The Weekend - 11/11 - 11/12 2017
Sunday morning sucked. I woke up with a migraine and the day
was on and off dozing and movies. Saturday afternoon was a pleasure, though.
And Sunday was actually, too, when it was all said and done. After a nice
dinner out, my family went to the theatre. While they went to see Daddy’s Home
2, I had no one to see Branaugh’s Murder on the Orient Express with me. Before
the “awws” that arrive after my expression of disappointment, I admit that it
is a little corny. But if one thing is missing from my life it is a fellow
cinephile. A friend who can share my love of film--the movies--with me is
something for which I wouldn’t ever take for granted. Because when I watched
Murder on the Orient Express it was an enriching experience. It is the kind of
experience I wish to share with someone who could appreciate it as I did. I
guess what I mean is the discussion of its pleasures. Its cast, style, humor,
and filmmaking grace. Branaugh hasn’t really made many films set to period
since his masterful Shakespeare days. I think he rectified that to a superior
degree with Murder on the Orient Express. His Poirot doting on a picture of a
former love, the look of conflict in his face when the murderer(s) of Ratchett
(Depp) is discovered, when encountering issues that discomfort him, and his
battles within to uncover the mystery of the murder on the train; Branaugh’s
Poirot is right in front of the camera. I noticed some critical remarks on
Poirot which just made me laugh. While I jazzed to his work in the film and how
he brought the character to life, it seems others weren’t so entertained. But
Pfeiffer and Dench, among so many others, give the film that kind of all-star
big-budget pizzazz right out of the old days where “Dinner at Eight” or “Grand
Hotel” would bring them in or all of those disaster movies from the 70s. I’m
seeing it again probably in the middle of the week. I imagine I’ll just
punctuate how I felt about the film after the second viewing.
In the Heat of the Night (1967) never fails to hold its grip
on me. The “They Call me Mr. Tibbs” line, returning a slap to a cotton field
plantation owning racist with a greenhouse of orchids, fending off a pack of
locals looking to attack him in a warehouse, convincing the sheriff (Roy
Steiger) that Scott Wilson isn’t the one responsible for the murder of a big
city employer despite taking his wallet and running for the Arkansas border, gathering
evidence that eventually drives out the murderer, and addressing the hostile
environment of Sparta with great integrity and courage. Sure the film looks at
Tibbs’ own crusade against Endicott (Larry Gates; I realized I knew him from an
episode of Twilight Zone called The Fever afterward) and how Chief of Police
Gillespie (Steiger) accuses him of being no different than “us”. It does look
at the quest to unearth the true killer and how a “big city detective from
Philly” (Poitier) comes down to little Sparta to do just that, actually
rescuing the likes of a poolhall flunky (Wilson) and a deputy (Warren Oates) with
eyes for an underage floozy who likes to undress for peeping toms passing by
her window from prosecution. Gillespie always encountering threats from those
around him regarding his job as he allows Tibbs to gallivant around with his
investigations and privileges few of his color would ever be allowed. A
conversation actually has Gillespie confronted with how if the previous chief
had been present to when Tibbs slapped Endicott [in retaliation for the hand
across his face] he’d been shot in “self defense.” I can imagine the applause
that rung out by certain members of an audience when Endicott is popped (and
when he kneels his head as tears well up) while others hissed and booed. I
think it is one of the most incredible moments in the 60s film. At any rate,
Poitier had sure arrived with this role. And Steiger opposite him…it is always
admirable to see these two work off each other. The intensity they sometimes
share as finding the killer and their opposing methods of doing so (and Tibbs’
ways almost always right, although Steiger has to navigate him out of getting killed
at times…) conflict. Great stuff.
I have watched Peter Weir’s Witness (1985) probably three
times this year. I now consider it and Back to the Future to be probably neck
and neck the best films of that year. Anyway Harrison Ford is a Philly cop who
tries to protect an Amish boy (Haas) from dirty cops (led by Sommer), falling
in love with his mom (McGillis) after retreating to their community when nearly
killed by one of Sommer’s men (Danny Glover right before Lethal Weapon). The
accidental witness of Glover killing another cop Sommer felt would rat his drug
operation out is what has Haas in trouble. He was in a bathroom stall when the
cop was killed. Ford doesn’t know Sommer is the ringleader, going to him with
news of Glover being the man Haas witnessed killing the cop. So Sommer sends
Glover out to kill Ford but a shootout only wounds him. Ford grabs McGillis and
Haas at his sister’s and heads to where they live, integrating somewhat
(although the film does well to establish how he’s such a fish out of water)
into the Amish society until he can figure out how to bring in the Feds to
shake down Sommer. Sommer, though, will eventually be coming for Ford and Haas
when he can locate their Amish community. Weir’s balance of cop drama and
developing romance, all within a unique Amish environment, is just spellbinding
to me. Even when Ford (who has carpentry skills) helps to build a barn for a
recently-married Amish couple, the process as it unfolds (with Jarre’s
atmospheric score) is presented beautifully. Sure the cops that accompany
Sommer ultimately are no match for a resourceful Ford but what makes the ending
resoundingly impactful is how it is reasoned to a conclusion where violence is
finally halted. Sommer is brought to reason by Ford who has him facing the
Amish, a pacifist society seeing what should be a man protecting and serving
not killing. And Ford and McGillis’ conflicted blossoming love for each other:
an acting triumph. A showcase for both Ford and McGillis, they resist until
they can no longer contain their passion for each other, and their kiss is
understandably vigorous. Jan Rubes, as Eli Lapp, the patriarch of the family
always at odds with McGillis for Ford’s presence in their community, is
particularly worthy of praise. You can tell that while he considers Ford a
major splinter that needs to be plucked he can’t help but respect him. And the
way the grassy fields wave as if invisible hands glide across the valleys of the
Pennsylvania farm land is incredible to take in aesthetically…
And although I wasn't going to mention it, I had a Facebook post about Sleepless in Seattle so I thought I'd share:
Okay, so I might lose the cool card but I'm dealing with the migraines today, right. I was watching movies all day, dozing on and off, and Sleepless in Seattle is on so for like the first time in forever I decide to give it a go. God so manipulative, but anyway it gets to the scene where Meg has to break Bill's heart. The design of the film is to get Meg and Tom together, I realize that but God do I sympathize for Bill. I mean what a great guy. Seriously he's the Wendell Corey of Holiday Affair when Leigh chooses Mitchum over him. He is always out of the picture while Meg swoons for Tom and all I could think of was how unfair the film is to Bill. I could only think about how the film never grants Bill the same swooning romantic love interest as Tom. He's the intruder that gets in the way, the passersby never to admitted to Meg's heart. He's done such a disservice. Now I know my cool card is revoked, taken and shredded but that's okay. I did it for Bill.
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