct 14:

5:15/6:15 pm: Gerry on IFC (repeat at 7:45/8:45 am and 12:45/1:45 pm). I mentioned this one last week, too. And I think it’s on again next week. No matter, though, because it’s just brilliant. Since I mentioned it last, Scott Tobias at the AV Club wrote a great article on it.

Wed, Oct 15:

12:00/1:00 am: The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. on TCM. Dr. Seuss’s live-action insanity. Check it out!

5:00/6:00 am: Shall We Dance on TCM. Fred & Ginger. Score by the Gershwins. A dance scene on roller skates.

10:00/11:00 am: The Legend of Drunken Master (aka Drunken Master II) on G4 (repeat 10/16 at 1:00/2:00 am). It seems hard to believe now, but long before teaming up with Chris Tucker, Jackie Chan made movies that were actually funny. I mean, there’s ass-kicking galore, but the gags he stole from Buster Keaton are just delightful.

10:30/11:30 am: Carefree on TCM. More Fred & Ginger. More dancing. More joking around.

12:00/1:00 pm: Room Service on TCM. Not a bad movie for delving a little deeper into the Marx Brothers.

5:00/6:00 pm: Swing Time on TCM. And even more Fred & Ginger!

Th, Oct 16:

Got nothing for today. Go to the park!

Fri, Oct 17:

1:00/2:00 am: Kiss of Death on FMC. Film noir classic with a great turn by Richard Widmark.

Sat, Oct 18:

3:00/4:00 am: Them! on CHILLER. I don’t know what CHILLER is, but apparently it is a channel I have. Them! is a classic monster movie, complete with proto-environmentalist themes, officious foolishness from the authorities, and monsters deserving of a pronoun and an exclamation point and nothing more.

6:30/7:30 am: Gods and Monsters on LOGO (repeat at 1:00/2:00 pm). Lots of biopics want to wallop you over the head with their themes (hey, did you catch that drugs and womanizing might have affected Ray Charles’s life? I wonder if his brother’s death had anything to do with that), but Gods and Monsters, which is about the horror film director James Whale, has a lighter touch.

7:00/8:00 am: Samurai 3 on IFC. The apex of the Samurai trilogy, also known as Duel on Ganryu Island. Toshiro Mifune is in top form, and the climactic battle is the template for Quentin Tarantino’s understanding of Japanese cool.

12:30/1:30 pm: The Day The Earth Stood Still on AMC. Y’know, fuck Keanu Reeves. Go to the source.

11:00 pm/12:00 am: Dick on Oxygen. I mentioned last week that this movie is hilarious. It still is.

11:45 pm/12:45 am: Crash on IFC. This isn’t the noxious Oscar-bait Crash, but the deeply perverse Cronenberg movie based on the J.G. Ballard story.

Sun, Oct 19:

11:00 pm/12:00 am: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) on TCM. The silent version starring Lon Chaney. Yes, indeed.

Mon, Oct 20 (the overnight spillover):

1:00/2:00 am: Eyes Without A Face on TCM. Georges Franju’s horror classic that is guaranteed to give you the creeping heebie-jeebies. It's also well-written, well-shot, and well-acted, so what are you waiting for?

5:00/6:00 am: Kongo on TCM. Pre-Hayes Code movie that must be seen to be believed. A celebration of depravity loosely based on Conrad’s The Heart Of Darkness. As envisioned by Michel Houellebecq. There’s no DVD, so watch it while you can.

6:45/7:45 am: Ghost Ship on TCM. A Val Lewton production, this little horror film was on the losing end of a lawsuit that kept it out of the public eye for most of the last century. N.B. This is not the CGI craptacular from a few years back.

8:00/9:00 am: The Seventh Victim on TCM. Another Val Lewton production. I’ve never seen this one, but I know the Lewton name means it’s a moody little no-budget horror film that will stick with you for days.

1:30/2:30 pm: The Haunting on TCM. My good friend David Smay (author of the 33 1/3 book on Tom Waits’ Swordfishtrombones album, which you should buy and read and, preferably, love [plug!]), notes that when I mentioned this movie last week, I failed to include the following information, all of which increases your need to see it: (a) the coolness of Claire Bloom's sapphic sexy psychic, and (b) that she was lovers with Philip Roth for a long time (and then briefly married him). Also, if you've never seen her in James Joyce's Women then you should, because her performance of Molly Bloom's soliloquy at the end of Ulysses is AWESOME. Thanks, David! I will!

Screengrab Salutes: The Top 25 Leading Men of All Time (Part Two)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 21:00:00 GMT

20. GENE HACKMAN (1930 - )

Hackman was 33 when he made his movie debut in Robert Rossen's Lilith; he got to play a scene with Warren Beatty, who, admiring his colleague's mastery of his craft and maybe also thinking that his potato-faced plainness provided a splendid contrast on-screen to his own Colgate smile and dashing looks, cast him as his brother in Bonnie and Clyde. By that time, Hackman, voted Least Likely to Succeed by the good folks at the Pasadena Playhouse (a title he shared with his roommate Dustin Hoffman), had begun to build a steady career on the basis of his hard-won dependability as an actor. The impression he made as Buck Barrow lit a fire under his career, one that fanned out four years later when he starred in The French Connection and won the Academy Award for his performance as the obsessive cop Popeye Doyle, a job that he has often cited as something less than his favorite. Hackman's admiring notices in this period are full of tributes to his "anonymity" and lack of sex appeal; it was as if everyone was glad that he was getting treated by the casting office as if he were a star but wanted to get their personal disavowals of responsibility on the record in anticipation of the day when the world realized that a terrible mistake had been made. But Hackman remained a genuine movie star, a testament to the surprising fact that every once in a while, exceptional ability and hard work just seem to pay off. Maybe because he never really had any youthful bloom to lose, his stardom only grew more secure as he got older and grew into authority figure parts, some benevolent (such as the many father figures he played in movies like Twice in a Lifetime and Hoosiers), some malignant (like the sadistic Western sheriff in Unforgiven). Let the record show that he even, by God, developed sex appeal: in that department, he had an especially trumphant year in 1988, when he stirred many hearts playing the FBI agent who seduces Frances McDormand in Mississippi Burning and the smaller but indelible role of The Good Man Who Got Away Because You Told Him to Leave, You Stupid Cow in Woody Allen's Another Woman. He has given many noteworthy performances since then, the standout perhaps being his lovingly cracked variation on the father figure role in Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums. He has not appeared onscreen since 2004's Welcome to Mooseport, perhaps because he's waiting for someone to explain to him what the hell he was doing in Welcome to Mooseport.

19. MICHAEL CAINE (1933 - )

When Caine became a big star in the mid-1960s, be brought back something that had been lost in American films -- the kind of actor's energy born of naked desperation. In the Depression years, people like James Cagney went into acting as an alternative to starvation, but by the '60s, American stars from comfortable middle-class backgrounds entered acting because, as Paul Newman put it, they were escaping a life spent working in the family sporting goods store. But the Cockney Caine was trying to break away from an early life informed by class consciousness and poverty. The fact that he'd been hungry at one point in his life may help to account for his eagerness to keep working, even in poor films, a decision that actually got him teased by that guardian of lofty cultural values, People magazine. It might also account for the fact that he owns so many restaurants. (Regarding Jaws: The Revenge, the movie that caused People so much consternation, Caine has said, "I have never seen the film, but by all accounts it was terrible. However I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific.") As Harry Palmer, the entertainingly grubby spy in eyeglasses in The Ipcress File and the serial seducer in Alfie, Caine magnetized the camera with his working man's anger and ambition, which he was skillful enough to channel into the characters' own drives and delusions. One critic analyzed the secret of Alfie's success with women and concluded that it was that he didn't know his own limitations, but it may have been that Caine himself was too frightened of failure to dare consider that any limitations might not be overcome. One might have expected Caine to lose his edge when he became rich and famous and the chip on his shoulder started to fray, but he just keeping getter better and better as an actor. The official notice that he had become something like acting royalty probably came in 1975, when John Huston asked him to co-star in the film version of The Man Who Would Be King (which Huston had longed to make for decades, in the role once intended for Humphrey Bogart); for the movie-loving Caine, that must have been a little like getting a call from John the Baptist asking if he could do a chore that Jesus just wasn't up to. Other especially notable roles from his sprawling filmography include his gangster antihero in Get Carter (1971) and, fifteen years later, his supporting role as the criminal kingpin Mortwell in Neil Jordan's Mona Lisa, a crook who would have scared the shit out of Frank Booth. He won his first Oscar that same year, for his supporting role in Woody Allen's Hannah and Her Sisters; he won another one for his surpassingly beautiful performance in 1999's The Cider House Rules, after which he played wintry roles in Last Orders and The Quiet American. After making that last one, and campaigning like hell to get it seen when Miramax threatened to dump it, Caine announced that he was, as far as he was concerned, "retired", which for Caine means that he now shows up in only a couple of pictures a year and doesn't take leading roles unless, as was the case with last year's Sleuth, they give him the chance to remake one of his older pictures so that he can play the role that he wasn't old enough to play the first time around. Some day he will die. When that happens, it would probably be a good idea to leave any messages for me with the doorman for a few weeks.

18. TOSHIRO MIFUNE (1920-1997)

Just try to look away when Toshiro Mifune's on screen. It's almost impossible. With his odd charisma and brooding intensity, he completely dominates any scene he's in. You can tell that he's trying to be generous with the other actors, but nature made him a cinematic powerhouse. Credited on IMDB with 181 movies between 1947 and 1995, Mifune is the Western face of Japanese cinema. Movies like Midway, 1941, and the miniseries Shogun brought him to the American masses, but it was his earlier work that made his career. He was the John Wayne to Akira Kurosawa's John Ford, casting as huge a mythic shadow across the face of cinema. Consider: Kurosawa made 32 movies during his life, and Mifune starred in 15 of them. Seven of those are five-star, drop-everything, must-see-immediately movies: Stray Dog, The Seven Samurai, I Live In Fear, Throne of Blood, The Hidden Fortress, Yojimbo, and High and Low. Mifune also made four other movies that rank among the best movies ever made: Samurai 1 - 3 and The Sword of Doom. But enough about his importance to the canon! Let's talk about the man's signature moments, such as the mirthless laughter that rips out of his head like a bird from a cage, driving home just how close to the edge of sanity this character really is. Or the impassive-yet-sad dignity, when Mifune seems to be made of stone while the other actors flow around him like river water. Or, best of all, the way he could turn either of those on a dime into fear, horror, and pain, letting viewers in on an unspoken backstory that needs no further explanation. Even if you speak not a word of Japanese, you always know everything you need to know about Mifune's characters.

17. WILLIAM HOLDEN (1918-1981)

William Holden made a lot of movies, but the movies that made William Holden were few and far between. Don't get me wrong; Holden was a great actor, but his standout roles were so much brighter than his getalong roles that it's hard to believe they could coexist. That's probably true of most leading men, but it seems especially true of Holden. With Billy Wilder, he made Sunset Blvd, Stalag 17, and Sabrina. He made a bunch of war movies other than Stalag 17 (his face always seems to be hinting at the horrors he's seen and is trying to forget, thank you very much), but the best was The Bridge On The River Kwai with David Lean. He made a whole bunch of Westerns, even working with the great John Ford, but the really memorable one was Sam Peckinpah's stunning The Wild Bunch, which might be the best Western ever made. And he also made overrated Oscar bait like Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing and Network, for which the Academy duly rewarded him. I don't know whether Holden was a handsome man, but he was definitely a commanding and intriguing actor, and that's all that counts.

16. CLINT EASTWOOD (1930 - )

I’m not a hippie, a swinger or a Mormon, but I nevertheless live a polygamist lifestyle, sharing my wife on a regular basis with a septuagenarian jazz enthusiast whose talent, machismo and flinty good looks still, apparently, inspire lust in at least one small Polish woman decades after inspiring much wider lust during the tight pantsed, bare-chested, absurdly large biceped days of his youth. Despite my wife’s leftist political philosophy, she’s willing to forgive Eastwood’s right-wing libertarian political leanings and starring roles in all those reactionary Dirty Harry movies and violent spaghetti westerns, partly because those early films were so damn entertaining, but mostly because Clint has mellowed since then, producing, directing and/or starring in deeply human films like Unforgiven and Letters From Iwo Jima which explore the root cause and grisly aftermath of the human fascination with violence that helped to make him a star in the first place. Yet even though Eastwood would have qualified for this list based merely on his collaborations with Sergio Leone (let alone his cop movies, let alone his Oscar-caliber directing chops), that’s still only half the story. Unlike largely one-trick action stars of the Bronson/Stallone/Seagal variety, the erstwhile “man with no name” ain’t afraid to let his freak flag fly or get down with his sensitive feminine side, headlining everything from weepy “women’s” films (The Bridges of Madison County, Million Dollar Baby) to weird experiments (The Beguiled, White Hunter Black Heart) and inexplicable monkey comedies (Every Which Way But Loose), proving there’s a whole lot more to my wife’s beloved fake husband than just his big, big guns.

Click Here for Part One, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven & Eight

Contributors: Phil Nugent, Hayden Childs, Andrew Osborne

Set Your DVR!: October 6 - October 12, 2008

Hayden Childs — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Hi, Screengrab readers! For my first post, I thought I’d kick off a series in which I suggest various movies worth recording off of cable TV in the upcoming week. See, I know that since you read the Screengrab, you have a fairly solid grasp on the movies and movie history, but there’s always some that slip through the cracks. The movies I’ll mention here will give you a chance to catch up on those that you might have overlooked. If I miss something, please post it in the comments!

Here’s the skinny: I’m assuming, of course, that you’ve gone to the trouble of getting a DVR (or have a VCR you know how to set, at the very least) to go along with the cable you pay for month after month, but you don’t always keep an eye on upcoming movies. Since you’re reading the Screengrab, I’m not going to recommend movies that everyone recommends, such as Singin’ In The Rain (which, incidentally, I record just about every time it’s on, because I always have time to watch one of the dance numbers). I’m not going to be too esoteric, either. I’ll use an in-law test: I’ll stick with movies that I doubt my mother-in-law has seen, and that way will try to catch some of the great movies that are more likely to slip through the cracks. One more thing: no premium channels, mainly because I can’t afford them.

Mon, Oct. 6:
Nothing here. Good thing, too, since I’m not posting this until Tuesday Morning

Tues, Oct. 7:
9:00 am: Ace In The Hole on TCM. I don’t think this is a very good movie. But plenty of reviewers disagree with me, so I’m going to mention it. Actually, by the time this goes live, it'll probably be too late.

8:00 pm: Don’t Look Back on VH1CL (repeating at 11:30 pm). Maybe you’ve seen this, and maybe not. But it’s one of the great rock documentaries and, if you watch it, you’ll enjoy I’m Not There that much more.

Wed, Oct. 8:
11:45 pm: The Gay Divorcee on TCM. I mentioned I like dancing, right? This is Fred and Ginger at their best.

Th, Oct. 9:
1:45 am: Top Hat on TCM. I take those last comments back. This one is Fred and Ginger at their best.

7:00 pm: Four Jacques Tati films (Jour de Fete, Mr. Hulot’s Holiday, Mon Oncle, and Play Time) on TCM. Ah, the whimsy! Can you stand it? Honestly, I’ve only seen the last of these, and I wasn’t much taken with it at the time. But attitudes change. I intend to record ‘em all.

Fri, Oct. 10:
12:15 am: Play Time on TCM. Already mentioned this.

2:30 am: The General on TCM. Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone should have seen this by now. But not everyone has, so I hereby recommend that you record and watch it if you fall into that camp.

3:45 am: The Navigator on TCM. Same deal as above.

5:00 am: Macbeth on TCM. This is Orson Welles’ 1948 version where everyone affects a crappy Scottish accent, even the actual Scots in the film. Welles’ accent in particular is so horrid and depressing that it may cause you to think less of Citizen Kane. However! This is one of those movies that has enough greatness and interest elsewhere - in this case, in the visual language of the film and the minor plot changes - that it’s worth a viewing despite its deficiencies.

7:00 am: Gerry on IFC. I love the hell out of Van Sant’s death trilogy (is that a spoiler? I’m not sure). Some viewers find them long and pointless, but I think all three have a transcendent beauty to them that gives meaning to the pointless death in each and begs the question: what’s the point of anyone’s death? In this one, two guys get lost in the desert. There’s a ten-minute tracking shot near the end where they walk from the dark into the morning sun without changing their positions to each other that I think is one of the prettiest scenes in all cinema. It’s almost Abstract Expressionism. Don’t watch it if you don’t like Rothko, but if you do, snap this one up.

8:00 pm: Dick on Oxygen (again at 10:00 pm). This movie looked stupid and fluffy in the previews, and I didn’t watch it until a friend forced it on me. It’s hilarious. Best as the second half of a double feature with All The President’s Men.

Sat, Oct. 11:
6:30 am: Journey Into Fear on TCM. Entertaining little spy thriller with Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten.

7:00 am: Samurai 2 on IFC. The second part of the epic trilogy. Even if you haven’t seen the first part, the plot is fairly self-explanatory and thoroughly enjoyable.

10:15 am: Primer on IFC (repeat at 3:00 pm). Smart, smart no-budget sci-fi thriller. I had to watch it a couple of times (and finally consult a website) to untangle the central mystery, but that’s part of the fun.

11:00 am: After The Thin Man on TCM. The second Thin Man movie. That’s all I need to say, right?

3:00 pm: The Haunting on TCM. This is the 1963 Robert Wise movie, not the awful remake. I recommended it to a friend last Halloween, and she told me it was the worst movie she’d ever seen. I think she’s very, very wrong. It still creeps me the hell out.

Sun, Oct. 12:
5:00 am: 24 hours of Paul Newman movies (The Rack, Until They Sail, Torn Curtain, Exodus, Sweet Bird Of Youth, Hud, Somebody Up There Likes Me, Cool Hand Luke, Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, Rachel, Rachel, and The Outrage) on TCM. Have you seen all of these? I haven’t. Go on, catch up on the guy’s work.

7:00 am: Cleo From 5 to 7 on IFC. Many classics of the French New Wave spend so much time and effort trying to unlock the mysterious, riddle-like conundrum of the enigmatic, baffling desires of oh-so-fickle womanhood that no one will forget they were made by men. This one was actually made by a women, and you can tell.

6:45 pm: Last Days on IFC (showing again Monday at 3:35 am). The third in Van Sant’s death trilogy. I suspect it plays much better if you don’t really care about Kurt Cobain. I don’t, and I loved it.

7:00 pm: Dave Chappelle’s Block Party on MTV2 (repeat on Monday at 5:00 pm). Aw yeah! Somehow Michel Gondry and Dave Chappelle combined forces to make a concert film that is good-natured, loose-limbed, and funny in ways that most concert films could not even conceive.

Mon, Oct. 13:
In case I’m late getting the next installment up on Monday, I just want to mention the following:

11:00 am: George Washington on IFC (repeat at 4:15 pm). Slow and thoughtful take on African-American youths in a go-nowhere Southern town directed by the guy who made Pineapple Express. Obvious influences: Terrence Malick and Charles Burnett.

2:00 pm: Vanishing Point on FMC. The lesser of the two great existential car movies of 1971 (Two-Lane Blacktop is the other). This one’s still a pop culture point-of-reference, especially for Tarantino movies. Definitely worth a viewing.

Akira Kurosawa Drops the Bomb

Phil Nugent — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Everyone knows that Godzilla was, in its original context, a metaphor for the atomic bombs dropped on Japan, and by now a number of commentators have made the leap of seeing Cloverfield, whose advance publicity cited the veteran thunder lizard as some kind of role model, as either addressing or exploiting the memory of 9/11. Actually, American filmmakers have been trying, in one way or another, to deal with 9/11 in movies ranging from Oliver Stone's World Trade Center to Spielberg's The War of the Worlds to such indies as The Great New Wonderful. And Japanese filmmakers, including some of the greatest, took their best shot at dealing with the bomb and its aftermath, often in movies without rubber monster suits. Writing in Slate, Fred Kaplan argues that "If someone should feel compelled to make a film about 9/11 — specifically, about the social and psychic toll that the attacks have and haven't taken — a good model would be Akira Kurosawa's I Live in Fear, a relatively little-known film by perhaps the most revered of all Japanese filmmakers that's just been issued on DVD as part of the Criterion Collection's Eclipse series. The movie stars Toshiro Mifune as an industrialist who becomes obsessed with protecting himself from the bomb and from radioactive fallout. His solution is to sell his company and move himself and his entire family to Brazil — a plan that inspires his three sons to try to get him declared nuts so that they won't lose their share of the family business. (Kurosawa often openly ransacked Shakespeare for his movies, and this thread of the plot suggests King Lear turned inside out for the nuclear age.)

The punchline is that Mifune's character really does go mad and winds up being institutionalized — in response to the shattering realization that even exile to Brazil wouldn't be enough to ensure his safety in the event of a nuclear war. The punchline to the punchline is that, in Kurosawa's vision of "a world in which the most dreadful dangers are shrugged off as routine", the man locked up as crazy is the only one who seems to have trouble simply adjusting to the ever-present danger of being wiped out at the touch of a button. ("Sirens wail in the background all through this film; it's not clear what kinds of sirens [police, ambulance, air-raid drills?], and nobody pays attention anyway." This is, as Kaplan points out, "a rather unsubtle message, but Kurosawa compensates with an understated visual style. According to his autobiography, he started using three cameras around this time, letting them all roll while the actors played the whole scene as if in a stage play, then choosing the best angles in the editing room. It gives the film a documentary feel — many scenes are shot from behind the characters — as if we're peeking in on a slice of life." It also captures something that Kurosawa himself must have felt to the marrow — though he may never have addressed the subject again so explicitly, he was playing with images of nuclear devastation as late as thirty-five years later, in the 1990 Dreams. As it happened, the idea of a man set apart from his society because of his inability to deal with the thought of its destruction turned out to be a pretty good metaphor for the movie itself. Made in 1955, it not only bombed in Japan but didn't play in the American until it was shown at the 1963 New York Film Festival; it received limited U.S. theatrical release in 1967. It was issued on VHS back in 2001, but at no point has it ever — you'll excuse the expression — set the world on fire.